--I never published this blog for some reason--

(THURSDAY MARCH NINETEENTH)

It's a rather cold and rainy day here in Gotham. I'm sitting here, staring out onto the soggy masses trudging along Lexington Ave. and feeling completely overwhelmed one moment and underwhelmed the next. There's an older gentleman in his office across the street with the whitest hair I have ever seen. It's like a beacon shining through this overcast gloom.I wonder if my hair will turn that white when I'm old or if it'll be wiry and salt and pepper. I'll be quite the tattooed granny me thinks. I hope have grandchildren. Lots of them, like my Nannie...or a Weasley.

My mind has been on overdrive lately. I feel like something in my life is missing and that this isn't where I'm supposed to be. I've once again become a vegetarian and for the first time it's based on ethical reasoning. The idea of eating another living thing just seems odd, the way they are farmed is barbaric and unsanitary and it's completely destroying out planet. The statistics are mind boggling and I can't ignore them any longer. The switch however is running concurrent with my annual Spring detox. My body is purging itself of these harmful wastes double time and I feel as sick as a dog. Every year I forget how miserable a detox initially makes you feel.


A few floors up there's a gentleman hanging his head out of an open window. I wonder what he's thinking about, if he's feeling as --whelmed as I am, if he's also scared of the future and the follicular changes it will bring. City living can make you feel mighty small sometimes. You begin to cling to any shred of connectivity with another being that you can find. A pigeon just landed on the windowsill and is staring quite intensely at me. Either that or he sees his reflection and is as vain as the rest of this city. I think I humanize animals too much. I blame cartoons.

There's this girl in my two evening classes that I've been observing since the beginning of the semester. The poor thing takes herself so seriously that I think she could turn coal to diamonds with her bum alone. I want to know what goes on in her head, what makes her tick. She likes to read really, really intense books, always making sure you can see the cover or spine and then laughs to herself. I suppose my use of "observe" is a little off as I find myself a bit obsessed with her. She took to shooting down all of my comments in lecture and I was immediately hooked. I suppose I've been so riveted by her because I am waiting for her to fail or make a fool of herself. Something, anything to break her facade because no man (or woman) is indeed an island. I need her to prove to me that she's human, but I don't know why. Strange, isn't it?

I had to write an essay about Opa for a $1000 grant to study in Germany. The dead grandfather card is always a good angle. As I wrote it though, I began to get really angry that her didn't uphold more customs and traditions and that he died so young. I'm not sure why I seemingly identify solely with my German heritage, perhaps because it's the biggest part of me or where I have the strongest living ties, but shouldn't being an American be enough? Shouldn't that make me whole?