I was seventeen when I first emerged from Civic Center BART having just flown in to Oakland airport with my mom for Welcome Day and San Francisco State University. I was ecstatic. The city was bustling, the sun was shining and there was a light, crisp chill in the air, a relief from the smoldering LA county heat. I was obsessed with the film adaptation of Rent around this time and I was jazzed to find the buildings with fire escapes that matched those found in the East Village of NYC (fun fact: I learned later they actually filmed scenes from the movie right around the corner, go figure). Not to mention, the theater across the street was showing The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee! We didn’t see it, but - AH! - the culture. I would later spend a year and nine months at that theater - the Orpheum - working the merch booths for the musical Wicked, a dream come true (honestly, no sarcasm).
We stayed at the Hotel Whitcomb - the hotel I am currently typing this out waiting for my mom and sister to find their way over here. It’s been exactly eight years since then and I can help but compare 25-year-old Britney to her seventeen-year-old counterpart. Like Jon Snow, back then, Britney knew nothing. But Young Britney was also precious, hopeful, wide eyed, naive, eager to explore. Today Britney would look at Young Britney and friends, and probably shake her head in frustration and mutter, “youths”.
I’ve come a long way, but I’m jaded and I know it. The magic that I felt about being in the city has been gone for a while. Things have to turn around. I will look at the brighter side of life. I will stop and look around once in a while. I will feel the magic again.
The Mexican just came on TBS! I used to watch it all the time when we used to steal cable. I haven’t seen it in forever, but I know it’s my favorite work of both Bratt Pitt and James Gandolfini. I can’t wait until Julia Roberts goes to Bellz outlets in Las Vegas. Good night.