Sunday was Pride in New York City. We danced down streets and drank pitchers of margaritas on hotel rooftops, surrounded by rainbows and love.
I’m settling into my new situation of working remotely. Considering my office is a ten minute walk from my writing desk at home, and it’s in one of the most beautiful buildings in town – with a lovely set of fellow Writers; I don’t particularly mind attending.
That said, I like having my own schedule. Sometimes I’m not popping 9 to 5, usually I’m at my brightest around 6am. It will be nice to take a break of working in unideal timeframe.
I’m particularly looking forward to the stories it invites.
I realized lately that, while I don’t particularly believe in time, patience is a requirement of survival. I feel this way whether anyone is aware of it or not. There’s a level of patience and a level of tolerance that have become legitimate survival elements, particularly during this odd piece of history occurring on Earth at the moment.
I digress…
My favorite pard of Pride was when we marched with the Caribbean float. There were bikinis and feathers and some of the best music I heard that day, along with big shoes and beads.
If all goes to plan, I’ll be in Africa come September. The best thing about New York City, to be, is the cultural diversity – it’s the population. I’ve never been around anything like it, and it’s an honor to proudly say that as a midtown local of six years now – I’m part of it.