...I lost something.

This time 7 days ago I was walking down a misty Haight Street and window-shopping for oxymoronic in-style vintage clothing to my heart's content. In tow was my cousin, his wife, and their 16-month-old son. This trip to San Francisco has left me empty and I can't place what it is that I lost. I enjoyed spending time with family that didn't revolve around a wedding or a funeral, two common occurrences when dealing with a family of gargantuan proportions. I miss laughing at myself when I would catch a glimpse of my cousin's last name and think, "Oh wow! He has the same name as me!" before realizing my silly faux pas. There's just something to be said about spending quality time with someone whose blood runs through you. There's also something to be said about escaping from a city that holds an amalgamate of emotions, many positive, some negative. San Francisco was a clean slate, one to which I had the freedom to paint my own experiences and create my own memories, sans negativity. As I drove south on I-5 toward the statuesque Tabla Rosa a weight slowly lifted with each passing mile. I do not have the ability to pinpoint exactly from what I was escaping or what has left behind an emptiness because my perspective is muddled with conflicting emotions. Excited. Scared. Lonely. Content. It's like trying to draw a blueprint of a house when you're locked in the hallway closet.

Let's face it. I haven't been single in 6 years. That's a long time. During those 6 years, I fell in love twice, lost myself (twice), regained myself (once), and lost myself again. Now, I am on the path of self-discovery to find myself again in a far far away land. I came up with this brilliant, and I say that with a shade of sarcasm, idea to move far far away from a stable support system--loving family, fast friends, potential lovers, and a rose-scented city that I call home after only 3 years--and, well, to do something. Something different. Brilliant plan, eh? What do I, per say, plan on doing in the Land of Far Far Away? No clue. I have a Masters in Behavioral Neuroscience which has empowered me with invaluable analytical thinking and writing skills, but at this moment all I want to do is play, discover, live, breathe, and create. But not in Behavioral Neuroscience. Something more like Science outreach and education. Hmmm, apparently I found research to be stifling.I guess writing a blog does lead to some clarity.

I do not seek a career hunched over a lab bench, lower back aching. At least not right now. I won't rule out the possibility of Hunched Back Career entirely (Note: I do not intend to impose my rather cynical outlook on scientific research onto others. There are several aspects of research I find titillating, just not enough to make me want to stay). I fear that because I have "lost myself" it is very hard for me to make any permanent decision about my life. Planning my future career is like trying to build a city on quicksand. The city facades may stand tall at first, but inevitably, the foundation will sink, and the city will crumble.

How did I lose myself?

I do not shop for clothes with my eyes, but with my hands. I need to feel the weight and texture of the clothing in order to appreciate its full persona. I stroll down fabric aisles, eyes just barely open, both hands outreached, fingers extended. Silky. Patterned. Velvet. Corduroy. Worn-in T-shirt. Heavy. Weightless. Maybe that's how I have been going through life. Letting my other senses dictate my direction instead of using the best sense that allows perspective.