Is San Diego Home?

I had an amazing conversation with a girlfriend of mine tonight. I've been filming her for the documentary that I've been working on about home. She was speaking to me (and my camera) and I was thinking that she was taking the words right out of my mouth.

We have both recently come to the conclusion that we might in fact be in living in San Diego for a long time to come, and we've been wondering about the repercussions of that fact. She just got her PhD in Molecular Biology, but instead of accepting a post-doc at a prestigious east coast school she decided that she would be happier if she went a different direction with her life. Kudos to those folks whom are that self-aware, esp. after spending 6 years working on a PhD! I don’t think she knew which direction was best, but she did know it was a different direction than the one she was headed in. So, lucky for me, she’s around to contemplate my queries about where and what home is. The elusive beast!

San Diego might, in fact, be home for us. Gulp! I’ve been here almost 7 years, and she’s been here almost 9! When do we get to, or have to take ownership, of this jalopy? A few things that make it hard to imagine San Diego as home: 1) The costs of housing. 2) The fact that there are hardly seasons. 3) The apparent lack of eligible and interesting men. (If you are out there, we can’t find you.)

If we could afford houses, and have money left over to decorate them (yes, cute), if we were reminded of the sweet and serene places of our childhood where Fall and Spring ushered in snowmen and running through the sprinkler, if we could find soulful men who weren’t intimidate by a couple of smart women, yes we’d feel more at home! I’m not convinced it’s impossible. But my dear friend and I agree we can’t wait around forever, or at all for that matter. We really have to make homes for ourselves out of what we’ve got now. However that works.

Part of having a home, is having a family, or at least is having people who entirely accept you for who you are… Don’t judge you for the little insignificant things. That’s why finding a companion matters. But San Diego is hard, with all these literal and figurative freeways separating us. So many people coming and going, but I’m resolute: It will happen. Home is possible everywhere, even in San Diego.

A Life in the Day of San Diego

Who am I? I am someone who inexplicably found herself moving to San Diego in 2001. I think I got here on August 2, 2001. I was at the beginning of serving my time in graduate school for an MFA at UCSD in the Visual Arts. No sooner did I get comfy here, and get to know some of my colleagues, then 9/11 happened, and everything was different. 9/11 forced us to rethink the purpose and meaning of art production, because after 9/11 what good was art? It was so small, so powerless, so insignificant, and so shallow, and so were we. At least that is how it seemed then. Perhaps that is because that is how so many people felt with 9/11 forcing so much perspective down our throats. Now, of course, the shame I felt for being an art maker, and not a doctor, firefighter, or whatever, has faded, and I again see the value in art, sometimes. At any rate, 9/11 was my introduction to San Diego. I was recently talking to one of my classmates and he mentioned he actually moved here on Sept 11! Ouch.

I survived three years of graduate school and existential crisis, and graduated in 2004. And even though I’m regularly told I can’t be an artist in San Diego, I have to be in LA or New York, I’m still here, being an artist my way. Cities need artists. San Diego needs artists. I don't feel like abandoning this place, because I think there is energy here. It just needs to be harnessed. I'm working on that part.

I realized today that maybe I should have called this blog "A life in the Day of San Diego". That might actually be a more accurate description on what this blog is going to become.