New York is like the huge party that everyone shows up to, but no one really knows why they came. What sustains it are the people here, and the ones that come to replace them when they leave. San Francisco is the house party with the good food and nice furniture. It’s intimate, and warm, and you end up staying because everyone is friendly, because they have to be because you probably live next door to them and you’ll see them walk their dog half a dozen times through out the week so why not say “hi”?
I recently visited the hilly city to see some friends and freshen up my perspective. My friends, not to brag, but I totally revel in their achievements, are doing some really cool, awesome, amazing, things. I just want my friends to be happy, and it makes me feel at ease knowing that everyone is okay. Better than okay.
It was good to get out of this city, and clear my head, or clutter it up more. I’m not sure which I did. New York is such a place of focus for me, which might seem odd in such a busy metropolis. I’m focused with a predetermined destination when I take the trains, focused on staying alive while biking, and immersed in work. Oh that last one, how I toil away the hours at work and school. The best nights are those I get to curl up with a movie in bed, and then wake up late the next day. But I feel I’m learning a lot, and accomplishing more than I ever would in such a lovely place as San Francisco. There the streets are inviting to stroll, a glimpse of sea or hillside may be seen from any street passed. Houses and people alike abundant in their charming oddities. It is a place meant to be seen.
So I’ll stay in this beige and gray city for a while longer. I’m working on some cool stuff of my own. I’m creating some things I love, and investing in a future that will take me to the house party in California.