Awkward Moments in Jersey City

When I first moved to Jersey City in September of 2019, I expected life to be slower paced and less insane. The former did not happen, though, the latter certainly did. (sans "less").


The first incidence involved a mouse, which I named Mr. Squeaks.


One day, I woke up to find him in bed with me.


Mr. Squeaks was a mouse.


The exterminator, who I lovingly referred to as "the Terminator," laughed and joked that the mouse must have liked me, as they rarely get close to people.


Lucky me.


A few days after the Terminator left some traps, my roommate at the time texted me.


"Mr. Squeaks is dead."


Needless to say, I am grateful that I have since moved to a much nicer, albeit annoyingly more upscale neighborhood/ area, and this has not happened since.


The second awkward encounter I had was with a man who was moonwalking and beatboxing outside of the Duane Reade in Journal Square. He stopped to ask me a question. I tried to ignore him, but he persisted- finally asking for my phone number.


I told him that he didn't want it- "trust me- I am crazier than I look."


Note: When I am not a therapist, I usually wear extremely goth clothing and various dyed hair accessories- as well as often steampunk (modern/inspired by Victorian era) things.


He just stared and walked away. It was refreshing.


More to come.