Restless in Roseville

It happens every time.

I spend an amazing day or weekend in San Francisco, and I come home completely depressed.

Today was no exception. I had a great time yesterday visiting my friend Steve, who lives in SF. We crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, walked all through his neighborhood in North Beach, drove all over the city and ate the most delectable food.

I came home yesterday to that anticlimactic feeling that is realizing I live in a boring ol' suburb of a small, fairly ordinary metropolitan area. There's no place like San Francisco, and visiting it makes me feel like my life here is simply, well, simple.

Those things I used to enjoy about where I live now pale in comparison to the city - I always loved the commercialism here; now I wish we had more Mom-and-Pop places with original menus. I used to love the idea that I could drive somewhere in 20 minutes or less and get to wherever I needed. Now I long for a city in which I can walk to my destinations and enjoy the outdoors. The relatively "safe" people of Roseville just don't match up to the quirky folk all over SF.

So basically I've been feeling down and out about my current situation.

I know I live a very charmed life - great job, great friends, close to family, great apartment. But just because my life is comfortable, does that mean I'm living it to the fullest? I'm 24, and I've always known in my heart that I'm a city girl. What better time to live in my favorite place than in my single 20s?

I've started to evaluate what's really keeping me here. Being close to my Grams is super important to me, not to mention being just a 2-hour drive to my parents in NV. I have so many friends here, but lately I feel like many of them are disappearing. They're all married/living with their boyfriends/always with their significant others. My only single friends are a couple co-workers, and they lead busy lives already, including kids and family. So most of the time, it's just me. And Cammie. And really, I do cherish my alone time, I do. But wouldn't my alone time be so much more exciting with the hustle and bustle of the city in the background?

I attempted to get out and soak up the sun today in Roseville. I hit up Starbucks for a coffee and went to sit outside with my book (which coincidentally is called Divisidero and set within San Francisco and its outskirts).

There were no vacant tables in the sun outside Starbucks, so I scoped out one in the shade near a table where a couple looked like they were about to leave. They started to pick up their trash, and I moseyed my way over, only for some older lady to cut in front and say loudly to the couple, "Mind if I make like a vulture and take your table?" Ugggh. Apparently Vulture didn't see that I'd already had my eye on the table - had I been two beats quicker, it would have been mine. Annoying Rosevillians!

I sulked back to my table in annoyance and opened my book. I was unable to focus because I became surrounded by a group of my least favorite type of Rosevillians - rich, wannabe-hipster teenagers. Their deep conversation went like this:

Girl: Umm, guys, I think I left my phone inside the restaurant.
Group: (ignoring girl and talking about something stupid, probably skateboarding).
Girl: Like, guys. I can't find my phone. I think I left it inside.
Group: (again, more ignoring)
Girl: (searching furiously through her oversized bag) Can you guys call my phone? I think I left it inside.
Guy in Group: Why would we call it if it's inside?

Not a cohesive environment for reading and relaxing. So I headed to another quaint place - Royer Park.

In my 30 minutes there, here is what I experienced:

1) An older man creeping just in front of me to steal the bench I'd had my eye on. Seriously?? Did everyone know where I wanted to sit?
2) A dog (on a leash) running wild and coming up to me on the grass. His owners (a father and two young girls) followed behind him, calling his name. The dog proceeded to sniff my crotch. This is why I'm a cat person!
3) A jeepers creepers guy in a beanie walking up to me, asking if he could bum a cigarette from me. He called me "Sweetheart."
4) Cops driving up to the gazebo at the park to scope out the group of bums temporarily camping out there. Wow, maybe I live in SF after all.
5) Two drunk men from said bum group getting in a verbal altercation after the cops left - one of them swung around a bottle of whiskey as the other one called him a drunk. It finally broke up.

This was all before 3 p.m.

I became even more depressed about my living situation. Why had I believed Roseville was so great? I'm feeling restless, and I think it's time I start making a long-term plan for getting out of here.

I'm signing a year-long lease with Erica next month when we become roomies. Then I'm saving lots of dough - I'm planning a Europe trip with Mom for 2011 - Rome, Florence, Venice, Paris and London, here we come! I'm thinking by next summer, I'd like to seriously be coordinating a move to the big city.

If that falls through, apparently Royer Park has a hot gazebo where the booze runs freely. Let me think about that.