A SF decade

A decade ago today, I closed up my bags in New York, got on a flight, and moved to San Francisco. I loved the view of the Noe Valley hills out the front apartment windows. I loved the nature of the light and the air, the colors of the buildings, the coffee shop around the corner. My commute to Electric Minds was a drive across the Golden Gate Bridge to Howard’s house. Cyborganic was my ground zero (and seven years later, it would be my house). Many of the friends I made then, I still know now. Many of the friends I introduced to each other married, started businesses, lived together.
It’s odd to not be there, and I would have liked to have celebrated this date on the West Coast. But 10 years ago, I also didn’t expect to be going to Yale for an architectural theory and history degree (and here, there’s a blizzard out the window in New Haven).
I’m not sure when I’ll be living in San Francisco again. When I finish my masters here, my plan is to do a Ph.D., probably somewhere on the East Coast. But 10 years ago, one thing became clear: it’s the place I feel most at home.

1 comment

  1. I can understand that. I feel almost creepily at home here, and I was a 13-year New Yorker before moving last July.

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