Today was melancholy and bittersweet, and full of memories, and ultimately full of connection and happiness. I woke up this morning after nine hours of sleep, which was enough to restore me, but also enough to give me waking dreams for the last hour, none of which I wanted. But I got up and took care of a bunch of stuff around the house (mostly cleaning/dusting - it was so dusty after six weeks of neglecting the dusting that I couldn't bear to work from home until the dusting was done, so I did it at nine a.m. on a Monday like a crazy person). And then I showered, and did some planning for the week ahead.
But then I had to drive to the south bay to have lunch with my old boss - hence the melancholy, bittersweet memories. It has been eight months since I left work, and some things have changed completely and irrevocably, and some things haven't changed at all. For starters, I haven't finished my book, but you know that. But the old boss and I went to one of my least favorite cafes (Root), which has gotten strangely better (the carnitas tacos were actually delicious), and then grabbed coffee at Coffee Lab (writing there in the early mornings is one of the things I still truly miss, after having let go of most of the rest of it). Then we went back to our old building, where I spent a lot of quality time talking to Tom and Howell, and a little quality time talking to Tomas and Manuela and Ravi. Then, I absconded with Eugene and made him talk to me for half an hour in my car in the parking lot; he's the one who put a noisemaker in my car a year ago, so if anything happens to my car in the next few weeks, I'm blaming him.
Then, full of gossip and without anyone to tell it to, I left campus and drove myself back to the city. I'm truly happy that I left work, and truly don't regret that - but it's still bittersweet to see the old team. And Sriram (the old boss) gave me a Christmas present that he'd given to everyone else on the team (a nice metal water bottle + a card with pictures from their offsite), so it's almost like I never left...but of course I've been gone forever.
sssanyway. I got home, took care of a few more things around the house, and then walked two miles into the Mission and wrote at Ritual for an hour. This is a great place to write by hand, since they don't have wifi, and so I got an iced coffee for fall-of-Rome prices and wrote in my notebook for an hour. As I've said, I'm making a solid, last-ditch push this month on finishing Rafe and Octavia's book (before deciding whether to abandon it forever), and so I scribbled for an hour on what I want to change and what I've realized about it, and what makes the story feel alive vs. dead for me. Now that I've owned the decision to push forward, and now that I've owned what the book is about, there's a chance I could just drink whisky for the next three weeks and bang it all out in one long, emotional orgy of writing and drinking, but I think I'll take the non-Hemingway approach and try to write it sober instead. But we shall see.
I had to stop writing, though, to meet up with Can Sar (remember him?) at Foreign Cinema. We hadn't seen each other since Shedletsky's wedding a year and a half ago, so we were way overdue for a catch-up. This was duly accomplished over a delish dinner (I had risotto, into which they had snuck some kale, but it was so good that I forgave them; I also had two glasses of Banshee's pinot noir, which I'm glad I discovered during my epic Healdsburg adventure in December) - Can seems to be in fine form, and is reading books for like twelve hours a day, which leaves me in awe and also slightly jealous.
And then I took a lyft home, and then I had an impromptu phone call with Katie, who always makes my heart sing and my spirits soar. And now that I've connected with old coworkers and old friends and even older besties, it's time for me to sleep - I want to write tomorrow before commencing my social whirl, and I also have some business to take care of, so sleep is imperative. Goodnight!
But then I had to drive to the south bay to have lunch with my old boss - hence the melancholy, bittersweet memories. It has been eight months since I left work, and some things have changed completely and irrevocably, and some things haven't changed at all. For starters, I haven't finished my book, but you know that. But the old boss and I went to one of my least favorite cafes (Root), which has gotten strangely better (the carnitas tacos were actually delicious), and then grabbed coffee at Coffee Lab (writing there in the early mornings is one of the things I still truly miss, after having let go of most of the rest of it). Then we went back to our old building, where I spent a lot of quality time talking to Tom and Howell, and a little quality time talking to Tomas and Manuela and Ravi. Then, I absconded with Eugene and made him talk to me for half an hour in my car in the parking lot; he's the one who put a noisemaker in my car a year ago, so if anything happens to my car in the next few weeks, I'm blaming him.
Then, full of gossip and without anyone to tell it to, I left campus and drove myself back to the city. I'm truly happy that I left work, and truly don't regret that - but it's still bittersweet to see the old team. And Sriram (the old boss) gave me a Christmas present that he'd given to everyone else on the team (a nice metal water bottle + a card with pictures from their offsite), so it's almost like I never left...but of course I've been gone forever.
sssanyway. I got home, took care of a few more things around the house, and then walked two miles into the Mission and wrote at Ritual for an hour. This is a great place to write by hand, since they don't have wifi, and so I got an iced coffee for fall-of-Rome prices and wrote in my notebook for an hour. As I've said, I'm making a solid, last-ditch push this month on finishing Rafe and Octavia's book (before deciding whether to abandon it forever), and so I scribbled for an hour on what I want to change and what I've realized about it, and what makes the story feel alive vs. dead for me. Now that I've owned the decision to push forward, and now that I've owned what the book is about, there's a chance I could just drink whisky for the next three weeks and bang it all out in one long, emotional orgy of writing and drinking, but I think I'll take the non-Hemingway approach and try to write it sober instead. But we shall see.
I had to stop writing, though, to meet up with Can Sar (remember him?) at Foreign Cinema. We hadn't seen each other since Shedletsky's wedding a year and a half ago, so we were way overdue for a catch-up. This was duly accomplished over a delish dinner (I had risotto, into which they had snuck some kale, but it was so good that I forgave them; I also had two glasses of Banshee's pinot noir, which I'm glad I discovered during my epic Healdsburg adventure in December) - Can seems to be in fine form, and is reading books for like twelve hours a day, which leaves me in awe and also slightly jealous.
And then I took a lyft home, and then I had an impromptu phone call with Katie, who always makes my heart sing and my spirits soar. And now that I've connected with old coworkers and old friends and even older besties, it's time for me to sleep - I want to write tomorrow before commencing my social whirl, and I also have some business to take care of, so sleep is imperative. Goodnight!
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