a guided journey.

My dad bought me a copy of a book that takes you on a literary tour of San Francisco. It is illustrated by this mesmerizing artist from the San Francisco Chronicle, named Paul Madonna. This, coupled with a recent midnight trip up and down Telegraph Hill with one of my favorite people on earth only reminds me of what I am missing out on in Los Angeles.

I remember trying to decide which college to go to, weighing my options, heavily weighing their locations. I know that I chose L.A. to run far away from everything I knew (sadly, my money wouldn't take me to the other side of the country). I think that this decision has had two effects. Actually, more like one effect that can be looked at in two divergent ways.

Being in L.A. after living in San Francisco is like visiting Queens after spending the afternoon in the upper east side. You see a completely different side of life, one that maybe you weren't even aware existed in such a short distance. It opens up new ideas, new inspirations, new perspectives. But watching the other doors close behind you is so painful that I feel like I want to defer my education and move back to the City.

Of course L.A. is interesting. It's just that San Francisco really gets me, you know? He always laughs at my jokes and makes me feel beautiful. Plus, he has a lot of connections and I feel like my future, really, is with him.

So, yes, one tiny little book made me realize this. It's stupid. I know. But what is even stupider is realizing that a city - one tiny little location - can make you feel so comfortable or so alienated that all you want to do is give up.