I Was In Love With The Place

I don't hate the number 4 so much now.

Before I lived in my studio in Banker's Hill, San Diego didn't feel much like my city. I moved all the time, changing zip codes as if it was nothing. I never felt at home. Community, and living alone for the first time in my life, changed that. In that quirky, old and crooked apartment I fell in love with San Diego.

Living two blocks from Balboa Park, an easy stroll from Hillcrest and an $8 cab ride from downtown connected me to the city. There was so much to do and experience, always people around, always someone doing what you're doing which makes a person living alone feel not so alone. For once, since moving out of our home the summer before my senior year of high school after my parent's divorce, I felt like I belonged. That space was mine to do with as I pleased, to cook what and when I wanted, to have whoever I desired over, to clean as often and as obsessively as I needed. My cat was no longer harassed, I no longer worried about who would be up when I came home, and sharing evenings with my neighbors made me happy to be social again.

But I also fell out of love in that apartment. With this newfound love for my city, and especially for my neighborhood and my job, my heart started leaking the love I had for my relationship. That love was suddenly no longer as important. My cat, my life, my city and my passion were all so much more deserving of love so I let the other one go. Looking back I mourn the temporary nature of my job and that I had to leave that apartment and that neighborhood, but I don't mourn the loss of my relationship.

Finally, that apartment was where the seeds of a future love were laid. Weeks, possibly days, before I packed up and left I was falling asleep when the person whose arms were comfortably wrapped around me whispered "I love you." I wasn't meant to hear those words so I pretended to be asleep. Those words weren't exactly real at the time, but they did mean there was more than just companionship. I wasn't ready to be in love with another person then, and because of that the following months were a roller coaster of disappointments. Now those seeds that were planted just before I left that place have sprouted and they feel like they're in full bloom.

Maybe it's all in my mind, just like the song:

I was in love with the place in my mind, in my mind

I made a lot of mistakes in my mind, in my mind

It's hard to think of certain things as mistakes though. I don't like that I don't live in Banker's Hill, but I can't afford it; I don't like that I'm not in love, but I wasn't ready when it was offered. In a perfect world I'll live in my old neighborhood again and the one I want will be nearby, and I'll just be the happiest girl in San Diego. Maybe it's time for me to make more of an effort at getting what I want.

Positive Thinking

I can go here any time I want.

I've got it pretty good.

It's very difficult to live in such a beautiful part of the world and not appreciate life. Going to the beach and seeing the bright sun setting over waves and dogs in January, having Balboa Park so close to my spacious apartment, living in the center of urban San Diego, living in a city others dream of visiting one day, having such an intimate knowledge of the things to do every day makes me feel very alive.

I really don't have a whole lot to complain about. (Not that that ever stops me.) Sure, I could use a job that provides full-time work, regular working hours, and a decent wage. But I do like my job, so it's not all bad. Plus, I can feel the next opportunity almost as if it were tangible. It's right there. Any day I'm going to get a phone call and I'll rock the interview. Every day that passes just means it's getting closer to that day.

But in the mean time, there's plenty to keep my spirits up about life outside employment.

1. San Diego is awesome. I've been asked why I don't leave and move closer to my family but I couldn't imagine leaving my city for my hometown. I'll leave someday, I know that. But for something better. For San Francisco, New York, London, Seattle, Zurich, or even Granada.

2. My friends are the best. I have so much support from them and their faith in me is the best form of encouragement. It's great to know that on any (albeit rare) night I'm off and have nothing to do a quick phone call can change everything. I've also been wearing a bracelet a student gave me to remind myself that I have a positive effect on others. I feel like Jim Carrey in The Mask: "You love me, you really love me!" God, I would stop breathing from laughing so hard at that movie.

3. I got ZOONOOZ in the mail. I've been getting annoyed at the previous tenant not forwarding her mail, but getting that magazine with a giant picture of my favorite crane on the cover made me super excited. It's the little things.

I want a dress modeled after this bird.

4. My high school boyfriend joined Facebook. His profile picture is super punk/emo, with long hair in front of his face, black clothes, insecure smirk and sarcastic comments on all photos, and 2 albums of him posing with his punk girlfriend (the one who apparently cheated on her boyfriend, his best friend, with him), making hard core hand gestures. I know it's been, like 7 years, but damn. I dated that. But it does make me feel pretty good about myself.

5. There has been some good new music out lately. One of San Diego's radio stations, FM 94.9, plays a good amount of underground and new music that hasn't hit the mainstream yet, and most of it is pretty amazing and ends up hitting the mainstream. It's also a good feeling to listen to a song, think how much I like it, and then realize it's by an artist I already liked.

6. Finally, training for this half marathon feels incredible. Every week I run further than I've ever run in my life, every week I'm breaking my own record, every week I'm doing more than I thought was possible with my body. I wasn't ever really a runner, but would sort of jog around just to get some exercise on occasion. Having this goal (and for a cause I'm all for) forces me to not quit, blisters be damned. Facing every week knowing I have to run 7 or 8 or 9 miles (up to 11 next month) is daunting, and then on top of that after every peak I have to keep building up to and passing that mark in preparation for the next peak. But then I do, and I feel amazing. My legs are looking good, and if I have to have big thighs at least they'll be muscular. 13 miles still sounds really hard, but I'll be wearing this epic (orange!!!) shirt with the marathon logo, will be running alongside 3,000 others and will get a participation medal at the end, which will encourage me to just not stop. And maybe after I've done this half marathon a full marathon won't feel so impossible.

Plus, little fuzzface here has been extra loving lately.