I remember when it started. It was my 10th birthday. A milestone birthday: I would get to add another digit to my age! I’d have to turn 100 years old for something so big to happen again.
So, on my 10th birthday I was appropriately excited. However, because my actual birthday fell on a weekday, my family and I decided to delay the party to the following weekend. I felt really grown up to agree to this decision beforehand.
It turned out I hadn’t taken into consideration that on my actual birthday, nobody would pay too much attention to me. In effect, everyone just ignored the fact that it was my special day. They all just went along as if it were a day like every other. Not even the weather was on my side that particular day in November. It was unusually cold even for a rainy fall day. There was no way I was going to play outside alone. I hung around the house, watching my family go about their business, and naturally I was bored. VERY bored. Continue reading
Boy, I love this city.
I have lived in San Francisco for 12 glorious years. Like most long-term relationships, there are ups and downs, but I have managed to fall more and more in love with this fine city as the years go by. It’s safe to say I’m kind of obsessed.
Like other things I’m obsessed with, I have committed many hours to researching all things “San Francisco,” mainly in the form of movies set here. One of the best movies to showcase SF is Hitchcock’s Vertigo. He elegantly captures the glamour and beauty of San Francisco in the 60s. When I watch it, my heart aches for not having known that San Francisco. Continue reading
A friend asked me once, “If you had to choose, would you rather be someone who is easily interested, or easily bored?” I almost blurted out, “Easily bored!” but then stopped myself. Since I was a kid, I’ve found it hard to stick with things, always naturally curious about the new. But, I realized, that means I’m easily interested, too.
As I’ve gotten older, my brain flits (a bit) less and some fancies have stuck, which has come as a relief. Also, I’ve discovered that by doing what it takes to re-invent, re-discover and stay enthusiastic, I’m able to stick with things. It feels great, even better than the buzz of the new. It’s like training myself to specialize: attending seminars and events; reminding myself of past experiences (to keep viewing a show beyond episode five); reading up on everything about an interest to learn and stay current.
The good news is: it’s possible to train yourself to stick at it. Constantly flitting is no good for anyone. But I now have an obsession with a small, blue, cartoon koala.
the state of being obsessed with someone or something
an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person’s mind
Since the age of fourteen, when my boobs decided to grow faster than the skin around them warranted thus adorning me with red tiger stripes, I got the sense that my body was irreversibly changing. When those same stretch marks made their way across my hips, I remember thinking: That’s it. I’m done for. Continue reading
As someone with very little self-discipline, whose primary source of (terribly inefficient) fuel is self-motivation, I’m fascinated with and romanced by the idea of a daily routine. I am constantly on a quest to devise one for good (both: the greater, and lasting). Many a sticky note has been lost to this cause. Thus, I am fraught with an insatiable, voyeuristic curiosity about how other people spend their time. I’ve been known to corner friends with the phrase, walk me through your day. Sure, collated data, like the American Time Use Survey exist to inform a broad understanding of how we collectively negotiate 24 hours, but I’m too nosy for numbers. Charts and tables are so impersonal (with the occasional caveat: the Feltron Report is a quirky favorite); although the advancing field of individual data tracking does excite as it lends to the potential to analyze hours of me time. But, eventually, even I get tired of me. (Improbable! You say.) Try as I might to nerd out on analytics, what I really want is to poke around and see what everyone else is doing while I’m massacring sticky notes. Continue reading