I’m lying here on the floor of my new bedroom, in the outline of where my to-be-ordered queen size bed will be placed, drinking a somewhat boring 88-point chardonney out of a red plastic cup.
Writing a blog post.
I thought tonight’s post would be one of my to-be-written angst filled manifestos about all the reasons I suck, or the monetization bubble, or my theories on why standard relationships may not work for me …
… but that’s not what is coming out of me tonight.
The thing is, I’m happy.
Sitting here in my empty apartment in San Francisco, listening to music on the tinny speaker of my iPhone, smelling the heaters that have been turned on the first time in months, my feet tingly after a long evening of randomly walking around soma (south of market) … I’m happy.
Happy in an insane, giddy, drunk with freedom way.
(yes, this is the change talking, not the wine…)
I love that this apartment is empty.
White walls. Echoy floor. Empty cabinets and closets and cubbies.
I love that this apartment is in the city.
I can hear the cars going by on the street 4 stories below.
I can feel the energy of the people, locals buying groceries at the shop below, recent transplants looking for the nearest walgreens, couples comfortably holding hands as they look for the restaurant, tourists snapping at each other in a foreign language as they hold up a map & point at buildings, taxis honking as they almost run over a jaywalker …
… I’m connected to that chaos.
But only by a tendril.
For the moment, I’m safe, secluded, sheltered from the chaos outside.
In my expanse of space. Of potential.
I don’t know how long I’ll live in this apartment.
Or this city. Or how long I can tolerate being connected to the chaos.
I don’t know if San Francisco is just another stop on my journey, or if it will become a long-term home base for my adventures.
But, for tonight, I’m in love with San Francisco.
I’m in love with my apartment. I’m in love with the chaos and the shelter, the crowds and the empty, exploring the expanses and resting curled up on my air mattress.
I’m home.
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I'm Elizabeth Potts Weinstein, a writer, teacher, and coach.