There are probably no real hipsters in the Mission in SF anymore. Except for the ones that cram into $$$ or rent-controlled apartments.

The ones that I know are 9-6ers (or even more)—work hard, ride taxis, and spend a lot on random gadgets. They know obscure music because some online service tells them. They a box of CSA—because it’s good for the planet, but a lot of it goes to waste because they get free food at work. Their place is completely out-fitted with new pieces from William-Sonoma or Room and Board. Used clothes? No way, they buy from lululemon (for a weekly yoga class). $50 is about right for a weeknight dinner…$100 is normal for a weekend.

I know that I do obviously scoff when I hear a claim of being a hipster, but that’s just me.

To this day, the biggest regret in college is not having done study abroad.

When I meet someone who hasn’t traveled outside the country and isn’t interested in traveling internationally—I wonder why. Is it the discomfort (the mosquito that bit me in Southeast Asia?) or the fear of the unknown? The inability to speak the language? And perhaps the fear….that it won’t be fun.

Although before every trip, I have this moment as I frantically pack. I think that I would rather stay here. It’s easier. I don’t want to go. But the logical person in me propels me to the airport because after all, I already paid for the ticket.

“And how do you know that you’re not leaving something good?” a friend asked.

I immediately replied, “And what if you already know that it’s not good?”

For years, I have always disliked the I-think-that-I-am-happy-where-I-am although I hear the everyday complaints. So…why don’t you do something about it?

Because people fear change.

I took a leap recently. A big one. I wasn’t afraid when I declared that I would do it. And nor was I when I was doing it. It was when I landed that I discovered that it was different in its own special way. But I know with time, it’ll grow with me and it would be ok.

More than any other city in the world, New York City is city that I have visited the most outside the cities that I have lived in. Almost once a year (for pleasure, never for business) since I finally claimed independent.

But this visit, in contrast…I think…I probably could live here. Before, it was so overwhelming. I always felt that the people I knew here—despite how much I loved them—were rushed, busy with their own lives. This time, it was better. I knew my way around (especially since I have this vow that I will never take a taxi). And moreover, I was surprised that the stores…they weren’t just in San Francisco.

There are a few things though: the weather, the cabbing culture, and most importantly, the jobs that I actually would take.

But they often say…it is the magic of New York. This city—not truly “American”, but a place of its own for dreamers alike.

My sister warned me about walking in the neighborhood where her office is located in Brooklyn in the neighborhood of East New York/Woodhaven. It was completely ethnic…not a single sign of gentrification unlike the Mission.

My sister’s coworkers were concerned, “Are you sure that she can make it through this neighborhood?”

But it wasn’t the strange looks that I got walking around with a trendy bag and a well-designed pea coat. Or the fear of stepping in something uncomely. Or the surprise of graffiti everywhere.

I had a horrible time getting through the neighborhood because of two things:
1. Horrible weather. Rain and wind ruined my umbrella and froze me to a drippy mess, pushing my cold to its worse yet.
2. Convoluted streets. I swear that I will not rely on smart phones again for mapping, because as a result I won’t plan ahead of time…and will promptly spend too much time staring at my phone in confusion. Mapping spontaneously is not my preference.

Until tomorrow!

I remember as an interaction designer…that day-to-day, my creativity was exhausted. I would come home each day , not wanting to create or communicate. At work, I would create and defend designs all day…and that left very little for anything else.

And now doing research, it’s analysis and seeking. In some way, it’s different now. I suddenly feel less compelled to…analyze at some level. I used to love considering why people did things and what it implied.

Sad, but that’s what my blog is all about.

When you leave another Internet-less.

No email
No twitter
No facebook
No news
No deals a la groupon

But then you remember that this was life only 15 years ago and perhaps in many parts of the world. But the moment you have the connection again, the soothing data flow makes you forget the seething pain of less than 30 seconds ago.

“Lyrical,” one guy more than 15 years my senior once said. “You’re so lyrical.”

I wrote long essays about nothing—they appeared insightful and deep. And yet when conversing with me, I would spout off shallow insecurities and naive anxieties.

I remember when there were once admirers standing in front of my metaphorical doorstep. I wrote about the sunshine providing the light in the darkness, the curiosity I had in the grocery store line, and the love…that was so superbly naive.

What if all of them were just self-indulgent as the latest article states?

Did those essays ever explicitly become who I am?

I once said that my standard for the significant other required that he speak more than me. And he does. But oddly enough, with that, he’s not interested in reading my lyrical words—he would rather hear me say them.

No.

There’s part of me that wants to be super excited for snow…in the bay area. With the nationwide snowpocalypse that I hear through Twitter and Facebook, well here’s my obligatory snow update.

Unfortunately, I won’t be in the Bay Area. I’ll be heading up north…to…experience more snow in its natural climate.

All I want to say is…Californians, stay indoors. I don’t think that you don’t know how to drive in this kind of weather. A donut? That’s something that Homer Simpson eats.

What does that really mean…new beginnings?

In a few days, I will be starting a new job. In a week or so, I will have a new roommate. And somehow in just a turn of events, I am moving toward a new set of friends while also reuniting with friends from long ago.

One of the few things I was trying to do in my time off between jobs was to revamp my blog. The design that I haven’t changed since I finished graduate school. I used to change it every year or every other year. But I am uninspired. What really reflects me anymore if there’s a part of me that doesn’t really want to be a blogger and it’s almost become a personal method of self-preservation?

As far as imagery goes, there is Toad, there is the quinessential picture every year (whether it’s from a scavenger hunt or a quirky pose), there is beauty…but beauty in a way that I don’t see it. And yet I haven’t found anything like the man with a monitor on his back. I don’t want an image of myself to be the blog. I want something that says I see the world the way you do, but slightly differently so listen to me.