Guess who's en route to somewhere on a bus along the east coast of a Westernized country in the middle of November?
It struck me two days ago--on the anniversary of my most free and most unaccountable and most experiential seven months (or so)--that perspective is actually what turns a routine journey into a "trip." I've been living in New York City for almost three months now and while I am in no way "used to it" yet, my time spent on subways has started to become negligible already.
To some people, that may not seem like a big deal.
But to me, that's depressing.
So, I've resigned myself to enjoying those "trips," short and expected though they may be.
Along the same lines, there's just too much to do in this city not to take advantage of it.
So, I've also resigned myself to spending (no more than) $50 a month to really live here.
Even if it's just going to a new place and ordering a new dish, there's just no sense in living here and staying in.
I'll save money later.
