I expected to have it all figured out by now. I expected three weeks in to be a regular Carrie Bradshaw of San Francisco, with my own hot spots already chosen. To have a new and exciting life that made up for the past thirty years of mediocrity.
That hasn't happened yet.
Today I had a thought. A thought that I only share here because I'm a writer at heart, and really only feel confident expressing myself through written words. I don't even know how to say this.
We were in the car, and I was looking out at everything my new home has to offer. And one thing kept racing through my mind.
I want to go home.
I wanted to be back in Orange County. Where everything is safe. Where I have friends, where I had a life.
Instead I'm here. Alone, save for Leonard and the cats. Crazy cat lady, party of one. All we've explored are the local malls, which are certainly nothing to write home about. And dear friends, I feel so, so lost.
I read a book today, MWF Seeking BFF. A woman in a new city looking for friends. Ir cried out to me, begging to be read. I devoured it, of course.
After I finished, I went to the website so that I could write the author. I don't know what I'd say. Help me? But then I saw, she'll be in San Francisco this Sunday.
Maybe I'll try to make a new friend or two this weekend. Maybe I'll have something real to blog about soon.
I wanted this blog to be all about my new adventures, and instead I find myself chronicling the many reasons why moving is so difficult. I always considered myself to be a strong woman, but this move continues to strike me down.
No comments:
Post a Comment