Washington Park

originally on paper & pen

Wednesday, July 5^th, 2017

San Francisco, CA

I’m currently sitting in a park in downtown San Francisco by myself. The sun is shining and there isn’t a cloud in sight-rare for the terribly foggy week we have been having. There’s a lot going on here. Couples bonding, a shirtless man hitting on girls who clearly aren’t into it, and behind me a man playing the ugliest sounding and looking instrument I have ever seen and heard…but I don’t want him to stop?

I haven’t journaled on paper for awhile now, but the extra 2lbs of my laptop in my backpack seemed like an unnecessary evil. I’m grateful for the experience to connect fully with my writing again. Sometimes the distraction of the web and the availability of spell check can woo me away into the fantasy of a “perfectly” articulated paper. Not this way In a way that paper and pen cannot. Mistakes are not erased. They’re covered and rewritten.

I don’t know if today is truly a solo travel experience, but I’m going to count it. My dad woke up with the flu this morning and left me to explore the city on my own. I’m excited about it. The chance to be solo with a fall back. I’ve been wanting to travel alone, but after how extremely sick I got in Thailand, I’m not sure if I would risk it. There’s a certain vulnerability that comes with traveling alone. The mistakes that once fell on you and your partner, now fall solely on you. Then again- so do the triumphs & that alone might make it worthwhile.

Two young boys walked behind me having a discussion well beyond their years. But why does it have to be beyond their years?

Why is the older generation always trying to discredit the feelings of the younger?

“Wait until you’re in college”

“Wait until you pay your own bills”

“Wait until you have kids”

Why must we wait?

When does the waiting stop? Are feelings less valid because we have spent less years living?

The heartbreak of my teens was worse than the heartbreak of my twenties.

At least now I know you can’t die from it.