“I’ll just, uh, have a hot coffee.”
Normally that’s not weird to say, but I was sitting at the end of a bar, alone, at a trendy SF restaurant. It was dinnertime on a Sunday night and the lights were dimmed.
I got there earlier than my dad who I was meeting for dinner so decided to pass the time by journaling about the year before and the one ahead.
The bartender handed me the mildly hot coffee and after taking notice of my journal turned and left me alone with my thoughts. ‘Should I tell him that I’m waiting for someone?’ I thought. Read More
I recently was in Austin for meetings and met up with a good friend from college.
She’s a photographer and was there for a shoot, so we hopped from tacos to food trucks and everywhere in between.
At the Austin mural I realized that I knew the artist—I had interviewed him back in 2010 as a part of Mutual of Omaha’s aha moment tour. He talked about his passion for “neon art,” whatever that was.
So I poked my head into the office behind the wall to say hello. Read More
I don’t like basketball, but I love San Francisco.
Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve probably heard the word ‘warriors’ and the word ‘NBA’ in the same sentence. I’ve recently become a person I before wouldn’t recognize: the fan who had the Finals schedule etched on her mind.
Until this month, the last basketball game I watched was in 2010. But when our Bay Area has any team in finals / superbowls / world series, I become a die-hard fan. I know what you’re thinking… gross, right?
But I have a lot of pride for the city I’ve come to call home.
The other night, I realized I have a habit of talking out of the side of my mouth.
That sounds weird to say, because unless you’re John Wayne or saying “howdy partner,” it’s kind of weird to talk out of the side of your mouth. But I just realized the other day that I do it. I mentioned it to my mom and she said, “You do it when you’re telling stories, honey. It started during college. I think someone you know did it, because you started doing it then.“
Less than 48 hours later, I was running on the hotel treadmill and it hit me: It was the boy I dated in college. He talked out of the side of his mouth.
“Where are you?”
I’ve been getting that a lot lately. See the thing is that sometimes when you’re running so fast, it’s hard to take a moment and look in the rear view mirror, let alone inform the other drivers in your life where the heck you’re going. But now, as I whirl down the I-10 in the back of a Chevy Silverado hauling the current season of my life, an airstream film studio, and I watch the plains of Texas pass me by… now seems like a good opportunity to do just that. Read More