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Here are posterous posts filed under sanfrancisco...

J says...

The first time, it was a wee yapper-type dog the fall after my first Burning Man. Just a small nip, but the wound festered as it taught me lesson after lesson. I'd wandered into a minefield of free love, droogs, and a menagerie of San Franciscans that I supposed were having much more fun than I was in Austin. I was weary of showing up everyday to this startup that hadn't yet realized that it was marching to its own grave. I was stiflingly bored. So, I quit. I wrote up a twenty line resignation notice, handed it to my boss, and walked away. There was no apprehension or fear, I didn't get that panicked little oozing drumbeat in my chest as I have other times that I've told bosses that I was cleaning my hands of this food fight. I was calm, clear, and though I hadn't a fucking clue as to the means, I was going to San Francisco, or so I thought.

I pissed away my savings over the next few months on cigarettes and Whole Foods, all the while pretending that I was peering over a nameless precipice at some great leap forward. The eventual result was me, penniless and despondent, weathering the winter up to my ears in job postings. I hadn't the vision or gumption to actually end up on the West Coast. Silly, silly little boy. The saving grace of my folly was I learned well that without forethought and desire, you won't get far.

I ended up landing a job in late December and began clawing to get back to where I had already been: employed and certain of nothing. The job was grand for a time. I learned volumes about Magento and got to sharpen the PHP skills to a razor's edge. However, the honeymoon ended abruptly three months in when I looked at the sea creature I had bedded with sober eyes. I realized that I was stuck in a four-person startup working at least sixty hours a week with no hope of ever seeing the ill-equipped venture become anything other than an itsy bitsy development shop. I worked from home, rarely saw the sun or my friends, and was baffled as to how I'd dug and climbed into a foxhole that bore an uncanny resemblance to the one I'd taken a shit in and then promptly hopped out of several months prior. I ended up getting canned after ignoring the iPhone marimba-bim-bah-ing one Sunday morning after working all Saturday. "Uh, I just wanted to make sure you knew that we did start at the, um, usual time this morning. Yeah, it isn't a half day or anything like that."

Enter joblessness, stage right.

My second round navigating the bread line was a cinch compared to the last. It did, however, require a great deal of deep-throating my pride. I was tapped financially, utterly tapped, and so I moved from Austin back to my hometown, San Antonio. It's the kind of city that was still frenetically building strip malls in the throes of the housing bubble recession. The city was unfazed by the entire fiasco. It is a beacon of isolationism, conservatism, and consumerism. I will refrain from judgement, I just calls 'em like I sees 'em. The place is dedicated to nuclear families, they strive for that one-to-one ratio of cars to people, and, coincidentally, it's ranked the third fattest city by Men's Fitness. It was a backward way of living to me, but it was the only major city in North America that I had absolutely no fear of. It's dirt cheap, there were jobs aplenty, and I already had friends there. If you can't make it in Austin during a recession, try San Antonio, and if you can't make it in San Antonio with a degree and some smarts, you must not be breathing.

Four weeks in, I had a cushy job at a company that Fortune listed in its top 100 companies to work for, working eight hours a day playing with Linux and solving complex issues, talking to actual people all the while. Workplace happiness, thy name is System Administration. I kept my head down and walked that path as far as I could, turning over each rock along the way as all these little tidbits of undiscovered San Antonio cool scurried every which way. I'd lived there for decades and it was only now that I found the place tolerable, nay, damn near enjoyable. The little devils, you just had to know where to look.

The second time, it was an Irish Wolfhound with a look that spoke to its intent to eat my shoulder while mounted securely from behind. I didn't argue, I just douched and began stretching in preparation. Let the feast commence. Another Burning Man left me again with that indelible, incessant calling to get Westward with incalculable quickness. There is something to be said of the divine inspiration one can experience in that place, but it was the rational voices of the people I love there that banished every hint of excuse or half-measure. There is no arguing for remaining in a place that I don't want to be. I'm young, I have little responsibility save my favorite feline, and I loves me some California. With sanity and rationality properly disspelled, I put a plan into action and had a loving guide all the way to prod or comfort me as required. 

I turned in my two weeks eleven days ago. This time, I'm answering the call with pithy brass balls and shameless ferocity. Hear me roarz. (rawr)

This is the documentation of the migration, the awakening, and the befuddled pondering along the way.

Filed under: San Francisco

cherrykat says...

Filed under: san francisco

George says...

And to think that I get to work in this beautiful city everyday. I try not to step in front cable cars though.

Filed under: san francisco

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

                     
Click here to download:
Views_from_todays_scenic_drive.zip (1523 KB)

Filed under: San Francisco

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Filed under: San Francisco

marianna says...

there are flowers here!

                               
Click here to download:
november_in_california.zip (1435 KB)

overall, I'm pretty impressed with how well the iPhone takes pictures

Filed under: san francisco

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Filed under: San Francisco

fady says...

I'm in Georgia as I write this having flown most of the day from San Francisco to Chicago to Atlanta. So just when I think I've only got to pay attention to my Cal Stanford Big Game videos and my Oakland sim, I have this CNN-and-SFGate-reported news of a BART officer smashing the face of a drunk man by the name of Michael Joseph Gibson into a window on the West Oakland BART Station platform.

So I immediately went to YouTube and found this video...

..and showed it to my mother who said "Why did he have to throw him into the window?"

Exactly. Why?

Here we go again. Another predictable argument between those who justify police' violent actions and those who question it. I am tired of the dichotomy, so I decided to create a poll to learn what others think.

While the officer's action is questionable, that his presence was desired is of no question. In the video as the officer hauls Michael Joseph Gibson off the train and before he reaches the window, we can hear people clapping, so BART riders wanted this guy off the train.

That happened.

But the other action of the head against the window is to me a case of putting too much super hot mustard on a really good hot dog: it makes it hard to consume, but one can still eat it.

To BART's credit, it's not sitting on this issue; it responded rapidly, issuing a press statement and holding a press conference within moments.

BART Spokeman Linton Johnson said to CNN's Don Lemon this evening that "We decided that we wanted to take appropriate steps and let people know about this video... We want to do a full investigation...We will look at all the facts."

Johnson went on to say that most of Michael Joseph Gibson's injuries came from his arm and not his head. It's hard to tell that from the video but I can't help but wonder if there's another video out there with another angle. There's got to be at least one more - even if it's the station video. It's out there. I know it.

BART's not releasing the officer's name. He's new to BART Police according to Linton Johnson, but Linton says he's not had any incidents while with BART Police.

But the way Linton made the statement does open a new question about the officer's past. In looking at the video it seems like the officer took a little too much action - again too much hot mustard - but overall Michael Joseph Gibson was out of line and what I go with is the people on the train were applauding the officer.

Again, whatever Michael Joseph Gibson was doing, it's obvious he didn't have a fan base on the train.

What do you think of the BART Officer's actions? Take my poll:

i love this city!

Filed under: san francisco

piggie says...

Imagine Quizno's, but better. Less franchise-y and more about a local sandwich shop that uses only fresh ingredients.

I first heard about Toaster Oven while I was a student at Academy of Art. I was taking an advertising concepting class and Toaster Oven was one of our clients. The sandwich shop was brand new and the owner turned to us to think of new ideas to market his restaurant.

My class and I concepted many ideas and unfortunately, they never made into production. But, during our research, we got to enjoy plenty of sandwiches from Toaster Oven. It's not hard to research when you're enjoying something so good. :)

Every sandwich is toasted on a conveyor belt for consistent heating and the bread is soft and crispy. All the ingredients are fresh and I love the pickled peppers they include in your sandwich.

I usually get the Kitchen Sink (roast beef, turkey, salami, ham and provolone cheese), but it seemed a little much, so I got my second favorite, Italiano. A delicious sandwich of mushroom, mortadella, capicola, salami, pepperoni and provolone cheese.

You must try this place if you're into toasted sandwiches. A word of advice, be sure to eat your sandwich as soon as possible. It's much better eaten warm. And who likes soggy sandwiches? ;)

Filed under: san francisco

Dan says...

It's usually Beth in the photos. Sometimes it is me. But rarely is it both of us in one photo. A nice gentleman offered to take our photo with the Golden Gate Bridge behind us. Thanks to whoever that was!

Filed under: San Francisco