the sf experience
At the beginning of this summer, to get out of the mental and emotional rut I was in, I sold what little Yahoo! stock I had, had my father move into my condo and took over a friends lease in San Francisco.
But all things come to an end, and I have to move back to suburban Fremont, where my world of hipsters and gays and crackheads turn into Chinese and Indian families. Here are my cliff notes:
San Francisco has microclimates. Christ almighty, does it have microclimates. I live in the Twin Peaks, at the very of the hill by Sutro tower. There is fog here. A lot of fog. There was fog two months ago, in the middle of summer. So much so that I have little nicknames for this neighborhood: Cloud City. Fog City. Silent Hill. Goddamn-this-place-is-fucking-cold.- I spent a lot of time playing World of Warcraft. The difference between playing WoW in Fremont and playing WoW in San Francisco is that I actually played at someone elses house, which brings much needed social interaction. Even if said interaction consists of the phrases “Heal me dude,” and “Can you buff me?”
- I had exactly one date while I was in San Francisco. That sounds pathetic, but that’s one more than the amount of dates I would have while living in Fremont.
- Being able to walk and take public transportation is really nice.
- Taking public transportation with a bunch of crackheads, not so much.
- I think I moved to the city expecting this magical gay mecca, that I would instantly be swarmed by a bunch of hip, beautiful gay people and we would do hip, beautiful gay things, like hang out in the Castro and buy clothes at H&M and sleep with each others boyfriends. Did that happen? Not really. I don’t know how I feel about this.
- My roommate is a nice guy. His cat Scout is the devil spawn. He comes up to you and meows for ten minutes, seeking attention, and then bites and hisses if you try to pet him. I’m totally against the stereotype that Asians eat any animal that comes our way. That being said, I’ve been this close to serving him with fava beans and a bottle of chianti.
Will I be back? Maybe. Hopefully. Time will tell.
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