When I was younger, I always wanted to live in the Bay Area. My dad grew up along the San Francisco peninsula, and the way he talked about Northern California made it seem like it was paradise on Earth. A place where everything is possible, because it is. That vision of San Francisco rubbed off on me, and has led to an insatiable desire to be out there.
The city has always pulled in the people who feel slightly out of place elsewhere. The weird ones. The ones chasing something they can’t explain. Every ten years or so, a new wave enters into the city. Gold, acid, personal computers, the internet, crypto, AI. It’s the same wave, wearing a new face.
Some people come for money. Some come to change the world. Most leave disappointed. Some don’t leave at all. Leading to a city filled with people who never really fit anywhere else. It creates a unique feeling.
It’s hard to describe unless you’ve been. Things feel possible in a way they probably aren’t. You get in a waymo and drive across the entire city. A friend casually drops that they're making progress with BCIs. You’re introduced to a 23-year-old who raised $15 million to “cheat on everything.” After a while, you stop questioning it. You start believing all the hype.
People here are serious about conquering the impossible. Sometimes they even pull it off. But when every day is a pitch for the future, it gets harder to see the present.
Then the cracks show. Bubbles burst and everyone starts to pack their bags and head home. And for those who are lucky enough to get out before the crash, they look a little lost. Not unhappy, just caught in a daze. Like they reached the top of the mountain only to find it wasn’t actually the peak, just another ridge.
I don’t want that. I don’t want to win the game and then wonder what the game was for.
I go to BYU. It’s not exactly the most prestigious school in the world or one that gets applause from the tech community. But maybe that’s the point. There’s a kind of silence here in Provo you can’t get anywhere else. A place to sit down and grind. Nobody’s handing out money to BYU kids because they want to drop out, you have to have something real.
It’s tempting to want to fast-forward. To skip the part where you’re unsure. But I think if I went back to San Francisco now, it would eat me alive. I’d spend a summer trying to keep up, bouncing back and forth between different ideas, and leave with nothing but my Grateful Dead ball cap.
And that would be my fault, not the city’s.
San Francisco is still what I thought it was. It’s a place where you can change the world. But it only works if you bring something real. Otherwise, it just bends you like all the other unfortunate souls.
I want to come back with something that doesn’t need explaining. Something that actually matters and won’t be washed away when the tide goes out.
Until then, I’ll be here. Building conviction in my ideas and beliefs. That way, when the time comes to head west, I’ll be ready.