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I Bought A Red Sweater On A Monday

Hello from New York!

I started drafting this in my head on the way home from a spontaneous trip downtown to check out a pop-up I've heard floating around in conversation—a retail venture on paper, but mentally a time to reflect and step out of my routinely bubble (although life is less routine these days).

The draft started as such:

Red sweater in hand. Music plugged back in. My boots mimicking horse gallops on cobble stone streets. A wrong turn led to the street I had my first kiss on (I always end up on that street, something metaphorical I'm sure). Reflections on how much has changed since then. I notice my shoulders have loosened since the first time I walked on this street alone. A note and recollection on the fact that this route to the subway is all too familiar—when did New York become so familiar. This morning Maddy mentioned something about New York being much more livable this time around; I share my recent musings on the same topic.

On the train, I reread a newsletter for probably the sixth time and realize I haven't posted since May. A text from an old friend. A text from another. My stop.

Walking up the stairs out of the subway I see an athletic-built man, strained legs, struggling but slowly tackling the steps one by one. I remember the woman I saw walking backwards down the platform steps 15 minutes prior. The New York Marathon was yesterday. I somehow recognize parts of myself in the man. Recently life feels similar to the post-marathon climb down subway steps. Recognition in how far you'd come, sore from the exhausting day before. A surreal feeling of having accomplished something you've worked towards for so long. Having to trudge through the next day, nonetheless.

New York stops for no one. You struggle down the stairs rather than staying in another day.

I've been running around much more than usual, but then again maybe this is the new normal. I'd be quite alright with that.

The draft is merging into my present stream of thought—a meta referential moment, confusing my prior thoughts I began consciously keeping track of knowing I'd want to write them down with the ones floating around as I type. They all throw themselves around my mind rapidly, hoping to be intriguing enough to capture. Deja vu. Strange.

I haven't been writing here nearly as much as I'd like. I'm in an interesting place right now with my various projects where I rapidly outgrow them but then reminisce on the times that the "passion" of passion project was genuine and not old phrase.

I've been making lots of new friends too. Some part of me is scared to say the wrong thing with so many new eyes on me these days. Not that any of them are actually watching.

Increasingly conscious of the way I am perceived—this is nothing new.

Afraid of recounting the ebb of excitement I'm experiencing in this period of my life in fear of coming off as ungrateful. An urge to recognize my privileges without overcompensating. It's never that serious!

Out of my previous attempts at writing something here intermittently throughout the past few months, this attempt feels the most genuine. Maybe it'll make it out of the drafts. I hope so.

This used to be a fun place to keep track of my life. Reading over what was prevalent in my life at the time. Watching as my perspective changes and matures. Even implicitly through what I choose to omit and how I word my phrases and whether or not I capitalize my words or check if that word really means what I think it does.

In my own personal journal I will frequently write down a word when I am weary of the definition—it doesn't matter if it's applied correctly in those circumstances, I'm the only one who needs to know what it means. If it feels like the correct use or is merely aesthetically in alignment with my sentence I'll probably use it. I do it a few times here, but people can actually read this. Some sort of attempt to come off as more mature.

I'm afraid these maturity fronts I've been placing lately will run me out of my final teenage year and come biting me in the end. It's never that serious! Hmmm less of a maturity front, more tapping into more mature sides of my being. Or I'll tell myself it's that. We consist of multitudes, a mantra around my apartment these days.

I'm living with five other girls. Two bathrooms though, fortunately. I love them all, even more so.

I've been making a lot of music too! I am very super exorbitantly excited to share it with the world. This project feels much bigger than me. I attempted to explain this to my roommate's parents at dinner the other week. Rambling something along the lines of putting something out that other people can consume and interact with, creating an entity that I inevitably have to detach from my sense of self in certain ways. It's hard for me to conceptualize and grasp sometimes.

This is a new style of writing for me. Going with it! The informal formality of it is throwing me off, but it's fun.

Trying to live where my feet are. I read that in the comment section of a Devon Lee Carlson Instagram post, I won't lie.

New York feels real this time around. I am filled with gratitude.

I bought a red sweater today.

It won't always be this way, but here's to another overdue vignette of my life!

Hope you're doing well.

Talk soon,




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