Anyone who knows me knows that Boston brought out some of the most despicable and horrid aspects of me and it made me more depressed than i’ve ever experienced, yet without any of the supports necessary to get through it in a non-destructive manner. I thought that i could deal with that wretched city long enough to get my grad degree, but i learned quickly that grad school is challenging itself and thus you must be in the most positive context imaginable to deal. I knew that i needed to be in San Francisco. Period. Grad school or not. Hell, even my MIT advisor points out my San Francisco tendencies. Well, this morning a little article reminded me of why i love my silly bubble and why i never want to leave…

It’s that odd dumbstruck jolting feeling you get as soon as you step more than 25 miles away from this most progressive and funked-out and deeply flawed and self-consciously screwy of kaleidoscopic American urban metropoli: oh my freaking God, what is happening to the world? This is what you say. To yourself. Probably.

Because suddenly you find yourself pummeled with many of those lovely bleak horrible things you’ve somehow become so inured to while living in S.F., those things you might’ve slowly come to hope don’t really exist quite so violently and vehemently anymore. But of course they do.

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Sexism. Racism. Guns. Jingoism. Jesus fetishism. Psychopatriotism. Rampant pseudo-religious family-values faux-ethical circle jerking masquerading as Christian humility. Wal-Marts like giant florescent-lit viruses. Strip malls like a stucco plague. Ho hum, ain’t that America. It so is.

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