It is as fast as lightning, yet as slow as snails. It may sound tasteful but the locals would spit at it with sour tongues. Hidden below the busy city, but hard to miss. Escapes the street to enter upon a fast feat of traffic, expectedly waiting for one thing. Stages fill up as they wait for the next line to deliver, filing in and out, as stops come up. Rocking and swaying as it goes by, I would advise not to let it lull you to sleep for you have somewhere to be. To gain entrance keep your wallet handy else, you be stranded at the landing. Find peace amongst the chaos, waiting for the most hated thing in San Francisco.

The already busy city seemed to have swarmed here, like bees back from germinating the flowers. Small, big, younger, older, and even older – they all varied. Not one thing set them apart from another still they were all different. Some rushing here, some sloughing there. Bags full of colorful consumptions, or labeled with the latest trends. Needling through traffic, wheeled and pedaled, not much of an escape from the bustling city, into a restaurant. Walls plastered with photos of the baked goods and sweets, and featured meals, the only filler were munching patrons at tables fitted to allow only enough space to pass. Searching to seat two put the saying “a needle in a haystack” in all too vivid perspective. Eventually, a cozy table became available in the front corner that offered a view of a closed pet store. I did not dare ask.

Gulls replace the sounds of honking cars and amalgamated conversations. Neon green lines the street for pedaling traffic to make their way up to the Golden Gate Bridge, but only if thighs can handle the uphill battle. A blast of foghorns blows in the distance as ripples of the water slosh against the barrier. Lounging sea lions ‘arf’ and bark on swaying rafts. An aquarium right on the water of the pier, a far-fetched idea that they did not have to go far to capitalize on.

To a rooftop entrance that masks a cozy sort of hideaway; passing through tall planted forestry and endless staircases that lead to unknown destinations. Finally landing at a door adjacent from a grass lot, allowing entrance into a dim lit room: with a small stage to the left lit by an anatomically incorrect backdrop of the city, in front of perfectly placed candle lit tables and chairs. Walled booth seats separate the room to the right, leaving an open aisle to clear for the bar. But no one will be giving directions from this map, only will it entertain whilst you may become bored by the lack of induced laughter from its occupant. The first evening of the week, local comedians sign up to showcase what they have worked on for, or lived through, this past week; Bringing new or improved material to test on the subdued audience that has piled into this secret dodge next to the movie theater. A few cackles echoed from the sea affront the stage, including a heckle from me, drunken ‘take it offs from the ladies’ night table in the far back corner, and such undisturbed silence for the ever deserving ‘funny guy’ on stage.

Often clichés make their ways into conversation where they are lest appreciated, yet it cannot escape this one nor in it lay more truth. San Francisco is a full of sights too bountiful, too beautiful to describe, and unforgettable once you’ve lived it.

 

 

Any of the places sound familiar? Let me know some of your favorites and you may just hear about it later. 

 

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Feeling inadequate and I’ve barely even started, yet..

The sinking of my gut, the pull at my chest, the well up in my eyes say much more than I can put into words; outwardly it may seem like pouting and not getting my way because I’m seeing others do great things while I sit here and seem to get denied.

The pain of comparison.

What am I not doing that they are? Who are they that I’m not? Maybe I’m not supposed to do this… but why would I want to if I couldn’t? Such a bittersweet feeling – that want for but not doing what you aspire to do because of some sort of ‘limitation.’

Sad, when you think about it really, to let a thought come and stop all you wish to do. Your big dreams defeated by a tiny thought. Hmph.

Maybe it’s because of what my mother to me when I was 12 and wanted to try out for my middle school flag team, “you can try out, but just hope you don’t make it.”* I think that may have set the stage for every gasp or ooh of inspiration to become an instant pipe dream. 

What else could halt everything I set out to do, making it nearly impossible to complete my own ‘honey, to do’? Shit, not wanting to feel anything fully because on the other side it’ll just feel like a deflated balloon. 

Fear of rejection.

Is. 

Not. 

A.

Safe. 

Defense.  

Mechanism.

Feel the fear and do it anyway. 


*She says she never said that to me, but why would I remember it so vividly?