Reporting from Times Square. From my hotel room I can see Central Park in the distance. Tomorrow's an early start but then for dinner Bianca, Kinndli, and I are hanging out, which rules. I've heard rumors that some yoga is in the cards, and I could totally go for that, or maybe a visit to Bianca's latest Mrs. Donna. If you knew Bianca, you'd have to ask her. She's the most unlikely candidate which makes her story even better.
Anyway, NY is the kind of place I wish I'd lived at some point in my life. But now, after my Boston experience, I readily admit my weanieness. There's no way I could deal with the cold.
The thing about relationships is that they are never just the people -- the you and the me. There's this identity (the essence of the relationship itself), and it takes on a life of its own so that sometimes you cannot remove one of its parts and still have it be a recognizable whole. In fact, changing a significant piece of the relationship's identity could be tantamount to removing one of its members. This, I think, is why it's so hard to transition seamlessly from ex to friend or friend to something else. I might not make sense since I'm sleepy and writing a little in a fog. Bedways.