Objects in Mirror May Be Closer Than They Appear

If you regularly read my facebook posts, you may have picked up a tad of melancholy with me lately.  I suppose that is why there have been no blog posts of late.  I enjoy telling funny little stories about the City, but it is interesting how when your perspective changes that quirky story becomes a plain old sad depressing story.

For example, you all know my love of the people on the ferry.  In case you were wondering, the Man with Ponytail got a new messenger bag last week so I no longer have to worry about his laptop falling out of his backpack.   Also, there is a new guy I'm going to call Dude with Kindle, who everyday wears the same khaki cargo shorts and black fleece jacket.  Is it a uniform?  He is always reading on his Kindle, which has a business card taped to the back.  One day I'm going to successfully read on that card where he works so that I can discover where I can wear khaki shorts and a north face jacket to work everyday.

 On a good day, I think the people on the ferry are endearing and funny.  But when the loneliness of a new place wears on you, the ferry starts to seem lonely too.  Everyone gets on, plugs in their headphones and goes into their own world.  You have to wonder if anyone notices you the way that you notice them?  And the monotony of it all: get up, go to work on ferry, work, ride home on ferry, eat dinner, go to bed, repeat five times - is maddening.  Seems like this plan was so much more exciting from 2300 miles away.

Another example is the house hunt.  I've never been one to enjoy house hunting.  In fact, it took Matt and I two years to find the last house.  But you try to get excited about starting over and finding a new place.  This worked for me for a little while, approximately four weeks, before I lost my mind and almost burst out in tears in the world's smallest one bedroom shoebox in Berkeley that honestly smelled like dog poop.  Could they not smell the poop prior to the open house?  Did they think no one would notice?  I expect patchouli in Berkeley, not poop.  Although at this point, I suppose anything goes.  And most recently I looked at a house that had homeless people pushing the carts on the sidewalk out from.  Not quite the view I was hoping for.  It makes me laugh now when people at work ask me if I'm considering Berkeley; I have to smile and say something polite when I'd much rather tell them that I think Berkeley is overrated.

Also, with regard to house hunting, I have come to be amused by the way people talk about neighborhoods here.  We all know that California, specifically the Bay Area, is a liberal stronghold.  Therefore, it's a bastian of political correctness.  I have learned that you're supposed to say that that neighborhood you'd never leave your car in is blighted.  Or gritty. Or my favorite, in transition.   Of course, the sentiment is all the same, but I guess people feel more compassionate by the use of gentler terminology.

So my friends, I found myself in a real slump last week.  Everything that I had looked forward to about the City was starting to look dirty, crowded and expensive.  Everything back in Kentucky was basking in the glow of fond memories and things do tend to look perfect from a distance.

So what's my point?  The point is that, as with all things, it's a matter of perspective.  Nothing is perfect here and nothing is perfect there.  You can wallow in the bad stuff anywhere you go, or you can remember the things that make you happy.

What actually drove this home for me is something I saw weeks ago outside my office.  I work in the Financial District, which is a lovely part of town that is unfortunately home to many homeless people.  It's unfortunate because no one should live like this, stray dogs do better I think.  They move around and don't stay too long in one place.  There is one person who was sleeping on the corner across from my office for a few days.  Sadly, I'm not sure if this person was a man or a woman because they bundle up so completely, but I thought he was a young man.  A very small man, very thin.  Every morning he would get up and sweep his corner with a broom he kept with his shopping cart.  Then he would put out his various "treasures" - cups, flowers from the stand across the street that had been thrown out, etc.  I know that these people generally have refused to go to a shelter.  Most probably have drug problems.  But still, I don't always clean up my apartment, would I clean up my corner?

That's what I mean by perspective.  If he can clean up his street corner and try to make it nice than surely I can look on the bright side of life (and do my own dishes).   Not to mention the fact that the next time you feel down and out about your situation, be very glad you have a bathroom, a shower, food to eat.  The next time you're tempted to feel sorry for yourself, be glad that you're not laying on a street corner surrounded by people that act like they don't see you.

So, with a little change of perspective, I face a new week.  And I'm feeling pretty hopeful about it.

-A