San Francisco

 

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Perfect weekend with my mom and my sister in San Francisco. This was the first of what is now officially reserved to be an annual Girl’s Weekend. Although my mom and I live nearby each other (like… down the hall), my sister lives in Seattle and is getting her Doctorate in Clinical Psychology. Which is code for “we miss her” and also “we don’t get enough time together.”

The weekend was filled with lots of walking, lots of eating, and lots of interrupting each other.

I hadn’t been to San Francisco in maybe 10+ years and dang is it just gorgeous up there. That mix of ocean and trees is my happy place and especially when you factor in the 73 degree weather we had for the entire weekend.

Shocking to no one, I realized some stuff this weekend that I’m still thinking about and working through today. For some reason, being in the city felt sometimes overwhelming to me. There is a huge part of me that loves the constant motion of a busy city, but on the last three or four city-ish vacations I’ve been on, I’ve been experiencing an interesting sense of anxiety about my life. It’s a bizarre cycle because this anxiety doesn’t come out of pure fear or dread or a root of negative emotion. Typically, I come off of these little trips feeling really extremely inspired and happy and refreshed and full of ideas and then, usually right when I’m about to go home, I get this heavy feeling of inadequacy and idea-flooding. The feeling of a million things to do all at once and no where to start. The feeling of not enough hours in the day or not enough money or time or skill to even try. The feeling that I have to be as good/better as people/things I am a fan of. Even though, that’s kind of unrealistic and is making me stop before I even start.

There’s also this whole other layer of stress about the state of the world slash our country slash children slash the value of gold. But that’s neither here nor there.

Anyway, I’m trying to take that feeling and turn it from frustrating into motivating. Not every idea I have about where I want my life to go or the things I want to learn/improve on needs to go from 0-100 overnight. Nor is there any sort of window that closes where cool ideas and inspiration can’t be revisited. I just need to start somewhere. I’m also realizing that although I am in no means a perfectionist, I have noticed that unless I know that something is going to be amazingly prolific and/or nearly flawless, I don’t even try. Which any cliched motivational quote will tell you is silly.

Here are three things that I want to start (small) with:

(we’ll go from small to medium to large in the scale of ideas that feel scary)

Calligraphy. I’ve wanted to learn dang calligraphy for ohhh… maybe three years now. No disrespect all of the very talented calligraphers out there, but calligraphy is not rocket science. Julia. Go to YouTube. Grab a piece of paper. Start small.

Children’s clothes. This is another idea that’s been rolling around for a few years now with zero movement. See that dusty little tab on the left side of this page that says “Shop Bushka”? Yeah… about that… I think I could make some pretty dang cute kid’s clothes. And I definitely know how. What is stopping me from spending a little bit of time on getting the Baby Bushka ball rolling? (A PERFECT NAME FOR A KID’S CLOTHING LINE, NO?). Who even knows. Actually, I do. It’s the feeling that there are better, cuter, more original kids clothes out there and I don’t want to be just another person selling stupid stuff on Etsy.

…but it wouldn’t be. It’d be cute and cool.

Podcast (?!?&%#*) Ok. This one feels rulllll scary. I kind oooofff….. want to start a podcast? This is a new idea. But I’m really excited by it. I want to talk to people that I think are inspiring and cool and ask them really personal questions about their lives and careers and hobbies and favorite things to do right when they wake up in the morning. Because that’s actually maybe my favorite thing to do. Is that so weird? Would that be so extremely awkward? What if no one listens to it and I’m just speaking to a void that doesn’t exist (cough cough… this blog… cough cough) and then I look like a delusional person who starts off every episode with “Hey, guys!” But there is no “guys” and I just sound crazy? Do I interrupt too much to start a podcast/ Do I talk too much about myself to start a podcast? But then, I’m all like ‘Why do I care if people care that it’s weird?’ WHY NOT TRY?!

CHILDREN, LISTEN TO ME. THE ONLY THING STOPPING YOU IN YOUR LIFE IS YOU AND THAT IS THE REALEST THING. WATCH ME FLY OR GO AWAY FOREVER, PLEASE!

Anyways.

More on this later.

All I know is that  this weekend was really fun. And I’ve just decided that I’m getting rid of the TV that is in the guest room that is actually my room because IT’S BRINGING ME DOWN AND I DON’T NEED THAT NEGATIVITY IN MY LIFE.

Wish List: Cabin Porn

If this weekend proved anything, it’s that I’m an introvert. I’m kind of one of those tricky personalities where there are pretty strong cases for both sides. Ultimately, when it comes down to the age-old and terrifically simple question of “Do you get energized from being with people or by yourself?” the answer is obvious. Case in point: life just doesn’t get much happier than me, in bed, eating Chipotle, and watching Real Housewives of Orange County this last Sunday after a weekend of camping.

Me. Alone. Glory be.

There’s your energy boost.

This is most likely why I’ve COMPLETELY over romanticized the idea of a cabin. I have created such an image of what my dream cabin looks like that it’s almost like it really exists. There’s solitude. Creaking wood floors. An old oven– the kind that just makes cookies taste better. On a small hill with big windows and big trees sweeping the roof. Shoes banned. Socks required. Cabinets stacked and stacked and stacked with mismatched bowls. Natural light. All of the throw blankets. All of them. And me alone. With visitors. But visitors that I can then be all like “K, bye.” Let’s all breathe out together now. Ahhhhh.

K. So that doesn’t exist. Not yet. It will. But not yet.

IN THE MEANTIME… We have Cabin Porn. And their beautiful book by the same name. My all-time favorite kind of porn. Made specifically for the moments when I have to be in not a cabin with my shoes on and humans buzzing around me. Yeesh.

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I want to go to there.