Lingering election thoughts

On election night, Marie Lyse and I rode our bikes past City Hall in hopes of finding a party. We found one guy, riding his bike around too, who said "Gosh, I thought this place would be a mad house." The 3 of us were surprised.

On the other hand, Danielle said that Union Square had "action", and that's a major civic destination from a planning perspective. As I already mentioned, we found significant happenings in the Mission. In this article, John King makes observations about what these neighborhood revelries mean about the way we live in our City. The observations of my community do not support his thesis, but he furthers one of San Francisco's stereotypes -- that it's a city that's really just a bunch of small towns near each other.

At my gallery party last Friday night, everyone was talking about the election. I made the comment that it was "mostly good, except for that one small thing." A fellow artist didn't find my irony amusing. "It didn't feel like a small thing to me," she replied.
Repeal Prop 8

What to do when you are sad

Years ago, my sister sent me some of her ideas for how to make yourself ready for love. The only one I remembered was "take a bath with candle light and herbs". While no one should ever listen to my advice on anything, my rule has been to try to be the kind of person I would fall in love with. That's why I do everything I do: work, sleep, bath, make art, have friends, cook, house keep, volunteer, exercise, try to keep thin, tend to my body, be nice to my mother... I could go on. The project has grown greater than its purpose, and I have come to like it for its own sake.

But I still struggle with happiness. I've researched it for years. I'm a bit too sensitive; if my boss looks at me sideways, I get in a bad mood. And I care less what he thinks than my friends and family I've known so much longer. He's onto me and keeps his direction gentle. But I still need an occasional boost because someone didn't reach out when they were supposed to or maybe subtly pointed out that I could live up to more of my potential. (I'm exhausted! I can't do any more.)

In my research on happiness, I found that what makes you happy is likely to be the same thing that makes other people happy. So, I have a list of things I do towards that end:
take a bath (if I'm dirty)
get a good night's sleep (if I'm underslept)
drink too much*
go out among people
talk to my friends (trying not to burden them)
watch movies and, more so, TV*
exercise outside
meet new people
sail
go to beautiful places, including tops of hills
take care of myself and my home
finish things, blog posts are easy and immediate for example
sign up for new projects like volunteer work and art activities
work
work on something else
eat baked goods
leave my apartment (or desk)
reach out to people
plan things that are likely to actually happen
have a back-up plan
re-frame the issue so that I can see that my happiness is possible
introspect**
have a coffee*

*not actually recommended
**as if I have another option!

Other ideas?

19th and Valencia on Election Night

This was happening all over the city! KT said there were fire spinners at 16th and Guererro.

...and we're off! (tdc part 3)

After much anticipation, the ride got underway. These cyclists, including one with brown leggings and mini, headed off to eat cupcakes... I mean, to win the race.

Our first stop was overwhelmed. As a testament to the event's success, they ran out of cupcakes during our stop there. Here, orange and pink race to enjoy.

Again, our brown mini has her eyes on the prize...

My dear friend Danielle did the ride in boots, skirt and cute green sweater.

Our crew decided to head up the hill to a more secluded stop in hopes of avoiding cupcake shortages.

Encore de cupcake (tdc part 2)

The Tour de Cupcake was pretty much the greatest thing that ever happened to anyone. Biking brings out the kid in everyone, but with the addition of cupcakes, you do take the risk of it all just being too much. Here are some kids ready for the ride:

The Bike Kitchen expected about 100 riders. Instead more than 400 showed up. The line was around the block. The wait provided me the opportunity to capture perfectly San Francisco outfits like this yellow mini with arm warmers.

Here's KT in full awesomeness with stylish hat, poncho and her usual vintage town bike with our friend Jeff:

This woman did the ride in heels, knickers and lovely green jacket and purse.
Finally, a few riders were in costume. I walked up to this guy and said "you dressed that way because you didn't want anyone to notice you, right?" He agreed by posing for me. His friend in pink is also fabulous.

I have enough photos for at least one more post. So, sit tight.

Cautiously Optimistic

Last night was crazy. We tried to go to a party at the Yerba Buena center for the arts but it was over capacity and not everyone in our party got in... including me and Marie Lyse. So, we mosied to a nearby sports bar with lots of televisions and had to wrestle for tables, chairs and physical space (we never got more than one chair for our party). We ordered chicken wings, jalapeno poppers, nachos (etc...Danielle said they were the worst nachos she had ever had) but at least our food was thematically appropriate.

The large, noisy bar went quiet when McCain gave his concession speech at 8 on the dot. That was one outstanding speech! I read about his love for chaos as indicated by his selection of Palin as running mate (and many other decisions), and I can't help but point out that he would have received more votes without her. Likewise, Obama would have received more votes if he were white. We are what we are. Obama won!

I cried when Obama spoke. I worried if he was safe. I hugged perfect strangers in elation. This presidential election is such good news, I'm bracing myself for disappointment. Who knew it was possible we could have a black president? The camera hovered on Jessie Jackson's tearful face.

If I had been able to vote in the primaries, I probably would have voted for Hillary. I don't like Palin. However, I am also aware that twice this country has chosen a black man over a woman in this election. We are less racist than we are still sexist. I don't confront sexism much in my every day life, but I believe Geraldine Ferraro when she says it is still absolutely a man's world (according to Danielle).

Obama, Biden and their families spent a long time on the stage in Chicago. I had lots of time to analyze their expressions. Barack and Jill Biden both looked nervous but happy. Michelle and Joe looked thrilled. If I fell in love with a man who wanted to run for president, I would rise to the occasion, but it wouldn't be my first choice. Danielle suggested that Obama was tempering his joy to express instead his seriousness about the job, and I can appreciate that.

People were dancing and singing in the streets. The intersection of 19th and Valencia was completely blocked with celebration. (I took a video with my little camera which I might post later.) It was a special night to be in San Francisco!

Valencia Corridor

I don't know what this woman is wearing. Stockings and nothing else? Hey, I like it. It just confuses me.


This one I liked because she wears boots with a normal biking outfit. I recently had a massage therapist who was a cyclist, and she commented on the impact cycling has on our ankles. Boots seem counter-intuitive for this reason. I always love it when folks wear them anyway.

New ideas

From one of my lists:
Gandhi/Schopenhauer quotation: I think Arthur Clarke also said something like this: new ideas go through 3 stages:
1. It's impossible.
2. It's undesirable.
3. I said it was a good idea all along.

Berkeley white vogue

Why do people hate buses?

I was looking for pictures of the Highway 17 Express Bus for work today. I found many thousand photos with the label, but none of them were actually of the vehicle. I guess it isn't a sexy bus -- no one wants to post photos of it. I did find a photo of bikes on the bus on flickr incidentally posted by one of our favorite contributors of Velo Vogue.

Before I left for my trip around the world, I told a family friend "I don't do buses." She didn't let me forget that for years! She considered it a childish statement worth taunting. When I returned, having ridden buses, trains, planes, donkey carts, auto and cyclo rickshaws, bicycles and walked maybe thousands of miles, she puffed that I had "grown up so much." (This from a woman who hired a car and driver to take her around India, but don't get me started.) I do do buses now, but I don't like it.

I didn't like the experience of the ...company... bus with my former employer just because it was a bus on the highway. I did some miscalculations last week and ended up driving alone back and forth to work twice. I HATE being on the highway. The experience of it makes my neck ache. But is that the reason we hate buses so much?

I had a conference this week. A lot of people asked if I was doing bike planning. "No," I replied. "I'm all about buses these days." I believe in buses because I believe in people. But I can't help but wonder if they are just the socialist off-shoot of auto-supremacy. I mean, you do what you can with the existing system. Is it too much of a compromise?

Years ago, Grayson wanted to prove that "what is beautiful is good." The problem with his premise is that beauty is absolutely subjective. How then decide about the collective good? I love my job because it is both complicated and solvable... at least slightly solvable anyway... until the next big questions or trend comes along.

The conference had a session on blogging. You know I had to go. Some of my co-bloggers have complained about not having enough readers. I had lunch with a group of activist ladies. One said that she wasn't young enough to get into blogging. Knowing that I was about 10 years older, I said "I have more opinions than is really useful. Blogging helps me to get them out." I don't even care that I have 5 readers. Folks are invited to read or not. I blog for myself. I loved it when one of the guys in the session said blogging has "a bias towards you."

They influenced me to ask myself what's the angle of my drivel. Right now, I'm thinking: thirty-something, carfree, urban, single San Franciscan who thinks (and travels) too much. The specifics on my friends and life are probably what causes people who know me to return. But the positive feedback comes when I weave in the politics of my lifestyle.

Psych Drama

I left my bike at the Warm Planet Bike Shop at the train station today instead of taking it all the way to the office. The guy who returned my bike to me wore a shirt that said "When do I get to vote on your marriage?"
VOTE NO ON 8.

Marriage tears me up. I don't know why. Yesterday, Jess and Sam had their San Francisco wedding reenactment and reception. I was deeply honored that they asked me to "officiate". I mostly managed not to cry.

Today was similar. I left our team laptop with an IT lady who my boss loves. Originally, I needed some large files transferred to it because we only have one copy of a certain software; so, we keep it on this shared computer. She decided it needed to be mapped to the network which I guess it used to be but no one connected it for so long that it lost it's... ability to connect. Logged on as the administrator, she downloaded a bunch of stuff to update it and made it possible for me to log on as myself instead of my boss. But when she returned the computer to me the needed software no longer worked and my boss was no longer able to log on. I had a pretty good idea of what had happened, but no matter how long I discussed it with her, she didn't agree with me, and the computer continued to not work in these very important ways.

After about 30 minutes of this, I took the laptop away to let my boss now have a try at it (why she thought this would work, I still don't know). Walking across the courtyard between buildings, I just about completely lost my shit. (Beg your pardon.) Realizing that this emotional outburst likely had nothing to do with anything actually happening, I took a deep breath and continued forward with the "plan". My boss couldn't make the computer work either. I explained to him: "I know you love (this IT lady); so, all I'm going to say is that it worked when I dropped it off to her on Thursday, and now it doesn't work." (Meanwhile, she was trying to tell us that the problem is that our software is expired. -- I ask you: between Thursday and today, what are the chances that the software, that our team has a license for, expired?)

At the wedding yesterday, I was telling a story about someone else I know to Mike and Carolyn. Mike said, "So, he's having psych drama." I loved that! Psych drama, which never had a name with me before, was popular with me in College, but I've completely lost a taste for it. I think Kevin burned that out of me, but then, that psych drama was completely my fault. I realized sometime in 2004 or 5 that going through life being tortured is pointless when you can be forwarding justice and enriching people's lives by creating art. I mean, I deeply value exploration of the human experience, but it's only interesting if it can be channeled into something productive.

Halloween

I often do not celebrate Halloween because in San Francisco people celebrate by wandering the streets, getting drunk and generally behaving badly. Since I never wander, drink or behave at all, I feel out of place during these festivities. This year, the universe has conspired against me by giving me a VP candidate I resemble slightly. To be Sarah Palin, all I have to do is sling a gun, disabled baby or "Miss Alaska" banner over my shoulder and I'm set in my usual ensemble. However, before I venture down this road, I want to make one unequivocal statement:

Tina Fey is prettier than Sarah Palin.

That's what you need to know.

Sunday Streets / Family Streets

Sunday Streets provides the opportunity for families to enjoy the street unharmed by dangerous vehicles. Here a dapper man in hat totes his child:

A woman enjoys a leisurely ride with her dog:


A little family, mom in fashionable flowy skirt and matching brown tights and cardigan, ride along the waterfront:

and a woman pulls her tired buddy back home again...

More Sunday Streets photos to come

Pictures of babies in pink sweaters

A professional friend send me a chain email with pictures of babies in pink sweaters accompanied by inspirational words. I read it; I can be moved by this sort of thing despite my learned cynicism. ...Which reminds me of something else I have been thinking lately. I was a deeply idealistic child. I didn't understand how the step sisters could be mean to Cinderella. Why be mean? I have struggled with reality.

In 6th grade, I attended a combined class of 4th through 6th graders. This meant that the older kids had some obligation to mentor the younger kids. We were year-round secret Santa for them and traded stickers. I was overly nice to 2 little girls because I was older and had the moral high ground. I thought I had the skills to make them feel good about themselves. But that's not how it played out. Instead, they thought I was stupid.

If I had been giving from my heart because I wanted to give, I suppose that wouldn't matter. But it bothered me that, for example, they thought I was not smart enough to make a good sticker trade (when really I was just being generous). Now that I have a regular income, I find my generosity has not grown in proportion to my wealth. But I don't want to be talking about the material; it's just easier to explain.

On the one hand, I think anyone who puts up with me should be generously rewarded with love and attention. On the other hand, when people I'm close with are thoughtless, selfish or (un)intentionally mean, I feel compelled to adjust the situation.

So, like Elizabeth said years ago: "If someone doesn't treat you the way you want to be treated, don't spend time with them," this chain email advised: "Life is too short to wake up with regrets. So love the people who treat you right. Forget about the ones who don't. Believe everything happens for a reason. If you get a second chance, grab it with both hands. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it."

The line between nice and stupid is fine. People can understand that what they put into the world comes back. But that's their second thought. The first thought is self-protecting, self-serving. Like when that woman used wild animal training techniques to keep her husband on the other side of the kitchen while she cooks, people often do the wrong thing (crowd their spouse in the kitchen) for the right reason (because they want to be close to their spouse). Now, "being in the kitchen" could actually be (metaphorically) something mean that you do for the right reason... or you could react meanly to someone crowding you in the kitchen (metaphorically or actually). You decide how you want to express yourself... except sometimes you reacts before you have a chance to intervene.

I could be wrong, but meanness feels a lot like disrespect to me sometimes... and vice versa. and then there's a lot of other things that sometimes feel like one or the other of those. So, if a person is disappointing you in how they address or handle you, you can choose not to love them... or at least not to let that love grow any further. The world is big with lots of people in it, and while I believe in investing in the people I have connecting with over the years, really hanging onto them, I'm also proud. If you have to fight to make someone give you what you need in a relationship, maybe it isn't the right relationship.

That doesn't feel like the end of this thought string, but it will have to be for now.

folding bike vogue

I saw this woman at the corner of Valencia and 20th with her folding bike. I liked her shoes, anorak and general poise.


Speaking of folding bikes, I wanted to get one after my vacation to Alaska on the Alaska Marine Highway (awesome!), but I have never thought of getting one so much as after being bumped from Caltrain 2 days in row recently.

Oakland Infill

Years ago, my friend Brian and I took photos of a parking garage being torn down in Oakland. I met him for lunch a few weeks back, and he wanted to show me what they'd done with the lot.

But first, this woman in full summer gear biked past us. I love stripes... and red, but I loved her "salt water flats" even more -- I had a pair of those sandals as a kid. Where do you buy them in adult sizes?


In the background of this photo, you can see the Uptown, the infill development they put on the lot of that parking garage. We got a tour, and it is awesome.

another fine use for thighs

When I first got back from France last month, we were amid a heat wave that would put any European to shame. While Paris was cold and overcast, San Francisco (the-coldest-winter-you-ever-spent summer) was ablaze. So, shooting chycks in their summer dresses biking around became easy.

While I would love bike share at train stations, poor accomodation of bicycles on our transit systems irks me. This woman was forced to prop her bike between her thighs to keep it still during her BART ride. Yowza.

Here she is leaving the train:

hardly strictly

You may recall that last year, I canceled my Sunday plans after a Saturday at the Hardly Strictly Blue Grass Festival because it was so great. This year, I can't get out of my Sunday plans (birthdays rank higher even than music), but I did clear my Saturday schedule to enjoy the show.

Last year, Brian advised me on where to be when. This year, I had my coworker Andrew do it. (I realized that my main limitation for being knowledgeable about music is my poor memory of names. I can remember other things usually.) We got there around 1:30 in time for the Jayhawks which I found a bit shrill but maybe I wasn't warmed up yet. We moved from there to hear "Three girls and their buddy" which was secret code for Patty Griffin, Emmylou Harris, Shawn Colvin and Buddy Miller. You can't argue with that, but the show didn't blow my mind. They just sat around playing as if the 100,000s of people in the audience were a camp fire. I grew up on Emmylou. I just learned about Patty Griffin a couple years ago, but I love her.

We crossed back at this point to Nick Lowe who turned out to be both of our favorites of the day. He covered a range of lyrics-driven songs that made us think and feel happy inside: "all men are liars", "(what's so funny about) peace love and understanding" (a song I always thought written by Elvis Costello, but just learned is actually by Nick Lowe for Elvis), etc. (other names are alluding me).

From there, we trekked over to hear some actual bluegrass with the Del McCory Band, and that was great. We ended the day with Robert Earl Keen who had a sort of standard rock 'n' roll sound that didn't overwhelm me but I liked it when he covered "Touch of Grey".

We stumbled upon the end of the Lovefest at Civic Center on the way back... because there's never anything to do in San Francisco. I had wanted to hit Vertigo playing at Union Square but my campanion was concerned about having missed the beginning of my favorite movie which he'd never seen. So, after sipping wine all day long, the main activity of my Saturday night was sleeping.

I should also mention that Friday night, I saw the Robert Plant-Alison Krauss show, and it completely blew my mind. Danielle said Robert Plant probably never imagined he would play music like that, but, well, it not only worked, I think I can safely say it was lifechanging. He played the maracas and made his Led Zeppelin sounds along side, well, Alison Krauss (bluegrass country).

Being wrong

I've already talked a lot on this blog about being wrong. I'm still thinking about it. I've been wrong several times about a person being the love of my life for example. It stung, but I'm here to tell about it with humility. I'm wrong in art, politics, work and even the most mundane aspects of life. I've been aware lately of how often I am wrong. I'm wrong because:
1) I believe things strongly.
2) I'm proud.
This causes me to ask myself if I would rather give up these characteristics and be wrong less often. (Giving up being wrong altogether seems unlikely -- one day at the time, you know.) Would I give up my passion and dignity to be right?

I don't even have to think about, but I am trying to force myself. Of course not! So, I ask myself, if I choose to be wrong, is there some way I can do that well, with the passion and dignity I love more? I can think of a few ways:
1) Laugh at myself -- find being wrong humorous
2) Articulate my intention to devalue being right and admit my errors freely
3) Open my mind to learning from my mistakes
I'm not good at humility. But I think it's worth practicing. Of course, the flip side of all this is to try to be as well informed as possible, but so much of living is subjective. My facts and opinions are often wrong, but I can only work towards getting the facts right slightly more often. The true value of my opinions only unfold with time.

Various Thoughts

I've been thinking about a few things:
If you dress up all eccentric like in a costume, it must be that you both want people to look at you and you want them not to really see you.
Maybe McCain chose Sarah Palin because bitch is still the new black.
Beauty is everywhere; it is where you see it.
We live by our intention.
The problem with "other people"(1) is that they all have FEELINGS that must be attended to when they are present.
(1) "Hell is other people."