It’s funny, really, how quickly I am able to adapt to my surroundings. I remember moving to Seattle and being so relieved at the culturally-lowered expectations on my appearance, and the raised expectations on my activity and intelligence.
I’m back in San Diego for ten days, and I’ve bought cute summer clothes, had my hair cut and highlighted, worked on my tan, and generally enjoyed being a pretty girl again. (Here’s the evidence–me, with some girls I met, at some club)
Clearly, I have no idea what I’m doing in this life.
The cause: Matt and I broke up a couple weeks ago. It was a rough time, but the months leading up the the split were rougher, so we’re both pretty confident that it was the right thing to do.
So, I’m playing at being a San Diegan for now. It’s really a lovely place to be, especially with Rachel’s generosity allowing me to spend most of my time at the beach.
I have no idea what my next move will be, and I am taking great pains to be okay with that. I’m not one who does well without a direction–normally, I’m queen of making the best of whatever direction befalls me. With a job I love, and virtually the entire world available to me, I’m more terrified than excited about the range of possibilities available to me.
So, where should I go?
I love how you’re in town for a handful of days and still manage to have your photo published
I know it’s been a while but you’re not old enough to be a cougar nor trashy enough to be at Stingaree…bleh…
As they say in espanol: “mejor sola que mal acompanada…”