Woke up this morning with a very bad headache, so I took a walk to the Vassar farm with the hope that fresh air would banish it. (It did.) I had never been to the farm before; it was vast and grayish and spindly, as November usually tends to be.

At first I listened to music, but that began to feel like sensory overload. There was something calm and simple about the sight of so many bare trees,

and the crunch of gravel under clogs. 

At one point I heard a rustling behind me and thought someone else was there, but it was only a leaf, following along.

Mostly the walk affirmed to me how much I like to be alone; it is never really a lonely feeling. This might change as I get older, but probably not.



Last week Ali and I had friends over to celebrate our twenty-first birthdays. We asked everyone to bring a dish of food and dress like their favorite literary character. Hester Prynne came with eggplant moussaka, Hamlet brought plantains, and Kira, as the momma from The Namesake, arrived with a big pot of pea soup. Jay Gatsby and Nick Carraway went in on a roast chicken; the boys next door baked muffins and claimed to be assorted characters from 1984. Ali went as Oliver Twist, and I was Lolita. I was not sure whether this was appropriate but it gave me an excuse to wear an old pair of heart-shaped glasses and attempt a complicated braided hairstyle. 


gray* november dayz

* Gray or grey? I googled and was directed to this helpful website. If Samuel Johnson is down with gray, it works for me.