I said I'd never do it.
Could anyone be that interested in the mundane that is my life?
Could I be so deluded as to think it worth publishing?
Is it possible to sit at a computer and type words like this without imagining I'm Carrie Bradshaw (and where's my Marc Jacobs?)
But my friends need to know that I'm ok. And I need to feel like someone is listening.
So here it is. This is San Francisco.
Today marked my 40th day in the city. If you believe in the bible, there's some significance. Moses did his 40 in the desert as Jesus later would. My desert is different in that it's wonderfully temperate and deliciously lush. The post-uber-baptist inside of me, however, can't help but recognize a similar absence of God.
I went on a job interview today. My third, which should make it a "charm" unless you count the fact that it's my third second-interview. Then it's my sixth and probably bad luck. It's great being double-degreed and jobless in a city where co-ed cybergeek dropouts are millionaires.
The diversity here is amazing. It's like the cover of a Jehovah's Witness pamphlet, and at any given moment you expect to see a lion and a lamb sharing a latte at Starbucks. Everywhere I look there are beautiful people of indistinguishable ethnic identity and I'll think, "oooh...I'm not sure what that is, but I like it." Like walking through the fragrance section at Macy's. Every now and then it's a little annoying. Nothing irks you more on a really bad day than seeing a little Chinese kid and a little Mexican kid and a little Cambodian kid and a little Canadian kid swinging on a play ground like we can all just get along. I mean, I guess it's good, but on a bad day.....
And bad days...they've made an appearance. Not consecutively or crushing, but the days I got turned down for jobs..bad. The day I was overcome by what I'd left...bad. The day I realized I could be annoyed by playing children...pathetic. The Friday night I wasn't sure where I'd be sleeping on Saturday night...one of the scariest ever. I'm not saying I've had it rough, or that I've had to suffer. But I can say there's a shorter list of things I take for granted.
But the city. The city is beautiful. The architecture is classic and the attitude is creme de chill. I find it totally rude for people to smoke weed in public (and by public, I mean walking up a main street downtown) but I respect their right to do it and I'm glad to be in a city where it's beyond OK. Is this bus pass made of rolling paper?
I can't say I've fallen for you yet San Francisco, but as of late, you sure aren't the bitch you have been.
Cheers,
Quentin
