One day

 There are 32 pictures in this post. They're mostly cutesy ones. I can get away with this today only.

I wonder how not being in a relationship would have changed my experience living here in New York. I can't really imagine it. I can't think of a single way that my relationship has negatively affected the experience. I can't think of a single way my relationship has negatively affected anything about me or my life. Which is the way it should be. This person is supposed to make your life better-- make the good things better, and the bad things easier. And I have someone who actually thinks my rambling is pleasant. And is pretty strict with me, actually, when I'm complaining, or being a wimp, or not doing what needs to be done. Or worrying. He even tells me what to do about this terrible grad-student insomnia.

He's got a natural togetherness that I love. I LOVE that he FOLDS ALL HIS LAUNDRY. (Seriously, I can't even believe that shit. ...and I love his response to my amazement at that: "What do you want me to do, throw everything in a pile?" Like it's no big deal that he folds everything so neatly. Seriously people, even like undershirts.) Anyway: Happy Valentine's Day!

He drinks margaritas with me

One of the best times we've spent together was this trip to Bakersfield for a conference I was speaking at last year.

Our trip to visit Tucson, before he moved there. 

because his nickname is hippo ...don't ask me, I didn't give it to him. 

BEARD!

My sister's wedding

ROW!

Ahh, this face.

I love how he braves crowds to see floats being blown up.

Central Park + a prime example of how having braces made me look less exuberant and more snooty in pictures. I mean who does she think she is??!

This is always how the ones I take come out.

Patagonia, AZ

Outside Patagonia

Oakland, CA

I just like this one of our feet.

Because this is my blog: My mom and my aunt Jean with baby Gus.

Summer of 2009. 

Valentine's Day, 2010. 

Okay. Now I'm going to a friend's house to watch The Notebook and drink gin.

Family!

I will miss them this Thanksgiving.

Especially the chance to get another installment in this series:

Me and Gussy at June '09 reunion; this September at Other Red-Haired Cousin's wedding! <3

The First Post About My Move to New York City

What, you didn't think I was done, did you? I've got to get my numbers up. Five posts? How will anyone ever take me seriously???

The Story About Columbia

I wanted it for years. I literally NEVER thought I would go to this program. I could tell you until I went hoarse how I really, seriously, honestly, only applied last November 1st because I knew that I had to do that application first, to get it out of my head, my heart, my system, and then move on to finding other grad programs. Other plans. I knew I had to do it--I was proud of myself for applying--I even convinced myself by the application date that I was perfect for the program. But I was not prepared to come home the day before Thanksgiving to an empty house, a Fedex envelope on the step, the glance at the return address that merely made me think "they don't Fedex rejections do they??" and then the crying that started as soon as I looked inside.

So here I am.

I have done essentially nothing so far to prepare for this move, other than squeal "New York!!" every time I see the city in a show or movie; I have received confirmation that I will get a housing offer from the university, but since I don't know when I'm moving, I don't know anything yet. Heck, it took me six months to write about it. I'm not worried though- For some reason, I feel like planning a trip to South America was a lot more of an undertaking than moving to New York City will be.

But I move to Manhattan by myself for at least a year in about 5 weeks.

I will miss people, and things. But for someone who lived a normal life in Sacramento, and worked and went to community college and transferred to San Diego and came back home and worked and then took a trip to Peru and then worked...It's the most exciting thing that I have ever made happen for myself.

So! What do I need, besides a backpack, a big puffy knee-length coat, and the restraint to keep myself from stopping at the top of the subway stairs and saying "Ooooooo look at the buildings!" (Just kidding, I know I am going to do that)? I already have the fancy MacBook Pro (thank you federal tax refund), the impractical purse, and loan applications nearing 100 grand.

This is an investment, right? A colleague and friend of mine, when once upon a time I shared my dreams of grandeur, said Columbia would be really hard to get into... "but a Master's degree from Columbia would be a really valuable thing." And I'm proud to say I think so, too. My head is worth it, and so is the Earth.

Everything at the surface

That's how I'm feeling today. And I guess it's the only way to be with a blog, unless you have an actual specific purpose for it. We all know I don't need one of those, right?

It is cool to see the stats from the blog. For a few reasons. While anyone (most people) who reads this from the US has anonymity, I can see that 2 pageviews came from Canada and 1 came from Poland.

And because of my limited fame and web dominance, I can know who these people are! I have a few friends in Canada who I met traveling in Peru. And that lone view from Poland? Ah- must be my BFF Iza!! We met because we were roomies in a hostel in South Beach last spring. We called each other "bff"... I think it started because she wanted to know what it meant when Americans said it...also now remembering telling her '90210' was the ZIP code where the people on the show lived... It's funny what doesn't translate.

Anyway, given the odds, I'm pretty sure that was her, and just seeing that made me think of her. Here's us having frozen yogurt, a year ago this month:

Why is it that the most powerful feelings of longing-- the ones that go, oh my god, that was so amazing, That was the best day/experience ever-- are for the times I have traveled, met people, and seen places i had never known before? Is it just because I have more pictures of those times than I do of the regular routine? Or is it because I am so happy in those pictures? (Maybe you have to look cute AND have a good memory of the experience to feel that way.)

Other reflections on my stats: By consensus, Google Chrome is the best browser. And, contrasting my feelings upon seeing views from Canada and Poland, I felt a little bummed when I realized no one from England had viewed it. Camilla! Hmph!

Here's Camilla:

(Hey dude, it's not my fault that this is the most flattering picture I have that isn't 3 years old. Visit meee!!)

She's my BFF too. We have a sort of weird history, technically-roommatesbestfriendsweirdconvolutedyearlongnotfriendsthenfriendsagain- and I haven't seen her since the day this pic was taken (the whole England thing) but I know I will always consider her my friend. It's interesting, I've known her since late 2006, and we don't really have any connections in common. My other friends don't know her, I don't know anyone else that's in her life. Just each other.

All right, who else can I call out for not reading my blog based on one single linking to Facebook? Where you at, Switzerland (my friend Isaline)? Sheesh.

No, really, where I was going before? My feelings about travel. They were brought up to the surface again today when I watched this video about "the boy Amelie" - a guy who flew to Europe to return a lost roll of film. He captures my feelings exactly, especially about the people you meet, through his honesty and openness. Traveling makes me aware of life itself; it consists of the experiences that make you realize how lucky and weird and coincidental everything that happens to you is. We forget it, but doing something random and adventurous makes us remember. You find yourself in a boat in a jungle, in a bus in the Andes, in some totally random person's condo over Miami because your hostel roommate met another Polish girl who hosts travelers via Couchsurfer and serves them delicious wine, and you go, wow, I am alive, and anything could happen tomorrow.

Which is what life... is.

(So sayeth the 25-year-old.)

So, before the hits to this blog go through the roof and crash Blogger's server, as they surely will any day now (I just gotta get Lady Gaga to tweet me), It was cool to see those first few pageviews. They brought up thoughts of the living I won't ever forget!

Below: This is Isaline, in Pisaq, a pueblo in the Sacred Valley in the Peruvian Andes. Two years ago this week we spent a week there learning Spanish.

Eerie/coincidental/100% honest update: just checked stats. I just got a page view from Switzerland!