I really wanted to go to this conference on writing and medicine. But instead, I’ll be here, in a city I hate, working on my thesis.
It was sort of a bad weekend for me — I made some time to see friends on Saturday, which was good, but I spent most of Sunday in a crabby mood. Even my Sunday morning scones (a new recipe) came out disgusting, with enormous chunks of unmelted butter. Gross. I am weird in that I like not to be reminded of heart attacks at brunch. I also had another of those awkward conversations with someone who could barely contain their smirk. Shut up, smirker.
I know, I’m whining. Sorry. I know it’s illegal for someone taking a year off to be stressed. It’s just a bit disorienting to see all my friends move along with their lives, whereas I have another twelve months to go in a city I hate. The two things that have made New York bearable for me are my friends (many of whom are leaving) and the Central Park Pond at 103rd St. It’s not yet warm enough to go to the park, so I’m going to continue being a bitch until the weather improves or I finish my thesis. Feels like neither is going to happen anytime soon.