I go home today, which I think I'm happy about but I'm also scared to death of all the work I have waiting for me when I get there. My mind is so full of everything right now, just everything. I am drowning in pictures and family and BlogHer words and lingering weirdness and worries about money and the hows whens and whys of everything I'm going to do between now and...well, the end of my life, per usual.
I woke up again today in the spare bedroom at my sister's place, looking out on a cloudy sky over the ocean again and it depressed me again. The ocean view, of all things, depresses me here, which is insanity itself. It's the clouds, what they call the marine layer here. Weird. We sat on the beach yesterday around 4 in the afternoon and it was freezing.
California has been really interesting, but in that way and more not at all what I expected. I've seen my sister's life, where she is for this span of time, and I'm glad for that. I'd have to be in San Diego for a long time myself to get used to it. There's just something so different about the east coast sensibility, it's imprinted on me, its DNA I guess, the loudness and rudeness and kindness, the food and music and fonts on street signs and everything else about it that makes it unfailingly, if annoyingly, my home. I could try to be somewhere else again, and indeed I think I will soon, but it'll be within spitting distance of I-95, no doubt.
We've done so much since I've been here and it's been good but I'm tired. The knowledge that you take yourself with you wherever you go has come back to me quite clearly since I sat in the lobby of the hotel in San Francisco overnight, waiting to catch a bus. My writing isn't working, and I still feel, above all of the other things that I feel, very, very lonely. I keep tying knots in the rope of that and hanging on, but I'm running out of space, so I hope it shifts very soon. And for today, may that shift include a painless transition back to the land of monuments and ridiculous traffic, because for now - fight it or not, like it or not - that's where I belong. Because it's where all of my stuff is.
don't cry, shopgirl.
ok, so i'm a meg ryan fan. before she got all edgy and butt-nekked.
but i can be your deep-as-a-puddle friend.
we can share lipstick choices (mine is twig from mac) and cyber-chocolate late at night. think of me, your shallow, not so bright friend, doing something silly to make you laugh when you see the end of your rope :-)
i really, really wanted to be at blogher this year. i'm sorry i wasn't there just to meet you.
ciao bella.
ps. i'm not stalking you. really. i think i'm kinda too lazy to be a stalker. ugh, all that effort and work. no, i'm more a redneck with a heart of gold. except, unlike a hooker with a heart of gold, i don't make any money. damn.
Posted by: Lindaloohoo - wheresmydamnanswer | July 28, 2008 at 05:53 PM
As long as your a Blogger or blogher, you are not alone and someone is listening or should I say reading. Chin up, I have many days like these or those. Take care!
Posted by: Lucy | July 29, 2008 at 10:01 AM
It's always a little difficult to go home when you've been having a nice time being away...but it's good, too, being back in a comfortable place. The work part, though? Not quite as fun. :)
Posted by: Zandria | July 29, 2008 at 06:38 PM