View of the East River & Stacking Stones II

On the 33rd floor of a friends flat here in Manhattan looking out over the East River. Walking the city today. Walking through the West Village and Chelsea. People everywhere. Street festivals. dIvErSitY. People of all colors. Admiring the men in the city. The view is addictive. Watching barges, boats go up the river. Looking out to Brooklyn.

Tomorrow at this time, back home. But it's temporary. Finally, I'm coming to terms with the decision I made before residency. I decided to choose the best med-peds program for me, knowing I wouldn't like where I lived. I tried to like the place. I explored the mountains. I looked for good coffee shops. I looked for a solid base of friends. I looked for love. I looked for a group of gay friends. I looked, I looked, I looked. And didn't find these things. I am sitting here in my friends flat, which has a couch, a table, some chairs. It is one bedroom. It is simple. I fell into the trap of accumulating a ton of shit in my apartment, and in truth, what I needed was a simple space.

I am stacking stones (see July 4th entry). I am going to keep stacking stones; I am stubborn and will persevere. But stupidly, I couldn't use my imagination when re-stacking stones. I kept placing them in the same order, looking for the same things, and watching it all crumble. I've started the re-stacking. I think I finally have some peace about my decision about where I live, and quite honestly, I'm done complaining about it.

I have gotten past this unhappy hurdle which kept tripping me up.

Now, I am going to read here in my friends flat, and watch the view.

Cheers,
Brian