John S.
Yelp
When I'm happy, I can be very forgiving. Of people, of situations, of chance and of the laws of physics and even of dumb dumb dumb bad luck. I have a confession to make: I recently learned that I have been tying my shoes incorrectly for at least twenty-five years. I was frustrated by my own stupidity at first, but then I thought about it, and I'm a little bit less touchy now. Just slightly so.
When I'm unhappy, I can be very angry. Most people don't know how angry I can get (or how angry I am), but they see the results of it without knowing what those results look like or where they come from. I'm not talking about slashed tires or keyed paint jobs or even angry, passive-aggressive texts. I don't do any of those things; and, God willing, I never will. Never ever ever ever.
How I think of Fort Mason Center depends on how I'm feeling. If I'm happy, it's a neatish place with fun things to see. If I'm unhappy, it's a ridiculous place that's hard to get to, confusingly laid out, and just plain underwhelming.
Which version is true? You expect me to say both, but I'm not that kind of person. It's definitely overrated, underutilized, and really confusingly laid out. I think they do that on purpose, actually. When I was in my late twenties, I wanted to spend time at places like this. Now, I want to avoid them, unless I know exactly where I'm going.
I never say life is too short, because I don't know what we're comparing it to, and if we're comparing it to the lifespans of other animals or even our not-that-far-removed ancestors, it's actually very long. Some would say too long, but I digress. I mention it at all because I'm tired of wasting my time. I'll gladly waste time on sports and women and peevish friends, because while the lows can be low, the highs can be quite high. But I'm done with wasting my time on the Fort Mason Centers of the world.
It's like traveling; it either appeals to you or it makes you nervous. Well, it makes me nervous.