You know how someone says something once, or a few times, or comes up with a theory, and then years pass, and you've accepted the theory, but you can no longer remember if you thought of it or if someone else did, who that was? So it is with the friends theory. The friends theory states that you need a minimum of 3 and a maximum of 6 best friends to be happy.
Sometimes it's obvious whom your friends are, but other times in my life, like right now, I need assistance defining best friends. For the sake of clarity, the 3 to 6 best friends rule includes your significant other (when you have one). Last night Brian and I decided (it may have just been me who decided, but let's say we discussed it) that a best friend is someone you make a conscious effort to spend quality one-on-one time with at least once a month. Out of towners and people who have fallen into the relationship/work abyss do not count, although they continue to hold a special place in your heart until they return.
Best friends are also defined by a subjective vibe. There may be someone in your life who, for whatever reason, you spend a lot of time with but do not feel like you can really share yourself with. This person is not a best friend; they are a friend. Best friend needs are not just about time spent; the depth of the relationship also defines them. For example, my mother has about 10 best friends. For years, Bette has been her "Best Friend" (don't tell the others she's cheating with them). Except the problem is that until recently Bette and my mother never made time to spend together. They just talked on the phone 3 or 4 times per day. Hence my mother's lack of fidelity.
I find 6 best friends a bit too many to handle. On the flip side, in recent years, I have had a lot of friends I spent time with and few or even no hard and fast Best Friends. I found this a bit lonely even when I had social plans 5 nights of the week. (This may also have been related to the fact that I was in a dysfunctional and very unstable relationship.) The point is that it's a fine balance and subject to the influence of numerous external influences.
Still struggling with the definitions, I find that now I have 4 bona fide best friends and about 10 good solid second tier friends. (Names are omitted to protect the innocent.) Combining that with everything else that I do, I am spread a bit thin these days. But that's more a matter of time management and being able to say "no" to invitations. I'll write another blog on rules for that (as soon as I figure out what they are).
Saturday, April 30, 2005
The Sponge is back.
Nerve.com - It's Back. . . by Kate Sullivan
I used the sponge when I was 17, and we liked it. But in hindsight, I think it was both expensive and impractical. I'm not sure if it would ever be the right option for me (again), but I strongly support there being more birth control options on the market.
I used the sponge when I was 17, and we liked it. But in hindsight, I think it was both expensive and impractical. I'm not sure if it would ever be the right option for me (again), but I strongly support there being more birth control options on the market.
Study: Email overload hurts IQ more than marijuana use
Study: Email overload hurts IQ more than marijuana use
Email and text messages are twice as stupefying as pot, and cause a decrease of 10 IQ points. Speaking as an email addict, I find this very disturbing.
Email and text messages are twice as stupefying as pot, and cause a decrease of 10 IQ points. Speaking as an email addict, I find this very disturbing.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Secret can opener
When I first moved into this apartment, I bought this really crappy can opener for like a dollar at one of the nearby junk shops. It worked about twice, but I persisted. Before I left for Europe last summer I threw it away. Imagine my shock when I came home to a house with no can opener. I looked far and wide for one (within the kitchen, that is) but there wasn't any can opener. I used my swiss army knife.
I don't remember who I told about this problem, but today I was looking for tongs in the drawer where a can opener should have been. I don't have any tongs. But, surprise! There was a really nice quality can opener. I don't know if one of my friends is really sneaky or the knomes did it (they haven't been doing a very good job of getting my work done!), but I can tell you with absolute certainty that I did not buy that can opener. So, well, I'll put my thank you note out on the blog and hope that whomever left me the can opener reads it. Thanks! I love the can opener, and I really needed it.
I don't remember who I told about this problem, but today I was looking for tongs in the drawer where a can opener should have been. I don't have any tongs. But, surprise! There was a really nice quality can opener. I don't know if one of my friends is really sneaky or the knomes did it (they haven't been doing a very good job of getting my work done!), but I can tell you with absolute certainty that I did not buy that can opener. So, well, I'll put my thank you note out on the blog and hope that whomever left me the can opener reads it. Thanks! I love the can opener, and I really needed it.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
What is your money for?
When I was 18, I went to South East Asia for 6 weeks with my mom, stepfather John, and friend Jenn. I left my boyfriend at home in Berkeley where he continued to live in his parent's basement and began smoking cigarettes (he still does, and it's one of the reasons I broke up with him, that and... um... he broke up with me at the same time.... No comments on this issue, please). Thailand is fantastic, but the trip was just so-so. Jenn was kind of a drag, and we were both, after all, just teenagers.
We traveled all around the sticks. The main cities we visited briefly were Bangkok and Singapore, and those were the only places where there were phones with international access. I don't remember, but I am sure I missed Julien a lot. Well, some things don't change much, and I don't think I really wanted to call him. However, my mother insisted (she's like that). So, I paid for like 5 minutes of phone time in Bangkok and called to wake him up. But he woke up slowly, and the conversation was virtually meaningless. (We had these sorts of stupid conversations all the time when I was in college in MA and he was still in that basement.) The 5 minutes ended and we were disconnected and I was kind of disappointed. My mother suggested (is suggested the right word? More like "insisted") I call again.
Me: I don't want to spend any more money on it.
Mom, screaming: What is your money for?
At this point, and I am guessing, I ran out in the swampy urban Thai darkness with tears streaming down my face. She meant, of course, that talking to my boyfriend should be more important to me than 25 fruit smoothies I would probably drink while there at equivelent cost.
Well, I am sure the issue is very complicated. Maybe I had fallen out of love with Julien already (we didn't finally break up for another 6 months after this event). Maybe I hate talking on the phone. Maybe I need(ed) to learn to be more independent of my mother. But I think about this question a lot: "What is your money for?"
It's actually a really personal question. And, of course, it has a lot to do with how much money you have in total and if it covers your basic needs. My sister Taylor and her family never have very much money, but they spend hundreds of dollars each month on fancy food from Trader Joe's, not the cheapest place to buy food by a long shot. I guess that's an important thing to them. I'm not judging. I spend at least $3 a day on baked goods.
What I wonder is if people are aware of the magnitude of each financial decision they make and the trade-offs implicit in those decisions. I choose to buy cookies every day, so I don't have money for a new bicycle. I choose to live alone in a really nice (but not expensive) studio, when I could pay half the price if I were lucky and lived with others. I choose to only work half the year. I chose to max out my retirement contributions every year that I had a regular job, and now I have only a little cushion/future down payment on an apartment. (Tax incentives encouraged that one....)
Yeah, I am procrastinating (when am I not?), but I'd like to pencil out how much money I spend on each thing relative to the minimum I could get by spending, and ask myself, are baked goods really that important to me? Is living alone in beautiful, centrally-located apartment that important to me? Is having a good haircut really that important to me? Come to think of it, the same goes for time. Is blogging really that important to me?
I should get back to work.
We traveled all around the sticks. The main cities we visited briefly were Bangkok and Singapore, and those were the only places where there were phones with international access. I don't remember, but I am sure I missed Julien a lot. Well, some things don't change much, and I don't think I really wanted to call him. However, my mother insisted (she's like that). So, I paid for like 5 minutes of phone time in Bangkok and called to wake him up. But he woke up slowly, and the conversation was virtually meaningless. (We had these sorts of stupid conversations all the time when I was in college in MA and he was still in that basement.) The 5 minutes ended and we were disconnected and I was kind of disappointed. My mother suggested (is suggested the right word? More like "insisted") I call again.
Me: I don't want to spend any more money on it.
Mom, screaming: What is your money for?
At this point, and I am guessing, I ran out in the swampy urban Thai darkness with tears streaming down my face. She meant, of course, that talking to my boyfriend should be more important to me than 25 fruit smoothies I would probably drink while there at equivelent cost.
Well, I am sure the issue is very complicated. Maybe I had fallen out of love with Julien already (we didn't finally break up for another 6 months after this event). Maybe I hate talking on the phone. Maybe I need(ed) to learn to be more independent of my mother. But I think about this question a lot: "What is your money for?"
It's actually a really personal question. And, of course, it has a lot to do with how much money you have in total and if it covers your basic needs. My sister Taylor and her family never have very much money, but they spend hundreds of dollars each month on fancy food from Trader Joe's, not the cheapest place to buy food by a long shot. I guess that's an important thing to them. I'm not judging. I spend at least $3 a day on baked goods.
What I wonder is if people are aware of the magnitude of each financial decision they make and the trade-offs implicit in those decisions. I choose to buy cookies every day, so I don't have money for a new bicycle. I choose to live alone in a really nice (but not expensive) studio, when I could pay half the price if I were lucky and lived with others. I choose to only work half the year. I chose to max out my retirement contributions every year that I had a regular job, and now I have only a little cushion/future down payment on an apartment. (Tax incentives encouraged that one....)
Yeah, I am procrastinating (when am I not?), but I'd like to pencil out how much money I spend on each thing relative to the minimum I could get by spending, and ask myself, are baked goods really that important to me? Is living alone in beautiful, centrally-located apartment that important to me? Is having a good haircut really that important to me? Come to think of it, the same goes for time. Is blogging really that important to me?
I should get back to work.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
New words to know
My stepfather John sent me these, and true to form, they strike me as incredibly geeky. That said, I am posting them bc a few made me laugh out loud here alone in my beautiful apartment.
The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take
any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or
changing one letter, and supply a new definition.
Here are this year's winners:
1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.
2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stop bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
4. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject
financially impotent for an indefinite period.
5. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
6. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person
who doesn't get it.
7. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
8. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.
9. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease.
10. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
11. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day
consuming only things that are good for you.
12. Glibido: All talk and no action.
13. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when
they come at you rapidly.
14. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've
accidentally walked through a spider web.
15. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into
your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
16. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the
fruit you're eating.
17. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole
The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take
any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or
changing one letter, and supply a new definition.
Here are this year's winners:
1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.
2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stop bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
4. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject
financially impotent for an indefinite period.
5. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
6. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person
who doesn't get it.
7. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
8. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.
9. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease.
10. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
11. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day
consuming only things that are good for you.
12. Glibido: All talk and no action.
13. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when
they come at you rapidly.
14. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've
accidentally walked through a spider web.
15. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into
your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
16. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the
fruit you're eating.
17. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole
the scraps of paper say...
Overheard at drawing class "the momentum of escape"
Another volunteer at the SF Bike Coalition was taking up a whole lane. The driver yelled out his window, "you're not a car." She yelled back, "neither are you."
Another volunteer at the SF Bike Coalition was taking up a whole lane. The driver yelled out his window, "you're not a car." She yelled back, "neither are you."
Feng Shui
I write the blog for myself. And one of it's purposes is to record things for me to refer to later. I have found myself looking up the Feng Shui directional diagram a number of times, and it's not easy. So, here's what it says:
Entering the house, the first center square is career. To your right is skills and knowledge, and to your left is helpful people and travel.
The center square of the house is health. Standing at the center of the house with your back to the door, to your right is family and to your left is creativity and children.
At the back of the house, with your back still to the door, the back center square is fame and reputation. To your right is relationships and love, and to your left is prosperity.
Entering the house, the first center square is career. To your right is skills and knowledge, and to your left is helpful people and travel.
The center square of the house is health. Standing at the center of the house with your back to the door, to your right is family and to your left is creativity and children.
At the back of the house, with your back still to the door, the back center square is fame and reputation. To your right is relationships and love, and to your left is prosperity.
Monday, April 25, 2005
On the bus of life...
I really should be working, because, afterall, I have some work to do, but why start when you're... wait a minute....
Jo says: "If you're not ready for rejection, you're not ready to date." Don't worry; I'm fine now. I just thought that was really, extremely wise. :-)
Last Friday night I road AC Transit for the first time in a while. I can't stress enough how important it is for we transportation planners (and planners in general) to ride the bus. There was a little tiny girl on the bus alone; she looked like she was about 8 years old. She sat next to the bus driver.
Driver: Where are you going?
Girl: I don't know.
The bus pulled up to a stop, at 39th Street, and girl began to alight.
D: What street is that?
G: 39th
D: Remember that. That's your stop next time someone asks.
Thank Goddess we have bus drivers out there looking after our children. I am reminded of another time, on SF Muni, when a woman in a totally crazy outfit was telling the driver about what hard time she was having (rehab?). The bus driver suggested she go to church. The woman said she had trouble finding a church that wasn't too judgemental, and the driver began to suggest a few. After a few more exchanges, the woman said something like "You know, we really rely on you for guidance. Life is really hard, and without you there to help guide us, I think a lot of us would be completely lost." (I wrote it down at the time, but now it is coming from memory. I might check my notebook and add the actual quote later.)
Today, bus drivers out our Ministers. They are our guardians. Our shephards. We could be lost in the mountains of urban kaos without them. Let's start a bus driver appreciation day. Maybe I will write a book about it.
I rode the 43 bus from downtown Oakland to outer El Cerrito (Carolyn's house), and unbelievably, it was quite pleasant. Unlike BART, it was clean and on-time. Unlike Muni, there were no crazy people yelling. Unlike riding my bicycle, I just sat there and watched the cities go by without a worry entering my mind.
Jo says: "If you're not ready for rejection, you're not ready to date." Don't worry; I'm fine now. I just thought that was really, extremely wise. :-)
Last Friday night I road AC Transit for the first time in a while. I can't stress enough how important it is for we transportation planners (and planners in general) to ride the bus. There was a little tiny girl on the bus alone; she looked like she was about 8 years old. She sat next to the bus driver.
Driver: Where are you going?
Girl: I don't know.
The bus pulled up to a stop, at 39th Street, and girl began to alight.
D: What street is that?
G: 39th
D: Remember that. That's your stop next time someone asks.
Thank Goddess we have bus drivers out there looking after our children. I am reminded of another time, on SF Muni, when a woman in a totally crazy outfit was telling the driver about what hard time she was having (rehab?). The bus driver suggested she go to church. The woman said she had trouble finding a church that wasn't too judgemental, and the driver began to suggest a few. After a few more exchanges, the woman said something like "You know, we really rely on you for guidance. Life is really hard, and without you there to help guide us, I think a lot of us would be completely lost." (I wrote it down at the time, but now it is coming from memory. I might check my notebook and add the actual quote later.)
Today, bus drivers out our Ministers. They are our guardians. Our shephards. We could be lost in the mountains of urban kaos without them. Let's start a bus driver appreciation day. Maybe I will write a book about it.
I rode the 43 bus from downtown Oakland to outer El Cerrito (Carolyn's house), and unbelievably, it was quite pleasant. Unlike BART, it was clean and on-time. Unlike Muni, there were no crazy people yelling. Unlike riding my bicycle, I just sat there and watched the cities go by without a worry entering my mind.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
More song lyrics
Matt played this song for me on his ipod today. I can hardly believe it. And I certainly can't believe it's been around since 1973, and I'd never heard it. The chyck played at Woodstock for crying out loud.
Artist: Deana Carter
Song: Brand New Key
I rode my bicycle past your window last night
I roller skated to your door at daylight
It almost seems that you're avoiding me
I'm ok alone but you've got something I need
Well, I've gotta brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key
I think that we should get together
And try them out ya see
I've been lookin' around a while
You got somethin' for me
Oh, I gotta brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key
I ride my bike, I roller skate, don't drive no car
Don't go too fast, but I go pretty far
For somebody who don't drive I've been all around the world
Some people say I've done all right for a girl
Oh yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, yeah-yeah
I asked your mother if you were at home
She said yes, but you weren't alone
Oh sometimes I think that your avoiding me
I'm ok alone but you got something I need well
I've gotta brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key
I think that we should get together
And try them out ya see
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la
Oh, I gotta brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key
Artist: Deana Carter
Song: Brand New Key
I rode my bicycle past your window last night
I roller skated to your door at daylight
It almost seems that you're avoiding me
I'm ok alone but you've got something I need
Well, I've gotta brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key
I think that we should get together
And try them out ya see
I've been lookin' around a while
You got somethin' for me
Oh, I gotta brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key
I ride my bike, I roller skate, don't drive no car
Don't go too fast, but I go pretty far
For somebody who don't drive I've been all around the world
Some people say I've done all right for a girl
Oh yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, yeah-yeah
I asked your mother if you were at home
She said yes, but you weren't alone
Oh sometimes I think that your avoiding me
I'm ok alone but you got something I need well
I've gotta brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key
I think that we should get together
And try them out ya see
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la
Oh, I gotta brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key
The First Time
Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday I trek the 5 blocks between my house and BART and attempt to board the Pittsburgh Bay Point train that leaves the 24th Street station at 8:33 AM. The problem with this system is that the train is never, ever on time. Sometimes I take a delayed Richmond train. Sometimes I wait. and wait. and wait. This morning, for the first time since I started this job in February, I arrived at the station and the right train arrived on-time. Boy howdy.
My drawing class is focusing on bones and muscles at the moment. I am very grateful that I have bones and muscles and that they work, but, to be perfectly honest, I have no interest in drawing them. I guess my subconscious took over, and I produced the absolutely ugliest drawing of bones and muscles you can imagine. My teachers great and all that, but maybe yesterday's drawing will get her off my back about the bones and muscles.
Starting Friday is dance week, and I recommend that all of my readers in the Bay Area (of which there are like, what? 3? But anyway...) check out www.bacndw.org for free dance stuff to do and see.
My drawing class is focusing on bones and muscles at the moment. I am very grateful that I have bones and muscles and that they work, but, to be perfectly honest, I have no interest in drawing them. I guess my subconscious took over, and I produced the absolutely ugliest drawing of bones and muscles you can imagine. My teachers great and all that, but maybe yesterday's drawing will get her off my back about the bones and muscles.
Starting Friday is dance week, and I recommend that all of my readers in the Bay Area (of which there are like, what? 3? But anyway...) check out www.bacndw.org for free dance stuff to do and see.
Monday, April 18, 2005
the end of suburbia
Suzahna invited a few of us over for dinner and see this documentary. She found it particularly compelling after her experience with the Ukrainian elections last fall/winter (where she lived for the last year on a Fulbright). For some reason, she didn't find it depressing, but I think her guests last night felt differently.
The documentary included a lot of footage displaying a sort of 50s view of the American Dream, and interviews with lots of old white men on the impact of the oil crisis. I can't say I disagree with them, but I don't have much patience when commanded to listen to so many old white men discuss authoritively what will happen to this country and the world as a whole in response to the decisions of their previous incarnations (the old white men who made all those decisions about how we all would live 50+ years ago and messed it up). The only women in the film were 1950s housewives with overly-coiffed hair monitoring children in their huge front lawns.
I was reminded of a talk I heard on NPR a month or so ago on "3rd Wave" Feminism (what post-post-feminism is called, it turns out). They even said that the concerns of environmentalists are often at odds with the concerns of women of color. Even at the Carfree Cities Conference last summer, most of the speakers were white men, and the free bicycles provided had seats for men that were very uncomfortable for the female pelvis. I don't believe that the issues oppose each other, and I really really believe that we all need to make more of an effort to bring ourselves together.
At work today, I spent a few minutes catching up on local transportation-related news, and so much of it has to do with these same problems: seniors losing their licenses and ending up isolated and depressed in their suburban homes; the high cost of maintaining the Bay Bridge for cars, and how people don't want to pay a higher toll (even though in Europe road tolls are much, much higher); how no one can afford to live in the city because housing prices are so high due to lack of supply. There is hope: Mayor Newsome wants more housing built in the city, with fewer parking spaces (as I understand it); downtown Livermore is being redeveloped into mixed-use; the new bridge will probably allow non-drivers and end years of discrimination. But I just don't think any of it is happening fast enough possibly because, in part, no one is thinking enough about the issues of equality in transportation planning. argh!
I got home before 11, but spent the following 3+ hours sorting papers, passively watching tv, and waiting for the elusive sleep to come.
The documentary included a lot of footage displaying a sort of 50s view of the American Dream, and interviews with lots of old white men on the impact of the oil crisis. I can't say I disagree with them, but I don't have much patience when commanded to listen to so many old white men discuss authoritively what will happen to this country and the world as a whole in response to the decisions of their previous incarnations (the old white men who made all those decisions about how we all would live 50+ years ago and messed it up). The only women in the film were 1950s housewives with overly-coiffed hair monitoring children in their huge front lawns.
I was reminded of a talk I heard on NPR a month or so ago on "3rd Wave" Feminism (what post-post-feminism is called, it turns out). They even said that the concerns of environmentalists are often at odds with the concerns of women of color. Even at the Carfree Cities Conference last summer, most of the speakers were white men, and the free bicycles provided had seats for men that were very uncomfortable for the female pelvis. I don't believe that the issues oppose each other, and I really really believe that we all need to make more of an effort to bring ourselves together.
At work today, I spent a few minutes catching up on local transportation-related news, and so much of it has to do with these same problems: seniors losing their licenses and ending up isolated and depressed in their suburban homes; the high cost of maintaining the Bay Bridge for cars, and how people don't want to pay a higher toll (even though in Europe road tolls are much, much higher); how no one can afford to live in the city because housing prices are so high due to lack of supply. There is hope: Mayor Newsome wants more housing built in the city, with fewer parking spaces (as I understand it); downtown Livermore is being redeveloped into mixed-use; the new bridge will probably allow non-drivers and end years of discrimination. But I just don't think any of it is happening fast enough possibly because, in part, no one is thinking enough about the issues of equality in transportation planning. argh!
I got home before 11, but spent the following 3+ hours sorting papers, passively watching tv, and waiting for the elusive sleep to come.
Sunday, April 17, 2005
delay
Anne Lammot on NPR this afternoon: the problem with god, or at least one of the top 5 most annoying things about god, is that he or she doesn't answer right away.
I could say that about nearly everything I can imagine, except maybe my own voice, but when sent into mobile phone technology, there is still a delay!
I could say that about nearly everything I can imagine, except maybe my own voice, but when sent into mobile phone technology, there is still a delay!
the unconscious art of graffitti removal
I so wish that I had thought of this! Sam and Jess had a dvd with shorts, and one of them, created by a friend of Shanti's from college in Portland, is called "the unconscious art of graffitti removal". It includes beautiful urban shots, composing the graffitti removal squares like Mark Rothko paintings against their industrial buildings. She interviews the graffitti removal workers, explaining that their lack of aesthetic consideration is exactly what contributes to artistic value of graffitti removal. The short is also an excuse for a lot of lovely images of gritty, industrial Portland neighborhoods.
on the little piece of paper
I keep a little piece of paper (the back of a credit card offer or something like that) next to the computer, and when I think of words of wisdom to put in the blog, I jot them down. My hope at the time is that I will add them next time I feel moved to blog, but, well, here's the reality:
"At a certain point, everything is a coincidence." Now, I have absolutely no idea what I was thinking when I wrote that down.
"I have fallen back in love with San Francisco." Ah, yes, that I understand, and it's true. It took some time, but I feel it now. The question is: what do I do with it? I sometimes go through life thinking (and it is entirely my mother's fault) that if I am in love, all the answers will be obvious. Ha! I think that was back in the day when being in love meant making babies and your love was your career.
It's been a pretty debauched weekend so far (and I still have another event tonight! "The end of suburbia" dinner party at Suzahna's). Last night was a dinner party and 2 party parties; the final one involved a home karaoke machine. If I had money to burn, that would be the first thing I would buy for myself! All parties were within 0.5 mile of my house, yet when I left the final one at 1:40 AM, and Shanti and Marshall got on their bikes (I was on foot), I had absolutely no idea in which direction I lived. I felt like a small furry animal who lives underground, closing my eyes and walking down the populated sidewalk in some general direction pulled only by my core.
What else should I fill you in on? I ran 3 times this week, which is of course, the goal, but I did not meet my goal of 7 hours of exercise. I attended a belly dance class with Elizabeth, and my abdomen still hurts when I laugh or sneeze. Afterwards we went to Zuni Cafe, where both the salad and shoestring fries had identical textures. I ordered the fries as part of a project from a couple weeks ago, where a group of us road our bikes around SF sampling the french fries at all recommended venues. Did I tell you about that already? There was no consensus on the best, but the place at 18th and South Van Ness (Whiz Burger?) might be your best bet. Zuni did not rival them, and they were 4X the price.
I met Anne and Ray at the Monkey Club at 21st and Bryant on Friday night. It's a cute little bar with tasty cocktails and a good happy hour. I would go there again. We were meeting their friends who have a juice company called Adina, sort of herbal infusion juice. Nice, and good with vodka. One of my favorite galleries, 66 Balmy, had their opening Friday night. The exhibition is the work of Nicholas Coley who seems to be doing beige streetscapes a la Diebenkorn, but with really cool brush strokes and use of purple in the shadows. Thursday I attended another gallery opening at the Theater Artaud. The art was nothing special but my companion and I had a really fun moment over a painting of chickens on pedestals with falling... eyes?.. and either shrubbery or green high-rises in the background. Also wonderful was that they served sangria, and you know how I feel about sangria!
"At a certain point, everything is a coincidence." Now, I have absolutely no idea what I was thinking when I wrote that down.
"I have fallen back in love with San Francisco." Ah, yes, that I understand, and it's true. It took some time, but I feel it now. The question is: what do I do with it? I sometimes go through life thinking (and it is entirely my mother's fault) that if I am in love, all the answers will be obvious. Ha! I think that was back in the day when being in love meant making babies and your love was your career.
It's been a pretty debauched weekend so far (and I still have another event tonight! "The end of suburbia" dinner party at Suzahna's). Last night was a dinner party and 2 party parties; the final one involved a home karaoke machine. If I had money to burn, that would be the first thing I would buy for myself! All parties were within 0.5 mile of my house, yet when I left the final one at 1:40 AM, and Shanti and Marshall got on their bikes (I was on foot), I had absolutely no idea in which direction I lived. I felt like a small furry animal who lives underground, closing my eyes and walking down the populated sidewalk in some general direction pulled only by my core.
What else should I fill you in on? I ran 3 times this week, which is of course, the goal, but I did not meet my goal of 7 hours of exercise. I attended a belly dance class with Elizabeth, and my abdomen still hurts when I laugh or sneeze. Afterwards we went to Zuni Cafe, where both the salad and shoestring fries had identical textures. I ordered the fries as part of a project from a couple weeks ago, where a group of us road our bikes around SF sampling the french fries at all recommended venues. Did I tell you about that already? There was no consensus on the best, but the place at 18th and South Van Ness (Whiz Burger?) might be your best bet. Zuni did not rival them, and they were 4X the price.
I met Anne and Ray at the Monkey Club at 21st and Bryant on Friday night. It's a cute little bar with tasty cocktails and a good happy hour. I would go there again. We were meeting their friends who have a juice company called Adina, sort of herbal infusion juice. Nice, and good with vodka. One of my favorite galleries, 66 Balmy, had their opening Friday night. The exhibition is the work of Nicholas Coley who seems to be doing beige streetscapes a la Diebenkorn, but with really cool brush strokes and use of purple in the shadows. Thursday I attended another gallery opening at the Theater Artaud. The art was nothing special but my companion and I had a really fun moment over a painting of chickens on pedestals with falling... eyes?.. and either shrubbery or green high-rises in the background. Also wonderful was that they served sangria, and you know how I feel about sangria!
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Online dating and career placement
Grace says:
Okay, so I'm not that old, but it is like the "outplacement" that (my company) provided- the counseling on how to look for a job after so many years with the same company. The online thing is like that.
Okay, so I'm not that old, but it is like the "outplacement" that (my company) provided- the counseling on how to look for a job after so many years with the same company. The online thing is like that.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Forget Safety [update]
Rob Brezsney has once again selected a little wisdom for us:
Thoreau: "Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life. Aim above morality. Be not simply good; be good for something."
Rumi (as translated by Coleman Barks):
"Forget safety.
Live where you fear to live.
Destroy your reputation.
Be notorious.
I have tried prudent planning
long enough.
From now
on, I'll be mad."
Last night, as I rode my bike over the hill back towards home from my art class in the fabulous warm sunlight, I thought to myself, wouldn't it be fabulous to get some friends together and go the beach right this minute for some cool air, salty waves, sand between the toes kind of action! So, after checking my email, I did. I called 12 of my favorite people in the Bay Area and not one of them could rush off to the beach at a moments notice on an unexpectedly beautiful day.
Here are some of the excuses I heard:
* By the time we got there it would be my bedtime, and I am so tired.
* I run tonight. (Me: I can run. We can run at the beach.) No, but I am have been having this problem with my foot, so I can only run under close surveillance of my trainer, and our appointment is tonight.
* I am already out in the beautiful weather (Bernal Heights, not the beach) with someone else.
* I have bongo class with my roommate.
* I have rehearsal for a women's music performance in Alameda.
* And several "I didn't get your call in time. That would have been perfect!" And to that I ask, "What is the point of having a cel phone if you can't cut class and go to the beach at a moment's notice."
Oh, did I mention I was cutting class? Yeah (guilty expression), while I loved my French class in Paris, the one here makes me miserable. I think I'll drop it. This is part of my ongoing effort to be passionately in love with myself and my life.
Speaking of which, Rob Brezsney says that the last few and next few weeks suck. This has certainly been true of the last few. Astrologyzone (one that Kristin recommended) said no such thing. Yeah, in my spare time I am going to study who provides the most accurate horoscopes. Not.
PS, as a brief update to my effort to get to the beach last night, I heard back from another friend I unsuccessfully summoned for the adventure. Matt says I always call him when he is on BART. His phone has been broken, losing numbers and the like (yes, this is true). So, he went to the beach and looked for me. Alas, if I had only known, I would have been there to be found!
Thoreau: "Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life. Aim above morality. Be not simply good; be good for something."
Rumi (as translated by Coleman Barks):
"Forget safety.
Live where you fear to live.
Destroy your reputation.
Be notorious.
I have tried prudent planning
long enough.
From now
on, I'll be mad."
Last night, as I rode my bike over the hill back towards home from my art class in the fabulous warm sunlight, I thought to myself, wouldn't it be fabulous to get some friends together and go the beach right this minute for some cool air, salty waves, sand between the toes kind of action! So, after checking my email, I did. I called 12 of my favorite people in the Bay Area and not one of them could rush off to the beach at a moments notice on an unexpectedly beautiful day.
Here are some of the excuses I heard:
* By the time we got there it would be my bedtime, and I am so tired.
* I run tonight. (Me: I can run. We can run at the beach.) No, but I am have been having this problem with my foot, so I can only run under close surveillance of my trainer, and our appointment is tonight.
* I am already out in the beautiful weather (Bernal Heights, not the beach) with someone else.
* I have bongo class with my roommate.
* I have rehearsal for a women's music performance in Alameda.
* And several "I didn't get your call in time. That would have been perfect!" And to that I ask, "What is the point of having a cel phone if you can't cut class and go to the beach at a moment's notice."
Oh, did I mention I was cutting class? Yeah (guilty expression), while I loved my French class in Paris, the one here makes me miserable. I think I'll drop it. This is part of my ongoing effort to be passionately in love with myself and my life.
Speaking of which, Rob Brezsney says that the last few and next few weeks suck. This has certainly been true of the last few. Astrologyzone (one that Kristin recommended) said no such thing. Yeah, in my spare time I am going to study who provides the most accurate horoscopes. Not.
PS, as a brief update to my effort to get to the beach last night, I heard back from another friend I unsuccessfully summoned for the adventure. Matt says I always call him when he is on BART. His phone has been broken, losing numbers and the like (yes, this is true). So, he went to the beach and looked for me. Alas, if I had only known, I would have been there to be found!
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Friday, April 01, 2005
Osama loves your SUV
Grace says:
I saw an Osama Heart Your SUV sticker for the first time the other
day and loved it.
I saw an Osama Heart Your SUV sticker for the first time the other
day and loved it.
...being of sound mind and body...
I, _________________________ (fill in the blank),
being of sound mind and body, do not wish to be kept
alive indefinitely by artificial means.
Under no circumstances should my fate be put in the
hands of peckerwood politicians who couldn't pass
ninth-grade biology if their lives depended on it. If
a reasonable amount of time passes and I fail to ask
for a cup of fresh-ground French roast and access to
my email, it should be presumed that I won't ever get
better.
When such a determination is reached, I hereby
instruct my spouse, children, and/or attending
physicians to pull the plug, reel in the tubes, and
call it a day. If they won't do it, go out on the
street and get some random passerby or wino.
Under no circumstances shall the members of the
Legislature enact a special law to keep me on
life-support machinery. I don't care how many
fundamentalist votes they're trying to scrounge for
their run for the presidency; they should play
politics with someone else's life and leave me alone
to die in peace. It is my wish that these boneheads
mind their own damn business, and pay attention
instead to the health, education, and future of the
millions of Americans who aren't in a permanent coma.
It just goes to show you how sick you have to be in
this country to get Congress to pay attention to your
health care.
I couldn't care less if a hundred thousand religious
zealots send e-mails to legislators in which they
pretend to care about me or demonstrate outside my
hospital with their bleeding Jesuses and sandwiches
with Mary's face on them. I don't know these people,
and I certainly haven't authorized them to preach and
crusade on my behalf. And the Pope should mind his own
friggin' business, too.
And if any of my family goes against my wishes and
tries to turn my case into a political cause, I hereby
promise to come back from the grave and make his or
her existence a living hell.
______________________________________
Signature
______________________________________
Witness
______________________________________
Witness
being of sound mind and body, do not wish to be kept
alive indefinitely by artificial means.
Under no circumstances should my fate be put in the
hands of peckerwood politicians who couldn't pass
ninth-grade biology if their lives depended on it. If
a reasonable amount of time passes and I fail to ask
for a cup of fresh-ground French roast and access to
my email, it should be presumed that I won't ever get
better.
When such a determination is reached, I hereby
instruct my spouse, children, and/or attending
physicians to pull the plug, reel in the tubes, and
call it a day. If they won't do it, go out on the
street and get some random passerby or wino.
Under no circumstances shall the members of the
Legislature enact a special law to keep me on
life-support machinery. I don't care how many
fundamentalist votes they're trying to scrounge for
their run for the presidency; they should play
politics with someone else's life and leave me alone
to die in peace. It is my wish that these boneheads
mind their own damn business, and pay attention
instead to the health, education, and future of the
millions of Americans who aren't in a permanent coma.
It just goes to show you how sick you have to be in
this country to get Congress to pay attention to your
health care.
I couldn't care less if a hundred thousand religious
zealots send e-mails to legislators in which they
pretend to care about me or demonstrate outside my
hospital with their bleeding Jesuses and sandwiches
with Mary's face on them. I don't know these people,
and I certainly haven't authorized them to preach and
crusade on my behalf. And the Pope should mind his own
friggin' business, too.
And if any of my family goes against my wishes and
tries to turn my case into a political cause, I hereby
promise to come back from the grave and make his or
her existence a living hell.
______________________________________
Signature
______________________________________
Witness
______________________________________
Witness
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