I have eased into an alternate reality that is becoming reality. Days of walking several blocks to the beach, cooking at home, and community BBQs. After years of a mostly paleo existence, I’ve learned to be less punishing, allowing myself to eat some of my favorite foods in the world – bagels and pizza. Sunshine days and local living. The world has become simultaneously very small and yet expansive.

I’ve found a sense of place and home in this gritty mecca of graffiti and washboard abs. I don’t think I’ve seen an Asian person in months, which I find oddly not cosmopolitan. I’m not missing the lack of intellectualism. I find myself fading away from the person I used to be and verging closer to who I really am. I thought I would do something big in my life, and I worry that I won’t find a sense of ambition again. It feels safe to be in a bubble.

It’s been an input period. I’m finally happy being social again. I can’t write. There is so much to say that I can’t really say anything. If I put one word in front of the other, the flow may return at some point.

Now…back to bagels and slow living. Am I meant to be slow?