I can’t decide whether or not today feels like the middle of the week or the very end of it. It’s somehow conveniently in between.
An odd phenomenon seems have happened to me recently, and I’m excited to share. When I first moved back to the Bay Area, my friend Rachel and I bonded over our love of exploring new places. She, unlike I, could keep a cool head while navigating unknown territories. We used my (now outdated) GPS, even Mapquested the location of unfamiliar restaurants, bars, and music venues. I, for some reason, would always make a wrong turn somewhere and start to panic. I could only continue on after making a complete circle and returning to where I went awry. Going off our decided course sent me in to a proverbial tailspin; San Francisco, being the land of the one way street, can be incredibly frustrating to navigate at times, which didn’t help. One of my favorite memories to revisit happened to stem from one of these instances. We had decided to go out dancing, and, in a moment of over-confidence, I entered the incorrect street address: instead of 11th street I punched in 11th avenue. We ended up somewhere near Japantown, outside someone’s personal residence wondering where the entrance was. Rachel, however, would circle about, turn right and left wherever she felt like, going wherever her nose took her. In time, we would end up exactly where we intended.
Today, I wandered. I parked my car, albeit in an area I know relatively well, and ran a few errands. I had a leisurely cup of coffee and just wandered around with absolutely no regard to where I was or where I was going. I took in the people and the architecture, and visited places I had never been before- just because I could. It’s moments like these that remind me of why I enjoy living in the Bay Area so much. I can, essentially, disappear among the rows of houses and people. People who I’d like to think are wandering about, just like me.