Winter just wasn't my season (or a collage of thoughts)

It's nearly summer, and I couldn't be happier about that. I feel like I've been stretching a lot more lately...like I want to grab all the sunshine and hold it in my arms at once. A professor corrected a short story of mine one time when I wrote about the smell of sunshine. He said it was an incorrect description because sunshine doesn't have a smell. He's wrong. And I'm glad.

Fordham's bloomed all over in dogwood and tulips and azaleas, and I'm glad to see it in its springtime splendor. Fall was beautiful, but spring feels better to me here.

I'm leaving this place in a few days, and I can't help but wonder what would happen if I didn't...if I stuck around for a bit longer. Maybe someday. Not yet though.

I really shook things up today when I went to Central Park by myself. None of my friends were surprised - they gave up long ago trying to figure out my need to wander the city alone sometimes. The group I had lunch with, though...let's put it this way: all of these guys are a part of a facebook group called "The Future Soccer Moms of America (and the Men That Provide for Them)." They were appalled at the thought of me wandering the streets of New York alone (even in broad daylight...even though I lived here for a whole semester...even though I happen to be fairly good at taking care of myself...) They couldn't grasp that I wanted to sit alone in Strawberry Fields and listen to mellow music and scribble an odd line or two in my notebook...ALONE. Goodness gracious, I didn't think I'd need a burka here.