Hey, Stranger

I think the significant lack of bloggage is testament to the fact that I seem to always have something to do nowadays, even if it means still reading the novel I was supposed to have finished a week ago that I'm just over halfway through. I'm starting to assimilate into the city - things aren't as surprising and new, but becoming familiar in a nice way. The heat of the cement is sometimes a little strong, but at the same time it feels good when you know winter's coming and the heat will be replaced by cold and wind.

I think sometimes about what would have happened to me if I stayed at HC. I think I would have been fine, but at the same time I wouldn't be happy with being fine. I'd probably never stop wondering if there was a bigger world out there, and the wonder would probably linger for all four years. I think sometimes that I gave up the relationships I made there for my own sense of adventure and introvertism. NYU is all about the self and independence. Meeting people was much easier when you were in a concentrated unit of 3000, but there was no surprise, nothing new. I know that this is better, I really do, and even though I feel a little floaty lately, it won't last if I remain as crazy busy as I have been.

I write about this because I ran into someone I knew from HC who graduated in May. I ran into him, of all places, in Starbucks (if there weren't 8000 in Manhattan), and he just happened to be THAT person from school that everyone meets as a freshman because he hits on all the freshman girls but is really just harmless. It was awkward and unexpected but eye-opening for me: he seemed to be pretty homesick for the HC community and unused to the unfamiliar nature of cities. And while for a fleeting second I felt the same nostalgia he felt, I realized that that was one of my biggest reasons for transferring - it wasn't reality to me. I feel now like I have more freedom to live my life, and along with that comes the difficulty of making your own way when not everyone is looking out for you. It's nice to see someone you know every time you open your door, but I just feel like it's more honest when most of the people you see on the street don't really care too much about what you're doing there.

So I guess I'm saying that it's reassuring to be ignored. Strangely enough, that doesn't even sound strange to me. Also, as a side note, I went home for one night this weekend and was there less than 24 hours. The best part was coming back, because there was no hesitation. It finally felt right.