It’s been roughly 12,000 years since I last posted, but I am indeed here, slinking back to shower sweet nothings upon the parched earth of Blogland. Or to talk about how feverishly I love California because that’s something I’m far better at.
In the time since we last spoke, I’ve both moved to San Francisco and taken a trip to San Diego. Evidently when you’re me, the 2-week mark in a brand-new city indicates that it’s a good time to go somewhere else. Perhaps I’m not doing quite as well at this ‘staying in one place’ business as I’d thought. But I’m back in SF now and, apart from what feels like my perpetual state of job searching, life here is an exercise in all things good and joyful.
There are several things I appreciate about this city. I like walking on the sidewalk behind people who are barefoot in February (not an isolated incident) and I like lying on the floor in my room and being warmed by the coastal sun. It makes me feel like a lizard and I guess I’d be lying if I said that feeling like a lizard wasn’t exceptionally important to me. I’m also an aggressive fan of the neighborhood I live in; it basically seems like a magical fusion world created especially for me- which it probably is- called, ‘All the Benefits of Living in an Exciting, Important City, Combined with the Dreamy Landscape of Northern California Wine Country’. Those on the Board for the magical fusion world might want to reconsider whomever they have hired in the town naming department, but I can’t argue with the sentiment.
I’m in such a good mood here that I even enjoy when the mentally unstable man at the muni stop treats me to a rousing and colorful monologue during our wait. Topics include but are not limited to: plans to get a row of platinum teeth upon pending rock and/or movie star success, his past experimentation with high heels, and- the most pressing matter- his elevation to the position of First American Pharaoh God King (worship services will be held on Tuesdays at 7:30pm). My role in the conversation is largely to stare mutely, oscillating between feelings of inflamed envy for his great coveralls and paralyzing inadequacy at my own lack of ambition and grandeur (‘UGH! Why had I never considered becoming First American Pharaoh God King?!?’). But I don’t want to get carried away- it’s not like he inspired me or anything. In utterly unrelated news, be on the lookout for my forthcoming intentions to campaign for my rightful role as First American All-Powerful Sorceress.
Concrete examples aside, San Francisco simply possesses an electricity. I think most who come here can feel it and, for me personally, it feels like a clicking into place, an unspoken rightness that occasionally gives me goosebumps and brews up an elusive melange of excitement in the face of current newness with a hopeful looking forward to the unknown yet-to-come.