Is anyone even reading this thing anymore? Is this thing on?!? If no one is reading, I have only myself to blame. Consistently inconsistent posts + coy behavior = bad blog. This time, I am going to skip to the punchline, so you do not fall asleep through the droll drumroll.
So, it was a case of you can get with this:
Or you can get with that:
And it probably comes as little surprise that I went with that. The reason, on the other hand, is not as simple as a Tex-a$$ vs. SF celebrity death match, though I may have given the appearance that such was the case, by my exuberant, overspilling smile on Friday.
Really, by Thursday night, I was decided. I took a dispassionate look at the situation, and staying here was not as desperate as it might have once seemed. I know that, to some, San Francisco and desperation might seem like oil and water. But this was not about place. This was about the job and the future and acting like a grown up. Basically, the stuff that gives me hives. The things I need to do have to be done regardless of staying here or leaving. Moreover, there is one thing I need to do that means I have to stay here; it's something I cannot do in Texas. That last point was the only point, the head of the pin on which the entire decision balanced. So I was decided, but anxious. Angst-ridden.
I had pushed the aspect of place so far out of my head that I had not thought through what the decision really meant. On Friday, I wearily plopped into my car to drive to Ocean Beach. I know what you might be thinking- smallest violin in the world, the b*tch is looking for sympathy while driving to the beach?!? Fair enough, but as I was driving towards the beach, the familiar cold, greyness appeared over Twin Peaks. Ocean Beach is, on almost any day of the year, mired in soupy fog. But I happened to be driving through the Castro to get there. The Castro was green and yellow, bright. The rainbow flag seemed brighter than usual. I watched the leisurely people strolling across the street, and an irrepressible smile settled across my face. It would not go away.
And even stranger still, an hour later, after lunch, when I actually got to the beach, an unbelievable sight waited. Days like this are rare indeed. As I played in the sand, I was knee deep in the ocean, gathering buckets of water. It was cold, but it felt warm. I was a mess, but everything seemed clear.
I realized how lucky, how very, incredibly, preciously lucky I am. When I was considering moving away, I felt a twinge of regret. So many things left to see in San Francisco, so much I loved about this city, and I would have to leave it behind, an unfinished chapter. W yelled at me once, saying he hadn't missed anything about the city after he moved away. I do not doubt it. I am not sure I would miss something about San Francisco if I left. It is the kind of city that leaves an imprint on you. It is not something you miss, rather something you take with you. I was preparing to have a long distance relationship with this city, to say farewell, to keep in touch, to hope to return, but never to return. But I don't have to do that now, not yet. And for that, I'm grateful.
None of this is coming out the way that I want to say it, the way I want to write it. The way I feel is impossible for me to articulate properly. It's just a city and I am just a girl. Maybe that is all that really matters.
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