Upon my return to San Francisco from the Northwest tour, I realized that I was not terribly excited to be home. This is pretty major; I’ve always been amazed at how excited, even relieved, I was to see the SF skyline when returning from a trip. I’ve never felt that way about any other place I’ve lived. In Greensboro and Charlotte, my returns were always accompanied by a sense of sadness and dread.
Could this mean that my four-year love affair with San Francisco (the longest romantic entanglement of my life) is nearing an end? It’s been something I’ve been considering for several months.
I have no idea what I want to do for a living. I’m not sure I want to continue living in San Francisco. I’m not even real clear on what I want to spend a given evening doing lately. What’s up here?
Three and a half months of voluntary and planned unemployment have convinced me that I’m no closer to having a plan than I was in December when I quit my job. This is a little scary, because at some point the money will run out. My vision of a life which is not dominated by career only extends so far, and it does not include fasting, sleeping on the streets, or giving up cable TV.
Not that any of these things are a pressing danger, but they remind me that I need to decide what I want to be when I grow up pretty soon.
Writing would be a good choice, but I don’t see being able to support myself that way for about a decade (if ever). But suggestions are welcome.I’m starting to wonder if maybe I should just get a low-impact job which allows me to survive while doing what I want to do. It is a given that the new “low-impact” career will in NO WAY involve working with the public in a retail-type environment.