I have a home, and a new network of friends.

I have a secret society, the Kennedy Orphans.

I have a permanent phone number. And a swanky new cell phone.

I have begun to compile a list of American journals to send work to, and have found work by a few very new poets who I’d like to contact.

I have subscribed to five magazines, and think I’m going to balance one more on top of that pile. (A couple are only bi-monthly or quarterly… I can manage!)

I have sat through long sessions informing me of all the ways I could violate my immigration status.

I have nine long-distance Scrabble matches on the boil care of Facebook and Scrabulous.

I have a plan to meet a couple of girls from the English program tomorrow at The Tombs.

I have real food in the cupboard, after a trip to Trader Joe’s. I bought organic strawberries. Cheap.

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I don’t yet have a Social Security Number. That’s four hours of my life I’m yet to go through.

I don’t yet have a bed. I’m sleeping on my housemate’s futon, which will become our couch as soon as I find something to sleep on permanently.

I don’t yet have textbooks. But I’ve hardly had any time to read either. Next week.

I have not yet received any mail. But I only moved into a real address last Saturday.

I have not been to a single museum yet. I plan to remedy this today. National portrait gallery anyone?

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I probably will never have stamps. I swear, post offices are scarce in this part of town.