Saturday, February 25, 2012

A little bit about Cisco

Q. Can you tell me what it's like living in San Fran?

A. No, I can not. I've not yet lived in or been to San Fran. I thought it might be a small town somewhere out there in tire country. But when I Googled it, nothing came up. Nothing but a bunch of hits referring to San Francisco. And since I live in the San Francisco found in the great state of Californ, I can tell you a little about what that's like.
Living in San F  ncisco is engaging, delightful, disgusting, frustrating, magical, romantic and a full time job. It's that job you had where you hated the work but loved the people. Or where you dreaded the people but liked the work. It's one of those two jobs every day.
Let me start out with the universal conversation starter, the weather. How's the weather here in San Frisco? Perfect I guess. It must be I hardly ever notice it. Each day is the perfect day to wear a short sleeve shirt and carry a light jacket for the ride or walk home. Or wear a long sleeve shirt and carry a light jacket. Or wear boots and fur lined pants with an arctic coat. Or just go out in some flip flops, short pants (above the knee please) and a tank top. It's all okay. It all works. And on any given day in the city I promise you will see all of it. The only time I notice the weather is when it's just a little more perfect. And sometimes when it's just a little less perfect.
The only thing I miss here is lightning. I've seen it twice in ten years.
As for the people here. The ones that call themselves San Sicans. The are the absolute **** people I have ever met. It is a true **** to be around them. They have **** my life in so many ways. Truly, I want to say **** you all.
It's seems when people come for a visit they talk about all the crazies they see. Like we have more than our fair share. I don't think that's true. We just have a lot of people in a compact area. And most of them live in very tight quarters, so nearly every one gets outside for at lest a few hours a day. A lot of travel is by foot and bus. So people are out on display constantly. I'm pretty sure if you could see what your neighbors were doing in their garage or basement, you'd see some pretty weird stuff too.
Mostly the city is filled with people working hard to pay their rent, get some food and find a friend. At least that's the most common story I see. I sort of wish I saw a few more characters.
Just yesterday as I was walking home from work I saw a guy in black spandex athletic gear, that probably fit when he bought it back in 1997, walking toward me. The improperly fit attire on it's own would have caught my attention for sure- I've always liked to see how peoples bodies push out against their skin. I like to see where the bulges and the seams are. But he had his white cracked leather walking shoes on and a ski pole in each hand. And he was planting those poles hard into the ground with each step. Maybe, I thought... Maybe this guy has just cross country skied right out of Tahoe. Maybe he wore right through his skis as he propelled himself across the pavement. But, "Damn those skis! They were weak! Weaker than my will to ski right to the ocean." So he kept pushing. Kept planting those poles. Kept changing the duct tape where the rubber stopper used to be. Kept eating corn dogs and Zingers to stay fueled.
For a moment I think I admired him. I wondered what I would be doing at his age. He was at least four to five months older than I was and it showed. Would I be as dedicated? As driven? Was this perhaps my future self? Is that why he didn't make eye contact? And where did I get all of that long dark oily hair? Did I get the hair from the same person that got me the time machine? Or was he not me. But simply a man blissfully trapped in a dream, sleep skiing through one of the best days of his life?
And I realize I may never know the answer to any of those questions. But that's not the point. The point is, I noticed him. If this great and frustrating city of San F Co is full of crazies and weirdos this guy wouldn't have stood out. He would have had friends or at least some competition.
To that lone wolf I say keep on trekking. I hope you are happy when you reach your lowest low- Sea level.
And to you dear readers. I say so long for now. Stay true to your self. You know the sound of your own drum, now beat it!
Hope that helps,


  1. I agree: San Francisco should NEVER be abbreviated into San Fran, especially verbally but definitely not written either. It might be just some small thing, but oh boy does it get under my skin.

    Pacific Heights should never be Pac Heights.

    I'm okay with Los Angeles becoming L.A..

  2. Thanks for the best post I've read about what living in San Francisco is like... I laughed through the whole thing

  3. Hahahaha, maybe they were walking poles? I got some for my mom, they're supposed to help burn calories and whatnot.