Mission District + past hurt and comfort

First time chillin' at the Mission District in SF today. It was alright, but I like Castro better... cooler men's clothing stores. We found a great Mediterranean place and got schwarma. I had to sacrifice a $2 pint place (your choice of beer), though, but the Meditarranean place was a hole in the wall with cheap awesome Greek food. (Too many adjectives in the last sentence.)

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I decided to spike my hair today into large 1.5 inch pyramids, inspired by my roommate Ben.

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Danny and I are talking more and more about the joint business idea. It's a lot of fun to brainstorm. He's one of the few brothers I'd fully trust in a venture like this, but it will be hard when I leave SF.

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The love songs DJ on KOIT was comforting a broken man today on the radio. It reminded me of when I was really sad and missing my girlfriend of 4 years after our breakup. I naively thought that life could not go on. During that time, the strangest thing happened one day while I was returning to Berkeley from a day of research at NASA Ames. Everyone noticed that I was melancholy and barely ate, and a two Berkeley astrophysics professors tried to comfort me.

Hoping to gain wisdom, I asked them if they've ever been hurt after a relationship ended and how they overcame the sadness. One shared, "I loved her, but my wife was an alcoholic. One day I asked her to choose: me, or the alcohol. She chose the alcohol and left. I never saw her again." What the!!! Madness. Already my troubles were starting to seem trivial relative to this kind of trauma.

Minutes later, the other professor confessed, "I also really loved my wife, but she got involved with a cult. I found out that she slept with the cult leader. Then she left me to be with the cult." What the!!! Madness, again.

I didn't have problems, THEY had problems. My self pity was as bad as being prideful, but just in the opposite sense. What seemed to be my overwhelming pain was not that difficult compared to others. They're old. They survived. Maybe life would go on after all. It has, praise God!

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I thank Him for his blessings everyday... even if people think I look like a punk on the outside. Speaking of being a punk, street people are actually a lot nicer to you when you look like a rebel. They're either intimidated, or they feel like you're one of them. Haha!