Routinely

There's always something to see. I guess it's true everywhere, whether you're living in Oulu or San Francisco, Muhos or Shanghai. But I try to make an effort to look for new stuff every day, because you get used to everything, too. At first, there was such an overload of things. It took me three months to realize how short the buildings are in The Mission. I was constantly looking at people (yeah, Christopher Crackhead's going to mug me), the cracks on the sidewalk, storefronts, cops, or road construction to even notice all this sky. And then the city started feeling small to me. And familiar.

...and you shall see.

The trick is to not get used to it. Like, every morning when I bike 16th to Folsom and past Rainbow Grocery, I know that in two blocks a cow hangs on the side of a building, marking The Holy Cow. The warmth of the sun on my face when I stop at the lights on Folsom and 9th. Past Out Of The Closet, past graffiti, past InnerCity Home mural. Take a left on 5th Street and I know to expect the wind to hit me head-on. Push toward Market, squeeze in between a cab and a parked SUV, right on red. Swerve around pedestrians. Potholes in the pavement, steam rising from under a manhole cover at Ellis. MUNI blocking the way, can't fit between the curb and the damn bus. Cross Market at Davis, cross the plaza between Peet's and Wells Fargo. Walk the bike, park it. Get coffee. Go up.

And still, every day something new. A low-rider. A coffee store. A tattoo snaking up a girl's arm. A canary riding in the hood of a fixie dude's hoodie. The sun reflecting off of a high-rise, illuminating a man's face perfectly for a split-second as he walks in and out of the beam. The Canadian flag sown on somebody's MEC backpack.

It's all strange, then it's all familiar, and then it's all strange again.