an oath of love was your dying cry

As a romantic, I long to be in love. I think I fall in love with cities to satisfy that a little.
The thing about cities is they come at me like love stories, relationships between them and my heart. Boston and Portland charmed me, sweet like summer camp romances, my heart skips a little at their name, and I know there will always be a spark. San Diego, my Gold best friend, always near and dear to my heart, the ever-present knowledge thaet I will forever return home to it.
San Francisco my steady darling, wooing me from the beginning and with the ability to constantly reinforce that sweet love, take me by suprise, romance me, remind why I love it so. We have such a love affair, my Heart and San Francisco.
New York's fire smoked, but never ignited a flame, Paris, my celebrity crush--that fabulous ideal, the captain of the football team, that just seams unreal, impossible. Paris is the one you stalk, lust after, dream while in, near. It is the awe-striking adonis that I swoon over when in it's presence, yet when away somehow isn't what I find myself longing, yearning for.
And there is Spain. While not a city, and so unfair to be judged against such, each city holds true to the feeling. I think perhaps Spain is my Soul's True Love, its epic romance, the love story of my heart that I fear will end as a tradgedy of Virginia Wolf proportion. There is a peaceful excitement the moment I set foot within its bounds. It is like many other things as that ideal, with unrealized faults becuase I have not truely known it. Like a long distance relationship, our times are sweet and full of romance, lacking the opportunity for the hum-drum or negative to be seen, experienced, realized.
San Francisco remains.
I'm having a hard time getting back on the wagon. While there is much to be said for the comforts of home, it feels like I am trying to think positively, finding the good points to get myself through, selling myself on my current life. I hear myself thinking I would forsake the comforts of home for the adventure of traveling, or living abroad, even, if out of a suitcase.

Today I met Krista for brunch. We spent the morning catching up over mimosas, followed by boutiquing through the Mission. A beautiful City day, we ended up at Tartin, for afternoon treats and tea, and strolled past the park on our way home. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon, and a neccesary reminder of how much and why I adore San Francisco.

I think it's going to be about finding the balance, until I can actually live in Europe, finding things in the States or the City that satisfy my European longings, and enjoying what the City has to offer so I'm happy here, and not wasting days. I do so love living here, and feel like I may have brought home with me a zeal for living a young life, full of night and adventures.

All in all, my body is still tired, but my soul feels rested.

PS I accidently killed Marco Thursday morning. God rest his little fins, I'm a terrible mother.