Blue Moon Over Boston

(This picture was not taken by me. I got it off the web.)


There comes a time in everyone's life, I'd like to think, that one becomes what one despises. One does what one swears one would never do.

This entry is my concession to righteous defeat. I swore I would never wallow in sentimental drivel on my blog, my public face, but drivel now I must.

If the whole point of a blog is self-expression, I cannot but express the pervading feelings of gloom and doom that have hung over me for days, like the predictable overcast skies of San Francisco.

Moving to a far away city, for all its novelty, sucks. I miss familiar people, places, activities, etc.

Yes, it's trite, homesickness, or whatever you call it. But I don't think it will dissipate in a short time. I'm so tired of moving, like clockwork, from place to place every two to three years. I'm so tired of meeting people, getting acquainted, and then critically evaluating how/whether/and why to stay in touch. What to say and how much?

I don't think people are meant to live outside a community. And I believe a true community takes years to form. Years to know and years to trust.

To be everywhere is to be nowhere at all. To meet many is to know none. And to move a lot is to be all alone.