I did, I left my heart in San Francisco

It takes getting away from home to see the beauty in other potential homes. San Francisco is my barbie dream house, the whole thing. I take it for the good and the bad, but mostly the good. It's so much more than anything I've ever experienced, because it's alive, it inspires me while keeping me grounded. Sharing a small space with three other girls for four days has now become my dearest memory, and I only just got home today. Somehow we managed to go where we wanted even when we shouldn't have been in certain places (one wrong turn there, and you could be in trouble.) We took taxi cabs, drank midnight milkshakes, shopped, ranted, flirted, ran, spent, and found the more important things in each other. I always thought that the kind of love I've been looking for would be found in a man, but I was wrong. I found a different, yet just as passionate type of love in San Francisco. There's more going on in the daytime than I've seen go on in a day here in San Clemente, and at night, there's ten times that activity. People are performing on the street for quarters, dressing up, and making a living off of living. I guess that's really what draws me in, people are living there. I find that many wile away their time trying to work towards a living, when what they really need to do is just stop and let themselves experience life without the expectation of getting a level higher or a step above. A homeless man was completely contented in hiding behind a bush and playfully scaring pedestrians in front of slyly gathered crowds. He was laughing and interacting with people, which is more than I can say about a lot of people who actually believe that they are formulating some kind of life off of economic success. It's so beautiful there. We hailed taxis with great success once we spotted them, excitedly jogging to them in the middle of busy intersections, and we kept our cool when suspicious characters whistled, mumbled, and stalked behind us. The thrill of the city, the thrill of driving crookedly through crowded streets, pulling together what funds we had for fare and food, and staying up too late to learn things about each other. There's a magnetic pull that tells me that I wouldn't just enjoy the city for a four day span of time, that I'd need my closest friends there to walk besides me, no, it tells me that I belong in the hustle bustle of the foggy layout. I could watch the sea lions forever, I could walk the wharf for hours, find a coffee shop to study at, and play music in the park. I could. An eight hour drive seems like nothing when it leads to the living.