It's been a stranger sort of week. I have felt this desire to chronicle it, but that mostly takes me away from the place I am in. So, I haven't been. But now, the curtain has closed and the orchestra has resumed its amicable tune and we all shuffle in our seats, uncomfortable with the thought of having to leave and find something new to occupy our time with. Yes, this is a post-modern world.
Because I am slightly "working" in San Francisco as I look for a more permanent position, I have been taking more walks around the city to-and-from my car, sometimes parking it in a completely different neighborhood so I can walk through new streets. It is a different sort of exploration. Mostly because my head keeps spinning ideas about "public image" around in circles.
Yesterday I was walking from the Public Architecture offices to Market and this woman started talking to me. Her opening line to me was, "it's true what they say about San Francisco." Intrigued, I took off my sunglasses and asked her what she was referring to. She explained the weather and the different climates within the city - like each is its own microcosm. As we walked, I learned that she was from the city originally, but had sold all her belongings to travel the world like a nomad to figure out the purpose of life. It wasn't exactly clear why she was back, but I can say that she had a certain calm about her current state and as we parted ways (she was on her way to the SF Public Library) she asked my name and said that she would try and remember me in her prayers that night. It was truly touching.
This has been happening more often. The other night I was walking with two people trying to find this house to meet up with some others. As we were walking around (a little lost) this woman with short blonde hair was out walking as well. "Do you need help guiding your friends?" she asked me. I thought this was an interesting way to offer assistance. I explained where we were trying to go and she told us to come along with her. We asked basic questions and talked about ourselves briefly, but the best moment was when she left us and said, "thank you for walking me home." A simple moment, yet so rich.
On the home front, I am in my childhood house, but it feels more like a tent that I can't seem to keep organized. My parents are currently on a 3-week expedition in the Arctic Circle. They began in Oslo, then took a train to Goddag, high in the Mt. Fjords. They are now hiking along the west coast of Norway. Later they will see Copenhagen and other cities. My mom emailed me the other day and told me I would like it there: "it is clean and the people are friendly."
They asked if I wanted to join, but I have too many things I want to do right now to pack up again and explore someplace new. It keeps me too distracted. I have never been in this house without my parents for an extended period of time. It is quite strange, mostly because the house is so very much my mother's. Everything from the clean edges of the kitchen to the minimal sinks in the bathroom reminds me of my mom's contemporary style. The house interestingly enough looks out on Berkeley: the first stop on my mom's move from Chicago to California in the 70's with some boyfriend of hers at the time. She told me her time in Berkeley with this boy made her who she is now, but nonetheless it was one of the hardest times for her. Mostly because Berkeley was rougher than she pictured it when first leaving Chicago in a van.
And I guess that is what happens when people move west: the illusion of the golden life fades. Reality sets in and you have to find a job and be a real person. Or you see that the people are colder than they care to admit. Or maybe it's just the same as everywhere else, just marketed more effectively. I am not so sure yet of my stance on the Bay Area, but that's because my work is not done-yet out here.
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