So 75% of my classes are located on the aforementioned, crime-ridden Ocean campus.

But my Wednesday night class is in the Mission, a culture-rich, sometimes-down-ridden, always-funky, lots-of-great-restaurants, palm-trees-like-California-should-have, neighborhood.
When I interned at McSweeney’s I did some time in the Mission, too – albeit a trendier, cleaner part where hipsters abound, vegan t-shirts are sold and tiny cheeseburgers cost $7 a pop. But walk two blocks over to the intern-budget-approved strip and you’ll get a slice, a salad and grape soda for $3.00, crammed inside a steamy store corner, watching old men out on their stoops smoking cigars in dingy undershirts.

The block I school on has a few trendy dive bars and nice restaurants, but walk a little further and it’s chock-a-block full of enormous dollars stores, abandoned store fronts and barbers promising a $2 haircut. (I’m tempted.)

Along this stretch is a sign for the defunct New Mission Theater. I can’t fully explain it, but every time I walk by and look u-p (because the sign stretches 70 feet hi-gh) I get goosebumps. Maybe because every morning on my bus ride I see more and more stores shutting down or maybe it’s just the sad juxtaposition of dollar stores and old timey glamour, but something about it gets me every time.



I did an image search on my newly-restored Internets and found the above shot on this rad photography blog, MY SF. He’s really captured the vibe just right.