My weekend report (a few days late):
Saturday morning, I woke too early after being up too late on Friday. The constant loss of sleep has become routine, and I wonder if the ideal "eight hours rest" some health official recommends exists as a possiblity for college students. I think not.
This Saturday, I and my friends are leaving for a day trip to New York City. After waking up those who slept past the time we wanted to meet and finally gathering all the lost pieces of our crew, the eight of us drove up. When we arrived in the city, our first plan was to locate a parking garage. Once that was complete, we were free to enjoy our day.
Every time I go to New York, I am struck by several things. The first is simply the sheer size of the city. The sky scrapers that disappear into the clouds are filled with rooms crowded with people. People in the streets; people in cars; people on the subway. Everyone with a mission and their own private direction that they don't share with each other. They don't talk and they even try to avoid eye contact.
I feel like no one in the city. I disappear in the crowd and the press of people. What I think and feel doesn't matter: There are too many other people with thoughts or feelings to care. Suddenly, I understand that I am nothing in the scheme of things.
The city seems so gray that the billboards and flashing lights seem even more synthetically bright. No wonder everyone wears darker colors in the city. They don't want to conspicuous.
While I'm there, I like to watch the people walk by. I wonder where they are going, why are they going there and will it be better than where they came from. I want to know their stories, and since they won't tell me, I make up stories for them instead.
I like to see different cultures. I feel as if a microchasm of the world resides in New York. Wandering down Chinatown, one can buy leeches, strange herbal remedies and other unique items not found elsewhere. Down the street, in Soho the trendy gather to mix their drinks and mingle. Fashion and frump fill those streets.
While wondering, we decided to visit Saint Patrick's Cathedral. There, we found ourselves eavesdropping on a wedding. The cermony was perfectly elegant. The dresses were simple and expensive. Every strand of the bride's hair rested in place and her make-up looked airbrushed. She was beautiful or would have been if she smiled. She seemed so sad and frightened. I wonder if she was thinking of magnitude of her vows and was afraid. Maybe she didn't really want to marry. Maybe she was frustrated at her father whose arm was looped through hers. Maybe she was uncomfortable with the crowd of on-lookers spying on her most precious moments. Whatever the reason, she looked unhappy.
We listened to the cermony for a little longer and then left to play the giant piano at F.A.O. Shwartz toy store.
When I returned to Lehigh that evening, I was tired but happy. I had seen what I wanted to see. | 
