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Tonight was one of those moments when you truly felt alive.  It was one of those nights when there was no rush to get to anywhere in particular.  The night air was warm and crisp with a calm breeze blowing westward from the ocean.  Wrapping up my grocery shopping, I decided to take a winding scenic route back.  For those not familiar with San Francisco, there are steep hills scattered across the City that rise apparently from thin air.  On top of those hills, more often than not, are some of the finest palatial estates in the City.  Upon reaching the top of one hill in Pacific Heights, a moderate breeze blew past me.  With my helmet opened, I felt the energy in the air, the electricity given off by the thousands of San Franciscans meandering about, exploring the night sky on a rare warm evening.  The enclaves of titans past and present lay before me.  I take my time scootering, admiring the craftsmanship of architects, masons, landscape designers.  If those walls could talk…

 

The housing density of SF presents a highly visible contrast between the atmospheric wealthy, affluent and working class.  On one particular street, there are townhomes and apartment complexes juxtaposed against the backdrop of thirty (and forty and fifty) million dollar palaces.  They are literally separated by one block.  If you were to walk another six short blocks south and head west for two blocks, you would come across a public housing complex, composed entirely of minorities.  Amazing.

 

Have you guys seen those Southwest commercials, "want to get away?"...well that happened this weekend. My old NGO reserved an aisle seat for my flight to Boston, but I got stuck in the middle between a 350-400 lb lady and a 250 lb man. Call me prejudice, but if you're going to occupy two seats, you need to pay for that extra seat, and not infringe on my paid right to sit comfortably.  I also happened to be stuck in the back with a large Russian traveling party. And a really loud crying baby. Hilarious

The last 6 weeks have been ridiculous. The only time I've worked harder was spring quarter freshmen year, when I worked and went to school fulltime.  I think I finally understand the meaning of sleep deprivation.  Anyhow, I should be working on the 7th version of my statement of purpose but I want to xanga something important to me.

I occasionally look at my peers and wonder, wtf was I doing while they were getting A's and graduating undergrad on time. Heck, if I had a proper mindset, I would be coming out with a PhD right now instead of looking at doctorate programs. But then I would pop on some old Tupac, i.e. "Staring at My Life in the Rearview" and think about the days when we would cruise through the 626, drinking 40's and smoking Newports.  Occasionally, trouble would come our way and we would ride on our enemies.  (Figuratively, again a reference to Tupac).  I think, was it worth it? Yeah it was.

There's a tin roof covered shack, dishing out hot dogs and hamburgers, in front of our partner's office. I visit them on a weekly basis for "status updates". The truth is, I enjoy escaping my cubicle and the being in the middle of the Tbilisi hussle. On my fourth visit to the shack for my $1.50 GEL super dog, in the reflection of the service counter mirror, I saw a stray staring at me. Ears pent up, a curious look spread across its face, it had the eyes of dog who's seen a lot, but hasn't given up.  I paid for my meal and walked to a corner to eat my lunch. I noticed the stray followed me. She was a smart one, ducking under a car everytime someone walked by.  Georgian boys are notorious for kicking, branding, throwing fireworks at strays.  As soon as the coast was clear, she would pop back up, waiting for another handout.  After about four bites, I realized I wasn't hungry and gave her the remainder of my meal.  There's not much I can do for her, due to the complete absence of an stray-care infrastructure, but at least for that one afternoon, she ate a well deserved hot meal.