I’m here. I’m here in
the wonderful city of San Francisco . I’m in a little café in the Mission
district with the aroma of hot panini sandwiches hanging on the air like a
thick, delicious fog. I’m surrounded by
all kinds of interesting folks. In the
corner is a gentleman who I’m positive is a spy of some sort. He keeps looking at the door like he’s expecting
his evil arch nemesis to saunter in and challenge him to a super secret laser
gun duel a la Dr. Horrible. Behind the
counter is a very sweet older Asian gentleman who clearly takes pride in his
sandwiches, sandwiches I’m told are known around the city as the best. The tiny shop is full of people on their
laptops, banging away at the keys, hammering out some novella they’ve had
trapped in their heads for months, or simply finishing up the day’s work. It’s a nice quiet atmosphere. It’s the picture of San Francisco , and I love it. I couldn’t be happier.
In the months leading up to my departure from Oklahoma , some suggested that my move to San Francisco was an ill conceived plan for
me to run away from my problems. It was forecasted to end in disaster. While I’ve only been here somewhere in the
neighborhood of a month, I think I can safely say that it hasn’t ended in
disaster, nor will it. I’m learning my
way around the city without a GPS, thankyouverymuch. I’m astonished daily at the breathtaking beauty
this city has to offer. Around every
corner is a sight to behold. Granted
sometimes the sight is someone taking a piss on the sidewalk, but it’s not all
that often, and honestly, not really all that noticeable. Of course, as with any adventure, it’s not
always sunshine and rainbows. There’s
the occasional fog, and sometimes a jerk hits your car and doesn’t leave a
note… but that’s a story for a different day! You came here to read the
exciting adventures of an Oklahoma
girl.
My arrival here was met with little fanfare. There was a quick hello on the street with my
new roommate and then, my new life began.
It began rather quickly. I
unloaded my car and shortly came to the realization of just how much I had
packed into my very tiny Volkswagen. It
seemed like so little when I was leaving behind a whole house full of stuff. I
never thought about the magnitude of things I would be fitting into a single
room, and I hadn’t even added furniture.
My roommate (whom I’ll tell you all about another time) ventured to IKEA
with me straight away. It was a bit of a
trip for this Oklahoma
girl. It’s like Sweden and
Wal-Mart had a love child, it’s fantastic, and it’s my new crack. I furnished my entire bedroom for $800
INCLUDING the U-Haul I had to rent to get it all home. The U-Haul was an experience in and of
itself. IKEA is located just over the Oakland Bay Bridge in a nice area adjacent to Oakland .
Yes, that Oakland . The very same Oakland you hear about on television. As it turns out, this place was not only IN Oakland , but in the heart of the worst possible part of Oakland . So here we were, a Colorado
hipster and his naïve Oklahoma transplant of a
roommate, in the heart of the worst part of the whole of the San Francisco bay Area.
We got off of the freeway and we were immediately deposited
onto MacArthur Boulevard . I kid you not when I say that everything on
this street was covered in graffiti.
When I say graffiti, I don’t mean the works of art that you see in the
Subways of New York, or the murals on the sides of buildings. I’m talking about tags, some punk’s
initials. There were tags everywhere,
and on everything. For dramatic and/or
hilarious effect, imagine a dog walking down the street with some punk’s initials
spray painted on his side. It was that
bad. As we ventured slowly down Mac
Arthur, we came upon a scene straight out of COPS. There were at least 6 police cars, and a
dozen officers surrounding one dude on the sidewalk, with all their weapons
drawn. On one corner of the street stood
a group of young, rather hard looking men wearing red, and a little further
down the street was a group of young, rather hard looking men wearing
blue. This was no soccer match. I picked up my U-Haul and jetted my way out
of there as fast as I could. It was such
a huge difference from the area surrounding the IKEA just a mile or so away. It
became very real that I wasn’t in Oklahoma
anymore.
The weeks subsequent my arrival were mostly filled with
building a routine. Truvy handles the
routine thing well. We start our day
every morning at 5, okay 5:30, okay… 5:45.
We take a walk around the block and when we return, I feed her and then
I start my flight of the bumblebee morning routine to get ready, as I’m usually
late because my lazy ass stayed in bed too long. I have to be at work at 7, so there’s very
little traffic out at 6:45. It only
takes me 15 minutes to get to work. It’s
quite nice. I started my new job just a
few short days after I arrived. I was
immediately thrown into a new area of the construction industry I’ve never been
a part of. It was scary, it was fast,
and it was overwhelming. In the weeks
since, I’ve found my sweet spot at the office.
I’ve settled into my job nicely and I’m getting to know everyone. I’m still gazing out my office window for
short intervals throughout the day, in awe of the fact that I am here. I still feel like I’m on a long vacation most
days. All the guys at the office tell me
to hang onto that. I still can’t believe
I’ve done this. I’m so very proud of
myself, and also very excited for what’s in store. I know it will take me years to see all that
this city has to offer, so I feel like a perpetual tourist.
The hardest part, as with any move, is meeting people. I have a wonderful friend in Marin, just
north of the city, and I’ve met a couple of people from the local atheist
group, but most days I’m at home with my roommate. I’m forcing myself to attend
at least one meetup a week. I’m hoping
this will prove a good way to meet new people.
I’m not going to lie, it gets lonely.
If you know me at all, you know how much of a social butterfly I
am. It pains me to be stuck at home, and
it pains me that I have no one to share $2.00 beer night with at the OSHA Thai
on Union .
TWO DOLLAR BEER NIGHT. Those are Oklahoma prices! So I’m hoping I can make a friend to share a
cold one with. For now, I’ll drink to my
friends back in Oklahoma
whom I miss more and more everyday.
