It’s funny

how a romantic comedy can make things ok for a little bit.

Sidney: Why did I have to kiss him?
Beth: You kissed him?
Sidney: Yeah.
Beth: You didn't tell me that.
Sidney: I kissed him.
Beth: Where?
Sidney: On the mouth.
Beth: Where in the White House?
Sidney: Oh, in the dish room.
Beth: The dish room?
Sidney: The China Room.
Beth: And then what happened?
Sidney: He had to go and attack Libya.
Beth: It's always something.

Central Park, older chests

Today’s wandering of Manhattan involved a stroll through Central Park, and around it for about two hours. The weather was perfect, and for once since I’ve come here I wasn’t sweltering in muggy heat. 

It’s been good, really good. Wonderful. And, it’s hard for me to write this, because I’m afraid that admitting it (even just to myself) I come across as ungrateful, and not present. That’s not the case.

But, I think if I don’t put it somewhere, it’s just going to threaten me. So.

As I walked deeper into the park I ended up hitting a little pond, full of ducks, little mechanical sail boats, and benches encircling it. Getting closer to the pond, I realized I had unknowingly started to cry so I stopped. At first it was all my dad. And, one of my favorite memories with him in NYC of just laying in the grass together on some grassy null in central park. We were hot, and exhausted from exploring that day. I knew it was only a matter of time before this was going to come in a hard way, and even as I write this I cry. But, it’s such a good memory, and I love it. But, it’s still really hard sometimes, even the good memories can hurt.

Then if that wasn’t enough the pond reminded me of the Round Pound in Kensington Gardens, and I just couldn’t stop the tears at that point, which was embarrassing, so I tried to find a place to hide by a tree or something to compose myself. And, the pond was completely different than Kensington Gardens - more pastoral looking, and it’s man-made sense is more obvious. I like the Round Pond better, but this was lovely, and perfect in it’s own way, too. There’s been too many times where I’ve thought about London here, and it’s sort of upsetting to me. Because, I want this to be it’s own, and I want to be completely present here. London wasn’t perfect, and I’m completely idealizing it - yet It still makes me feel guilty when things like this come in my mind, and I’m trying to figure out how to let it go. And, maybe this just means that I really do need to seriously figure out a way to get back there, that I’m supposed to go back there. But, this is very scary to me in an unknown sort of way, too, and I’d like to not even think about that now.

Today was really great. I loved every step I took, and everything I saw, and I was happy. I kind of hope this kind of thing is it for the summer - that this doesn’t happen again. I really do love Central Park just as much as I did back then, if not more. Maybe I didn’t realize until I got to Central Park that I had to go through that to let some things go.

When I see the Eiffel Tower at night for the first time

thetimeistudiedabroad:

True life - but surprisingly didn’t cry - literally frolicked and twirled.

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Oh my

I love it here.

And, I love it when it rains here.