Grass Stained Me.: Small Town Limitations and Inspirations from the Bay

Bay area with your abundant strawberries and your numerous bike lanes, I will miss you. Your other worldly flowers and trees make up for my chattering teeth in spite the fact that it's fucking summer. I'm grateful for the extra opportunity to wear my down jacket in July. The volumes of organic goodness at your farmers' markets and natural food stores hypnotize along with the sea of beautiful faces that scrutinize your cornucopia of cheeses.

Bay area I will send you a post card when I get home to tell you of star-filled skies and silent nights. I will remind you what it's like to live without traffic and couture and shoes on your feet. And I ask that you keep in touch in return to remind me of the subtleties of flavors, the benefits of humidity, and the liberating ability to pick from endless possibilities.

Living in a small town sometimes gets me feeling like I am a horse wearing blinders. With each passing year I delve in deeper and deeper, finding myself more anxious to leave behind the lengthy list of projects I eagerly create and the antics that I will inevitably miss out on when taking leave. Unconsciously I structure my life in accordance to the lives of those around me, conforming to the somewhat limited norms that pervade rural living, despite my capacity for open-mindedness and experimentation.

But most importantly, Bay Area, you fold some of the raddest, baddest, most wonderful people into your mixing bowl like butter and sugar and eggs . And they in turn breath sweetness and joy into my love for you.

Returning to the Bay awakened dormant parts of myself that find little, if any, resonance in my sweet little town. A wide variety of communities exist in the city that captivate the imagination sparking me to question not only what is but the possibilities of what could be.