The past two months have been a blur. Christmas in Sonoma. Phoenix between Christmas and New Years. New Years Eve in San Francisco. Weekend with my brother. My dad in town for my Big Birthday. Then Chicago last week for work.
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Random
I hadn’t cried in a while. It’s not that I couldn’t, it’s just that it takes the right place, right time, right mix of crap in life to make me really cry.
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It’s officially fall in San Francisco. Yesterday, I froze. I’ve been fighting off fall in terms of traditional garb because in San Francisco, fall comes a bit late. Summer isn’t summer and the beginning of fall is the warmest time of the year.
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I have writer’s block.
I know, color you surprised. This has happened before, but this time is a little different. Yes, I don’t know what to write about, which is essentially one of the definitions of writer’s block, but I can’t seem to distinguish whether it is, in fact, writer’s block, or if I’ve just been too busy to actually form a cohesive thought.
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Sometimes we forget. We get caught up in the daily grind, the mundane, the to-do lists. We let a negative comment, a rude phone call or a nasty email affect our day, but what about the good?
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Right when Outside Lands tickets were released, my boyfriend asked if I wanted to go. I didn’t really know any of the bands and am not a fan of being smooshed up against a bunch of sweaty people grinding to songs I didn’t know. So, I opted out. As the excitement for the music festival resonated through San Francisco, I was a little bummed (and the boyfriend was even more bummed).
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To everyone who is reading this that I had the pleasure of meeting in Vegas for #BiSC, this will be redundant. To everyone who is reading this that did not attend #BiSC, DO IT NEXT YEAR.
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As some of you may (or may not) have noticed, I haven’t posted to my beloved TOBR in about three weeks. I am not apologizing for being absent.
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I don’t remember my first time stepping into a bookstore, but I’m sure I was bewitched. Every bookstore smells almost the same. Except for used bookstores — those smell even more profound than new. Sweet, musty, sometimes with a hint of glue.
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“We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Years Day.” – Edith Lovejoy Pierce
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He picked me up at the bar I used to work at in Boulder. I sat in his gold Honda and as the heat blasted from the vents, I sighed. It was cold outside — the kind of cold that stings your legs.
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I love this season. It’s definitely my favorite of the four — winter, holidays, gifts, cheer, everyone is just generally in a happy mood. And that makes me happy. But what I love most about this time of year is that it incites gratitude. It’s a time when we think about our lives, reflect on the past year, grant wishes for family and friends. It’s a much-needed pause in the fast-paced world. Each year, my list of Thankfuls grows leaps and bounds.
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