Finding that happy place
Anyone who chooses to live in one place for an extended period of time does so for a reason. They may complain to anyone who'll listen about the terrible weather, the annoying people, the suffocating, small-town atmosphere - but if it was THAT bad, you know they would've found a way out by now. I am one of those people.
I have long talked about leaving california and finding my rightful home, somewhere amongst all the greenery that makes up the Pacific Northwest. I mean, the girl from Alaska? How does she adapt to the so-cal summer heat?
I guess over the years my blood has thinned because the opportunities to leave this southern region have presented themselves time and again and I keep refusing to heed the call. Part of it is a teensy fear of change. The other part? Because there are actually places here that I like.
One of those places is Balboa Park. When I moved from La Mesa, I decided to forgo the beach as the end-all be-all ultimate new home locale and instead move to within a 30-minute walk of Balboa Park. I've spent many afternoons exploring the museums, watching the dogs in the dog park, lolling on the grass with my book, and taking pottery classes in the Spanish Village. The zoo is there, with it's niche of ferns and waterfalls that I love. The buildings are old and the festivals are fun. Why wouldn't I want to be there?
It's one of the places I really get to missing, living an hour away. Since starting a new school semester, I've found myself in close proximity again. On an evening I knew I would have some time before class, I remembered to bring my camera and tripod and spent it happily snapping photos in the park.
I have long talked about leaving california and finding my rightful home, somewhere amongst all the greenery that makes up the Pacific Northwest. I mean, the girl from Alaska? How does she adapt to the so-cal summer heat?
I guess over the years my blood has thinned because the opportunities to leave this southern region have presented themselves time and again and I keep refusing to heed the call. Part of it is a teensy fear of change. The other part? Because there are actually places here that I like.
One of those places is Balboa Park. When I moved from La Mesa, I decided to forgo the beach as the end-all be-all ultimate new home locale and instead move to within a 30-minute walk of Balboa Park. I've spent many afternoons exploring the museums, watching the dogs in the dog park, lolling on the grass with my book, and taking pottery classes in the Spanish Village. The zoo is there, with it's niche of ferns and waterfalls that I love. The buildings are old and the festivals are fun. Why wouldn't I want to be there?
It's one of the places I really get to missing, living an hour away. Since starting a new school semester, I've found myself in close proximity again. On an evening I knew I would have some time before class, I remembered to bring my camera and tripod and spent it happily snapping photos in the park.
If you get a chance to drop in, I highly recommend it.
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