Been on break--thinking things through and enjoying slowing down.

I can't even express everything I've been thinking over. Suffice to say, I am trying to not regret certain occurences in the past. It's difficult. Sometimes I remember moments with Kevin* and I still can't really believe they happened, you know? Sigh, he had the loveliest eyes.

I've decided I'm going to go help the sea turtles in Mexico. Or the rainforest in Ecuador. Something along that line this summer. It's been too long that I've been selfish and concerned only with myself.

Anyway, am going to see Ice Princess tonight. Hellllz yes. You read right. ICE PRINCESS, biatches. Out.

* = you know the drill. name has been changed.

Everything is measured by the minute here. Each one is precarious; will I make the walk signal? Will I make it to class on time? Will the light ever turn green?

The other day I found myself with a walk which was short, staccato. Step-step-step. I felt tense and ungainly, and attempted to lengthen the stride. It didn't work. The air was frozen cold on my face and I was nearly late for the whatever I was rushing to, so I continued my awkward stepping until I reached the destination.

New York is not a city built for slow walkers. Everyone here walks with their eyes focused on something far ahead and bodies leaning forward as though it'll get them there faster by sheer momentum. They stream around the tourists with their armfuls of bags and fanny packs and big cameras who either move in a lethargic pack or not at all, standing and pointing at the sights. I remember a time when I was the tourist, gawping at the tall skyscrapers and neon brightness of Times Square.

Even when I was younger, I remember my sister always telling me to hurry up. She was the brisk one, who often walked far ahead of my parents and me.

Recently, when my sister visited, there was no mention of my hurrying up. I was already on pace with the other New Yorkers.

The other day, history came to life.

Okay, now that I've raised your expectations...

What actually happened was that Alex, the guy I volunteer with, and I went to lunch. GASP. Okay, no, that's not the big news either. Ha, bet I psyched you out there.

As we left the library, I was walking on the right, next the street, with him on my left. Then he physically moved me so that he would be walking on my right. I frowned a bit, and wondered why but didn't mention it. I had a faint inkling why and I was rather charmed by the thought.

You see, back in the day when women wore beautifully crafted dresses, men would walk streetside so that women's dresses wouldn't get stained when carriages or cars or moving contraptions drove by through puddles. I had read about this somewhere in the past, and had pretty much believed the chivalrous notion to be dead.

But apparently it thrives in the form of Alex's female cousins, who proceeded to drill in his head that women should never walk streetside. He explained this to me yesterday on our way to our third lunch.

This lunch after volunteering thing has become a weekly thing, I think, and I'm not at all displeased by the thought.

So ladies and gents, what do you think about this notion that men walk streetside? Antiquated or charming? Silly?

Don't want to go into details, but the crush is progressing nicely.