I find myself content in really stupefying places and positions. Especially in the summertime. Must be the heat, or my subconscious saying that I should enjoy lounging anywhere and everywhere before lounging is no more. I did this weird thing the other day where I went from my normal annoyance at the SF vs. NY question to trying to explain why it is so unnerving to me. Oh you moved because you hated it? Do you like New York better? If you liked it why'd you leave?
I can sympathize with people's need to understand something through comparison, but really only for like a second, and then I become extremely disagreeable. It's quite unflattering.
Striving for comfort has never been a mission of mine. Contentment, Yes. Comfort, No. I don't mean to be hubris and speak for all of human existence, I've just been a bystandard when comfortability has bred a stagnant and ironically unfulfilled life, and would rather fall on my ass into a bed of peonies than be served red roses on a silver platter everyday.
You know, one door closes and another one opens. I just hop through doors more frequently than some people deem appropriate I guess. But then I ask, who ever says "ooOoOOooh I really want to be appropriate today"?
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