I hate NY

I had made plans to completely enjoy myself and my city today. I was
going to go to a dance workshop, meet a friend for shopping in Union
Square, and then head off to EMS to learn to use a compass
effectively. Besides the slight panic I caused for myself by accidentally staying at my parents last night,
coming back home too late, and being an hour late, I had a great
morning. I moved my body around in a class taught by professional
dancers. [They were amazing, by the way.] Then, I had vegan tomato soup
and hummus for lunch with a friend.

So what, you might ask, makes me hate NY? Well, I was so excited to
EMS-up my skills so I would not always have to be prep chef to
other people's head chef when I am in the wilderness. Then, the punky
guy assumed that I was one of those people who only existed where
there are subway lines. In response to his words, I flashed my
outdoor-cred in a desperate way; I talked about my time above the
treeline in Denali. As soon as it was out of my mouth, I felt cheep. I ran out of the store cranky.

It did not help that the promised blizzard of 2006 was only chunky
rain while I was out. I was hoping for one of those snow covered moments
that I love so much to change my view on the world.

Now, I'm stuck inside, dwelling on the fact that my membership to the
"I love camping" club makes me a minority in the land where everyone
else seems to be a part of a group. Ah, New York.