On a Mission to wear more comfortable shoes

Last week, C and I ventured to the Mission to celebrate our dear friend L's 22nd birthday. I was excited because whenever I go out on the town with L, there is dancing involved. And I may be one of those awkward black girls, and I damn sure do not know how to dance well, but I have fun dancing anyway. Before leaving, a couple of things crossed my mind: 1) What do I wear? and 2) How I am getting there and back? Then I smiled to myself  remembering I told L : "Let's go paint the town rainbow"! So, I decided to wear my purple turtleneck, neon pink earring studs, mint green scarf, rainbow striped thigh high socks, blue heart necklace, red ribbon in my hair, black high heel boots, and finally, my lavender hoity-toity London Fog trench coat (Don't tell anyone I got it for 10 bucks at the Goodwill on Van Ness :D ) . Anyway, I quickly finished my tomato soup and bolted out the door after my computer screens flashed me a reminder that the inbound muni is pulling up. My neighborhood isn't the prettiest in the world. And when you're a young girl like me who not used to living in the city, its best to keep one's guard up. Case in point, I am walking past the corner Barber-shop, when I hear "Why hello colored girl, where are you off to?" "Where the party at?" I pretend to the ignore the four guys and raced across the street. I turned and looked at the four men who were dressed like they belonged in a 90s gangster-rap video. To my surprise, they are not following me across the street. I happen to make eye contact with one of them and he says to me "I am sorry, we were just trying to say that you look nice". I mumble a sorry and stand at the train stop. Okay, nine times out of ten, if a guy or guys call out to you in the street it is usually not a good thing. And the last time I ignored the question "Where da party at?" I was answered with the meanest sounding "Well, Fuck you then" that I have ever heard. At any rate, the train pulls up to the stop by C's house. He gets in and I breathe a sigh of relief. I'll have my knight in shining trans-man in armor to protect me from here on out. Unfortunately, what no one could protect me from was the piercing pain my feet would be in. For the first time in my life, I was wearing high-heel boots (I call them my dominatrix boots). I'll admit it, I bought them to feel powerful and remind myself that behind the glasses, I'm a stone-cold fox and I don't need anyone to remind me that I am. The problem is, high heels hurt like hell. Beauty is pain and all that. We were meeting L and her girlfriend A at the Lexington Bar (an infamous Lesbian bar in the heart of the Mission District). C suggested that we walk from Castro and 17th to 19th and Lex. I didn't think it would be that bad a walk. In fact, since I can't afford a gym (time and money wise) I'll take exercise wherever and whenever I can get it. It was also cool to have this walking tour of the Castro and the Mission. Eventhough I already ate, the delicious smells wafting from the restaurants were driving me mad. Nevertheless, I told my stomach to shut it. Anyway, we get to the Lex and soon L & A join us. L joked that our favorite lesbian and beloved professor would probably make an appearance. As soon as we entered the bar, there she was enjoying drinks with her friends. I quickly reminded myself for the upteenth time that professors have lives outside of academia and one day, my students will run into me as well. Anyway, L &A go to have their cheap vodka cranberries. I was tempted to purchase one myself but I vowed to K that I would  not drink tonight. Every time, I go out to clubs or bars, I wear a little cat-collar with a little bell around my wrist. It was given to me by K before we even got together. It is a symbolic reminder that I am taken and that I have no business starting any funny business. Of course, that doesn't stop other people from coming to talk to me. While L, A, C and myself were standing around in the corner these two guys came up to us. They began speaking in really thick french accents. L didn't know what the hell they were saying but I did and I made the mistake of opening my big mouth and translating. L then grabbed my arm and said "My friend speaks french!" *facepalm* Did L just use me to distract the french guys (using my two semesters of french) so she wouldn't have to deal with them? I told myself I'll let that slide since she was the birthday girl and all. Anyway, the guys asked if I spoke french. I told them I only speak a little. Apparently that was good enough for them because after that they wouldn't stop talking to me and asking me questions about where I was from, where I live, what I did etc. I looked over at A who was smirking at me. She was convinced the french guys were hitting on me. I never found out if this was true. After all, since this was a queer bar, there should not have been any assumptions of heterosexuality. Nevertheless, I was already blushing because the shorter french guy resembled an old russian friend of mine that I used to be attracted to. Finally, I got to retreat with the others to a little table in the corner. By this time, my feet were dying. So I was relieved to take them off and let them breathe a bit. It would be about half an hour before we would move on to the next club. But more on that later. This is the end of part 1.

A Love/Haight Relationship

Being a poor graduate student and living in one of the most expensive cities in the world has taught me to improvise a great deal when I am take a reprieve from my research to go have fun. Fortunately, I study in one of the most beautiful and interesting cities in the whole world : San Francisco. Therefore, every so often, I take a Friday or Saturday to play tourist. In this way, I have been fortunate to see a great deal of the city ( The Golden Gate Bridge, Bay Bride, Embarcadero, Chinatown, Japantown, Baker Beach, Golden Gate Park (Okay, I lied. I haven't been there yet but I pass by it on the Muni all the time)... However, it seems my new favorite area of the City is the Haight-Ashbury Neighborhood. I love "Derpin in the Haight" because when I walk around, I can pretend I am Alice in Hippie/Hipsterland. There is never a dull moment with all of the people watching and endless window shopping. I love to check out the vintage shops (here you can find the hipsters in their natural habitat) the sock shop (It's probably my favorite shop in the Haight because it sells nothing but crazy adorable funky socks in every style, color, and length), and Loyal Army (Of course, I love any store that prides itself on being completely dedicated to all things cute. But sadly, their sweet graphic tees are usually out of my price range). Thank goodness, I have never visited a store that charges you  just to try stuff on >:] There are also hookah shops, drag queen shops, ice cream shops (note to self check out the Ben & Jerry's on my next visit) and old school music shops (You can actually find vinyl records and CDs here!). Nevertheless, I think my favorite part about the Haight is that it looks like a trippy technicolor Beatles cartoon. COLOR is everywhere, on people's clothes, on the fanny packs of tourists, on shop signs, and even murals on the sides of the buildings. After I have had my fill of the super cute and bizzare, I hop on the 71 back to the 9th and Irving where I'll stop by Kiki's for some super cheap and delicious sushi. Bonus, the restaurant is Miyazaki themed. Who says childhood has to end? Oh right, my graduate advisor who expects my powerpoint slides for my upcoming brownbag emailed to her by the end of the day today. T_T Well, duty calls.