Monday afternoon observation

Number one, I'm quickly un-learning how to spell. I struggled with 'observation' there for a split-second. Me lose brain? Uh-oh! Computer make dumb.

Two, it's impossible to be a successful journalist in this city if you are mono-lingual. You will always miss something unless you speak Mandarin, Spanish, English as well as Russian and maybe some Portuguese, and don't feel out of place on Hunters Point Blvd, but to only speak one language while pretending to chronicle SF is a lot like... oh, I don't know, a metaphor, let's see let's see... using a unicycle to try and win a bike race? Although the hipsters would LOVE that.

Three, I went to a bar in Russian Hill on Saturday for a sporting event. I had forgotten how much I hated sports bars. Thank you, vortex of humanity.

Four, it's hard enough to be a journalist without speaking anyone else's language save white, middle class and a little afraid of the world at large... but it's even more difficult when you cannot secure a press pass after weeks (weeks!) of trying and explaining to increasingly irate bosses why you need one, and when you have to duck into Bernal Heights Internet cafes to receive important documents, only to find you can't log in remotely for some inane whateverthefuck reason.

And I work for a corporation.