If you've never been to San Francisco or the areas surrounding it, perhaps you don't know that it has a transformative effect on ...
Lately it's been hard to find words. I'm torn between an exhilarating, passionate love for this ridiculous place where I get to live and vacation, and feelings of fear, anxiousness and heartbreak for our country, for the world, for my friends and, of course, for myself. I had an incredible week and a half reuniting with old friends, meeting new ones, seeing new places and revisiting gorgeous ones. I learned how to bake sourdough bread and let my own city take my breath away, and then I had to slow down, the hardest part. That tricky moment when you realize you can't keep going full speed ahead like this forever and it's going to hurt when your feet are no longer cushioned by adrenaline. When you're not trying new foods or sailing at sunset, and instead you're sitting on your couch--his couch--and you're too overwhelmed to open your laptop. When you want nothing more than to tell someone who knows all the details and is already invested all about it, but you can't. When you have to stand by and understand the decisions you've made. When the sound of fireworks gives you fight or flight. When rustling trees outside make your heart skip a beat. When every day you hear about someone else who died for no reason. This summer is off to a wonderful and truly tragic beginning.