just before the dawn appears

It appears that I am, once again, trying to destroy my liver. Last night the OG invited me over his place for an empanada-making party. Even though I left the party feeling a bit depressed, I am really glad I went to his place. Of late, I have been falling into the trap of making these generalizations about San Francisco, negative generalizations, especially about its inhabitants. It's likely just my subconscious trying to lull me into feeling strangely fine about leaving. But I've been talking nonsense, like "F***ing SF is filled with super flakes" and "it's so transient here."

There's obviously some aspect of this that is true, but it's still a generalization. And the OG defies stereotypes anyway. He has lived here for over 20 years. He never flakes, and is actually also punctual. What's more, he has high expectations. Last week, he called me to tell me he was back in town from a trip. I was in a frenzy of activity and didn't get around to calling him back until Tuesday, and this is what happened when he picked up the phone:

the OG: One WEEK? One week you wait?
me: I know, I'm sor---
the OG: Shut up, I hate you! I'm glad you're leaving! I'm done with all of you Indians.

And you know what? I deserved that sh*t. It's important to have someone in your life like this. So many people I know in SF are so chill that they have absolutely no expectations. And when you have no expectations, you have nothing to live up to, nothing to keep you in line. And quite frankly, you run the risk of turning into a total jacka$$.

The OG, his stunningly handsome devil of a roomate, and a few others sat down to a delicious meal, eased down with the help of several really good bottles of wine. I have a bit of a headache today, undoubtedly from the amount of wine I consumed, but it was worth it. We sat around over dinner talking for hours. So many of the people there had known each other for years, and there was absurd banter in equal helpings of German, Spanish and Portuguese (I caught most of the Spanish banter, and deciphered a teensy bit of the Portuguese). It was all consistent with every dinner I've ever had with the OG- so much laughter and good-natured teasing and true kindness, your heart runs the risk of exploding from joy.

Tonight, I have to punish my liver some more at a bar with some co-workers. This promises to be nowhere near as enjoyable as last night, but in some ways, that is for the best too. The balance is important to help nudge me out, to keep me from feeling too blue about leaving.