Haven't the Foggiest.

My thoughts are disjointed and fleeting. I come to the blank white space and I couldn't possibly tie down even half of the novel moments walking in this blessed city. I sincerely dread the question of how I'm doing. I'm beginning to think I don't really know. I'm starting to realize my scatterbrain habits are not to be escaped by simply moving across the country. With hours of free time, and a drastically downsized list of appointments, how is it that I can't focus on writing a simple "how I'm doing" post? So much I've wanted to say, so much I've been meaning to tell you, so many stories now expired from procrastination and one tenacious writer's block.

So I just want to say that I'm doing fine here. My day usually consists of waking up late morning, taking a 30 min train ride to work at the cash register for Crisp, asking the same questions and ending each mini-dialogue with "my pleasure have a great day," then making myself a falafel plate and eating amongst the pre-Winter hustle and bustle in Bryant Park. The ice staking rink has been here for nearing a month now, and every time I see it it's packed with all kinds of people, young and old. Onlookers are just as frequent and colorful, clasping onto paper cups of cocoa and cider. It's not all that cold yet, but we're all just looking for an excuse to drink the stuff -- I know I've been. They've set up about over sixty different little shops here from local retailers and food vendors. I try to stay a healthy amount of yards away from the Max Brenner booth and its Italian Hot Chocolate. There's jazz music playing all around and it probably warms my heart more than the Italian Hot Chocolate (yeah I caved twice already) to know the next generation is still soaking in some Ella Fitz. The evening is where it starts to vary, where I'm either studying acting, discovering new food with a friend, shopping for layers, or just trying new things. I'm discovering that our God is a creative and versatile Maker who has left His hand-print on this unique culture. It's just not possible to look at skyscrapers extending into the clouds of fog and not be provoked to think about the heavens.

Well what do you know? I'm writing again...