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Nowhere fast

I’ve been vacillating on the San Francisco question. To go? Not to go? The answer has been changing weekly.

Last week, I was pretty sure there was no need to pack up; things on the job front were looking up, I was feeling optimistic about my skill set and earning potential.

This week that plucky, positive sky turned gray, and I believe that moving to SF is the right step to take. There’s no design work in that city either, but the way I look at it, I have far more connections there than I do here so the likelyhood that some semblance of freelance will materialize is slightly better.

I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. It sort of feels like I’m going backward instead of forward. I keep reminding myself that living rent-free would permit me to catch my breath financially, that with fewer fiscal pressures, I’d be able to maybe even sleep 8 hours uninterrupted and feel rested in the morning. But I can’t shake the sense that I’ve failed somehow. And that returning to San Francisco is admitting defeat.

I know that the economy sucks everywhere. I could have moved to any city other than Los Angeles, and chances are, I’d be in the same boat there as I am here.

I have been thinking of moving anyway. I guess there was a part of me that was hoping that I could move someplace new and different by choice, rather than by resignation.

So that’s where my head is today.

Let’s change the subject, shall we?

Last night, we made macaroni ‘n cheese with 3 cheeses (Emmenthaler, Gruyère, and Comté) and invited The Rock Star over for dinner. She brought a delicious chocolate cake which just added insult to injury, but who cares? It was yummy. Afterwards, we went to the New Beverly to see her favorite childhood movie, “Streets of Fire.” That movie could have been a LOT worse than it actually was. Not that it wasn’t fun seeing Bill Paxton with a missing tooth and a pompadour, or Willem Dafoe shirtless under black latex overalls, or Diane Lane doing her best Pat Benatar imitation, but the highlight of the film was this guy sitting behind us who just out and out started snoring. It was so loud, it was like a buzzsaw! One woman to the right of us kept whisper/screaming, “Hey! Dude! Wake your friend up!” Finally, The Rock Star got impatient and just threw a couple of sour string candies at the guy.

Oh my god, I’ve got to hightail it to the post office and send some of these Valentines. This year, I am so, so late, it’s egregious, outrageous and bubble-icious. If you are the lucky recipient of one of these babies, please forgive my tardiness!

2:06 p.m. - 2003-02-12



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