Truth is…

I’ve forgotten the feeling of your cheek on my cheek.

But not the memory of how you made me laugh when you placed it there so goofily.

I don’t want to remember you.

I can go days and even weeks without thinking of you.

Then you pop up out of nowhere and I can’t rid you of my mind for hours on end.

I could give a damn.

But then when given the opportunity, I realize I do.

But I don’t want to.

I’ve sat and thought in detail of the life we almost had.  The life we could have had.  The life that was.

It was joyful, and sad. Hard.  But full of growth, triumph and love.

We had love.

So truth is:  I still love you.

But I don’t want to.

In no particular order: An email from her.  (more on that later). My babe Jude not well and me 2 hours away, a warriors game with E via the bart, lunch with J and a lot to think about for my ::possible:: future.  Sunrise over the city from Mt. Davidson with a fellow instagrammer and the discovery of new photo places.  A lot of good mixed in with equal parts highly emotional and heavy things.

I walked two miles to buy groceries today.  The sun was out. So was the wind.  Add in San Francisco hills.  I loved it.   I realize now I have done this sort of “hike” in so many cities.  I relish those experiences and memories. And the inconvenience. Or the convenience that I’ve had that I’ve taken for granted.

As I walked I mused about: the unibomber (since I was wearing a hoodie and aviators (and those that wear that combo now get double looks because of it)), Spain, Instagram, dinner with the boys in Paris and how I miss our jazz nights, living in SF and networking with people here, my life and how I’m living it for myself but more so how I want it to contribute to something bigger than me in the end,  and the possible radio interview I have for next month. hmm..

I arrived on the 5:50 mega bus into SOMA.  My bags were ridiculously heavy and so I opted for the taxi.  $12 dollars later I was at Scott and Turk Street and ringing the door bell.  After lugging the goods up (only one flight!) I plopped on my bed in my 7×7 ft room and almost cried.  She said it was small, but what she didn’t realize what this little square inch of personal space meant to me.  I had a bed, a desk and plenty of floor pace.  My new slice of heaven.  I unpacked, stretched out and looked out my window.  San Francisco for now.  And all the crazy complications that my life is and why I have chosen to live this way. Partially because I must for too many reasons and partially because nothing else will do.

Aside from freezing today, it is glorious sunshiny and I am so so happy to be here.

Home for already 4 days.  My days have been: jet lag free, full of dear friends, showing face, networking, meetings,  ukelele jams, cappuccinos, emails and just breathing in Sacramento.  In a sense: incredibly productive.

I am my best when days look like this.

words:

I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.” – EB White

Landing on SF I 20 mins.  I actually managed to sleep this flight.  That never happens.

My last day in Paris was, perfect.

I wandered, took photos at my leisure and discovered new and old places.  I ate at a café at Place des Vosges for a final good bye.

Amel and I hosted an apero for a few friends for the evening.  We ate, drank and sang the night away.  So fantastic.

Flying home from Paris, well, flying home in general always has mixed feelings for me.  I’ve been gone over two months this time.  My longest amount of time yet.  I so so dearly miss people, my clothes and for some funky reason, Sacramento.  Ugh.  I didn’t want to get attached.  But I guess it was inevitable.  Again, I don’t want to get attached, but I have 4 months ahead of me , it is inevitable.  Restless beast has a place to grumble once again.

Curse you, you beast.

A dream state.

Portuguese pastries, epic monuments, spiral staircases with lovely views. Someone is holding my hand and I like it. We lost ourselves in Alfama. He cleaned all the fish bones out for me since I didn’t know how. We had a coffee overlooking the ocean. Climbed to the top of a castle. I smiled at the sun as the wind tangled my hair. We had two rounds of bloody Mary’s because you can’t have just one when it’s the best. We climbed chiado and had the biggest mojito known to man as a raggae band jived. The city was alive and we wandered around listening to the bustle.
I asked him not to leave. He asked me to smile. His words came out slow with a nod to his head, “San Francisco is not that far away” and the door clicked shut behind him.

Today is too much.

Too many solicitations from men.  I am so burnt out.

I wonder what it is about me ( or if I am the one that is prompting it?) that allows for this type of interaction to even take place.  I think sometimes I am ok with it, probably even look for it. But really? Is there no level of decency left for a man to even want to pursue something beyond one night?  It seems like a even the concept “cup of coffee conversation” has no place in a mans world.   Even though I do not want a relationship right now does not mean that I don’t enjoy the company of man.  What is so wrong to want to go out, enjoy food, conversation, people places things.  But no, guys just want to know that the end effort will be in their bed. for the night at best.  Maybe I am functioning on some level of naivety, or perhaps I just keep meeting shitty men.

::sigh::

I canceled my date for the evening and have stayed in my pjs all day.  I have gotten a decent amount of work accomplished for the day.  I am feeling productive.

Tomorrow is a full day. Shooting, a friends birthday party and then Portugal early on Saturday.  I have mixed feelings, but whatever.  It’s Portugal.  It will be great regardless.

“There may be more beautiful times, but this one is ours.” – JeanPaul Sartre

Serendipity.   It could be the word that describes the theme of my life.

It’s Tuesday afternoon and I have a cup of tea at my right, the sound of the wind and a view of parisian rooftops out the window.  I’ve moved in with my friend Amel for the rest of my time here.  I honestly thought I would be going home about now, but I am grateful beyond words that my time here is yet over thanks to the kindness and hospitality of friends.

The last 5 days have been..  busy, emotional and rainy.

Thursday night was Paris lit up and one girl wrote a piece that moved me in a way I could not shake for days.  Friday was a meet up at a bar, which was entertaining, but over all not the sort of scene I prefer in attempts to meet good people. (I did get a date out of it for next Thursday though!)

Saturday was errand running, photo shoots with the guys for their CV’s and a lovely walk through the Marais with Amel that ended with an apero at Merci cafe.  The night wasn’t over yet though. Wine and cheese and Bretsy’s with a few familiar and new faces.  For some reason the topics were hot that evening and I think at one point or another someone was offended.  At the last moment I realized the time and booked it to the Metro.  Last minute decisions turned out to not be in my favor and my best intention of catching my connecting train was missed and so I walked home at 2:30am through Paris.  Luckily the weather was mild and there was no rain.  I needed the walk to help blow of the steam of my boiling emotions I felt and so it all worked out best in the end.

Sunday was a literary workshop on James Joyce which I surprisingly enjoyed.  Afterwards I walked the Marais with friends. Falafal, eclairs and cappuccinos.  Conversations, non conversations and just enjoying the company of someone without words.

A lot of conversation about what is is to be alone, lonely, single, independent, self reliant.  The satisfaction of those things and also the disappointment of expectations with ourselves and also others.

For sure I feel those things, sometimes stronger in one moment versus the next.  I know if I wanted a simple life, with a home and a man I could “settle” and have it right away.  But I know that I want more than that.  I desire to create, to explore the world and myself and really push myself until I maybe cannot take anymore.  So for now, I will keep going.  Embracing the alone, the single and the loneliness…  the adventure of those things.   Some of my favorite, funniest or most amazing stories have come from being in these moments…. So give me more, life. Give me more.

Tonight I listened to poets, writers and musicians wear their heart on their sleeve at a divey bar in Paris’s Chinatown.

A british girl told a story about the world ending.  I cried.

An american sang like Adel and my heart became enraptured.

Today an Australian made me a fucking amazing cappuccino while singing Sugar ray.

Last night a french man tried to get me to go to bed with him after I photographed him smoking a cigarette.

Next weekend I rendezvous with a spanish guy in Lisbon.

Today I photographed pink and gold on rain streaked cobblestone. A woman with an umbrella.  A man stopped and smiled waiting for me to take his portrait.

I finally found the metro station. Line 8. I was soaked.  It was rush hour. It was a can of sardines.

Juedi.