transcribed from longhand journal entry

July 27, 2007
I’m sitting under the broad blue sky of the Embarcadero. It is amazingly beautiful in San Francisco today, the kind of day that’s always featured in movies located in the City, but ones that seem rare to us bridge and tunnel types as we emerge from trains or cars in the wrong clothing for foggy weather. The day is warm and clear. The American flag at the top of the Ferry Building waves lazily as an occasional bay breeze passes. The pigeons and gulls are surprisingly politely, some folded up neatly like origami birds on the lawns. It is a blessed day.

I had my first(I’m embarassed to admit it but I disdain City hipsters and never wanted to be one) taste of the fabled The Slanted Door. I had 5 spice chicken vermicelli and a steamed veggie bun as I sat cross-legged in the sun, listening to the fountain in Justin Herman Plaza. I came out to the City again, this time to get my bib number, timing chip, and new CoolMax shirt for Sunday’s half-marathon.

Though the loud taunts of an adult skateboarder(that’s an oxymoron right?) against a nonchalant business type temporarily raises my anxiety, I am calm. I am free. Free from work for at least 9 more days. Free from self-imposed exile in my little house in the East Bay. Free from last night’s nightmares. Free from the past few weeks’ regrets and vicissitudes. Here and today, I have grass, trees, water, sky, and people. I have pen and paper. I can breathe.

As I did yesterday, I choose to love the world.