travels with myself
Back from vacation and a few days away from beginning my first regular job in months, and after writing numerous depressed entries in my journal, and driving my boyfriend crazy by saying insane things like “adventure” over and over while only wanting to nap all day long, I’ve decided to attempt to be happy by pretending to be a stranger in a strange land.
It seems that if you can be almost 23 years old and living in San Francisco and not destitute, and still be unhappy then you need to start looking at things in a different way or at least looking at things in general.
That’s the main thing about traveling. You actually have to look at things, because you decided to be interested as soon as you bought your ticket. The trick is to manage to stay in the traveling mindset even after you get home. It’s easier, I suppose, when you are traveling because everything is novel, but life can be pretty novel too supposedly.
Although, even now staring out at Coit Tower, and the bay dotted with sailboats, and the rolling hills beyond, I can’t think of even one way to make myself feel glad to be here.