I went to San Francisco last week and since then I’ve been in a shit fog.
I don’t know if it’s the jet lag or the fact that the stress from work has been overwhelming but I’m not sleeping anymore and I miss everyone.
I’m rarely emailing friends and family, and if I am it’s short and curt.
Why have I been so nuts?
Because I’m trying to keep up with everything.
There was a motto my father had “don’t fall behind”.
It’s a diligent motto that makes a 12 year old girl feel as if she must sprint through life to make sure to win a race that no one else is even running in.
And it makes a 24 year old woman have moments where she realizes “hey, I haven’t breathed out in a half hour.”
But enough about my madness, San Francisco was quite awesome.
I was there for business, I worked a little too much there, but I’m not really a big fan of San Fran.
I like the beauty of it, and the mellow nature. If I was going to give up my imaginary race I’d totally go there to grow my hair long and take back up the threaded bracelet business I started when I was 8.
I finally got to visit Haight/Ashbury visit to SF, it was the one touristy thing I did.
I have read a lot about the area due to my random fascination with the beat poet section of Barnes and Nobels and was looking forward to some rebellious mystique. What I found was a place that smelled like my college dorm room (pot and incense) with way crazier hippy kids (bright florescent hair is REALLY hip with these kids – so are buttons, which I can only imagine are some sort of protective shield for when the zombies come for them during the heroine hallucinations)
The most disappointing part, there’s a Gap up there.
A Gap.
Ahh yes, that’s where Kerouac and Kesey sat and wrote about his ambivalence of the man and their fondness of simple knit sweaters and pleated khakis.
Best part of being in SF was being with my coworkers, who are always hilarious and fun to be around. There were many hilarious moments there
-I think I’ll keep to myself though,
so that they don’t divulge my crazy moments ;p
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