The Good Stuff.

Maybe it was the parking spot.

Perhaps it was being able to have not one but two very satisfying breakfasts, the second being in Cole Valley all dressed to the nines in my vintage finest. 

I think maybe it was just waking up with a positive attitude.

Whatever it was, it was during my time spent at said restaurant in Cole Valley that whilst waiting for my breakfast, I pulled out my journal and began to write. Other tables were busy scrolling Instagram or invested in their Macbooks, but I'm an old fashioned gal and I prefer to pass the time doing things that actually add value to my life.

And so I wrote. 

Normally, I'm either writing about the past trying to catch up (I am forever behind in journaling) or writing what I like to call “side notes”. Side notes are essentially right here, right now entries that are usually done when I'm incredibly sad, angry, heartbroken, insecure, or lonely. 

This morning at breakfast, I wrote a side note, except instead of being filled with any of the above feelings, I was writing with a sense of peace. I was happy, comfortable, at ease, and feeling pretty darn good about life.

To which I reminded myself that I shouldn't just write when I need to catch up or share my deepest darkest feelings, but that I should also make sure to capture the good stuff that happens to. 

I think I often forget about the little things in life that actually make me happy. I'm normally so focused on figuring out my problems and sifting through what's wrong with me that I get blind sighted by the fact that a lot of good things actually happen in my life.

Here are a few examples of some good that recently happened and the lovely things I saw in the world.

On the way to work, I was walking on Haight Street and found seven pennies (all heads up), a nickel, and a dime. That's pure cash profit right there.

I was sitting on Bart on one of my commutes home and in front of me sat a very stylish married man listening to Leon Bridges and bobbing his head. This guy's got some serious class and his wife is a lucky woman.

When I was working at Relic, a British family came in and a little girl sat on the couch and pulled out Winnie the Pooh. I nearly cried.

My friend Marissa was venting to me about boys and after listening patiently and being honest in my responses, she said I was a really good friend. Me?

I was on the freeway yesterday, stuck in traffic getting on the Bay Bridge and when I let a Prius through, the driver rolled down his window and waved his thanks to me. You're welcome.

I mean, that's a lot of good stuff happening in my world!

Everything is copy, and though I write a lot about things that cause me pain and anguish (as a way of healing), I can't forget that there's equal amounts of good stuff happening to me at the same time and that they shouldn't go unnoticed.

Maybe if I spend as much time writing about the good as the bad, my perspective might change and I could be working on getting better at the same time. 

As with most things I’m trying to work on, it takes balance in order for things to run smoothly. And if I allow my journal to be witness to my downs then it should also be witness to my highs.  

With that, I’ll sign off with a smile on my face, a mysterious smirky smile well accompanied by a fabulous dress and pearls... 

When the Lights Go Down in the City.

I'm finding that the best time of day to explore a city is not, in fact, in the day, but when the lights go down and darkness settles in.

There's far less traffic, far less people, and I find that you really get a feel for a place when you're immersed in the cloaks of the city's shadows.

Last night, my friend Marissa and I went on a little night trip to San Francisco. Despite the surprised responses that we were driving allllll the way to the city for dinner (guys, it's a mere 23 miles from Walnut Creek), we went anyway, staying patient in the Bay Bridge traffic and rolling the windows down as we wound our way through the steep streets to Fisherman's Wharf. 

There's this favorite spot of mine there that I take nearly every visitor to whenever they're in the city. 

Nestled on the corner of Beach Street, The Buena Vista (Spanish for "good view") is the warmest, coziest, most iconic San Franciscan café that epitomizes my favorite parts of San Francisco history. 

"A beacon of warmth and conviviality on the San Francisco waterfront, The Buena Vista continues to serve belly-warming libations and hearty meals that were originally catered to fishermen, dock workers, lumber brokers, sailors, cannery workers, and other City folk."

It remains so. The Bay view is still spectacular, the atmosphere is forever inviting and warm, and their iconic Irish Coffees still stand out amongst all others.

The day was foggy (how expectant), we found a parking spot right on the corner and when we walked through the old doors, there was a corner section at the bar meant for two just begging for our weary bums to sit at. 

Meant to be?

We enjoyed our hearty and belly warming meals (clam chowder in a San Francisco sourdough bread bowl and one delightful Irish Coffee for me), spent some time walking along the waterfront, and noticing the emptiness of the city at night, drove over to Coit Tower to explore some more.

We had Joni Mitchell's California playing loud on the stereo, wind ripping through our hair, and we got to see some pretty sweet sights way up there at the Tower. 

Sometimes I forget how crazy beautiful San Francisco is, and I'm glad to have found a friend who's as willing and eager to drive 23 miles for dinner and explore parts of the city past dark. 

(just so long as we're being safe)

Like Journey sings it best, the best time of day in San Francisco is "when the lights go down in the city, and the sun shines on the Bay..."