Oh New York, how I miss thee in concept, but reality is a bit more tumultuous than that. I was doing my little daily jaunt to the coffee shop this morning and thought about how it was still 9 am, and my flight doesn’t actually leave until closer to 8 pm. If this was me in NYC, it would be but a blink of an eye before I was on the plane, sitting on the tarmac, ready to depart. Here there is still a lovely waning of day that exists in a place not full of people ready to run you over moving moving moving all of the time, reaching for the top spot no matter what the cost.

As I was even walking I was able to see that I definitely have adjusted my pace downwards. I tend to match the pace of the people I am with, and I am pretty sure it would seem very elderly back in the city.

The very funny thing is of course I have been here all of 5 months and now that I am leaving I can readily admit this is the first weekend where I was actually in the position of choose my own adventure–this has been a pretty rare occurrence, obviously, given my lack of a good solid friend base. Well, I assumed anyhow.

Yesterday I dreamily looked out over Coor’s Field–in attendance of a baseball game with a pretty spectacular person…someone who shares my same passion for wanderlust and impractical things like slipping into the ether of exploration, shedding concepts of materiality for knowledge. He…he is the same one inspiring me with “heaven is a ride on the back of a motorcycle, actually.” Very very fucking smart (I cannot not do smart, actually)…and oftentimes when I hear or read his words to me I sit there bewildered with the surprise of running into anyone who could do that…and admittedly there are very few times you will catch me speechless, but this happens to me more often with him than with anyone I think I have ever known.

This might explain my temporary silence…but knowing him has affected me in some other key ways as well–and irresponsible deanna is trying to re-center her life and start believing the dream as opposed to always getting gummed up in doubt and debt. I paid off one of my credit cards and though I am sure this won’t be totally untouched in NY– I definitely need to complete that around the world in however many days adventure I have been talking about for some time. I know, I know, there are a few people who read me who always question my tendency to run and flee from things…but it’s less about fleeing and running and more about meeting the next adventure. I should have been a travel writer, or rather–perhaps I should have completed my studies so I could have done that. But the thing with writing is…you get better at it the more books you read, and the more you actually do it. It’s nothing I feel you need a firm education in–kind of like art. You can hone a talent with practice…and writing is just another way of looking at things…to formulate and communicate an idea with words is actually the most important talent, I feel. Everything is centered on that mode of language and communication…and though music can go beyond those ideas and emote feeling with no words, it perhaps is the only superior form of communication. Writing is accessible by everyone with the ability to read…

Anyways, enough of that. It is now 10 am and I should do some practical things like laundry and maybe pack–yeah, there’s something novel too. I have to take a suitcase back I borrowed from George in January, and those who know me know I hate checking luggage, pretty much always. If you don’t check it, you can’t lose it. If you have to check it, I am pretty sure you have too much stuff. I have never traveled internationally with luggage, either…it’s just the way I tend to do things. And with it being summer I am going to be checking one giant suitcase which will probably weigh all of 10 pounds..and that’s probably pushing it…

And this little thing? This is why I return…this girl is my best girl…my Sophie…she will likely pee all over herself when she sees me…I just hope she hasn’t forgotten me or I really will cry…