12/30/2010
A/N: Greetings! This is a continuation of an earlier story, "Concrete Jungle" and if you haven't read that, I highly recommend reading it before starting this one! Enjoy!
August 15, 2013
Today officially begins the start of my sophomore year. In order to ensure that our future biographies are as accurate as possible, Rachel and I have decided that it's necessary that we record these early, formative years as our talent develops and grows. One day, I will look back at these simple pages as inspiration for my fabulous novel – or else I will be able to provide it to an unemployed English major who will undoubtedly attempt – and fail – to capture my tone.
I write this sitting in the airport, trying to ignore as my idiot oaf of a brother is getting patted down by security for the second time already. The first one was, of course, when he'd failed to notice the prohibition against liquids and promptly lost all of his mouthwash, bodywash, and, most lamentably for him, his Gatorade, despite the fact that I told him at least seven thousand times to just put it in his checked backage. This time, he'd agreed to watch other people's bags, and is now surrounded by about fifteen pieces of carry-on luggage, including two Dora the Explorer backpacks and what looks like a trombone case.
Beside the point. Last year, though wonderful to finally have made it to New York, was a disaster in a number of ways. I found my dreams dashed (I – and Blaine and Rachel, of course – still believe that NYU made a horrible mistake by not taking me into any of their acappella groups, but that's water under the bridge) and found new ones. I made a few friends, but it took a while to get there. Santana and Brittany broke up, Blaine and I didn't break up, but he did get his head broken by some homophobic idiot with a brick and no sense of propriety. Rachel and Finn got engaged – I think they still are – and I very nearly killed a man with a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. Needless to say, nothing went the way I anticipated.
To keep my sophomore year from being similarly off-kilter, Rachel and I have each set for ourselves a number of clearly identifiable, ascertainable and achievable goals. (I will, of course, contain to maintain and add to my Bucket List, which is en entirely separate document).
Declare a major (leaning toward Architecture, but we'll see how my first Drafting class goes).
Score a paying internship, so I can actually afford to live off-campus next year.
Hook Tim up with a single girl so that he doesn't end up crawling into my bed with me – a little dignity, please.
Attend New York Fashion Week. Doesn't matter how. Just get in.
Attend the Opening Day of Rachel's first Broadway musical (yes, she made me write that – pure blackmail, of course)
Plan an engagement party (for who? Well, I don't want to be presumptuous, but. . .)
Get the autograph of Aaron Tveit.
Don't let Blaine know about the above goal.
And now those Neanderthals from the TSA are apparently trying to pull Finn off to some enclosed space, undoubtedly to engage in some unconstitutional searching and seizing, It would be funny if it weren't so tragic.
Speaking of tragic things, there's always my summer. Back in Lima, Ohio, and not only having to remember but to actually relive the horrible doldrums of that state. Sometimes I can't believe that I survived there for eighteen years. Still, there were parts that were nice. Most of the old New Directions came back – Quinn, Mike, Puck, Mercedes, and it was nice to see all of them. Santana stayed in New York – she took summer classes, and is hoping to graduate in three years so she can get straight into medical school and not accumulate any more loans than necessary.
Brittany came back, though – they broke up, which should have been a surprise, I suppose, but wasn't. It was scary, though – I suppose it's all right to admit these things to a journal, if not to anyone else. It was scary, because they were so, so solid – all through high school they were together, even when they weren't, even when we didn't know it, and for that just to be over – Rachel and I had to go out and eat a cheesecake apiece after that, because if Brittany and Santana could break up. . .
She's staying in Lima, now. Working at the Lima Bean, and is proud that she's graduated to working the cash register. I can't believe it – I worked here for about two week, once. I am 99% positive that there is a family of mice that live under the espresso machine.
I was able to make some easy money over the summer as well, when I wasn't busy tailoring Carole's entire wardrobe. The minute I stepped off the plane in May, my dad gave me a job – Keep Finn and Rachel from getting married. He paid me $70 every week that I kept them apart. It was the easiest money I've ever made, especially considering that Rachel and I had a conversation back in New York, before we left, when she promised me (with pinkies and a crossed heart) that it wouldn't be any less than a two year engagement. Which is for the best, really, since it will take me at least that long to put together a plan that accommodates both of their horrific tastes without being completely abhorrent to modern sensibilities.
The only real downside to the summer was Blaine. Or not – not that Blaine was a downside, Blaine is never a downside, but he was back to staying with his parents, or sleeping on the couch when he came to see mine. It's strange, not being able to sleep in a bed with him, or just let myself into his house, strange to not wake up to his breath on my cheek and his hand around my waist.
We were only together like that for three weeks, and somehow it felt more natural than sleeping in my bed at home, that I've had for fifteen years.
But today it's back to New York, and though I'm staying in the dorms at NYU, and rooming with Tim again – (you'll hear more about him, no worries, he's one of the very Important Secondary Characters in the Kurt Hummel Story) – weekends will still be spent in Blaine's monstrous bed, in his sixth floor apartment in Morningside Heights. It may be a bit strange at first – Finn's going to be living in the second bedroom there, which for some reason both boys think is a genius idea, and which made Blaine's mom let out a big sigh of relief when she heard. I'm a little worried that there will be an overabundance of Cheetohs and dip. I'll have to speak with Blaine about that.
And now they really are towing Finn away. We're going to miss our flight. I suppose that will have to be it for today, as I go off to rescue the overgrown Golden Retriever that has somehow become my brother.
Au Revoir!
Kurt E. Hummel
A/N: Coming Soon: Finn has to figure out what exactly he's going to do now that he's in New York, especially when Rachel's so busy. In the meantime, he'll just hang out with his Best Bro in the city, and his little brother, and maybe eat some dip.