it is a great art to saunter

i don't know what i should write.

unlike the last time, there's nothing coursing through my brain at the moment. my proverbial soapbox is collecting dust in the corner. as is my literal squirrel tail.

thanksgiving looms. the thought of kathy manfre's mashed potatoes & apple pie are making me long for wednesday so hard. 1:30 pm, i will be on a bus bound for grovers corners. all i want is acqua bistro, the toadstool, and the smoky smell of my fireplace. i love my home, and i am so thankful to have it to go home to. new york and peterborough are such wonderful compliments to each other. 

there's so much i want to do in the coming weeks. i hope that, for the first time in the history of my collegiate career, my academics (ew) don't stand in my way. is it really necessary to have a final AND a final paper due just days from each other? no, art history department. it's not. but then again, neither is this class. god i'm so lazy. the department of journalism, in a strict partnership with the tisch school of the arts, have rendered me entirely unable and unwilling to do any semblance of schoolwork.

speaking of. i am officially 179 days away from being an alumnus of nyu. terrifying.

all i want to do is travel. that is what london gave me as a going-away present. a nice taste of cabin fever. all i want to do is hop a train/plane/side-car to go somewhere beautiful and exotic and different. it's so funny to think that where i live, my "hometown" (if you will) is the travel destination of millions of people. people save for years to spend 5 days in my neighborhood. what i consider to be the worst possible place in manhattan to spend even 10 minutes, is where tens of thousands of people spend whole afternoons staring at really vibrant advertisements. i guess it's the same everywhere - there will always be clueless tourists and their overrated destinations - though i feel like once you've gotten a grasp on the metropolitan mind-set, you can survive cooly wherever you go. 

i miss europe. i miss legoplanes and exotic cuisine and drinking because it's cheap and going on guided tours of everything and buying postcards and tesco and pub food.

but new york will be forever irreplaceable to me. all i did in london was compare it to new york. all i did was huff around at not being able to get a sandwich at 2 am. and that i had to pull out my fucking oyster card every 12 seconds. and that i never quite knew exactly where i was going. and that every time i used my debit card, my soul died a little bit. new york is my home. well, it is my current home. my home base at the moment. it is where i have made my own little corner of the world. it's where i sit and type from at this very moment. it's never truly dark. it's never truly quiet. and i like that. i'm not quite sure why.

but i sometimes nab a copy of time out: london at my internship. just to keep up, you know. just in case.

there is magic in that little word, home; it is a mystic circle that surrounds comforts and virtues never known beyond its hallowed limits. - robert southey