So my latest work assignment is in San Francisco’s Financial District, although it feels to me like it’s in Chinatown. I believe it’s the border, but I really don’t know the breakdown of SF’s neighborhoods.  From my window I can see the Coit Tower and Alcatraz, which is amazing.  I feel like I don’t have to leave my room.

Last time I was working in California, I was close enough to drive to San Francisco. I’ve always wanted to visit this town. I walked around the piers, took a trip to Alcatraz, drove over the Golden Gate bridge, and hung out in Haight-Ashbury and listened to a great blues band at a cool little bar.  A great day.

This trip I’m feeling a little lazy.

Yesterday I spent five hours standing outside for the Chinese New Year Parade. It was a lot of fun; so many people and so many firecrackers.  It was just interesting to see all the different floats and everyone seemed so excited to be a part of it.

Today I am working (from the room), but I really don’t feel like going outside. I feel like staring out my window on the 26th floor and looking at Alcatraz and all the interesting restaurants, buildings, and people from my dirty window.  I was actually sitting at the desk in my room eating dark chocolate and fruit, listening to Leonard Cohen, and reading Haruki Murakami. I felt like such a…hipster?  Not sure.  But then I realized I couldn’t concentrate on my book while listening to Leonard.  Something about his music forces me to listen, he refuses to be background music. So I put down the book and listened for a while. Then I turned off the music and read for a while. Then I realized how long it’s been since I wrote, and put down the book and decided to write for a while.

I thought I would be writing every other day, or weekly, when I started this new job traveling. The last time I wrote an entry here, though, was August 2016. Six months have passed, and there is no excuse for that.  I’m definitely not a hipster…while I wrote about my dreamy “sexy food, great songwriter, hip writer” trio, the truth is most night’s end with me watching Netflix and falling asleep early when I’m on the road.  I need to break out of that mold and write more, be more creative.  I love to write, so why is so difficult?  Why do I completely forget I started this website to practice writing more often?  Or that writing would help my horrible memory as I document things that happen or change in my life?  I love it, and it’s important.  So even though this seems to happen quite often for me (loving to write and then forgetting about it for a long period of time until I promise not to forget about it again which ends up being a lie), I will endeavor to not be lazy and do this more often.

Since the last time I wrote was six months ago, I feel accomplishing this goal will be easy.