On being grateful
I started to write yesterday about the idea of passion. It didn’t go anywhere and I ended up deleting it. The sentences felt awkward: I’m passionate about this, I’m passionate about that, the feeling is overwhelming and I don’t know what to do about it.
The words were wrong. It’s not passion. It’s gratitude. I am so grateful for my life and the people and places in it. That feeling is overwhelming.
I’m grateful for a beautiful apartment in a safe, lovely neighborhood. I’m grateful for a bed to sleep in at night and a heater to keep me warm. I’m grateful for heavy blankets when it’s cold. I’m grateful for my grownup couch. I’m grateful for our neighbor’s apartment right across the hall that is so very different from mine but still feels like home.
I’m grateful for Jeff, who seamlessly transitions from drinking buddy to all-day gmail companion to a friend who can handle a full-on emotional breakdown from me on a 38 degree San Francisco night; who does not hate me for being a transplant and has never judged me for ordering that fifth beer on the nights where we pledge to “take it easy”. I’m grateful for Ben, who sends me text messages about spending all of his money on waistcoats, ran a train through my city for 364 days, and always answers the phone when I call. I’m grateful for Jaleen, who always knows exactly where I am coming from even though we are different in so many ways. I’m grateful to Diane for seeing the world in a much more beautiful way than I ever could. I’m grateful for Justin, who is just about as much of a train wreck as I am and is singlehandedly responsible for convincing me to homebrew. I’m grateful to Tom and David who have given me a bar to use as my own personal playground and are always sure my champagne glass doesn’t go dry on special occasions. I’m grateful to Rhiannon for teaching me how to hang out with a baby and for sharing my love of eggs benedict. I’m grateful to John for not hating me and still sending me long emails detailing what’s happening with him, the family, and our kitty. I’m grateful for my network of best friends across the country that stick by my side even though I’m too busy to pick up a phone or send an email to see how they’re doing. I’m grateful to every single person that has ever had a beer with me or high-fived me during a baseball game or laughed at the really awkward way I worded a sentence. And if you’re reading this, you can rest assured that I’m grateful for you.
I’m grateful for Harry, who does not bend or break. His strength and confidence excel regardless of how badly I might be failing. He is the constant to my variable, the pillar to my constant change and instability. He is my reassurance that no matter how badly I burn this town down tonight, I will get a second chance tomorrow. He is my companion when I need one and my space when I don’t. He is my encouragement to be a better person and somehow does not make that feel like a burden.
I’m grateful to my mother for always being a phone call away. For knowing that I am, with no cliches, her pride and joy. For not feeling obligated to give her grandchildren until I am good and ready and have sorted every other possible variable out. For the incessant clicking of her camera when I take her somewhere new. For walking a little too far because she trusts that I’m taking her somewhere that’s worth it. For the fact that she was adult enough at my age to make me, which means we’re close enough in age that I’m going to get lifetimes more with her.
I’m grateful to my father for treating me like a person and never, ever telling me what to do. For choosing me. For not leaving my life when he had the option.
I’m grateful for Your 2010 San Francisco Giants. For a city that allowed me to be a bandwagon fan. For a parade on Market Street. For a lottery that swung in my favor and allowed me to stand at the first NLDS game and the first World Series game. I’m grateful for clapping in rhythm with thousands of other people. For everyone who nodded and smiled at me on 2nd street just because I was wearing an orange sweater. I’m grateful that I got to see Buster Posey’s first major league home run in person. I’m grateful for Aubrey Huff and his red thong, for Brian Wilson encouraging every man in San Francisco to not shave for a month, for Tim Lincecum not getting a haircut, for Matt Cain and his mildly disoriented smile. I’m grateful for Grant. And, god help me, I’m even grateful for Torture.
I’m grateful to the New York Metropolitans, the Cincinnati Bengals, the Cleveland Cavaliers, the Kansas Jayhawks. We’ll get there.
I am grateful for the Anchor Brewery, for Speakeasy, for Lagunitas, for Russian River, for North Coast, for Stone, for Boulevard, for Bell’s, for Brooklyn, for Dogfish Head, for hundreds of craft breweries and the brewers that probably put their asses on the line at some point for the sake of making really good beer. I am grateful for Shotwell’s, for Pi Bar, for Monk’s Kettle, for Lucky 13, for The Sycamore, for Toronado, for Church Key, for City Beer Store, for Healthy Spirits, for Wes on Potrero Hill, for hundreds of bars I can wander into at any given time and find a selection that would make people in other areas of the country weep. I am grateful for every bar in those areas of the country that have their own beautiful selections that make me feel like a kid in a drunken candy store. I am grateful for Rich and Jesse and all of the guys in San Francisco that just want to make good beer and show you something new. I am grateful for every single person I run into during beer week, even if they steal all the Younger from me. I am grateful for a giant community of people brought together by a love for beer. I am grateful for fights over hop varieties and whether Younger or The Don is better and for N-Judah rides to the upper Haight so I can get a card punched and take home a cup.
I am grateful for brunch. (And mimosas.) I am grateful that sourdough is always an option. For cheese, for grass-fed, for all things artisan. For cookies. For Flour+Water, Beretta, Front Porch, Heirloom. For Humphrey Slocombe and Bi-Rite. For everyone who has ever tasted something and thought, “I bet we can make this better” and then did it.
For BART, for Muni, for cabs. For a whole city at my disposal using just my feet and a little plastic card that hooks up to my bank account. For the opportunity to bitch about how hard it is to get places.
For the Golden Gate Bridge, for the ocean, for Dolores Park. For sunshine, for fog, for leaving the house at 45 degrees and having lunch at 75 degrees and riding home at 50 degrees all within six hours of each other. For victorians. For buildings that have been repurposed eight times over the past century and all the stories they might have to tell. For weird architecture. For that super neon house on Potrero Hill. For the palm trees on Dolores. For the view from 20th & Church. For Twin Peaks. For Bernal hill. For the view from the top of Mt. Tam. For the bike path past Sausalito, for Camino Alto, for the stupid climb out of Sausalito. For all of the beauty that exists in this city that we just walk by and don’t notice - I’m swear to you, I’m grateful for all of it.
For my legs, bruised and battered and hurt as they may usually be. For bicycles. For climbing walls. For being 25 years old and in mostly good health. For an active lifestyle that I never would have imagined years ago. For fresh produce. For an ability to cook. For having all the tools at my disposal to be as healthy as I want to be, even if I don’t always take advantage of them. (See above paragraph regarding beer.)
Even though I spend most of my time whining about it, I’m grateful for my job. I’m grateful for not having to worry, for the past ten months, how my rent was going to get paid. I’m grateful that I’m in a situation where I can take as much time off as I want. I’m grateful for co-workers who inspire me, who bitch and moan about the same things I do, who want to have one drink too many at happy hour.
For innovators. For creators. For all the thousands of brilliant people out there who motivate themselves to leave the house and do something we can learn from and be inspired by. For every single person who has ever had a thought, executed it, and made the world one little bit easier. For ideas that can be stolen; for ideas worth stealing.
I’m mostly grateful that it doesn’t stop here. I’ve tried to stop writing this at least three times and then I remember that I forgot something really important. I wish I had the space and time to say more - it keeps going and going and going. I have so much to be grateful for, and I’m so happy that things are going well enough that I can see that. Everyone’s got their problems; I spend most of my time feeling like a pretty negative person. But I have so much to be thankful for, and that’s what I’ll be thinking about for the holiday season to come. Cheers to you and yours, friends. I hope you’re grateful, too.
