Accidental Rallies and Bus Stop Adventures

I have been living in NoPa (stands for North of the Pan Handle...and yes, I do realize how pretentious I sound, but I live in California now) where  for approximately two weeks. I've always heard a lot about how different California is from the rest of the county(the east coast especially) but I never fully understood what they meant until I moved to San Francisco. This is a place where naked gay men run through the streets of the Castro,  where intoxicated men pass out on the back of the bus (he's ok guys, don't worry), where being offered "medicinal" cookies in the park (only a dollar a piece) is completely accepted, where traffic is constantly being rerouted by huge rallies, and where there are more dogs than children. This is a place where literally everything is organic, where everyone runs outside, a place where it's sometimes hard to tell if someone is homeless or hipster, and where there are three different trash cans (one for compost, one for recycling, and one for land fill). But none the less this weird place, filled with hippies and hills, is beginning to feel like home. The house and the people living in it are becoming familiar and I find myself, after a long day comforted as I round the corner of Lyon and my big blue house comes into view. Wiley and Son's has a new intern as of Monday. I will be up on the twelfth floor at 9am sharp, getting settled into my very own cubicle. Free Jazz club to follow our first day of work, followed by homework, followed by sleep. I almost forgot I actually take classes here, better get on that actually.
So brief overview: San Francisco is weird, the people are weird, the weather is weird, my roommates are weird, this house is weird, the food is weird(organic). But I like weird.
Until next time, my faithful followers(family members)

love you.