-- the skyline driving in across the Golden Gate Bridge and how it's different every day
-- how no parking place is too small to attempt to squeeze into
-- that every holiday (or plain old weekend) is an excuse for outrageous costuming
-- that bars are hopping even on Monday nights
-- the views of city, bay, and ocean that sneak up on you as you round an unsuspecting corner
-- that everyone owns a dog yet no apartments for rent are pet friendly
-- that it took me four months to find an apartment and that I was moved into it within 10 days of first seeing it
-- my idyllic, tree-lined street that is just a block away from awesomeness in every direction
01 April 2008
23 February 2008
More of What's New
Week Five: Night Out in SF
This was my first foray into SF nightlife and the first time I've ever gone out dancing with people I barely knew. In fact, I knew them so little that I discovered before we even left for the club that this would also be my first time out with total stoners. And there was a photo booth involved. Good times all around.
Week Six: Hair Dye
My hair has actually been on quite an adventure for the past year or so. Below you can see the progression from deep purple streaks to neon pinks & purples to the weird faded browns & reds the neons morphed into to this latest attempt to go back to my natural dark brown. I'm counting this dye job as a first since I've never done my whole head before (just streaks and chunks) and I've never done the at-home, out-of-a-box, rinse-it-out-in-your-bathtub thing before either.
Week 7: Makeup
Believe it or not, I've never bought or owned makeup for daily use, only for random outrageous costumes. So my friend Charlynn, who I think has gotten tired of letting me use her makeup when we go out, took me to Sephora and helped me drop a good chunk of change on some quality cosmetics. Only problem: I'd still rather spend the extra ten minutes in the morning sleeping than using what I've bought. I figure, if I get the extra rest, my face won't look like it needs the stuff anyway.
Week 8: iPod
Despite being a lifetime Mac user, I've never actually owned an iPod. Well, until today, that is, when I became the proud owner of a (PRODUCT) RED nano. I've always preferred to spend my entertainment budget on books, but being at the gym so much recently (see entry for Week 2) has given me a new appreciation for auditory stimuli. And I have to say, 60 minutes on the elliptical machine does go by a lot faster with some Fat Boy Slim pumping into your inner ear.
This was my first foray into SF nightlife and the first time I've ever gone out dancing with people I barely knew. In fact, I knew them so little that I discovered before we even left for the club that this would also be my first time out with total stoners. And there was a photo booth involved. Good times all around.
Week Six: Hair Dye
My hair has actually been on quite an adventure for the past year or so. Below you can see the progression from deep purple streaks to neon pinks & purples to the weird faded browns & reds the neons morphed into to this latest attempt to go back to my natural dark brown. I'm counting this dye job as a first since I've never done my whole head before (just streaks and chunks) and I've never done the at-home, out-of-a-box, rinse-it-out-in-your-bathtub thing before either.
Week 7: Makeup
Believe it or not, I've never bought or owned makeup for daily use, only for random outrageous costumes. So my friend Charlynn, who I think has gotten tired of letting me use her makeup when we go out, took me to Sephora and helped me drop a good chunk of change on some quality cosmetics. Only problem: I'd still rather spend the extra ten minutes in the morning sleeping than using what I've bought. I figure, if I get the extra rest, my face won't look like it needs the stuff anyway.
Week 8: iPod
Despite being a lifetime Mac user, I've never actually owned an iPod. Well, until today, that is, when I became the proud owner of a (PRODUCT) RED nano. I've always preferred to spend my entertainment budget on books, but being at the gym so much recently (see entry for Week 2) has given me a new appreciation for auditory stimuli. And I have to say, 60 minutes on the elliptical machine does go by a lot faster with some Fat Boy Slim pumping into your inner ear.
20 February 2008
What's New in 2008
My new year's resolution for 2008 was to do one "new thing" every week. Not entirely original, I know, but it's track-able and attainable, which are key components in a resolution one intends to actually keep. Plus, it goes well with my recent trend of breaking all my own rules and being generally more adventurous. I guess I'm moving away from the "Why?" towards the "Why not?" side of the spectrum. Here's what I've done so far:
Week One: Got Drunk
Don't ask how I managed to reach the age of 27 (including four years at a university not lacking in the party scene) without having done this. Just know that 5 rum drinks and a shot of Jager (go JB!) definitely did the trick. I could still walk afterwards, and didn't get sick, so I'm pretty impressed with myself. And apparently I get talkative when I'm wasted - talkative and bossy. I also crave cheese puffs.
Week Two: Signed Up for Personal Training
This one is actually a big one seeing as I had worked out all of like 2 times in my entire life up until a few months ago . I used to ridicule the gym-addicted; now I've joined their ranks, and I actually enjoy it. Here's to Texas Double Whoppers!
Week Three: Started a Blog
You're reading it.
Week Four: Rode in a VW Beetle
Okay, so this one is kind of a cop-out -- the week got away from me. In my defense, I've wanted to own a Bug since I was a kid (preferably a purple one, of course) and this was the first time I'd actually been inside one. To be honest, it was kind of a letdown. I think now I'd rather have a cool hybrid . . . look at that, I DO belong in San Francisco! This week I was also exposed to the glory of the International Male Catalog, and I paid money to see a bad monster movie in the theater. Oh, and I ate Iraqi food at a cool place in Lower Haight. Put together, I think all of these count as at least one solid new thing. And the judges say . . . it's my resolution so I make the rules . . .
Week One: Got Drunk
Don't ask how I managed to reach the age of 27 (including four years at a university not lacking in the party scene) without having done this. Just know that 5 rum drinks and a shot of Jager (go JB!) definitely did the trick. I could still walk afterwards, and didn't get sick, so I'm pretty impressed with myself. And apparently I get talkative when I'm wasted - talkative and bossy. I also crave cheese puffs.
Week Two: Signed Up for Personal Training
This one is actually a big one seeing as I had worked out all of like 2 times in my entire life up until a few months ago . I used to ridicule the gym-addicted; now I've joined their ranks, and I actually enjoy it. Here's to Texas Double Whoppers!
Week Three: Started a Blog
You're reading it.
Week Four: Rode in a VW Beetle
Okay, so this one is kind of a cop-out -- the week got away from me. In my defense, I've wanted to own a Bug since I was a kid (preferably a purple one, of course) and this was the first time I'd actually been inside one. To be honest, it was kind of a letdown. I think now I'd rather have a cool hybrid . . . look at that, I DO belong in San Francisco! This week I was also exposed to the glory of the International Male Catalog, and I paid money to see a bad monster movie in the theater. Oh, and I ate Iraqi food at a cool place in Lower Haight. Put together, I think all of these count as at least one solid new thing. And the judges say . . . it's my resolution so I make the rules . . .
23 January 2008
Story
This is a piece I wrote for the creativity workshop I'm taking through reimagine. I'm having trouble with the idea of story right now, especially the idea of my story, which I guess becomes a story in itself.
She sat on a bench in the Shakespeare garden thinking how much more Shakespearean it would be if there were quotes from the plays in front of each of the plants. She thought she remembered there being little plaques serving exactly this purpose the last time she was there, but that was all of ten years ago. Perhaps she was remembering a different garden, or perhaps she was only remembering that she had wanted there to be quotes in the garden back then as well. It was not hard to believe that her mind might go back to the same thought, recalling it as fact rather than desire. After all, her feet had brought her back to the place where that thought originated.
She did find it hard to believe that it had actually been ten years since she last sat in this place. She was surprised she remembered the garden at all – she hadn’t even realized she remembered it until she saw the sign on the gate – and surprised at how much and how little had changed. But she often felt just this way when her path happened to circle back on places from her past, although her life was such that it should not have been so unexpected.
The journey had started some two dozen plus years before, not two miles from where she sat on that bench, shaded half by an aging tree and half by her own mood. Born to parents who made their lives a loud exercise in contradiction, and possessing what many would call a good nature but what was mostly just eagerness, she followed them in body and heart from one end of the world to the other and back again several times over. There was such eternal import to all the moving about, and so, though the motion sickness always plagued her, she learned at least to appreciate the variety in scenery. She even fancied that she would one day sign up for the great venture on her own terms. No other life seemed to make much sense.
And then, in the most unlikely places, the girl whose wide experience had left her strangely narrow was exposed to the terrific and terrifying grace of reality. In the dreaded bastion of humanism she embraced spirituality never modeled by the self-proclaiming devotees. And in the seeming little-mindedness of the backwoods her capacity for liberality grew beyond the limits of urbane and learned freedoms.
Now if this all sounds too esoteric, know that it was no less cryptic to the girl herself. In fact, sitting there on the now fully shaded bench, growing cold as the sun began to set, she felt distinctly puzzled at the lack of coherence. Her story seemed to be unraveling, the motifs she traced so faithfully up to this point now dispersing, even disappearing. There were still some things she knew she knew – that life is real and so is joy, that knowing things is not as important as it used to be, and that in losing the certainty of outside themes she hoped to find the clarity in her own voice. She knew this, and more importantly, she felt it. Although part of her still wanted the Shakespeare garden to have labels.
She sat on a bench in the Shakespeare garden thinking how much more Shakespearean it would be if there were quotes from the plays in front of each of the plants. She thought she remembered there being little plaques serving exactly this purpose the last time she was there, but that was all of ten years ago. Perhaps she was remembering a different garden, or perhaps she was only remembering that she had wanted there to be quotes in the garden back then as well. It was not hard to believe that her mind might go back to the same thought, recalling it as fact rather than desire. After all, her feet had brought her back to the place where that thought originated.
She did find it hard to believe that it had actually been ten years since she last sat in this place. She was surprised she remembered the garden at all – she hadn’t even realized she remembered it until she saw the sign on the gate – and surprised at how much and how little had changed. But she often felt just this way when her path happened to circle back on places from her past, although her life was such that it should not have been so unexpected.
The journey had started some two dozen plus years before, not two miles from where she sat on that bench, shaded half by an aging tree and half by her own mood. Born to parents who made their lives a loud exercise in contradiction, and possessing what many would call a good nature but what was mostly just eagerness, she followed them in body and heart from one end of the world to the other and back again several times over. There was such eternal import to all the moving about, and so, though the motion sickness always plagued her, she learned at least to appreciate the variety in scenery. She even fancied that she would one day sign up for the great venture on her own terms. No other life seemed to make much sense.
And then, in the most unlikely places, the girl whose wide experience had left her strangely narrow was exposed to the terrific and terrifying grace of reality. In the dreaded bastion of humanism she embraced spirituality never modeled by the self-proclaiming devotees. And in the seeming little-mindedness of the backwoods her capacity for liberality grew beyond the limits of urbane and learned freedoms.
Now if this all sounds too esoteric, know that it was no less cryptic to the girl herself. In fact, sitting there on the now fully shaded bench, growing cold as the sun began to set, she felt distinctly puzzled at the lack of coherence. Her story seemed to be unraveling, the motifs she traced so faithfully up to this point now dispersing, even disappearing. There were still some things she knew she knew – that life is real and so is joy, that knowing things is not as important as it used to be, and that in losing the certainty of outside themes she hoped to find the clarity in her own voice. She knew this, and more importantly, she felt it. Although part of her still wanted the Shakespeare garden to have labels.
21 January 2008
A lot about livin'
So for those of you who haven't caught the Alan Jackson allusions yet, and for the many more of you who don't know who Alan Jackson is, let me elucidate: both the title and the url of this blog were inspired by the song "Chattahoochee". I heard it on the radio the other day while driving home from work -- yes I listen to country music -- and realized as I sang along with the chorus just how fit a description of my own time "way down yonder" it is. I've heard the song a thousand times before and never gave it a second thought. But this time, well, it just struck me. And it made me want to write. Check out the lyrics or the fabulous early 90's video if you'd like, although know that I will not justify my choice to draw deep personal meaning from such a source. If you don't get it, I can't explain. It's just part of everything I learned on the banks of the 'Hooch, part of what the muddy water means.
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