Home Sweet Home

Ah, lovely Santa Cruz. Nothing beats hitting Highway 17 with the trees tall and green, the sky a brilliant blue among the puffy clouds, the crisp air alive with the scent of the sea. Home. I have yet to find a place that makes me feel so welcome. My stay in Berkeley was great, don't get me wrong, but there's nothing like coming home. I was listening to Ray Charles on the drive back. I cannot hear his music without singing and dancing. He gets into my soul or something. Whatever it is, I like it.

I saw Hotel Rwanda last night. Everyone should see that movie. Paul Rusesabagina is an inspiration and testament to the good of humanity. Ordinary people do extraordinary things every day. I am still too affected to speak about the film. I also finished that book I mentioned, "A Blind Man Could See How Much I Love You." There is one line in it that has stuck with me. One character says, "I love you past speech." Wow. That is a whole lot of love.

Do you ever notice how the thing you are trying to convince yourself you don't need/want consistently shows up over and over again? Like when you are on a diet and everywhere you look are cupcakes. Or, for example, how I am single and dealing with the sadness and loss of my last relationship and all I see are happy couples. IKEA was full of them, shopping for their homes, some with kids in tow. I kept thinking about how my ex is probably doing that with his new girl, shopping for their new apartment together. It could be worse I suppose. He and his new girl could come across me and my friend singing "Surry With A Fringe On Top" at the Sharper Image or something (see When Harry Met Sally to get the reference). Still, ouch. I wish I didn't think such thoughts.

My phone has not rung all day. I could feel sad & unpopular but instead, I feel grateful. I feel quiet and internal, contemplative but not in that obsessive way. I am practicing that "being still" thing. I'm thinking about taking up yoga. I need all the help I can get.