Rainy Dreams



For the first time in a while, I was woken by the sound of heavy rain falling outside.

As I blinked-hard and squinted, I almost thought I was back in Central America. Not to say that I was really ever mistaken, but probably more hopeful. This rain still cannot rival that of Costa Rica, where I was sure that was the closest to some sort of natural flooding disaster I will ever be.  And in El Salvador when I always hoped class would be cancelled so I wasn’t forced to walk a mile down hill in the rain (and then back up it past the best smelling panaderia in the neighborhood).

The nostalgia inspired me. And for the first time in a while I picked up my journal and pen and wrote. And for the first time in a while I remembered my dream. It wasn’t as pleasant as waking up to rainfall was.

In short, it went something like this:

I was sick of my life in the US and decided to take all my money (not a lot) and get on a plane to China. I told my mother this and oddly enough, she agreed. I packed up and we hopped in the car for the airport. I check bags, make sure I have everything, start getting nervous, questioning my motives, etc. The airport is wildly confusing in a Harry Potter switching staircases way (note: I’m pretty sure this airport is a recurring dream location). But I find the gate, step in the moving hallway that takes you from the terminal to the plane (I forget what this thing is called), and then all the panic hits. I change my mind, look back, look sideways, look anywhere but forward because that is no longer the direction I want to move. I call my mom.

“Mom, I don’t want to go to China.”

“I know.”

Peace for a second. I tell the Flight Attendant I have changed my mind.

“Um, ok.”

That was a dramatic move, Rebecca. Now I can stay here and run my marathon on Sunday (actually happening). Phew.

Wait. Wait. Why is this hallway moving forward? How did I get ON the plane? I just told you I’m not going.

Panic for a few more seconds. Then, out of nowhere I am off the plane, on the runway. Being picked up by some firefighters in a very rickety looking truck with extra “lookout features” piled on top like some sort of whimsically gravity defying Dr. Seuss building.

And then I go on to fight zombies with them/help them ID who has been infected with the zombie virus. No, I’m not kidding. No I don’t play zombie games. No I didn’t fall asleep watching I Am Legend/Invasion/Warm Bodies/Walking Dead/Insert Name of Zombie movie or show here.

Mid-zombie fighting, I am woken by the rain.


Dreams can go anywhere.

Running in San Francisco



Things I passed on a 14-mile run:

  • Kezar Stadium
  • Bison in Golden Gate Park
  • Ocean Beach
  • Lands End
  • Presidio
  • Plenty of tourists looking slightly confused about where they were going
  • Almost the Golden Gate Bridge

Turn around, repeat.

This can be considered one of those runs where you are just amazed at where your feet will take you. Kudos to you, feet.


Ode to My Delicious Chocolate-dipped Almond Coconut Cookie

You’re malleable to the touch, meltable in my mouth, I chastise myself for primarily being wary of your almond-paste composition because now it is what I love most. Or perhaps what I love most is your transparent bipolarity.  Your pure soft side is perfectly complemented by the rough textured coating of the other.  How can I treasure you slowly? How can I savor you sweetly? When you are constantly giving me something new to taste. Something new for my teeth to break apart. I place you in a bag to cherish later but then later comes too soon and I have neglected time and reasoning to nibble you up. But wait! There you are! a tiny fragment of you nestled in the corner of the bag, my fingers grasp and pinch your remnants, a sweet reminder that you were, for a short amount of time, the greatest thing in my life.

City Lesson #1: The Ways of Parking/I Wish I had a SmartCar

Because I am only human, I occasionally get parking tickets. When moments are spastic and my brain cannot focus I forget to move the car from one side of the street to the other, wipe of any evidence left by Parking Police that my car has, in fact, been there past the posted time limit.

There were few times when this happened during school, living off campus in a house with just one long driveway and 6 or 7 of us with cars required a lot of problem solving skills as well as general laziness when I was able to get a spot on the street instead of being blocked in the driveway.

Yes, you are wondering where this is going…

“Get on with it already, I’m bored and none of this is new to me.”

Ok, well if you can just focus your attention on one task (something that can be seen as an accomplishment in these 21st century times) then I will get to the point.

You will NEVER escape a parking ticket in the city.

Never ever ever ever ever ever X infinity + 1 (for good measure)

Parking tickets must be the way SF makes money because for starters, there’s barely any parking in the first place. Making finding a spot a nearly impossible quest inducing violence, hatred, anger, and maybe even a little bloodshed (you really never know). There are all these weird tiny spots in between garages and driveways that won’t accommodate any normal size vehicle hence the wishes for a SmartCar. But you will try, oh my how you will try to move your car just 4 inches forward, no wait 2 inches back, wait maybe just a few more inches back and hope no one calls in a complaint that you are blocking their driveway that is definitely big enough to get a car out of and maybe they should just stop complaining already.

No, I’m not bitter.

The $100 ticket doesn’t perturb me at all.

I’m happy as those weird clams that can feel happiness.

And then there is street cleaning every week. Different days. Sometimes only 2 weeks of the month. Always at different times. And so on and so forth as you can imagine. After finally getting a residential parking permit (my excitement was unbearable) I parked on the street and left it there.

For over 2 hours.

The peace of mind was bliss.

I go outside the next morning. Acknowledge my car and the awesome parking spot.

Wait. NO. (Cue classic Shia LeBeuof stream of nononononononono!). What have I done do disobey them now?

Street cleaning was that morning from 8-10am.

I will never win.

The moral of this story? Just go and get a SmartCar. Seriously.

I Always Dreamed of Living in the Most Expensive City

That doesn’t sound too nice now, does it?

Now take out “most expensive city,” insert “San Francisco,” and you have a much more believable statement.

Yes my beloved reader(s), it is true. I have finally made the great migration up north to this wondrous city named after a Saint of something I don’t know (but let’s be real it’s probably hipsters). And I am living the dream of sharing a 2 bedroom apartment with 3 other people and paying a ridiculous amount of money for groceries. But you know what? It is one hundred percent absolutely positively worth it. After all, we work to make money and if high school economics taught me anything it is that nothing is free and something about MC=MR.

It is true that free events in San Francisco exist. But as soon as I step out of the apartment there’s bound to be some sort of food that I must try, or coffee that I must drink, or happy hour specials at my favorite bar for $3 (I mean really, you just can’t say no to that).

Budgeting has become my new hobby, and I must say I’m getting pretty darn good at it. It makes me very keen on what events I can go to for as little as possible. And to be honest those are probably the coolest events anyways.

Guess what I’ll be doing Thursday night?

Attending Erotic Fan Fiction of Pride and Prejudice at Booksmith.

$10 drinks included. Now that’s what I call thrifty.

Since fully describing life here would leave you in a bored stupor, here are just a few interesting things I have done/seen since being here:

– I saw a toddler dressed in tiny Jordans, a polo, and a sweater pullover. Both collars were popped.

-Every time I walk down Haight Street I see at least 2 bums with a striking resemblance to Jack Sparrow.

– Lots of Gypsies.

– We have a view of the very tip top of Golden Gate Bridge. I point it out to everyone there first time visiting.

-There are roller skating dance parties in Golden Gate Park every weekend where the average age is probably around 50.

– Every Thursday food trucks from Off the Grid come the park. This means that every Thursday I am faced with a very hard decision on what to eat for dinner.

– I ate a vegan donut. And liked it.