swept away

happy monday, dearest readers. and by monday, i mean tuesday. because it was a three-day weekend. if there's anything better than a three-day weekend, it's that you have a shortened work week afterward. later, when i figure out what the hell is wrong with blogger, i'll post pictures of our day in central park. amanda, hilary, and i hosted a revolving array of friends during our five-hour campout at 59th and 5th: jonathan, nakia, perri, marta (perri's girl, not my mother. though she's visiting tomorrow afternoon, god save us all). we spent the afternoon shoeless in central park, eating couscous (not pearl barley because of my stupid stomach), tuna salad, bean salad. fancy picnic things. i told hilary that i loved carrying our wicker picnic basket (courtesy of amanda's father) because it was practically advertising that we were on our way to an afternoon in the park. look at me, going to central park with my basket full of fancy food. where are you going? work? oh, that sucks.

in other news, our apartment is already a 24-hour sweatbox. if i'm home, i wear nothing but a pair of mesh shorts (a prospect that might be exciting for anyone but my poor roommates) because i don't want to sweat through any of my normal clothes. i'm not made of money and i can't afford to wash three outfits a day. except when i sleep, i've stopped noticing just how hot the apartment is. when i'm trying to sleep, though, sweating on my sheets (and not for any good reason), i get very pissed off. better a sweaty bed than a hospital bed, however.

i was on my morning commute today and saw this couple making love. they were so into each other that if they'd been naked (or at least pantless) they would've actually been having intercourse. this is the same couple that nearly made me miss the train in queens because they insisted on holding hands all the way up the stairs, walking extremely slowly. then, at 59th street, they were full-on making out at 8:45am. now, i love being in love. and i love making out. just not at 8:45 on a crowded subway platform. ech, public displays of affection, i started to think to myself. then i thought, hmm, but isn't everything in new york kind of public? bear with me.

maybe it's because i have two roommates and people are always around, but i feel like everyone is always on display here in new york. crowded streets, offices, subways. there's never any true privacy, except maybe in the bathroom. i don't write this because i feel like my roommates are up in my space--our apartment is big enough that if i actually needed alone time (i seldom do), i could get it. i'm talking, specifically, about being in public. in central park or at a bar or on the train. you're never actually alone. in baltimore it was completely possible to be the only person on the street, an unsavory prospect. it was often deserted, especially on sunday afternoons. in new york, however, no matter where you are, no matter what time it is, there are people around. it makes you feel safer, for sure. but it also makes you feel like there's nowhere you can go to be by yourself.

sometimes, especially during my morning commute, i imagine that i don't even have to walk to get where i'm going. i imagine that i could just let myself be swept along by the sea of people pushing their way onto the N train and then the 6 train, riding the crowd like the lead singer of a hair metal band. all i have to do is pick a group that looks like they might be in healthcare and let them take me to work.