i suppose i could write about...

how i've never worked so hard at so many different things as i did this last week.

and how i then proceeded to sleep through the weekend.

or how a new job as me wearing heels for the first time in three, four years, maybe? (my feet are aching).

how my parents brought me a twelve day supply (exactly one case) of pellegrino yesterday.

and how after exactly one brunch in my tiny little corner of northern manhattan with my mother, father, grandfather and a plate of huevos rancheros i am left me feeling unbelievably homesick.

how my living room is now filled with my grandmother's furniture. dark wood. pieces that look just like the stuff i grew up with. a living history in a new location.

or how i slept on a friend's couch last night so i could make it to the early physique class at spring street.

how i've been thinking a lot about love lately. or like. or attraction. and i keep coming back to the wise words of paulo coelho: one is loved because one is loved. no reason is needed for loving. because isn't it funny how what makes one person attractive is simultaneously a turn-off on someone else? thank god love can't ever really be defined. if it could, it probably wouldn't be worth it.

so i could write about all these things.

but i haven't the time.

life's moving so quickly. and i must stick my mahi burger in the oven and answer some emails and put on some heels because i surely don't wanna be late to work.