out of control. so much work. so many friends. so much happening.
freelancing m-t-w night - board design for a company in la. thu go out. fri go out - see new and awesome bars in the mission with fun new friend andy - cafe revolution and lone palm. sat spend a glorious day with lindsay wandering the city from breakfast in cole valley to golden gate park to shopping on haight to sushi dinner to meeting lots of folks for a movie at the castro and then karaoke at the mint. all by bike. sun was unexpectedly wonderful -- last minute invites from Michael to go play tennis and Misha to go see a play at american conservatory theatre. playing outside in the sun and seeing theatre on a sunday afternoon == paradise. then back to get sake and dolores park, talking to folk, walking on a tightrope/tension line that someone had set up between two trees, getting a little sun burnt. meet up with andy and lindsay at a divey dive bar on 19 and guerrero and continue on to gestalt. mon more freelance work and a bad headache and fatigue. but so much to be done! michelle's site needs to be updated, I need to do graphics for a show called wasted and I'm the one feeling wasted and unable to dig in and come up with a concept. do the flash. head over to a bbq to get some food. come back. pass out. wake up, 2am start to work again. work drink play party work. intense.
I'm in love with sf. totally utterly in love. and life is sucking me dry with its goodness. everything here is so absolutely wonderful. the karaoke bar? not a single would be pop star, instead they were all exactly as they should be -- hilarious, mismatched and kitsch.
everyone I meet is so young and affluent and fun and sporty and smart. it's a little bubble of techy arty love.
there's so much crossover with people from la. I'm always meeting people who lived there, or went to usc, or have other common threads. at the bbq today I met a girl who knows basically everyone I know, and was ex girlfriends with my fabulous friend and ex neighbor donham.
all of the work that I've had to do is too much but it's all cool shit that I want to do. even the flash has been a bit interesting as a contrast to all the design stuff and the fact that since everyone here is so techy I have begun to reclaim my old knowledge that I tried so hard to obliterate in la. I've regularly tried to challenge myself to do a new thing every time I work on her site or my own -- use listeners, make components, try out a code structure (for each in). I want to dig into processing now. learned on lingo, progressed on actionscript, but processing is the favored art code.
and now it's 4am. I have made some style frames for work, enough to tide the guy over and not feel like I slacked all weekend. and I am wide awake. and it's going to hurt tommorrow.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
A true new day
I woke up on Saturday and it felt like the page had been turned.
The weather has been unreasonably beautiful, warm, and sunny, and I walked down the street with a smile from ear to ear. I think I am really done with it all. I met someone that quite likely won't develop into anything more than what it was, but for the first time, I didn't think of eric. There was no aftermath of sadness and comparison. And then I realized -- it's been 2 and a half months. Life has zoomed by so fast, between moving and traveling and starting a new job and outfitting a new apartment and getting to know a new city that suddenly here I am -- ready to let go of the past and embrace the future and all its craziness and newness.
The weather has been unreasonably beautiful, warm, and sunny, and I walked down the street with a smile from ear to ear. I think I am really done with it all. I met someone that quite likely won't develop into anything more than what it was, but for the first time, I didn't think of eric. There was no aftermath of sadness and comparison. And then I realized -- it's been 2 and a half months. Life has zoomed by so fast, between moving and traveling and starting a new job and outfitting a new apartment and getting to know a new city that suddenly here I am -- ready to let go of the past and embrace the future and all its craziness and newness.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Sunday, May 11, 2008
on loneliness
Living alone really kind of scared me. Not in the sense of ghosts or bodily harm, but in the sense of loneliness. How wrong I was. I haven't felt lonely at all, actually.
I recall many many nights waiting for LSOS, looking at foot-foot kitty and asking "where's your daddy?" That was the epitome of lonely. Feeling the absence of someone. I don't recall feeling lonely a single moment since I have been living in my new home.
I feel like I've been defining my life exactly as I would have it, without a single compromise. I actually really like to be alone. Solitude is amazing. I like coming home from work some days and taking sake to the park and then just being here without any interuptions or expectations. I especially like going exactly where I want without any consultation.
This past week, I went to the San Francisco Ballet to see a night of their New Works Festival on Tuesday, I went to the Atmosphere concert on Thursday, and I just got back from going to see Jean-Luc Goddard's Contempt at the Castro Theatre. I walked or rode my bike to each place, and I didn't consult anyone or ask anyone if it interested them or they wanted to go along. I wanted to go, and I did. And I enjoyed it greatly.
Then there's my apartment. There are little things I compromised on that didn't feel like compromises at the time, but now I can step as far over as I like. Silly things. Like I bought a frilly bed spread. And I've been lighting scented candles. I'm a girl living alone, I can be as girly as I like!
I guess it has helped with the not feeling lonely that there are so many people visiting, the people at work are so nice, I've been continuing to meet people on match, and the friends I already had in the city keep coming around. I chose solitude, it is not by necessity. And there's sake. That little furry friend who is always so happy to see me and greets me every morning with kisses is a life saver.
There has been someone visiting SF from LA every weekend for the last month! This weekend was all Synderella, and we had an amazing time trying the local restaurants, going to yoga and the park, and going out and flirting with the boys. Last week I saw Greg Reynard when he was up working for Apple. The week before Journey was in town and we got to spend quite a bit of time going to restaurants and MoMA, the weekend before I saw Magnus briefly when he was in town. Lots of familiar friendly faces. San Francisco is the perfect landing place after LA. Far enough to be AWAY with a capital A, but close enough that the visits are frequent. It doesn't feel isolating at all.
I do miss Eric, truthfully. I miss our vocabulary a lot. In the four years, we had built a whole dictionary of words for things that were only between us -- aside from calling eachother beef and tofu which together made bofu, we had a whole list of ofu words -- dofu was when one was being dumb, which was extended to yudofu after we discovered the japanese meal was a homonym for you dofu. There was go-fu for leaving. There was the bofu house and team bofu. And Slow-fu for dawdling. There was foot and shoe. And toot. And calling things friends -- planty friend, the water friend, couch friend. Anything could be amended with friend. And so many other little short hand terms. Alas, they are dead.
Perhaps some live on. A twisted thing keeps coming into my head -- one of his emails to mutt was talking about yum-pop. That was a term we had, it actually came from this stupid novelty pair of underwear I bought at Target one day when I had stayed over and we were going out and I needed clean clothes. They were pink, with a silly little japanese style cartoon character and the phrase "Yum-pop will save the world!" I always laugh to myself that he used that term with someone new, and that it obviously has some new connotation that I know nothing of. Little does she know its origins. Words and language are so wonderful and so weird.
As much as I miss him, I am grateful that I have been able to start anew. So much pain makes me so grateful for what I have. I'm not anxious to get involved with anyone at all. I like flirting at Zeitgiest. I like the possibilities, knowing I'm free.
I recall many many nights waiting for LSOS, looking at foot-foot kitty and asking "where's your daddy?" That was the epitome of lonely. Feeling the absence of someone. I don't recall feeling lonely a single moment since I have been living in my new home.
I feel like I've been defining my life exactly as I would have it, without a single compromise. I actually really like to be alone. Solitude is amazing. I like coming home from work some days and taking sake to the park and then just being here without any interuptions or expectations. I especially like going exactly where I want without any consultation.
This past week, I went to the San Francisco Ballet to see a night of their New Works Festival on Tuesday, I went to the Atmosphere concert on Thursday, and I just got back from going to see Jean-Luc Goddard's Contempt at the Castro Theatre. I walked or rode my bike to each place, and I didn't consult anyone or ask anyone if it interested them or they wanted to go along. I wanted to go, and I did. And I enjoyed it greatly.
Then there's my apartment. There are little things I compromised on that didn't feel like compromises at the time, but now I can step as far over as I like. Silly things. Like I bought a frilly bed spread. And I've been lighting scented candles. I'm a girl living alone, I can be as girly as I like!
I guess it has helped with the not feeling lonely that there are so many people visiting, the people at work are so nice, I've been continuing to meet people on match, and the friends I already had in the city keep coming around. I chose solitude, it is not by necessity. And there's sake. That little furry friend who is always so happy to see me and greets me every morning with kisses is a life saver.
There has been someone visiting SF from LA every weekend for the last month! This weekend was all Synderella, and we had an amazing time trying the local restaurants, going to yoga and the park, and going out and flirting with the boys. Last week I saw Greg Reynard when he was up working for Apple. The week before Journey was in town and we got to spend quite a bit of time going to restaurants and MoMA, the weekend before I saw Magnus briefly when he was in town. Lots of familiar friendly faces. San Francisco is the perfect landing place after LA. Far enough to be AWAY with a capital A, but close enough that the visits are frequent. It doesn't feel isolating at all.
I do miss Eric, truthfully. I miss our vocabulary a lot. In the four years, we had built a whole dictionary of words for things that were only between us -- aside from calling eachother beef and tofu which together made bofu, we had a whole list of ofu words -- dofu was when one was being dumb, which was extended to yudofu after we discovered the japanese meal was a homonym for you dofu. There was go-fu for leaving. There was the bofu house and team bofu. And Slow-fu for dawdling. There was foot and shoe. And toot. And calling things friends -- planty friend, the water friend, couch friend. Anything could be amended with friend. And so many other little short hand terms. Alas, they are dead.
Perhaps some live on. A twisted thing keeps coming into my head -- one of his emails to mutt was talking about yum-pop. That was a term we had, it actually came from this stupid novelty pair of underwear I bought at Target one day when I had stayed over and we were going out and I needed clean clothes. They were pink, with a silly little japanese style cartoon character and the phrase "Yum-pop will save the world!" I always laugh to myself that he used that term with someone new, and that it obviously has some new connotation that I know nothing of. Little does she know its origins. Words and language are so wonderful and so weird.
As much as I miss him, I am grateful that I have been able to start anew. So much pain makes me so grateful for what I have. I'm not anxious to get involved with anyone at all. I like flirting at Zeitgiest. I like the possibilities, knowing I'm free.
Monday, May 5, 2008
and politics
So most of my cohort seem to be firmly in the Obama camp. I must say, I've never felt anything for the man. All I know about him is that people say he is charismatic. I see "hope" posters in quite a few windows in my neighborhood.
So what.
Personally, I've been waiting for Hillary since Bill left office and people starting talking about her running in 96. I think her time has come, and I would oh so love to see a woman in the highest office in the land.
Now, it would be pretty cool if that woman were Nancy Pelosi, but we live in america, not just san francisco.
Hillary has incredible qualifications. My mom once said that in her day, you married the man you wanted to be. My mom wanted to be a professor, and when she married my dad, he was working on his PhD in Music. I wonder if Hillary didn't have similar thoughts when she met the up and coming Bill Clinton. Luckily, in this day and age, it isn't just about the man you marry -- although in her case, it certainly helps!
"A native of Illinois, Hillary Rodham first attracted national attention in 1969 for her remarks as the first student to deliver the commencement address at Wellesley College. She embarked on a career in law after graduating from Yale Law School in 1973. Following a stint as a Congressional legal counsel, she moved to Arkansas in 1974, and married Bill Clinton in 1975. She was later named the first female partner at Rose Law Firm in 1979, and was twice listed as one of the one hundred most influential lawyers in America."
She was a bright and successful woman before Bill. Then there was the Bill years. When he first took office, they were a partnership. She was coming out as Hillary Rodham Clinton, no first lady who did publicity stunts reading books to children, but a woman who was working hand in hand with her husband to forge a revolutionary Health Insurance program. The republicans slapper her down but good -- oh the Gingrich years, when all we democrats had to hunker down and just try to get through the waves of bullshit sweeping the country. Remember Welfare reform? All those evil, evil welfare mothers stealing our money. And then there were the impeachment trials. Bill lied about a blow job and the country was up in arms. Old Georgy-boy lied about weapons of mass destruction, 911, Osama Bin Lauden and Sadaam Hussein, and got us into the most expensive fucked up situation since vietnam, costing millions of lives...where's his impeachment hearings?
So she was forced to dull her star a bit, play background roles and tame the feminist demon. As soon as Bill was out of office, however, she was back at it, becoming a successful multi-term senator from New York. I know she has made some compromises. She is not the shining star of all things liberal. But again, this is the USA, not San Fransico. And I know her heart is in the right place. She knows how things work. She has opinions -- detailed opinions -- and an inside perspective on all of the world situations. Let's not forget that the US had much better standing with other world leaders under Bill's helm. As far as I'm concerned, we're getting the partnership back, only this time without the the silent partner having to remain silent.
Saying it that way, it seems a little scary. We have term limits for a reason. But there's something about the fucked up way the world has been aligned the last couple years that makes me want to go with knowledge and experience rather than big words. And I'd certainly rather go back to the budget surpluses of the 90's then look at the mess we're sitting in now.
Plus, I just like that she's a girl.
So what.
Personally, I've been waiting for Hillary since Bill left office and people starting talking about her running in 96. I think her time has come, and I would oh so love to see a woman in the highest office in the land.
Now, it would be pretty cool if that woman were Nancy Pelosi, but we live in america, not just san francisco.
Hillary has incredible qualifications. My mom once said that in her day, you married the man you wanted to be. My mom wanted to be a professor, and when she married my dad, he was working on his PhD in Music. I wonder if Hillary didn't have similar thoughts when she met the up and coming Bill Clinton. Luckily, in this day and age, it isn't just about the man you marry -- although in her case, it certainly helps!
"A native of Illinois, Hillary Rodham first attracted national attention in 1969 for her remarks as the first student to deliver the commencement address at Wellesley College. She embarked on a career in law after graduating from Yale Law School in 1973. Following a stint as a Congressional legal counsel, she moved to Arkansas in 1974, and married Bill Clinton in 1975. She was later named the first female partner at Rose Law Firm in 1979, and was twice listed as one of the one hundred most influential lawyers in America."
She was a bright and successful woman before Bill. Then there was the Bill years. When he first took office, they were a partnership. She was coming out as Hillary Rodham Clinton, no first lady who did publicity stunts reading books to children, but a woman who was working hand in hand with her husband to forge a revolutionary Health Insurance program. The republicans slapper her down but good -- oh the Gingrich years, when all we democrats had to hunker down and just try to get through the waves of bullshit sweeping the country. Remember Welfare reform? All those evil, evil welfare mothers stealing our money. And then there were the impeachment trials. Bill lied about a blow job and the country was up in arms. Old Georgy-boy lied about weapons of mass destruction, 911, Osama Bin Lauden and Sadaam Hussein, and got us into the most expensive fucked up situation since vietnam, costing millions of lives...where's his impeachment hearings?
So she was forced to dull her star a bit, play background roles and tame the feminist demon. As soon as Bill was out of office, however, she was back at it, becoming a successful multi-term senator from New York. I know she has made some compromises. She is not the shining star of all things liberal. But again, this is the USA, not San Fransico. And I know her heart is in the right place. She knows how things work. She has opinions -- detailed opinions -- and an inside perspective on all of the world situations. Let's not forget that the US had much better standing with other world leaders under Bill's helm. As far as I'm concerned, we're getting the partnership back, only this time without the the silent partner having to remain silent.
Saying it that way, it seems a little scary. We have term limits for a reason. But there's something about the fucked up way the world has been aligned the last couple years that makes me want to go with knowledge and experience rather than big words. And I'd certainly rather go back to the budget surpluses of the 90's then look at the mess we're sitting in now.
Plus, I just like that she's a girl.
and then --- not for the faint of heart
While all the previous is true, and it would seem as though I am moving on quite nicely, the truth is my old relationship still occupies a good deal of my headspace. There's been a number of developments on that front over the last couple weeks.
The second week into my job, I told eric to quit im-ing me. He had just messaged me as he had several times since I left.
"How is your new job?" he started off.
Usually it felt so natural and comfortable that I was answering back before I could stop myself, but afterwards I felt dirty, upset and pissed off, and kept forming in my head the things I wanted to say to him.
Finally that day I did.
"We're not friends. I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to know about your life. IF you want to know about mine, read my blog." How long those words had gone through my head as I practiced them, honed them, and worked up to saying -- or rather typing -- them. We exchanged a bit more terse dialogue and I ended up crying in the bathroom. The next day he im-ed me asking about his camera lens and spare key again. I blocked him.
Yes, the milestone. The IM block.
So for a week it was quiet and good and then one night I came home and drunk-googled him.
It was the first weekend of the dance show they were working on, and I wondered how it had gone. I found an interview by the LA Times online -- It was panned. It was BEYOND panned.
The review started
"All the clichés of bad modern dance were on display Saturday night when L.A. Contemporary Dance Company presented four world premieres in the first of a two-weekend run at Diavolo Dance Space. Omnipresent angst, frenzied flailing and headache-inducing soundtracks were but some of the offenses lobbed during the 90-minute show, "Modern Myths and Monsters."
it continued
"The work -- an interminable showcase for individual and group spasms, skitterings and leapings -- went nowhere slowly."
and all the rest was about what you would expect from that preview. The full article can be seen here
Now the first one he participated in was reviewed as mediocre to poor, but eric's music was mentioned as being a redeeming feature. This one...well, nothing was really considered redeeming. I couldn't help but feel a tiny glimmer of glee in my soul -- alright quite a large glimmer of glee. And, even though I absolutely knew I shouldn't, I couldn't help writing a quick little email --
"subject: congratulations
I was wondering how the show went. about the same it seems. congratulations.
m"
and so he writes back
"Subject: Re: congratulations
thanks for your support.
e"
so I write
"Subject: Re: congratulations
Only what you deserve after all the love and concern you've shown for me."
then him:
"Subject: Re: congratulations
Not quite sure how to have interpreted that congratulations, since the review wasn't exactly glowing... I have my initial reactions, but maybe I was looking too deep into that..
I found one of your spare car keys in my glove box. In addition, you've been getting mail here still. Something from a medical group...
I'd like to get my spare car key set back, along w/ my lens as well. How shall we work that out?"
The dumbass actually entertained the idea that I was congratulating him on his retarded show and that I would seriously tell him that he had love and concern for me. That was enough to hold me in amusement for a day or two, but then I had an itch I needed to scratch.
I love words. I love making up names for people. I use them to distance myself, to amuse myself, perhaps to feel superior, but always for the amusement and the feeling of coming up with a name so fitting.
For the longest time, the distancing factor has enacted itself in calling all my friends new significant other "your boy" or "your girl". They are not allowed names until it becomes quite clear that the relationship will be sticking around for awhile. I recently came up with one for my friend Miesha's new paramour who is not exactly being forthcoming -- he has a beard and is basque or french or something. BeardCheese is his name.
With my friend Synderella, I took it to a new height. At work, we came up with names for many of the kids who worked there with us. None were derogatory, they were all just funny -- there was "streets" for the british guy whose accent was just like the rapper. There was "school spirit" (and alternately "chatty cathy") for the guy who could just not resist coming up to everyone's desks and launching into endless conversations when really you were actually doing some work. There was "rico suave" for the guy who freelanced for awhile and had the habit of always wearing tucked in button-down shirts and kissing the cheek of everyone - yes everyone - in the entire department when he arrived in the morning and left at night.
So, with that in mind, and my need to depersonalize eric's bit on the side, I had been searching for a name. I tried several out -- there was fatty (until I heard she had gone on a crash diet and felt really really bad. I don't care about her physique, I just wanted to get at eric) and that girl and a couple of swear words. None of them seemed quite fitting and I was still searching. A paragraph from the review pointed the way for me.
"Hutter's "Clippings," a perky duet between her and Kevin Williamson proved the least distasteful, perhaps because it was only five minutes. Their push-pull, love-hate quest for dominance also made good use of the pair's Mutt-and-Jeff physicality."
I had never heard of Mutt and Jeff before so I looked it up.
Apparently it's an old cartoon. Now, I knew knew knew I should leave well enough alone, but man I am just not a good enough person. I wrote back to him. Let's just say I'm not going to repeat any of it, cause I shouldn't have said it in the first place. But it wasn't good. And the long and short of it is, the bfriend stealing, lying little b**** finally has a name.
Later, I also came up with a name for eric. As I was once again unfortunately letting my mind go over the past -- damn that wondering brain -- thinking about how great our relationship was at first and what an breathtakingly amazing jerk he was at the end, and then his name came to me -- it's an acronym. LSOS (pronounced L-Sauce). I'll give you a hint -- Lying Sack of ....
So yes. I'm a bad bad person who has found a way to get some not-so-secret glee out of a bad situation. Now I know how to refer to them without having any emotional investment -- LSOS and Mutt.
The second week into my job, I told eric to quit im-ing me. He had just messaged me as he had several times since I left.
"How is your new job?" he started off.
Usually it felt so natural and comfortable that I was answering back before I could stop myself, but afterwards I felt dirty, upset and pissed off, and kept forming in my head the things I wanted to say to him.
Finally that day I did.
"We're not friends. I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to know about your life. IF you want to know about mine, read my blog." How long those words had gone through my head as I practiced them, honed them, and worked up to saying -- or rather typing -- them. We exchanged a bit more terse dialogue and I ended up crying in the bathroom. The next day he im-ed me asking about his camera lens and spare key again. I blocked him.
Yes, the milestone. The IM block.
So for a week it was quiet and good and then one night I came home and drunk-googled him.
It was the first weekend of the dance show they were working on, and I wondered how it had gone. I found an interview by the LA Times online -- It was panned. It was BEYOND panned.
The review started
"All the clichés of bad modern dance were on display Saturday night when L.A. Contemporary Dance Company presented four world premieres in the first of a two-weekend run at Diavolo Dance Space. Omnipresent angst, frenzied flailing and headache-inducing soundtracks were but some of the offenses lobbed during the 90-minute show, "Modern Myths and Monsters."
it continued
"The work -- an interminable showcase for individual and group spasms, skitterings and leapings -- went nowhere slowly."
and all the rest was about what you would expect from that preview. The full article can be seen here
Now the first one he participated in was reviewed as mediocre to poor, but eric's music was mentioned as being a redeeming feature. This one...well, nothing was really considered redeeming. I couldn't help but feel a tiny glimmer of glee in my soul -- alright quite a large glimmer of glee. And, even though I absolutely knew I shouldn't, I couldn't help writing a quick little email --
"subject: congratulations
I was wondering how the show went. about the same it seems. congratulations.
m"
and so he writes back
"Subject: Re: congratulations
thanks for your support.
e"
so I write
"Subject: Re: congratulations
Only what you deserve after all the love and concern you've shown for me."
then him:
"Subject: Re: congratulations
Not quite sure how to have interpreted that congratulations, since the review wasn't exactly glowing... I have my initial reactions, but maybe I was looking too deep into that..
I found one of your spare car keys in my glove box. In addition, you've been getting mail here still. Something from a medical group...
I'd like to get my spare car key set back, along w/ my lens as well. How shall we work that out?"
The dumbass actually entertained the idea that I was congratulating him on his retarded show and that I would seriously tell him that he had love and concern for me. That was enough to hold me in amusement for a day or two, but then I had an itch I needed to scratch.
I love words. I love making up names for people. I use them to distance myself, to amuse myself, perhaps to feel superior, but always for the amusement and the feeling of coming up with a name so fitting.
For the longest time, the distancing factor has enacted itself in calling all my friends new significant other "your boy" or "your girl". They are not allowed names until it becomes quite clear that the relationship will be sticking around for awhile. I recently came up with one for my friend Miesha's new paramour who is not exactly being forthcoming -- he has a beard and is basque or french or something. BeardCheese is his name.
With my friend Synderella, I took it to a new height. At work, we came up with names for many of the kids who worked there with us. None were derogatory, they were all just funny -- there was "streets" for the british guy whose accent was just like the rapper. There was "school spirit" (and alternately "chatty cathy") for the guy who could just not resist coming up to everyone's desks and launching into endless conversations when really you were actually doing some work. There was "rico suave" for the guy who freelanced for awhile and had the habit of always wearing tucked in button-down shirts and kissing the cheek of everyone - yes everyone - in the entire department when he arrived in the morning and left at night.
So, with that in mind, and my need to depersonalize eric's bit on the side, I had been searching for a name. I tried several out -- there was fatty (until I heard she had gone on a crash diet and felt really really bad. I don't care about her physique, I just wanted to get at eric) and that girl and a couple of swear words. None of them seemed quite fitting and I was still searching. A paragraph from the review pointed the way for me.
"Hutter's "Clippings," a perky duet between her and Kevin Williamson proved the least distasteful, perhaps because it was only five minutes. Their push-pull, love-hate quest for dominance also made good use of the pair's Mutt-and-Jeff physicality."
I had never heard of Mutt and Jeff before so I looked it up.
Apparently it's an old cartoon. Now, I knew knew knew I should leave well enough alone, but man I am just not a good enough person. I wrote back to him. Let's just say I'm not going to repeat any of it, cause I shouldn't have said it in the first place. But it wasn't good. And the long and short of it is, the bfriend stealing, lying little b**** finally has a name.
Later, I also came up with a name for eric. As I was once again unfortunately letting my mind go over the past -- damn that wondering brain -- thinking about how great our relationship was at first and what an breathtakingly amazing jerk he was at the end, and then his name came to me -- it's an acronym. LSOS (pronounced L-Sauce). I'll give you a hint -- Lying Sack of ....
So yes. I'm a bad bad person who has found a way to get some not-so-secret glee out of a bad situation. Now I know how to refer to them without having any emotional investment -- LSOS and Mutt.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Update
So here I am. Three weeks into my new job. Four dates from match.com. Two random makeout sessions. One feeling of contentment at a new life taking shape.
I love my apartment. 18th and Valencia is what I imagined when I imagined my perfect idea of living in a city. I have more than 10 coffee shops in the immediate 6 block radius (and not a single starbucks or other chain). I have two restaurants below my apartment and many of the best ones in the city in walking distance. I can walk to seven bookstores. I have an amazing park 5 blocks away, and every morning and evening after work I walk Sake over there so she can romp off leash with the other dogs.
I've gotten into a routine -- I generally wake up slightly before 7 and look out the window directly across from my bed. If the sky is an intense blue with a little stain of orange, it's time for me to wake up. Not blue yet? Rollover and try to continue to sleep. Then it's up, get dressed in sweatshirt and old shoes that can get wet from the newly watered lawn. Sake and I head out and I stop at Faye's Video Store and Coffee Shop for the best latte in the world. Skim milk, splenda, large, double shot of espresso. MMmmmmmmmm. Then on to the park.
I drink my coffee and look at the skyline and the people practicing tai chi and settle into the day -- often I have to move my car about and race the parking ticket people to get it moved before street cleaning. Then it's back to the house, putter about, clean, pay bills, get dressed for work. And then my bike ride -- 20 minutes down mainly bike paths and I'm at work. Every so often I've ended up out late with coworkers and left my bike at work -- then I can take the J-Church train directly from the park to the front door of Current TV on 2nd and King with only one switch at Embarcadero.
It's amazing. This city is a lefty's wet dream. So far I've gotten a compost pail for the kitchen (the city does curbside compost pick up), I've joined the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition, The SF Tenant's Union, and San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. There are little organic grocery stores and bodegas everywhere. Probably the best grocery store I've ever gone to -- The Rainbow Co-op -- is right on my path to work.
This morning I finally put up curtains, hung my clock, and assembled one of the bookshelves. The storage cube arrived last weekend and my stuff is almost all put away. A large trip to bring things to the Community Thrift Store to donate unecessary items, the purchase of one tall, immense bookshelf and the arrival of my couch and I'll be ready to call it done.
I love my apartment. 18th and Valencia is what I imagined when I imagined my perfect idea of living in a city. I have more than 10 coffee shops in the immediate 6 block radius (and not a single starbucks or other chain). I have two restaurants below my apartment and many of the best ones in the city in walking distance. I can walk to seven bookstores. I have an amazing park 5 blocks away, and every morning and evening after work I walk Sake over there so she can romp off leash with the other dogs.
I've gotten into a routine -- I generally wake up slightly before 7 and look out the window directly across from my bed. If the sky is an intense blue with a little stain of orange, it's time for me to wake up. Not blue yet? Rollover and try to continue to sleep. Then it's up, get dressed in sweatshirt and old shoes that can get wet from the newly watered lawn. Sake and I head out and I stop at Faye's Video Store and Coffee Shop for the best latte in the world. Skim milk, splenda, large, double shot of espresso. MMmmmmmmmm. Then on to the park.
I drink my coffee and look at the skyline and the people practicing tai chi and settle into the day -- often I have to move my car about and race the parking ticket people to get it moved before street cleaning. Then it's back to the house, putter about, clean, pay bills, get dressed for work. And then my bike ride -- 20 minutes down mainly bike paths and I'm at work. Every so often I've ended up out late with coworkers and left my bike at work -- then I can take the J-Church train directly from the park to the front door of Current TV on 2nd and King with only one switch at Embarcadero.
It's amazing. This city is a lefty's wet dream. So far I've gotten a compost pail for the kitchen (the city does curbside compost pick up), I've joined the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition, The SF Tenant's Union, and San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. There are little organic grocery stores and bodegas everywhere. Probably the best grocery store I've ever gone to -- The Rainbow Co-op -- is right on my path to work.
This morning I finally put up curtains, hung my clock, and assembled one of the bookshelves. The storage cube arrived last weekend and my stuff is almost all put away. A large trip to bring things to the Community Thrift Store to donate unecessary items, the purchase of one tall, immense bookshelf and the arrival of my couch and I'll be ready to call it done.
Current
Current TV is by turns awesome and annoying. Such is the nature of work. They call it work and not play for a reason. The difference between here and any place in LA is I really want to make it work out. In LA, there were so many motion graphics companies, the grass was always greener on the other side and the fence was so easy to jump that I wanted to jump as often as possible. I really actually believe in Current TV and want to work to make the job something fulfilling rather than just get frustrated and go somewhere else and the first sign it's not quite the perfect thing. I think Current is a great company making a great thing.
Current TV is a station about news, politics and culture that is created by the viewers. There main content is pods -- 5 to 15 minute stories, interviews, news items that are created and sent in by anyone. They have reporters and producers and things that work for the station, as well as frequent outside collaborators, but most of the content is viewer created. People there are really passionate about what they do for the most part and everyone is really nice -- although I generally have felt that about everywhere I worked.
Probably the most awesome aspect in many ways is that this is the closest to a 9-5 job I've ever had. I get there at 9, and most days I can leave by 6pm. Some people in my department even leave at 5:30 sometimes! I've only stayed as late as 8:30 on a couple occasions. Wow. For someone who's used to 10 hour days as a standard (plus a 40 min commute by car) it's a change of life. That and having about and hour and 40 minutes of walking and biking built into my every day has made me a very happy person.
So I am the graphic designer for the promos department. I'm not directly in the graphic design department, but I sit with them and I hang out with them and work with them quite a bit. Technically, however, I'm in promos which is under the marketing department. I go to writer's meetings with these producer/editors and basically design and animate all the graphics that are used in on tv promotions -- everything form ads for new shows to end pages and coming soon screens. I think there will be opportunity for more big picture thinking where I am...possibilities. It's only been 3 weeks, and I am just feeling out my place. I think everyone is! The company has grown phenomenally in the last 2 years -- I think they've tripled their employees. They're an independently owned company that is going to have an IPO sometime in the next year.
Not ever day is bliss. I'm doing a lot less pure design work, and a lot more crap work -- swapping text and rendering out multiple versions, doing quick 2 hour jobs that I can't really do the best design work I'd like to do. But it's a good mix of things, and I know there will be opportunities to do more. Plus, I've been keeping up with some freelance board design jobs with Digital Kitchen and Roger after hours and on weekends. I could do more if I didn't want to actually have some time to relax here and there.
So yeah. There's the recap.
Current TV is a station about news, politics and culture that is created by the viewers. There main content is pods -- 5 to 15 minute stories, interviews, news items that are created and sent in by anyone. They have reporters and producers and things that work for the station, as well as frequent outside collaborators, but most of the content is viewer created. People there are really passionate about what they do for the most part and everyone is really nice -- although I generally have felt that about everywhere I worked.
Probably the most awesome aspect in many ways is that this is the closest to a 9-5 job I've ever had. I get there at 9, and most days I can leave by 6pm. Some people in my department even leave at 5:30 sometimes! I've only stayed as late as 8:30 on a couple occasions. Wow. For someone who's used to 10 hour days as a standard (plus a 40 min commute by car) it's a change of life. That and having about and hour and 40 minutes of walking and biking built into my every day has made me a very happy person.
So I am the graphic designer for the promos department. I'm not directly in the graphic design department, but I sit with them and I hang out with them and work with them quite a bit. Technically, however, I'm in promos which is under the marketing department. I go to writer's meetings with these producer/editors and basically design and animate all the graphics that are used in on tv promotions -- everything form ads for new shows to end pages and coming soon screens. I think there will be opportunity for more big picture thinking where I am...possibilities. It's only been 3 weeks, and I am just feeling out my place. I think everyone is! The company has grown phenomenally in the last 2 years -- I think they've tripled their employees. They're an independently owned company that is going to have an IPO sometime in the next year.
Not ever day is bliss. I'm doing a lot less pure design work, and a lot more crap work -- swapping text and rendering out multiple versions, doing quick 2 hour jobs that I can't really do the best design work I'd like to do. But it's a good mix of things, and I know there will be opportunities to do more. Plus, I've been keeping up with some freelance board design jobs with Digital Kitchen and Roger after hours and on weekends. I could do more if I didn't want to actually have some time to relax here and there.
So yeah. There's the recap.
women and art
With all the free and floating about time I've had recently, I've been able to see a number of exhibits and plays. The first was an exhibit at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in SF. "The Way That We Rhyme: Women, Art & Politics" made me ashamed of the idea of "women's" art. Ostensibly about politics and the changing role of feminism in female artist's life, I found most of the works to be mediocre at best. I have nothing against political art. I personally believe the best art is that which is charged with a political intent. Art without a message is masturbation. Message without craft, however, is not art.
In college, I started and for several years maintained a theatre company called -oh so originally-"The Women's Theatre Company". Grown out of a theatre class that encouraged the students to be very literal with names in proposals and business plans, I've seen a number of other similarly dull names emerge from USC.
Also, in addition to working in the computer labs all 4 years, senior year I had a paying position in the program board leading the Women's Student Assembly. My mom had me reading Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan in elementary school. Of course, being a voracious reader, I was also reading Stephen King, VC Andrews, everything of my brother's high school lit reading list, and anything else high or low I could get my hands on.
Gloria Steinem was the only author I personally met, however. My mom took me to a book reading of hers at an independent bookstore in St. Paul where she signed my 7th grade biographical book report. Later in college, I met her again when I organized a rally she appeared at. I took the feminist class for a requirement in college. I got the feminist street cred. And I really detest that the word feminist is a dirty word.
And yet, I do feel that my life is lived beyond the issues feminists fought for. I spent years as a flash programmer, never working with any other girls on the job doing what I did. I now work in motion graphics. Since I've crossed over from doing technical work to design work, there are many many more women. Although strangely, it has not been uncommon for me to be the only female in a given department even now.
I don't feel limited in the least by my gender. I feel free to pick and choose amongst whatever gender role identity is most helpful at the time. I am totally independent. I make a great living and do it on my terms. It's a great world for me -- but we got here because a lot of ladies made a lot of noise along the way.
So Women's Art. My theatre company was all about practicality and filling a need. There were usually 5-10% men in any given class/audition/situation while most plays had roles that went from 50/50 to 70/30 in men's favor. Think Shakespeare -- not exactly rife with juicy female roles. I was all about producing original and repertory work that had only female parts. It was a great experiment, getting close to a bunch of women. I'm usually more than comfortable in a room of men, so it challenged me and helped me grow, and I think it did that for all the girls that got involved. There's room for all kinds. I just wish that exhibits like the one at Yerba Buena didn't have to suck and make that seem like a bad idea.
Politically, it was awesome. There was an exhibit of letters that people wrote to the founder of what came to be NARAL. Boyfriends, young ladies in trouble, mothers. But it just wasn't surprising or attractive or thrilling -- think more photo montage on a locker wall.
So where do women fit in mainstream art? Selections from the permanent collection at the New York Museum of Modern Art provided a poignant counter example. There were many women represented in this particular exhibit, and they were all excellently crafted and conceptually strong - but so many of them seemed to be naked or sexually charged. On the one hand, great, I thought. Women's bodies have been used in art for millenia because they're good to look at. We like them! And as long as they're there, they might as well be owned and credited to the women who possess them. But can't we get beyond that? Does it all have to be identity and body issues? Isn't there more to say?
One particularly memorable piece has a naked woman with a hula hoop made of barbed wire in a video loop. It was difficult to look away. Filmed in front of the sea, a wave kept crashing in time to the hooping, and there was a ripple every time the hoop hit the skin and left a laceration. I had to look to see if the artist was the woman in the loop, and thank god it was. How exploitative if not.
This piece is just the variety I'm talking about:
example 1
While this one was the best counter example to what I am saying -- I thought it was beautiful, finally crafted, and it had political content that had nothing to do with sex or bodies:
example 2
Thank god the photography section of the museum had more to offer. Cindy Sherman is all fine and good, but we need for Dorthea Lange and Diane Arbus.
In college, I started and for several years maintained a theatre company called -oh so originally-"The Women's Theatre Company". Grown out of a theatre class that encouraged the students to be very literal with names in proposals and business plans, I've seen a number of other similarly dull names emerge from USC.
Also, in addition to working in the computer labs all 4 years, senior year I had a paying position in the program board leading the Women's Student Assembly. My mom had me reading Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan in elementary school. Of course, being a voracious reader, I was also reading Stephen King, VC Andrews, everything of my brother's high school lit reading list, and anything else high or low I could get my hands on.
Gloria Steinem was the only author I personally met, however. My mom took me to a book reading of hers at an independent bookstore in St. Paul where she signed my 7th grade biographical book report. Later in college, I met her again when I organized a rally she appeared at. I took the feminist class for a requirement in college. I got the feminist street cred. And I really detest that the word feminist is a dirty word.
And yet, I do feel that my life is lived beyond the issues feminists fought for. I spent years as a flash programmer, never working with any other girls on the job doing what I did. I now work in motion graphics. Since I've crossed over from doing technical work to design work, there are many many more women. Although strangely, it has not been uncommon for me to be the only female in a given department even now.
I don't feel limited in the least by my gender. I feel free to pick and choose amongst whatever gender role identity is most helpful at the time. I am totally independent. I make a great living and do it on my terms. It's a great world for me -- but we got here because a lot of ladies made a lot of noise along the way.
So Women's Art. My theatre company was all about practicality and filling a need. There were usually 5-10% men in any given class/audition/situation while most plays had roles that went from 50/50 to 70/30 in men's favor. Think Shakespeare -- not exactly rife with juicy female roles. I was all about producing original and repertory work that had only female parts. It was a great experiment, getting close to a bunch of women. I'm usually more than comfortable in a room of men, so it challenged me and helped me grow, and I think it did that for all the girls that got involved. There's room for all kinds. I just wish that exhibits like the one at Yerba Buena didn't have to suck and make that seem like a bad idea.
Politically, it was awesome. There was an exhibit of letters that people wrote to the founder of what came to be NARAL. Boyfriends, young ladies in trouble, mothers. But it just wasn't surprising or attractive or thrilling -- think more photo montage on a locker wall.
So where do women fit in mainstream art? Selections from the permanent collection at the New York Museum of Modern Art provided a poignant counter example. There were many women represented in this particular exhibit, and they were all excellently crafted and conceptually strong - but so many of them seemed to be naked or sexually charged. On the one hand, great, I thought. Women's bodies have been used in art for millenia because they're good to look at. We like them! And as long as they're there, they might as well be owned and credited to the women who possess them. But can't we get beyond that? Does it all have to be identity and body issues? Isn't there more to say?
One particularly memorable piece has a naked woman with a hula hoop made of barbed wire in a video loop. It was difficult to look away. Filmed in front of the sea, a wave kept crashing in time to the hooping, and there was a ripple every time the hoop hit the skin and left a laceration. I had to look to see if the artist was the woman in the loop, and thank god it was. How exploitative if not.
This piece is just the variety I'm talking about:
example 1
While this one was the best counter example to what I am saying -- I thought it was beautiful, finally crafted, and it had political content that had nothing to do with sex or bodies:
example 2
Thank god the photography section of the museum had more to offer. Cindy Sherman is all fine and good, but we need for Dorthea Lange and Diane Arbus.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
whirlwinding
I did not wake in time for my 7:15am flight.
I fell asleep at 2:30a after walking back to the mission from potrero and woke at 7:15a right as my flight left. luckily Virgin airlines is quite awesome with their policies -- they said if I got to the airport within 2 hours of the flight, I could go standby on the next flight. I checked in at 8:42 and got on the 9:05 flight to nyc. my luggage didn't make it with me, but it was not only understandable but a blessing in disguise. As I was two hours later than I anticipated, getting to jeff's concert that night was going to be a tight affair and carrying my backpack through the streets and subways sounded even more miserable than my already heavy load of laptop plus puppydog.
While waiting for the train at JFK airport, I saw a familiar face float by. Alfred is a guy who lived in colonial house with me during my freshman year of college. He's also a quite well known and awesome dj/musician who goes by Daedelus. We hadn't really caught up in years but the hour plus train ride into the city gave us time. Turns out the guy was flying in to play a show at the Knitting Factory that night and then flying back to LA immediately following the gig. That's insane to me, but admirable. He put me on the guestlist for +1 to his show that night and even more luckily I was able to use his iphone to find out where I was supposed to be for Jeff's show -- something I conveniently did not note in my haste to get out of town. It seems like faces from college keep popping up everywhere. I never really enjoyed USC while I was there, but I certainly have enjoyed the many awesome people I met there.
A quick above ground google maps check in lower manhattan, and I was back on the train to uptown where I arrived right at 8pm for the concert's start. Sake was her usual rock star self. We took a 6 block potty walk from 59th to 67th St and then she sat through the new music Columbia Composers concert, only popping out to wag when I took her out at the reception. The concert was amazing, but in that way where I felt it was amazing more for my exposure to something valuable and cultured than pure enjoyment for its own sake. The music was beautiful, but in starts and stops and an atmospheric sense. Jeff has designed and made his own instruments and they were being played in a piece he composed for the first time. I really enjoyed checking out where his music has gone. I could easily trace it back to the roots in the music he made on his Akai synthesizer way back when we dated in high school.
After I met up with Emmett and we headed back to his place. Unfortunately, he wasn't feeling very well so we didn't go to the Daedelus show that night. Hanging out and checking out the view from his rooftop was a good consolation.
The next day Jeff and I spent the day walking, talking, and eating -- three very enjoyable things! We met for brunch at Clinton St Baking Company where I made the mistake of ordering the overpriced subpar omelette instead of the pancakes and baked items that had people waiting 2 hours for a seat. We walked from the lower east side across the williamsburg bridge to Brooklyn, and then around the area checking out the hipsters for a couple hours before heading back to the lower east to pick up sake-dog and have some indian food for dinner. Damn, the lower east side is not the prettiest looking site from williamsburg waterfront. From our vantage point at a park created from a revamped industrial site, it was filled with brown brick high rise apartment buildings that look like they'd be more at home in eastern europe or russia with their uniform height taking up an insanely large swath of the horizon.
The next day presented more opportunities for this comparison to soviet style to be proved out. Oh, the mistakes of 70's architecture.
Emmett and I went back to the same place for breakfast, which I felt like I had to give a second chance to live up to the hype. The banana pancakes were indeed the most extraordinary thing I've ever tasted. I would recommend even the wait for those, and I anticipate repeating that breakfast at least once more before I leave. We then road bikes out to Coney Island, past more brick high rises darkened by exposure to sea salt and whatever else. Men who looked like they should have been working in a factory somewhere were playing handball under the shadows of these identical behemouths and I felt like I was in Poland more than anywhere else.
Coney Island half deserted on a monday afternoon, we found our way to a waterfront bar that had several patrons that looked like they had been there at coney island's heyday and never left. The beer selection didn't appeal to emmett, so we convinced the food vendor to open up the bar and had our vodka soda at 3pm while we picked out music on the juke box. A odd mix of 50s, early 90's and country music proved to be way too much fun, and we ended up chair dancing to milli vanilli, johnny cash, patsy cline, paula abdul, journey and poison, rushing to shove our dollarbills in the machine.
After having our fill, we road through what appeared to be a carribean immigrant neighborhood ("African food and stuffs" read one store sign) and emmett purchased a hat and gloves to protect from the cold sea breeze. We then headed down Brighton Beach Avenue to the "Little Russia by the Sea" and had russian food at a restaurant on the boardwalk called Tatiana. More vodka was had in keeping with the theme, as well as borsht and chicken kiev.
The train then took us back to manhattan where we rested up for a bit before meeting two different groups of people at two different bars. There was pool and pinball at the first bar, but as neither emmett nor I are particularly pool rockstars, the sleepy train started to hit us. Emmett was texted by his friend Seth on our walk home and tempted to continue the night. The second bar, Vasmay, is about 3 blocks from emmett's house. The bartender is this very cute blonde girl who has clearly figured out the recipe for packing the bar -- she is extremely liberal with the free drinks and very flirty. The bar was a sausage factory. There were maybe 2 other girls in the bar in the 4 hours we were there, and at least 15 fairly attractive guys attracted like bee to honey to this bartender. Very chill, punk music on the jukebox, and very friendly. The whole bar was chatting with eachother and 3am came before we knew it. Unfortunately, I hadn't been in the mood for drinking so I only had diet cokes at both bars, but for some reason, none of the bartenders (either our friendly lady bartender or the one at the first bar where we played pool) wanted me to pay for my diet cokes. A very good way for NYC to ingratiate itself to me.
New York never feels like america to me. Born and bred in the midwest, spending my adult years in the west, I think of america as wide open spaces and newness. The arch by the Brooklyn Art Museum and Prospect Park celebrating the returning veterans of the civil war looked like it belonged in Paris not the US, and the tall apartment blocks look far more eastern european than my conception of american. Things are so old, dense, and cultured.
I've never had a great impression of NYC before this trip. It's been fun, for sure, but trips in June and July when the weather is hot and sticky and the streets smell of urine and so many other pungeant smells while buildings are so tall they block out the sun and every bit of grass seems to be behind fences made me think it was far too intense for me to ever habitate. April is a great month. Somehow the 45 degree weather feels bracing and refreshing, and the trees all seem to be sprouting beautiful white flowers.
Lots of plans for the next couple days, and I might be doing some design work for two days this week which is good cause I need the money and Emmett will be motivated to do some of his own work. Luckily it's a flexible 2 days of work in 3 days time, so I'll still have plenty of time to do more touristing and hanging out -- On the schedule is an exhibit at MOMA, and awesome sounding exhibit at the Cooper-Hewitt Design museum, an interesting sounding small theatre show through the public theatre and possibly a broadway musical. It is new york, after all, and patti lupone is getting crazy raves for her role in Gypsy. That plus making dinner with friends on Friday at Jose's house and meeting David Estis, another LA transplant friend, for drinks on Wednesday night, and working, and the week will be over before I know what to do. What a brilliant trip.
New York, you win.
I fell asleep at 2:30a after walking back to the mission from potrero and woke at 7:15a right as my flight left. luckily Virgin airlines is quite awesome with their policies -- they said if I got to the airport within 2 hours of the flight, I could go standby on the next flight. I checked in at 8:42 and got on the 9:05 flight to nyc. my luggage didn't make it with me, but it was not only understandable but a blessing in disguise. As I was two hours later than I anticipated, getting to jeff's concert that night was going to be a tight affair and carrying my backpack through the streets and subways sounded even more miserable than my already heavy load of laptop plus puppydog.
While waiting for the train at JFK airport, I saw a familiar face float by. Alfred is a guy who lived in colonial house with me during my freshman year of college. He's also a quite well known and awesome dj/musician who goes by Daedelus. We hadn't really caught up in years but the hour plus train ride into the city gave us time. Turns out the guy was flying in to play a show at the Knitting Factory that night and then flying back to LA immediately following the gig. That's insane to me, but admirable. He put me on the guestlist for +1 to his show that night and even more luckily I was able to use his iphone to find out where I was supposed to be for Jeff's show -- something I conveniently did not note in my haste to get out of town. It seems like faces from college keep popping up everywhere. I never really enjoyed USC while I was there, but I certainly have enjoyed the many awesome people I met there.
A quick above ground google maps check in lower manhattan, and I was back on the train to uptown where I arrived right at 8pm for the concert's start. Sake was her usual rock star self. We took a 6 block potty walk from 59th to 67th St and then she sat through the new music Columbia Composers concert, only popping out to wag when I took her out at the reception. The concert was amazing, but in that way where I felt it was amazing more for my exposure to something valuable and cultured than pure enjoyment for its own sake. The music was beautiful, but in starts and stops and an atmospheric sense. Jeff has designed and made his own instruments and they were being played in a piece he composed for the first time. I really enjoyed checking out where his music has gone. I could easily trace it back to the roots in the music he made on his Akai synthesizer way back when we dated in high school.
After I met up with Emmett and we headed back to his place. Unfortunately, he wasn't feeling very well so we didn't go to the Daedelus show that night. Hanging out and checking out the view from his rooftop was a good consolation.
The next day Jeff and I spent the day walking, talking, and eating -- three very enjoyable things! We met for brunch at Clinton St Baking Company where I made the mistake of ordering the overpriced subpar omelette instead of the pancakes and baked items that had people waiting 2 hours for a seat. We walked from the lower east side across the williamsburg bridge to Brooklyn, and then around the area checking out the hipsters for a couple hours before heading back to the lower east to pick up sake-dog and have some indian food for dinner. Damn, the lower east side is not the prettiest looking site from williamsburg waterfront. From our vantage point at a park created from a revamped industrial site, it was filled with brown brick high rise apartment buildings that look like they'd be more at home in eastern europe or russia with their uniform height taking up an insanely large swath of the horizon.
The next day presented more opportunities for this comparison to soviet style to be proved out. Oh, the mistakes of 70's architecture.
Emmett and I went back to the same place for breakfast, which I felt like I had to give a second chance to live up to the hype. The banana pancakes were indeed the most extraordinary thing I've ever tasted. I would recommend even the wait for those, and I anticipate repeating that breakfast at least once more before I leave. We then road bikes out to Coney Island, past more brick high rises darkened by exposure to sea salt and whatever else. Men who looked like they should have been working in a factory somewhere were playing handball under the shadows of these identical behemouths and I felt like I was in Poland more than anywhere else.
Coney Island half deserted on a monday afternoon, we found our way to a waterfront bar that had several patrons that looked like they had been there at coney island's heyday and never left. The beer selection didn't appeal to emmett, so we convinced the food vendor to open up the bar and had our vodka soda at 3pm while we picked out music on the juke box. A odd mix of 50s, early 90's and country music proved to be way too much fun, and we ended up chair dancing to milli vanilli, johnny cash, patsy cline, paula abdul, journey and poison, rushing to shove our dollarbills in the machine.
After having our fill, we road through what appeared to be a carribean immigrant neighborhood ("African food and stuffs" read one store sign) and emmett purchased a hat and gloves to protect from the cold sea breeze. We then headed down Brighton Beach Avenue to the "Little Russia by the Sea" and had russian food at a restaurant on the boardwalk called Tatiana. More vodka was had in keeping with the theme, as well as borsht and chicken kiev.
The train then took us back to manhattan where we rested up for a bit before meeting two different groups of people at two different bars. There was pool and pinball at the first bar, but as neither emmett nor I are particularly pool rockstars, the sleepy train started to hit us. Emmett was texted by his friend Seth on our walk home and tempted to continue the night. The second bar, Vasmay, is about 3 blocks from emmett's house. The bartender is this very cute blonde girl who has clearly figured out the recipe for packing the bar -- she is extremely liberal with the free drinks and very flirty. The bar was a sausage factory. There were maybe 2 other girls in the bar in the 4 hours we were there, and at least 15 fairly attractive guys attracted like bee to honey to this bartender. Very chill, punk music on the jukebox, and very friendly. The whole bar was chatting with eachother and 3am came before we knew it. Unfortunately, I hadn't been in the mood for drinking so I only had diet cokes at both bars, but for some reason, none of the bartenders (either our friendly lady bartender or the one at the first bar where we played pool) wanted me to pay for my diet cokes. A very good way for NYC to ingratiate itself to me.
New York never feels like america to me. Born and bred in the midwest, spending my adult years in the west, I think of america as wide open spaces and newness. The arch by the Brooklyn Art Museum and Prospect Park celebrating the returning veterans of the civil war looked like it belonged in Paris not the US, and the tall apartment blocks look far more eastern european than my conception of american. Things are so old, dense, and cultured.
I've never had a great impression of NYC before this trip. It's been fun, for sure, but trips in June and July when the weather is hot and sticky and the streets smell of urine and so many other pungeant smells while buildings are so tall they block out the sun and every bit of grass seems to be behind fences made me think it was far too intense for me to ever habitate. April is a great month. Somehow the 45 degree weather feels bracing and refreshing, and the trees all seem to be sprouting beautiful white flowers.
Lots of plans for the next couple days, and I might be doing some design work for two days this week which is good cause I need the money and Emmett will be motivated to do some of his own work. Luckily it's a flexible 2 days of work in 3 days time, so I'll still have plenty of time to do more touristing and hanging out -- On the schedule is an exhibit at MOMA, and awesome sounding exhibit at the Cooper-Hewitt Design museum, an interesting sounding small theatre show through the public theatre and possibly a broadway musical. It is new york, after all, and patti lupone is getting crazy raves for her role in Gypsy. That plus making dinner with friends on Friday at Jose's house and meeting David Estis, another LA transplant friend, for drinks on Wednesday night, and working, and the week will be over before I know what to do. What a brilliant trip.
New York, you win.
Friday, April 4, 2008
The Up and Up
Sake and I are laying on my new bed in my new apartment. I finally bought my first mattress - I've never actually owned my own bed in my adult life. I love love love the apartment. It is a one bedroom with hard wood floors and new fixtures and counters, and two huge closets. It is on the third floor, facing a busyish but fun street. I will try to post pictures soon. There are innumerable coffee shops, boutique stores and restaurants in walking distance + Luna Park, and soon an Indian food restaurant, is downstairs! There is also a great dog park 3-4 blocks away (Dolores!). I just ordered a couch that is eminently sleepable so the living room (with it's own door) will soon be ready for house guests!
Current TV came through! They, like Apple, offered me a 3 month contract. Apparently he was having trouble putting through a salary request that was 15% higher than what other people in the department were making, so he offered me freelance and said we could convert it to salary later. This is financially a much better situation for me. I can't imagine it working out more perfectly. I have my dream job, working for a company with a larger agenda than just advertising product, I have my perfect apartment in a location that is just what I imagined when I imagined living in San Francisco, and I get to bike to work.
Socially, SF is continuing to be a blast. On Monday I had a quick impromptu wine and cheese housewarming with Ziah, Michael and Lorelei. Tuesday I went to Zeitgiest with a match.com date. Wednesday, Miesha hosted a dinner at her place with friends old and new. Thursday, I had Brad and Jess over for the first home cooked meal in my new place. Tonight it is Adam L's birthday, and Susan is hosting a combo birthday party/BSG viewing party at her place, after which I hope to go out to a club a couple blocks from my house, recommended by Shayna, to get my dance on. Then tomorrow I head out to NYC to hang out with Emmett and Jeff and Mabel before I start work the following Monday. Wheeeeeee!
Current TV came through! They, like Apple, offered me a 3 month contract. Apparently he was having trouble putting through a salary request that was 15% higher than what other people in the department were making, so he offered me freelance and said we could convert it to salary later. This is financially a much better situation for me. I can't imagine it working out more perfectly. I have my dream job, working for a company with a larger agenda than just advertising product, I have my perfect apartment in a location that is just what I imagined when I imagined living in San Francisco, and I get to bike to work.
Socially, SF is continuing to be a blast. On Monday I had a quick impromptu wine and cheese housewarming with Ziah, Michael and Lorelei. Tuesday I went to Zeitgiest with a match.com date. Wednesday, Miesha hosted a dinner at her place with friends old and new. Thursday, I had Brad and Jess over for the first home cooked meal in my new place. Tonight it is Adam L's birthday, and Susan is hosting a combo birthday party/BSG viewing party at her place, after which I hope to go out to a club a couple blocks from my house, recommended by Shayna, to get my dance on. Then tomorrow I head out to NYC to hang out with Emmett and Jeff and Mabel before I start work the following Monday. Wheeeeeee!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Success
I live somewhere! My new address is 686 Valencia #2, San Francisco, CA 94110. Things are looking up.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Ups n Downs
Here's the score.
Job prospects - 1 up. Apple came through, but Current is still dragging their feet on a higher offer. Importantly, I do have a job. I would be starting April 14 at Apple as a designer in their motion graphics department.
Apartment prospects - 1 down. I made the mistake of trying to be upfont and honest about sake dog with the landlord. Despite an ambiguous policy and no mention of dogs in the ad, he said no, no way, not ever, it's against policy. Seeing as he is the owner of the building, I think "policy" is a pretty week thing to stand behind. He is the policy. Nonetheless, he has my 2500 dollars. It's been 4 days now, and he says he won't give it back unless he rents the place by April 1. Keep you fingers crossed on this one.
So once again homeless, I got back on the horse and applied for 2 more apartments. I'm supposed to hear monday, so I am again reliant on the good graces of my dear friend Michael. He was headed for Tahoe the first couple days I arrived back, and once again gave me the keys to his castle. Last night he returned to the city, but stayed with his girlfriend so I could remain here. Thank god for Michael. Although he was the one who suggested coming clean with the landlord, so maybe advice isn't his forte but being a savior definitely is.
Dealing with Eric - 1 down then maybe 1 up. I found out that the affair actually started in October, while I was in South America. This brings the grand total of months of cheating and lying up to 5. My sense of stupidity and betrayal rose, but my sense of finality and understanding were also enhanced. Hard to believe that he would continue lying in an essay about integrity. There's no end to his bullshit apparently.
Last night at Zeitgiest, I met up with Donham and Tollef, and I actually hung out with someone that I knew at USC. We reconnected over Facebook, and it turns out that Scott Rose is living in SF too. Our most primary memories of each other are freshman year, when we were both so hung up on our high school gfriend/bfriend that had been left behind. We commiserated often, had wine on his birthday, went to a punk show in hollywood together...and then kinda lost touch through the college years, only occasionally resurfacing in each other's lives. It was good to see him. It's good to have a connection with ones past.
The story of how I ended up in the city came up, and I was all "you might know the girl who was fucking my boyfriend!" Turns out he did know Kate at USC. The USC school of theater world is small. Scott was surprised it was her. And then he said - 5 months? You knew, didn't you? How could you not know?
How could I not know? Luckily, Donham was there to back me up. As a neighbor, friend, coworker, and commuting buddy of Eric's, he had no idea either. No one did. Not Eric's sister who was in the same dance company as Kate and Eric. Not a single one of our friends, many of whom had had conversations with eric about his life and how he was feeling about things. He buried that one deep. And he had a million alibis. That's jeckyl and hyde for sure.
So a lot has happened, and a lot has stayed exactly the same somehow. Still no job or apartment, only possibilities, but San Francisco feels like my city. Whether its riding my bike around town, going to Zeitgiest - the best bar in the entire world with its outdoor picnic tables, or watching a crazy bicycle race set up in the basement of a sports store, where people faced off on track bikes set on stationary pedastals and had their times projected behind them while an audience cheered and drank PBRs.
Going back through LA was a relief. The house no longer felt like mine. I got the last of my stuff out and was happy to turn over my keys. I just wanted to be disconnected from that house of so many painful moments. Seeing it redecorated with eric's stuff, and removing my plants (almost dead and some unrecoverable) felt GREAT. I ran into Eric's younger sister Nichol there. She was coming out to meet Eric that night and arrived early. I am going to miss her a lot. After 4 years, she had become like my little sister, and she is a strong and wonderful lady. She helped me fill in some of the blanks about what had been going on. Apparently within the dance company, no one knew of the whole extent of the affair, but two people suspected that something had at least happened on an off night between Eric and Kate.
I stayed in Eileen and Bj's lovely guestroom (now it can actually be termed that with a bed and all) and enjoyed waking up for coffee with them in their backyard each morning. I had dinner with Kris, Rachel, Eileen and Bj the first night, at El Cholo. That place had been a college fav, but eric never really liked it, so I hadn't been there in years. Their veggie fajitas are still unbeatable. Tuesday was lunch with Suelyn, and dinner and drinks with the Castlefortes, E and B, and Synderella on the upstairs patio at Red Lion. Late into the night, Eileen, Synderella and I hung out and had Gingergrass' thai coffee and talked. I will miss them.
Onward and upward. LA was a success. I ran a billion errands, picked up files from Framework, started my year's IRA at the USC federal credit union, bought sake's favorite dogfood. A last meeting with Eric the morning I left went fine. The recruiter at Apple called and said they wanted to meet with me again. And then we loaded up and left.
Taking the 101 up, Donham and I saw new scenery and stopped for most of the day in Santa Barbara. We went off looking for hotsprings, but just found a really pretty hike, and enjoyed looking at the pretty people of SB. Camping turned into sleeping at the Motel 6 in Atascadero - the same city my car was stuck in when the clutch went out on the 1 years and years back.
And life goes on.
Job prospects - 1 up. Apple came through, but Current is still dragging their feet on a higher offer. Importantly, I do have a job. I would be starting April 14 at Apple as a designer in their motion graphics department.
Apartment prospects - 1 down. I made the mistake of trying to be upfont and honest about sake dog with the landlord. Despite an ambiguous policy and no mention of dogs in the ad, he said no, no way, not ever, it's against policy. Seeing as he is the owner of the building, I think "policy" is a pretty week thing to stand behind. He is the policy. Nonetheless, he has my 2500 dollars. It's been 4 days now, and he says he won't give it back unless he rents the place by April 1. Keep you fingers crossed on this one.
So once again homeless, I got back on the horse and applied for 2 more apartments. I'm supposed to hear monday, so I am again reliant on the good graces of my dear friend Michael. He was headed for Tahoe the first couple days I arrived back, and once again gave me the keys to his castle. Last night he returned to the city, but stayed with his girlfriend so I could remain here. Thank god for Michael. Although he was the one who suggested coming clean with the landlord, so maybe advice isn't his forte but being a savior definitely is.
Dealing with Eric - 1 down then maybe 1 up. I found out that the affair actually started in October, while I was in South America. This brings the grand total of months of cheating and lying up to 5. My sense of stupidity and betrayal rose, but my sense of finality and understanding were also enhanced. Hard to believe that he would continue lying in an essay about integrity. There's no end to his bullshit apparently.
Last night at Zeitgiest, I met up with Donham and Tollef, and I actually hung out with someone that I knew at USC. We reconnected over Facebook, and it turns out that Scott Rose is living in SF too. Our most primary memories of each other are freshman year, when we were both so hung up on our high school gfriend/bfriend that had been left behind. We commiserated often, had wine on his birthday, went to a punk show in hollywood together...and then kinda lost touch through the college years, only occasionally resurfacing in each other's lives. It was good to see him. It's good to have a connection with ones past.
The story of how I ended up in the city came up, and I was all "you might know the girl who was fucking my boyfriend!" Turns out he did know Kate at USC. The USC school of theater world is small. Scott was surprised it was her. And then he said - 5 months? You knew, didn't you? How could you not know?
How could I not know? Luckily, Donham was there to back me up. As a neighbor, friend, coworker, and commuting buddy of Eric's, he had no idea either. No one did. Not Eric's sister who was in the same dance company as Kate and Eric. Not a single one of our friends, many of whom had had conversations with eric about his life and how he was feeling about things. He buried that one deep. And he had a million alibis. That's jeckyl and hyde for sure.
So a lot has happened, and a lot has stayed exactly the same somehow. Still no job or apartment, only possibilities, but San Francisco feels like my city. Whether its riding my bike around town, going to Zeitgiest - the best bar in the entire world with its outdoor picnic tables, or watching a crazy bicycle race set up in the basement of a sports store, where people faced off on track bikes set on stationary pedastals and had their times projected behind them while an audience cheered and drank PBRs.
Going back through LA was a relief. The house no longer felt like mine. I got the last of my stuff out and was happy to turn over my keys. I just wanted to be disconnected from that house of so many painful moments. Seeing it redecorated with eric's stuff, and removing my plants (almost dead and some unrecoverable) felt GREAT. I ran into Eric's younger sister Nichol there. She was coming out to meet Eric that night and arrived early. I am going to miss her a lot. After 4 years, she had become like my little sister, and she is a strong and wonderful lady. She helped me fill in some of the blanks about what had been going on. Apparently within the dance company, no one knew of the whole extent of the affair, but two people suspected that something had at least happened on an off night between Eric and Kate.
I stayed in Eileen and Bj's lovely guestroom (now it can actually be termed that with a bed and all) and enjoyed waking up for coffee with them in their backyard each morning. I had dinner with Kris, Rachel, Eileen and Bj the first night, at El Cholo. That place had been a college fav, but eric never really liked it, so I hadn't been there in years. Their veggie fajitas are still unbeatable. Tuesday was lunch with Suelyn, and dinner and drinks with the Castlefortes, E and B, and Synderella on the upstairs patio at Red Lion. Late into the night, Eileen, Synderella and I hung out and had Gingergrass' thai coffee and talked. I will miss them.
Onward and upward. LA was a success. I ran a billion errands, picked up files from Framework, started my year's IRA at the USC federal credit union, bought sake's favorite dogfood. A last meeting with Eric the morning I left went fine. The recruiter at Apple called and said they wanted to meet with me again. And then we loaded up and left.
Taking the 101 up, Donham and I saw new scenery and stopped for most of the day in Santa Barbara. We went off looking for hotsprings, but just found a really pretty hike, and enjoyed looking at the pretty people of SB. Camping turned into sleeping at the Motel 6 in Atascadero - the same city my car was stuck in when the clutch went out on the 1 years and years back.
And life goes on.
Friday, March 21, 2008
failure
I feel like such a failure right now. I'm not sure if i can make san francisco work. I'm not sure if it's the right thing. And the broken relationship is really getting me down. My life wasn't supposed to be at this place. My mental plan, developed early in my 20's, had marriage set at around 27, kids at around 30. Guess I blew that out of the water. My mom had a valentine's day card from my dad. I saw something sitting on her desk and commented -- oh, that's pretty, what is it? and opened it up. "your dad finally started signing his cards after all these years." she says. There it was, signed, with no other written fanfare, but the printed message was "You will always be my friend. You will always be my love." That damn hallmark imprint has been running through my head for days now. That's what I want. I want that partnership. That 30 + years and still appreciating eachother. How could I have been so wrong? I feel like my powers of perception are myopic.
I think I messed up the apple interview. I was so concerned with presenting my design work, that I neglected to see that he was trying to evaluate my leadership abilities. I was ready with work examples that never were displayed. I felt like it was weird that they were so overwhelmingly positive about my work, and was blinded by the fact that I had been working on the apple account at logan for so long, and ambivalent about whether I was interested in the job at all.
All the ambivalency about everything. I don't know whether I want to stay or go, or where I belong or what I should be doing. Lost, really. I threw myself into everything so fast, and now I am paused -- and confused. Current offered me less money than I was expecting (basically the same I made this year while working only 9 months of the year), and now it's in negotiations and reference checking. So I'm up in the air. And here I have committed to an apartment that rents for twice the amount I've ever paid before. I'm nervous to say the least. It seemed like everything was going right and leading me to SF, and now that I'm gone, I wonder if I should even go back. Lost. Truly lost and directionless. I keep thinking I have to set some boundaries for myself, get myself committed to some things so at least I won't be so up in the air. Everytime I commit, I second guess.
How will I afford to live in SF? Is this a good idea? My work set up in LA is rather ideal. It's no wonder so many motion graphics people say they'd love to live in SF but they couldn't make it work. I guess I can make it work for a year - but my rent...it would be so much easier to coast in minneapolis or portland. I don't really want to coast right now. I am ready to throw myself into my work. I can't get discouraged. My skills run deep, there are many media jobs I can do. But I really liked the one I was doing - designing boards is kind of the best job I can imagine. But the lifestyle in SF is really what I want - a car free life, hanging out with friends in the park, walking and biking everywhere. Work to live, live to work?
My mom commented rightly that to go back to LA would only be unhealthy. I disliked the place for so long and now I have even more reason to do so. I know she's right, but I wish I could hide, or duck, or go to a home that no longer exists.
I think I messed up the apple interview. I was so concerned with presenting my design work, that I neglected to see that he was trying to evaluate my leadership abilities. I was ready with work examples that never were displayed. I felt like it was weird that they were so overwhelmingly positive about my work, and was blinded by the fact that I had been working on the apple account at logan for so long, and ambivalent about whether I was interested in the job at all.
All the ambivalency about everything. I don't know whether I want to stay or go, or where I belong or what I should be doing. Lost, really. I threw myself into everything so fast, and now I am paused -- and confused. Current offered me less money than I was expecting (basically the same I made this year while working only 9 months of the year), and now it's in negotiations and reference checking. So I'm up in the air. And here I have committed to an apartment that rents for twice the amount I've ever paid before. I'm nervous to say the least. It seemed like everything was going right and leading me to SF, and now that I'm gone, I wonder if I should even go back. Lost. Truly lost and directionless. I keep thinking I have to set some boundaries for myself, get myself committed to some things so at least I won't be so up in the air. Everytime I commit, I second guess.
How will I afford to live in SF? Is this a good idea? My work set up in LA is rather ideal. It's no wonder so many motion graphics people say they'd love to live in SF but they couldn't make it work. I guess I can make it work for a year - but my rent...it would be so much easier to coast in minneapolis or portland. I don't really want to coast right now. I am ready to throw myself into my work. I can't get discouraged. My skills run deep, there are many media jobs I can do. But I really liked the one I was doing - designing boards is kind of the best job I can imagine. But the lifestyle in SF is really what I want - a car free life, hanging out with friends in the park, walking and biking everywhere. Work to live, live to work?
My mom commented rightly that to go back to LA would only be unhealthy. I disliked the place for so long and now I have even more reason to do so. I know she's right, but I wish I could hide, or duck, or go to a home that no longer exists.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
the everyday
Sitting here on my nice king size bed with Sake napping at my feet. Freshly showered and just relaxing. Apple put me up for 3 nights in a fancyish hotel on 4th and Market in downtown San Francisco (that allows pets!), and it's just what the doctor ordered. After a long week of apartment searching and interviewing, and hanging out with sooo many friends, I'm ready to be all happy and nappy in a real bed.
Yesterday, I looked at 12 apartments. No exageration. Of those 12, I turned in applications for 2. Of those 2? I'll let you know tomorrow. One of them is amazing, but expensive, right in Hayes Valley next to the green. It's a one bedroom, so if I get it I'll be all set for visitors. The other is in between Alamo Square and Divisidero. Also nice, right on the other side of the park from Michael, a studio for a couple hundred less per month. There both very cute victorian style buildings (edwardian? I don't know. cute sf style) with only 6- 8 units in each. I haven't been liking the apartments in huge buildings with creepy musty halls. Zipping from apartment showing to apartment showing on my bike made me love this city even more. I'll be happy with either of these. Hopefully one will come through.
Turns out people watch a lot of Lost in this city. Thursday night I went to dinner/viewing party at Michael's house with Miesha and Graham. Friday night I went to dinner/viewing part at Skot and Ria's with a bunch of folk. I had never watched a single episode prior to moving here, and now I've see 4, with 3 different groups of people. I have to say I like seeing the people and cooking the food better than watching the show, but I especially like being able to walk home after it's done. So much cooler than visiting in Los Angeles.
Tuesday I took a bus out to Tahoe and went snowboarding for the day. It was fun to get out on the slopes, but it was underwhelming for a first trip to Tahoe. I think I'm going back with Miesha and Michael in a week or so if I don't go to NYC, so with any luck there will be a bit of powder.
Last night it was dinner and drinks at Farmer Brown in the Tenderloin neighborhood. There's enough crazy people and pee on the streets to make me feel like I'm back in skid row of downtown LA! We took an inadvertent tour when Ziah couldn't remember which block she parked her car on. The restau was good though. Soul food and overpriced drinks. Seafood Jambalaya for me and fried chicken and rhubarb pie for Michael and Ziah. Then on to meet Brad and Jess for some dancing at Butter in the Mission. Like the white people we are, we got a little tipsy and sang along to 80's music while watching weird kung fu movies projected on the wall and dancing as silly as we could. As we were finally leaving at 1am or so, I ran into Alex and his girlfriend on the street, and they got me on the list to go into PopRoxx, a club where Tollef was DJ-ing at. A taxi back to my hotel and I was asleep by 4am. And Sake came with the whole night. She's a little trooper.
Today was brunch with Lindsay, then an afternoon spent once again strolling around and hanging out at Dolores Park. Dolores Park is so the scene! On a nice weekend afternoon, the grass is covered with groups of people picnicing, drinking, people watching, playing with dogs, playing instruments, and generally relaxing. And everyone goes there. As Lindsay and I strolled in that direction, we got a text from Alex saying he was heading there, and when I texted Ziah, she had just arrived, totally separate from us. I love it. It's better than Perkin's in high school.
Tomorrow, I have an interview with Apple at 10am, a second interview with Current TV at 4pm, and I might be signing a lease in between. Then Tuesday I fly to Tucson to see my parents, and, depending on when my lease starts, I might be flying from Tucson straight to New York to hang out with Emmett and Jeff for awhile. Whew. It's no wonder the weeks are passing like days! Life is getting a little less dramatic, but a lot more fun.
Yesterday, I looked at 12 apartments. No exageration. Of those 12, I turned in applications for 2. Of those 2? I'll let you know tomorrow. One of them is amazing, but expensive, right in Hayes Valley next to the green. It's a one bedroom, so if I get it I'll be all set for visitors. The other is in between Alamo Square and Divisidero. Also nice, right on the other side of the park from Michael, a studio for a couple hundred less per month. There both very cute victorian style buildings (edwardian? I don't know. cute sf style) with only 6- 8 units in each. I haven't been liking the apartments in huge buildings with creepy musty halls. Zipping from apartment showing to apartment showing on my bike made me love this city even more. I'll be happy with either of these. Hopefully one will come through.
Turns out people watch a lot of Lost in this city. Thursday night I went to dinner/viewing party at Michael's house with Miesha and Graham. Friday night I went to dinner/viewing part at Skot and Ria's with a bunch of folk. I had never watched a single episode prior to moving here, and now I've see 4, with 3 different groups of people. I have to say I like seeing the people and cooking the food better than watching the show, but I especially like being able to walk home after it's done. So much cooler than visiting in Los Angeles.
Tuesday I took a bus out to Tahoe and went snowboarding for the day. It was fun to get out on the slopes, but it was underwhelming for a first trip to Tahoe. I think I'm going back with Miesha and Michael in a week or so if I don't go to NYC, so with any luck there will be a bit of powder.
Last night it was dinner and drinks at Farmer Brown in the Tenderloin neighborhood. There's enough crazy people and pee on the streets to make me feel like I'm back in skid row of downtown LA! We took an inadvertent tour when Ziah couldn't remember which block she parked her car on. The restau was good though. Soul food and overpriced drinks. Seafood Jambalaya for me and fried chicken and rhubarb pie for Michael and Ziah. Then on to meet Brad and Jess for some dancing at Butter in the Mission. Like the white people we are, we got a little tipsy and sang along to 80's music while watching weird kung fu movies projected on the wall and dancing as silly as we could. As we were finally leaving at 1am or so, I ran into Alex and his girlfriend on the street, and they got me on the list to go into PopRoxx, a club where Tollef was DJ-ing at. A taxi back to my hotel and I was asleep by 4am. And Sake came with the whole night. She's a little trooper.
Today was brunch with Lindsay, then an afternoon spent once again strolling around and hanging out at Dolores Park. Dolores Park is so the scene! On a nice weekend afternoon, the grass is covered with groups of people picnicing, drinking, people watching, playing with dogs, playing instruments, and generally relaxing. And everyone goes there. As Lindsay and I strolled in that direction, we got a text from Alex saying he was heading there, and when I texted Ziah, she had just arrived, totally separate from us. I love it. It's better than Perkin's in high school.
Tomorrow, I have an interview with Apple at 10am, a second interview with Current TV at 4pm, and I might be signing a lease in between. Then Tuesday I fly to Tucson to see my parents, and, depending on when my lease starts, I might be flying from Tucson straight to New York to hang out with Emmett and Jeff for awhile. Whew. It's no wonder the weeks are passing like days! Life is getting a little less dramatic, but a lot more fun.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
home
On Saturday night, out with Brad and Jess's friends, I felt so very comfortable. Turns out neuroscientists are really nice people. Without the aid of more than a single glass of wine (but with the help of my very cute puppy to break the ice), I easily past 6 hours at a party where I had arrived knowing only 2 people. Most of them were married couples, but there was one cute boy who I hear is unattached, and all were engaging and friendly. Brad, Jess, and I went out for Turkish food in Berkeley beforehand and had some misadventures trying to get a taxi/bus/ride home before I crashed on their pullout couch when we arrived back at 4am.
Early the next day it was off to have breakfast with Susie and her parents. I don't believe I had visited with them since Susie and I took our road trip up the coast to Seattle from LA back in 1999. Almost 10 years ago! They're really great people. Driving down to her parent's house in Morgan Hills south of San Jose, I saw a sign that said "Los Angeles 387 miles" and I got uncomfortable that I was heading in that direction. 387 miles suddenly seemed a little too close. I don't think I'm ever going to go back to that town. Probably for visits, but NEVER to live. I'm done with it. Finally.
Here, however...I got off the freeway when I passed the Stanford campus. The green rolling hills and knotty oak trees are captivating, and there was lots of bike and hiking paths and nature areas. Sake and I walked around for a bit before heading up to the city.
The tentative plan for the last couple days has been stick around the city for the next couple weeks, then spend April road tripping/in Minneapolis before coming back to SF to either sublet Ziah's apartment or another place on May 1. Now I'm suddenly just wanting to get life started here.
Outside in nature, or walking around the city streets past endless ridiculously cute buildings and little shops, I think - this could really be my home.
Early the next day it was off to have breakfast with Susie and her parents. I don't believe I had visited with them since Susie and I took our road trip up the coast to Seattle from LA back in 1999. Almost 10 years ago! They're really great people. Driving down to her parent's house in Morgan Hills south of San Jose, I saw a sign that said "Los Angeles 387 miles" and I got uncomfortable that I was heading in that direction. 387 miles suddenly seemed a little too close. I don't think I'm ever going to go back to that town. Probably for visits, but NEVER to live. I'm done with it. Finally.
Here, however...I got off the freeway when I passed the Stanford campus. The green rolling hills and knotty oak trees are captivating, and there was lots of bike and hiking paths and nature areas. Sake and I walked around for a bit before heading up to the city.
The tentative plan for the last couple days has been stick around the city for the next couple weeks, then spend April road tripping/in Minneapolis before coming back to SF to either sublet Ziah's apartment or another place on May 1. Now I'm suddenly just wanting to get life started here.
Outside in nature, or walking around the city streets past endless ridiculously cute buildings and little shops, I think - this could really be my home.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
on the outside
Thursday night was my first time going to a bar as a single person. The very second I walked in, I locked eyes with some guy. He continued to stare. I looked away and looked back and he was still looking. I was freaked out. I ducked my head and hurried to the bar to buy Ziah and my drink. Thinking about it, I decided he was cute, but we settled at a table back in the corner with a huge group of people and he was totally obstructed. If I had been on my game, I would have gone back into eyesight...
After a few drinks, I started to think that one of her friends was kinda cute. Really not my type, but tangentally I guess. He's a half jew, which goes with the previous 2 for 2 guys in my past. Short hair, a little talky, works at Pixar, blue eyes. He said "You're charming, you know?" and I got a little taken in. Alas, he had to leave with his ride before we did, and actually I'm grateful.
I only went into the bathroom twice to almost break into tears. RIDICULOUS! What in the world is wrong with me. I'm ashamed that I would do that. I just started thinking about how I just wanted to have someone to go home to. I didn't really want the thrill of the chase or the unknown or any surprises. I just want someone to come home to at the end of the night that I like how they smell and I know how they are and they know how I am. I was really excited going into it. It's kinda fun to put yourself on display and wait for reactions - but I just don't know how to deal. Cute boys are too intimidatingly cute, not cute boys are too not cute. And I kind of feel like I need a disclaimer or a warning label on my head "I'm sort of damaged by things right now and all I can really think about is how my ex screwed me over and how almost anybody could be a lying cheat." Hi, here's my baggage. Nice to meet you, too.
And it hits me how ironic it is that Eric said he was so excited about being single - relying on himself, doing his own things - while I was so adamant that I'd just want to move on cause I don't like being alone. And somehow the situations are reversed. There is an aspect of being single that I like A LOT. I feel like the strings have been cut. There's no magnetic weight pulling me toward a home base. My base is all the people I know and all the situations that might seem interesting. The world is SO WIDE OPEN. And I keep getting more and more freelance job offers and interviews. A little too much. But it makes me feel independent and strong.
After a few drinks, I started to think that one of her friends was kinda cute. Really not my type, but tangentally I guess. He's a half jew, which goes with the previous 2 for 2 guys in my past. Short hair, a little talky, works at Pixar, blue eyes. He said "You're charming, you know?" and I got a little taken in. Alas, he had to leave with his ride before we did, and actually I'm grateful.
I only went into the bathroom twice to almost break into tears. RIDICULOUS! What in the world is wrong with me. I'm ashamed that I would do that. I just started thinking about how I just wanted to have someone to go home to. I didn't really want the thrill of the chase or the unknown or any surprises. I just want someone to come home to at the end of the night that I like how they smell and I know how they are and they know how I am. I was really excited going into it. It's kinda fun to put yourself on display and wait for reactions - but I just don't know how to deal. Cute boys are too intimidatingly cute, not cute boys are too not cute. And I kind of feel like I need a disclaimer or a warning label on my head "I'm sort of damaged by things right now and all I can really think about is how my ex screwed me over and how almost anybody could be a lying cheat." Hi, here's my baggage. Nice to meet you, too.
And it hits me how ironic it is that Eric said he was so excited about being single - relying on himself, doing his own things - while I was so adamant that I'd just want to move on cause I don't like being alone. And somehow the situations are reversed. There is an aspect of being single that I like A LOT. I feel like the strings have been cut. There's no magnetic weight pulling me toward a home base. My base is all the people I know and all the situations that might seem interesting. The world is SO WIDE OPEN. And I keep getting more and more freelance job offers and interviews. A little too much. But it makes me feel independent and strong.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
changing
When you spend 4 years with someone, it's more than just ending a relationship, it's ending your conception of how your life is and will be. 4 years and then those 2 shitty months. That's longer than I spent in college. In fact, that's longer than I have done anything in my life except perhaps go to elementary school. I honestly looked at Eric's mom and thought she would be the grandmother of my children. I saw my future in his eyes, for better and or worse. But now I can look ahead and see how much better my life is getting already. No more compromise.
The first change is getting out of LA, most likely for good. The most fundamental change is not always waiting on Eric. He was gone so much, and my evenings and weekends were always left up in the air because I wanted to make sure that there was no possibility I might see him before I scheduled anything else. Now my schedule is mine. It's a good experiment to see how you would live your life if there were no limitations.
Brilliant and eloquent Claudette, writing from the Peace Corps in the Dominican Republic, had sage advice and recollections about her own life that sound eerily familiar.
"what's especially cruel about a relationship with cheating is that the cheating is icing on the cake, so if you have cheating for icing, you know what that cake tastes like... sand, rocks, some ca-ca. i was mad about so many other things and the cheating was like this salt in the wound insult over injury."
"i don't think you should look back and try and pick out if there were signs you should have seen or what. in the future, if it smells like shit, you'll know it - no need to analyze the stinking heap in front of you to guarantee that. plus, i think that's a 'blaming the victim'ish mentality - in a relationship of years and the level of intimacy you two had, its bizarre to think that you should even have to look for signs. really, if i could change anything i would tell him to be a man about the whole thing and tell you he's done before getting someone else involved.
in relationships its really as easy as that, and if he couldn't manage that, its certainly not your fault. you were his girlfriend, not his jailer - if he wanted out, we're of an age where he could have just said so."
I guess she's right, and I should quit trying to understand. Now it's just cataloguing what comes into my head and spitting it out to remove it from my psyche, to wipe the slate clean.
Yesterday I woke up at 7am to take sake for a walk, worked on my boards until about 6 (with breaks for chatting and taking sake to pee), went to yoga class, and cooked and ate dinner with my friend Susan and her fiance in Potrero Hills, then I came back and chatted with Ziah for awhile before going to sleep. I like this new life.
The first change is getting out of LA, most likely for good. The most fundamental change is not always waiting on Eric. He was gone so much, and my evenings and weekends were always left up in the air because I wanted to make sure that there was no possibility I might see him before I scheduled anything else. Now my schedule is mine. It's a good experiment to see how you would live your life if there were no limitations.
Brilliant and eloquent Claudette, writing from the Peace Corps in the Dominican Republic, had sage advice and recollections about her own life that sound eerily familiar.
"what's especially cruel about a relationship with cheating is that the cheating is icing on the cake, so if you have cheating for icing, you know what that cake tastes like... sand, rocks, some ca-ca. i was mad about so many other things and the cheating was like this salt in the wound insult over injury."
"i don't think you should look back and try and pick out if there were signs you should have seen or what. in the future, if it smells like shit, you'll know it - no need to analyze the stinking heap in front of you to guarantee that. plus, i think that's a 'blaming the victim'ish mentality - in a relationship of years and the level of intimacy you two had, its bizarre to think that you should even have to look for signs. really, if i could change anything i would tell him to be a man about the whole thing and tell you he's done before getting someone else involved.
in relationships its really as easy as that, and if he couldn't manage that, its certainly not your fault. you were his girlfriend, not his jailer - if he wanted out, we're of an age where he could have just said so."
I guess she's right, and I should quit trying to understand. Now it's just cataloguing what comes into my head and spitting it out to remove it from my psyche, to wipe the slate clean.
Yesterday I woke up at 7am to take sake for a walk, worked on my boards until about 6 (with breaks for chatting and taking sake to pee), went to yoga class, and cooked and ate dinner with my friend Susan and her fiance in Potrero Hills, then I came back and chatted with Ziah for awhile before going to sleep. I like this new life.
Other Parties
Up until this point, I have been exclusively pissed off at eric. Obviously, it is first and foremost his problem. But there is another party involved that was a clear contributor to a fucked up situation. Kate Hutter knew he was involved with me. WE lived together for god's sake! There was no ambiguity. I saw her on many occasions after if began. She saw Eric and I show up at a party and act like a couple. She came over to my house and had the nerve to make small talk with me, knowing she was fucking my boyfriend. That is a lack of respect for herself and for me.
A close friend of mine once had an affair with a much older married man. I was always disapproving. Even if dude says his wife is fine with it, he has obvious motivations. Maybe it's my feminist background, or maybe it's just common decency, but I always thought that women should stick together on this.
I'm not saying they should never have gotten involved. If they're madly in love, so be it. But she should have had the respect for both herself and to me to make sure that the old business was cleared up before the new business began. She was entirely complicit in the3 months 5 months of lying. There was a text message where they discussed eric's "camping" trip in quotations. And that bitch had the balls to talk to me.
It doesn't portend well for a relationship to start based on3 months 5 months of lies. If I were her, I would have wanted my relationship legitimized.
So ladies, lock up your boys! Kate Hutter likes to steal other women's men.
A close friend of mine once had an affair with a much older married man. I was always disapproving. Even if dude says his wife is fine with it, he has obvious motivations. Maybe it's my feminist background, or maybe it's just common decency, but I always thought that women should stick together on this.
I'm not saying they should never have gotten involved. If they're madly in love, so be it. But she should have had the respect for both herself and to me to make sure that the old business was cleared up before the new business began. She was entirely complicit in the
It doesn't portend well for a relationship to start based on
So ladies, lock up your boys! Kate Hutter likes to steal other women's men.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
sharing
Another aspect of breaking up is who gets what. When the break up was looking amicable, we were talking about dividing things evenly. When I found out he was a lying cheat, I decided I would take everything that we had jointly purchased that was not nailed down. Even things I didn't care that much about I wanted to take -- or break. Luckily I didn't have that much room in the storage cube. With friends, it is not so easy.
Of course, I rationally would not want my friends to have to choose. That's not the nice thing to do, it's obviously not fair to them. But of course we are not rational beings, and even if it is not fair to expect my friends to be instruments of revenge I somehow in my heart of hearts wish they would. A lot. I am glad that I managed to keep some friends at least that were firmly on my side of the ledger. It's important to have people who are there for you first and foremost, who stand by you. With others, you secretly wonder. If I really pushed the issue as I never would, where would it come down? Since they all are totally forthcoming that I am the wronged party, I can't help but think it would be against me.
I am grateful for all the friends in my life however, and don't want them to be gone even though part of me thinks it would be healthier if I didn't have so many ties to eric and what he is doing with his life. After I was given the news through mutual friends, I checked in on him and we talked for a long time. Maybe that isn't good even if I have the urge -- picking at the scab so to speak. All the civil and rational conversation can't justify a thing.
All the ones that are playing for both teams make things hard. Very hard. They don't want to hear me say bad things about eric because they want to still seem him as a good guy so they can still be friends. But they don't want to cut me out of their lives, so they sit on a fence. I guess it's the mature thing. God knows I've been there, and I have loved both parties and I didn't want to be involved in what's wrong between the two of them. But it can't help but seem like sabotage, or sleeping with the enemy. When I pour my heart out, and then find out eric has poured his heart out to them as well. I feel like there's some sort of race being run, as he tries to shore up all our mutual friends and make sure they don't hate him. It's fine. maybe I don't even hate him. but I feel like I should. And I really want his actions to have an effect on his life, not just have him with his new girl in the bed I slept in until 4 days ago.
But, as the saying goes, life isn't fair. Although, things DO have a way of hitting you from time to time.
At some point, I'll just cease to care.
Of course, I rationally would not want my friends to have to choose. That's not the nice thing to do, it's obviously not fair to them. But of course we are not rational beings, and even if it is not fair to expect my friends to be instruments of revenge I somehow in my heart of hearts wish they would. A lot. I am glad that I managed to keep some friends at least that were firmly on my side of the ledger. It's important to have people who are there for you first and foremost, who stand by you. With others, you secretly wonder. If I really pushed the issue as I never would, where would it come down? Since they all are totally forthcoming that I am the wronged party, I can't help but think it would be against me.
I am grateful for all the friends in my life however, and don't want them to be gone even though part of me thinks it would be healthier if I didn't have so many ties to eric and what he is doing with his life. After I was given the news through mutual friends, I checked in on him and we talked for a long time. Maybe that isn't good even if I have the urge -- picking at the scab so to speak. All the civil and rational conversation can't justify a thing.
All the ones that are playing for both teams make things hard. Very hard. They don't want to hear me say bad things about eric because they want to still seem him as a good guy so they can still be friends. But they don't want to cut me out of their lives, so they sit on a fence. I guess it's the mature thing. God knows I've been there, and I have loved both parties and I didn't want to be involved in what's wrong between the two of them. But it can't help but seem like sabotage, or sleeping with the enemy. When I pour my heart out, and then find out eric has poured his heart out to them as well. I feel like there's some sort of race being run, as he tries to shore up all our mutual friends and make sure they don't hate him. It's fine. maybe I don't even hate him. but I feel like I should. And I really want his actions to have an effect on his life, not just have him with his new girl in the bed I slept in until 4 days ago.
But, as the saying goes, life isn't fair. Although, things DO have a way of hitting you from time to time.
At some point, I'll just cease to care.
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