There's a little café/sandwich shop on the first floor of the building where I'm working for my summer internship. The woman who runs it is very friendly, and we'll often chat when I stop in to pick something up. Aside from the shop, she also does personal catering for people, making food for them to have for daily living (as opposed to food for an event).
I stopped in today because I saw that she had chili, and I'm a sucker for good chili. I noticed on the counter that she had a little trophy that said, "[some school] Elementary School Chili Cook-off Champion," and asked if this was the award-winning chili. She laughed, and told me that yes, this was the award-winning chili. And the reason she has the trophy is that one of her clients paid her to make chili for their kid's school chili contest.
Yes, that's right - professional caterer for the kid's chili contest.
Her thoughts on the matter, "At least they were big enough to let me know that it won, and let me have the trophy."
Showing posts with label la. Show all posts
Showing posts with label la. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Quintessential Hollywood
LT and I took a walk today, and the second half ended up being a quintessential Hollywood experience. At least, for people who know what Hollywood is actually like.
There was of course the part that people who don't know Hollywood think of--celebrity event. We passed a throng of kids outside of some theater, waiting to get into a benefit concert starring a whole bunch of kid stars. One was outside signing autographs, but damned if I know who it was. He looked like he was about 10, and I thought about how weird it would be to be 10 and have to learn how to work a crowd and greet fans and sign autographs and stuff. The neatest part about it was the street performer we saw a block earlier getting ready to make an appearance, getting himself up on pretty decently sized stilts.
Then there were two blocks that were really almost a complete picture of the real Hollywood. It started with a new condo/apartment/shopping development, across the street were a bunch of old trees that had completely decimated the sidewalk. A block down we noticed this really neat looking building with balconies with fun designs and admired it for a bit, then when we got to the corner we saw the sign saying that it was housing for elderly LGBT folks. Then the next block involved a restaurant called Big Wangs, advertising Bikini Bingo every Sunday night at 8; two guys yelling back and forth across the street while one was parking an old beater car; another guy driving by in an annoyingly loud Mustang; a loud and rowdy bar; a shady bar that you couldn't see inside at all, all you saw was a dark doorway with a sign above it; and a minor celebrity standing outside a closed auto body shop smoking a cigarette.
And that, my friends, is Hollywood.
There was of course the part that people who don't know Hollywood think of--celebrity event. We passed a throng of kids outside of some theater, waiting to get into a benefit concert starring a whole bunch of kid stars. One was outside signing autographs, but damned if I know who it was. He looked like he was about 10, and I thought about how weird it would be to be 10 and have to learn how to work a crowd and greet fans and sign autographs and stuff. The neatest part about it was the street performer we saw a block earlier getting ready to make an appearance, getting himself up on pretty decently sized stilts.
Then there were two blocks that were really almost a complete picture of the real Hollywood. It started with a new condo/apartment/shopping development, across the street were a bunch of old trees that had completely decimated the sidewalk. A block down we noticed this really neat looking building with balconies with fun designs and admired it for a bit, then when we got to the corner we saw the sign saying that it was housing for elderly LGBT folks. Then the next block involved a restaurant called Big Wangs, advertising Bikini Bingo every Sunday night at 8; two guys yelling back and forth across the street while one was parking an old beater car; another guy driving by in an annoyingly loud Mustang; a loud and rowdy bar; a shady bar that you couldn't see inside at all, all you saw was a dark doorway with a sign above it; and a minor celebrity standing outside a closed auto body shop smoking a cigarette.
And that, my friends, is Hollywood.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Microcosm
I stayed on campus late today working, so by the time I left to go home it was about 10:30 pm. My usual (more direct) bus doesn't run that late, so I had to catch two to get home--one east to Hollywood, then one south to my area. I stood at the bus stop waiting for the 2, which at that point only comes every half hour. I was relishing in a couple weather-related things: namely, that I was quite comfortable in a hoodie, jeans and sandals, and that the back of my neck felt a little itchy-rough from reading out in the sun this afternoon. Then I realized the woman at the stop next to me was bundled up in a coat, with her knit hat pulled down and scarf pulled up so only her eyes were showing, shivering and cursing the wait for the bus.
Just as the bus came, I heard an owl. If I had only heard it once, I would have doubted myself, but I heard it again as I was getting on; definitely an owl. Another woman who arrived just as the bus was pulling up heard it too, and we talked for a minute about nothing in particular. She works for the UCLA hospitality services, and takes that bus so often that she usually can time it so she gets to the stop right when it's about to come.
I got off the first bus at Sunset and Vine, and waited for the next one. At that point it was about 11:15, and the next one was due to come shortly after 11:30. While I was waiting, a pseudo-goth chick lit a bunch of papers on fire and threw them in a trash can, then knocked the trash can off the sidewalk and spent a few minutes kicking it around the parking lane on Vine, spreading smoldering flakes of paper everywhere. An old white guy dressed in business-casual type clothes and an old worn fishing hat looked at her, looked at me, and said, very deliberately, "She's craaazy. I think she had something to smoke. If the cops were here, she'd be in jail." When the bus came, the goth chick picked up the now-extinguished garbage can, set it upright on the sidewalk, and threw her fast food garbage into it.
I got off the bus in my neighborhood at around midnight. It was incredibly quiet - aside from very light traffic, the only sound was that of a beautiful solo voice rehearsing a song, coming from the Korean store-front church whose only English language sign says, "Happy Life With Jesus!" It was the first time I'd ever seen any signs of activity at that church--its metal security gate was closed, but the front door inside that was open and light streamed out.
On the walk home, I spent a minute saying hello to and rough-housing with Doggie, the "guard dog" who lives in the parking lot of a tire store near my house. I waved to Armando, the security guard at the place across the street. I can't quite figure out what the place IS, but they have a nighttime security guard who sits outside their door on a metal folding chair at night. In the last block before home, one of a myriad old alarm clocks was busily beeping away in the second hand/junk store.
Just as the bus came, I heard an owl. If I had only heard it once, I would have doubted myself, but I heard it again as I was getting on; definitely an owl. Another woman who arrived just as the bus was pulling up heard it too, and we talked for a minute about nothing in particular. She works for the UCLA hospitality services, and takes that bus so often that she usually can time it so she gets to the stop right when it's about to come.
I got off the first bus at Sunset and Vine, and waited for the next one. At that point it was about 11:15, and the next one was due to come shortly after 11:30. While I was waiting, a pseudo-goth chick lit a bunch of papers on fire and threw them in a trash can, then knocked the trash can off the sidewalk and spent a few minutes kicking it around the parking lane on Vine, spreading smoldering flakes of paper everywhere. An old white guy dressed in business-casual type clothes and an old worn fishing hat looked at her, looked at me, and said, very deliberately, "She's craaazy. I think she had something to smoke. If the cops were here, she'd be in jail." When the bus came, the goth chick picked up the now-extinguished garbage can, set it upright on the sidewalk, and threw her fast food garbage into it.
I got off the bus in my neighborhood at around midnight. It was incredibly quiet - aside from very light traffic, the only sound was that of a beautiful solo voice rehearsing a song, coming from the Korean store-front church whose only English language sign says, "Happy Life With Jesus!" It was the first time I'd ever seen any signs of activity at that church--its metal security gate was closed, but the front door inside that was open and light streamed out.
On the walk home, I spent a minute saying hello to and rough-housing with Doggie, the "guard dog" who lives in the parking lot of a tire store near my house. I waved to Armando, the security guard at the place across the street. I can't quite figure out what the place IS, but they have a nighttime security guard who sits outside their door on a metal folding chair at night. In the last block before home, one of a myriad old alarm clocks was busily beeping away in the second hand/junk store.
Monday, March 2, 2009
People Watching
People tend to have a lot of different impressions about Los Angeles. For some people, LA is Hollywood. (Although not actual Hollywood--the "Hollywood" most people think of is more like Beverly Hills and the Palisades...the real Hollywood is way different.) For some people, LA is smog and traffic. For some people, it's the Dodgers. For some people, it's WeHo and the L Word. For some people, it's Santa Monica and Manhattan Beach.
For me, though, LA is the people.
Not the movie stars, fashionistas, or club goers. For me it's the real people. The draw that a city like this has to pull people of all walks of life from near and far is amazing to me. It's the underbelly of Los Angeles - beneath what dominant American culture sees as the capital of glitz and glamour, is a world of people in the trenches, making LA what it really is.
It's the guys who get paid to stand on street corners, holding big arrows directing prospective renters to apartment complexes, some of them turning sign-holding into an Olympic sport.
It's the community organizers, who breathe life into community-based groups at a rate unlike anything I've seen elsewhere.
It's the guy skating down San Vicente in WeHo, in a cowboy hat, Hawaiian shirt, cutoff jean shorts and old-school roller skates, not just skating down the sidewalk, but skating down the middle of a traffic lane, continually pivoting from front to back to front the whole way.
It's the random group of people who, all independently, have become really great friends with the local guard dog.
It's the street character actors at popular shopping and tourist areas. They are movie characters in Hollywood, and are anything and everything on the Promenade in Santa Monica.
It's the friendly guy with a mohawk who bums cigarettes off of other motorists at stop lights.
It's all the people I ride the bus with, every day. Women toting kids, people obviously toting all their earthly belongings, the people who have gotten to know each other over time just because they always end up commuting on the same bus.
It's the bus driver, who has pulled a double shift that day and, when I talk to her at 6:00 in the evening, tells me she's been driving since 3:00 that morning.
It's the guys working in the carpentry and upholstery shop that I pass when I go home, who are always there working even if I walk by at 10:00 at night.
It's the sheer number of stories and personal histories that I brush with in any given day. It's all the people who have come to LA, for whatever reason, and whether they accomplished what they set out to do or not, have made something out of nothing, and give this massive concrete jungle such vital humanity. I admit, given my previous expectations of LA from popular culture, it is not what I expected.
For me, though, LA is the people.
Not the movie stars, fashionistas, or club goers. For me it's the real people. The draw that a city like this has to pull people of all walks of life from near and far is amazing to me. It's the underbelly of Los Angeles - beneath what dominant American culture sees as the capital of glitz and glamour, is a world of people in the trenches, making LA what it really is.
It's the guys who get paid to stand on street corners, holding big arrows directing prospective renters to apartment complexes, some of them turning sign-holding into an Olympic sport.
It's the community organizers, who breathe life into community-based groups at a rate unlike anything I've seen elsewhere.
It's the guy skating down San Vicente in WeHo, in a cowboy hat, Hawaiian shirt, cutoff jean shorts and old-school roller skates, not just skating down the sidewalk, but skating down the middle of a traffic lane, continually pivoting from front to back to front the whole way.
It's the random group of people who, all independently, have become really great friends with the local guard dog.
It's the street character actors at popular shopping and tourist areas. They are movie characters in Hollywood, and are anything and everything on the Promenade in Santa Monica.
It's the friendly guy with a mohawk who bums cigarettes off of other motorists at stop lights.
It's all the people I ride the bus with, every day. Women toting kids, people obviously toting all their earthly belongings, the people who have gotten to know each other over time just because they always end up commuting on the same bus.
It's the bus driver, who has pulled a double shift that day and, when I talk to her at 6:00 in the evening, tells me she's been driving since 3:00 that morning.
It's the guys working in the carpentry and upholstery shop that I pass when I go home, who are always there working even if I walk by at 10:00 at night.
It's the sheer number of stories and personal histories that I brush with in any given day. It's all the people who have come to LA, for whatever reason, and whether they accomplished what they set out to do or not, have made something out of nothing, and give this massive concrete jungle such vital humanity. I admit, given my previous expectations of LA from popular culture, it is not what I expected.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Pitter Patter!
Two things finally happened this week: We finally submitted something which counts for a grade, and it finally actually rained.
It's been raining most of the evening and I'm absolutely ecstatic about it! I knew I'd missed weather, but actually getting some actually brought it home for real. I've been laying around for a while now doing nothing except listening to the sound of it falling outside. Ahhh.... I hope it's still rainy tomorrow morning; I would love a rainy morning. But, a rainy evening is almost as good.
And, thinking about all the oil from the last however many months that is being stirred up on the highways...makes me glad I got new tires on the car today!
The item-for-a-grade was a paper. Well, a memo. A faux legal memorandum in which we offer predictive analysis on a particular claim based on a set realm of case law. We've done two much smaller ones through the semester; of course those were much less angsty because, y'know, they didn't count, and before we turned in the final versions of them we had writing advisors help us fix big ugly problems. I must admit it's more nerve-wracking basing an entire analysis on the tests you've devised when you don't really know if your tests are correct!
Beyond the memo, things are rolling right along at school. Next Tuesday is the last day of classes, then our first final is the Tuesday after that. Fun fun fun!
It's been raining most of the evening and I'm absolutely ecstatic about it! I knew I'd missed weather, but actually getting some actually brought it home for real. I've been laying around for a while now doing nothing except listening to the sound of it falling outside. Ahhh.... I hope it's still rainy tomorrow morning; I would love a rainy morning. But, a rainy evening is almost as good.
And, thinking about all the oil from the last however many months that is being stirred up on the highways...makes me glad I got new tires on the car today!
The item-for-a-grade was a paper. Well, a memo. A faux legal memorandum in which we offer predictive analysis on a particular claim based on a set realm of case law. We've done two much smaller ones through the semester; of course those were much less angsty because, y'know, they didn't count, and before we turned in the final versions of them we had writing advisors help us fix big ugly problems. I must admit it's more nerve-wracking basing an entire analysis on the tests you've devised when you don't really know if your tests are correct!
Beyond the memo, things are rolling right along at school. Next Tuesday is the last day of classes, then our first final is the Tuesday after that. Fun fun fun!
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Walls, Dinners, and Leaves
You're in a new place, living a new life. You constantly have tons to do--the endless readings, needing to be ready for class discussions, papers to write. You have endless opportunities presented to you to do exactly what you've always wanted to do--actively work to make the world a better place. And you take them--how could you not?! Then suddenly, you find yourself in the middle of a huge fight, against people telling you to your face that they don't think you're equal. It's nothing personal, they hope you can still be friends, but they don't think you're deserving of the same rights as they are, that deep down they feel you are morally repugnant, and they are willing to spend tens of millions of dollars to prove it.
You find yourself in this fight, not where you are comfortable. Not in a place with your long time friends and family around you. True, with a strong number of budding new friendships, but not the time-tested, weathered ones that you can truly lean on. Not in a familiar place, with comforting changing leaves, soothing rainy days and invigorating crisp ones. But in a place with alien looking palms stretching starkly to the sky, and only bright, intense days. The rays of the sun call for constant energy, but little true relaxation.
And little by little you feel yourself losing pace. The water rises, centimeter by centimeter (which is odd, seeing as it never rains). The readings go from being read thoroughly before class, to read quickly before class, to now and then not being read before class, for those professors who don't cold call. Readings begin to take twice as long, because concentration comes hard, as well as staying awake. You hit rough spots in class and don't feel quite like the competent intelligent person you were convinced you were after the rousing convocation speeches. Exams begin to loom on the horizon, and with them the feeling that you should be doing more to prepare, even now. You're not doing enough. You don't remember the last time you got six hours of sleep. Your shoulders and neck turn into knots, and the headache from the stress, lack of sleep and poor blood flow becomes somewhat constant. The enthusiasm with which you tackled everything just a couple weeks ago is fading fast.
You tell yourself, it's just until the election. You're tired, and you're stretched a bit too thin, but the end is in sight. The hours of phone banks, debates, meetings, stress, and angst will be over on November 5th. All you need to do is find a way to push through these last two weeks, just stick it out, and you'll wake up November 5th with fewer obligations. But until then, every moment has to be productive. Every second has to be working towards the larger goals, whether it be school, new friendships, old friendships, or justice for someone somewhere.
And finally, fuck it. You just can't do it.
This is all a long and dramatic way of saying I really learned the value of taking a little time off this week. Friday rolled around, and I just couldn't do anything. No matter how much I wanted to insist on trying to write, read, work, or whatever, I was simply not going to be any good to anyone, anywhere. So after class ended, I caught the first bus home, slept for three hours in the middle of the day, then took the evening off with an amazing dinner out with some new friends, and some good old hockey. Today was back to work for most of the day, phone banking and school work, then a movie with some other new friends. (W...it was OK...given the subject matter, they didn't have to make a phenomenal movie, and it showed.)
Earlier this week I was talking to one of the faculty members at school, and he was asking how things were going. I said they were going OK, I was pretty tired and stressed from all the election work, and was looking forward to the election being over. He commented that yeah, it's a hard thing to learn how to balance yourself, and that it's not just now for the election, but it will always be this way. I didn't think too hard about it right at that time (too busy, ya know) but I realize now that he's right. It's not as though after this election there won't be anything else to work towards, no other causes that I'm passionate about, people who need help, justice that needs to be fought for. That's never going to happen in my lifetime. So, for this election, however it comes out, I'm certainly taking away the lesson that I'm only one person, and I'll need to work on my skills a bit when it comes to picking and choosing where and how thin to spread myself. It's a good lesson, that I'm grateful to have begun to learn without (hopefully) any consequences worse than stress headaches and sleep deprivation.
An added bonus is that in taking a bit of time off this weekend, I've gotten to begin to connect more with those budding new friendships. At school, it's been connecting and realizing that, while not everyone has quite the number of obligations I've committed myself too, we all have had our moments of feeling like the class dunce. We're all feeling overstressed, and we're all feeling like we're hitting a bit of a hump. At the election work, it's been connecting and realizing that these don't have to be transient acquaintances, but the beginnings of lasting bonds with amazing, hard working, passionate people.
And then, the feather in my rejuvenation cap, I got a package in the mail today, containing genuine, honest-to-goodness, Western PA leaves of various shades and colors, courtesy of MT. And along with a few minutes of misty eyes, they brought final added strength of remembering that even if we're on opposite sides of the country, the love and support I have with all those crazy people stretches infinitely.
You find yourself in this fight, not where you are comfortable. Not in a place with your long time friends and family around you. True, with a strong number of budding new friendships, but not the time-tested, weathered ones that you can truly lean on. Not in a familiar place, with comforting changing leaves, soothing rainy days and invigorating crisp ones. But in a place with alien looking palms stretching starkly to the sky, and only bright, intense days. The rays of the sun call for constant energy, but little true relaxation.
And little by little you feel yourself losing pace. The water rises, centimeter by centimeter (which is odd, seeing as it never rains). The readings go from being read thoroughly before class, to read quickly before class, to now and then not being read before class, for those professors who don't cold call. Readings begin to take twice as long, because concentration comes hard, as well as staying awake. You hit rough spots in class and don't feel quite like the competent intelligent person you were convinced you were after the rousing convocation speeches. Exams begin to loom on the horizon, and with them the feeling that you should be doing more to prepare, even now. You're not doing enough. You don't remember the last time you got six hours of sleep. Your shoulders and neck turn into knots, and the headache from the stress, lack of sleep and poor blood flow becomes somewhat constant. The enthusiasm with which you tackled everything just a couple weeks ago is fading fast.
You tell yourself, it's just until the election. You're tired, and you're stretched a bit too thin, but the end is in sight. The hours of phone banks, debates, meetings, stress, and angst will be over on November 5th. All you need to do is find a way to push through these last two weeks, just stick it out, and you'll wake up November 5th with fewer obligations. But until then, every moment has to be productive. Every second has to be working towards the larger goals, whether it be school, new friendships, old friendships, or justice for someone somewhere.
And finally, fuck it. You just can't do it.
This is all a long and dramatic way of saying I really learned the value of taking a little time off this week. Friday rolled around, and I just couldn't do anything. No matter how much I wanted to insist on trying to write, read, work, or whatever, I was simply not going to be any good to anyone, anywhere. So after class ended, I caught the first bus home, slept for three hours in the middle of the day, then took the evening off with an amazing dinner out with some new friends, and some good old hockey. Today was back to work for most of the day, phone banking and school work, then a movie with some other new friends. (W...it was OK...given the subject matter, they didn't have to make a phenomenal movie, and it showed.)
Earlier this week I was talking to one of the faculty members at school, and he was asking how things were going. I said they were going OK, I was pretty tired and stressed from all the election work, and was looking forward to the election being over. He commented that yeah, it's a hard thing to learn how to balance yourself, and that it's not just now for the election, but it will always be this way. I didn't think too hard about it right at that time (too busy, ya know) but I realize now that he's right. It's not as though after this election there won't be anything else to work towards, no other causes that I'm passionate about, people who need help, justice that needs to be fought for. That's never going to happen in my lifetime. So, for this election, however it comes out, I'm certainly taking away the lesson that I'm only one person, and I'll need to work on my skills a bit when it comes to picking and choosing where and how thin to spread myself. It's a good lesson, that I'm grateful to have begun to learn without (hopefully) any consequences worse than stress headaches and sleep deprivation.
An added bonus is that in taking a bit of time off this weekend, I've gotten to begin to connect more with those budding new friendships. At school, it's been connecting and realizing that, while not everyone has quite the number of obligations I've committed myself too, we all have had our moments of feeling like the class dunce. We're all feeling overstressed, and we're all feeling like we're hitting a bit of a hump. At the election work, it's been connecting and realizing that these don't have to be transient acquaintances, but the beginnings of lasting bonds with amazing, hard working, passionate people.
And then, the feather in my rejuvenation cap, I got a package in the mail today, containing genuine, honest-to-goodness, Western PA leaves of various shades and colors, courtesy of MT. And along with a few minutes of misty eyes, they brought final added strength of remembering that even if we're on opposite sides of the country, the love and support I have with all those crazy people stretches infinitely.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Again
Well, if you enjoyed yesterday's bus story, here's a doozie.
Saturday morning I did phone banking for No on 8 on campus, then went to the law school the library closed at 6:00 and a crabby librarian shooed us out. I was cranky from a less-than-spectacular phone bank morning, combined with cranky librarian woman, so a couple friends and I decided to grab a couple drinks. I decided to leave my bag in my locker at the law building, and just grab it on the way back to catch the bus.
A good time was had with a couple margaritas, and I wasn't too concerned about catching the last trip of the bus that I normally take, which came around at slightly after 8:30. I knew there were other combos of busses I could take home, although catching that one would be a lot easier. As it turned out, I would have gotten it, except I had to get my bag from my locker. End result, I think I missed it by a few short minutes. And thus began the set of dominos...
I waited at the bus stop for at least another half hour or 40 minutes for a different bus that I could take. I had to take that one east to Hollywood, then another one south to my neighborhood. The bus finally came, with tons of entertainment in the form of five drunk guys speaking some indistinguishable foreign language, and old guy with two teeth speaking indistinguishable English, and a somewhat normal-ish looking woman who was practically cowering in a ball trying to ignore them. The drunk guys got booted for drinking on the bus, at which point the toothless guy turned his attention to the woman and decided he was going to give her a book, and insisted on her taking it. She turned to me, laughing about the book, at which point I realized she was missing about half of her teeth as well. Must've been a toothless full moon or something.
I get off the bus in Hollywood, hanging out at Sunset and Vine on a Friday night with a somewhat large "No on Prop 8" (aka, I'm A Giant Queer) sign. Yeehaw. Most of this time I was on the phone with LT, but without warning my cell phone ran out of battery, and the last thing she heard was me cursing because I realized I must have dropped my bus pass on the first bus while laughing about the toothless guy. Wherever I dropped it, it sure wasn't on me anywhere. And, I had spent the rest of my cash getting drinks earlier. At any rate, I figured the last thing she heard was, "Shit...aw, fuck," then silence, and would be convinced that I was dead.
Happily, there was an ATM on the corner, and a nearby Borders books that was open late. The Borders chick refused to just give me change for the $20 I got from the ATM for the bus, so I got myself a yummy 50 cent chocolate treat to get change, and bought time on the Borders wireless network while waiting for the next bus (luckily the wireless signal reached across the street to the bus stop), so that I could let LT know I was still alive and safe, just incompetent.
The last bus came, and with no further eventful stories, about 2 1/2 hours after missing that first bus by 5 minutes, I finally made it home.
Saturday morning I did phone banking for No on 8 on campus, then went to the law school the library closed at 6:00 and a crabby librarian shooed us out. I was cranky from a less-than-spectacular phone bank morning, combined with cranky librarian woman, so a couple friends and I decided to grab a couple drinks. I decided to leave my bag in my locker at the law building, and just grab it on the way back to catch the bus.
A good time was had with a couple margaritas, and I wasn't too concerned about catching the last trip of the bus that I normally take, which came around at slightly after 8:30. I knew there were other combos of busses I could take home, although catching that one would be a lot easier. As it turned out, I would have gotten it, except I had to get my bag from my locker. End result, I think I missed it by a few short minutes. And thus began the set of dominos...
I waited at the bus stop for at least another half hour or 40 minutes for a different bus that I could take. I had to take that one east to Hollywood, then another one south to my neighborhood. The bus finally came, with tons of entertainment in the form of five drunk guys speaking some indistinguishable foreign language, and old guy with two teeth speaking indistinguishable English, and a somewhat normal-ish looking woman who was practically cowering in a ball trying to ignore them. The drunk guys got booted for drinking on the bus, at which point the toothless guy turned his attention to the woman and decided he was going to give her a book, and insisted on her taking it. She turned to me, laughing about the book, at which point I realized she was missing about half of her teeth as well. Must've been a toothless full moon or something.
I get off the bus in Hollywood, hanging out at Sunset and Vine on a Friday night with a somewhat large "No on Prop 8" (aka, I'm A Giant Queer) sign. Yeehaw. Most of this time I was on the phone with LT, but without warning my cell phone ran out of battery, and the last thing she heard was me cursing because I realized I must have dropped my bus pass on the first bus while laughing about the toothless guy. Wherever I dropped it, it sure wasn't on me anywhere. And, I had spent the rest of my cash getting drinks earlier. At any rate, I figured the last thing she heard was, "Shit...aw, fuck," then silence, and would be convinced that I was dead.
Happily, there was an ATM on the corner, and a nearby Borders books that was open late. The Borders chick refused to just give me change for the $20 I got from the ATM for the bus, so I got myself a yummy 50 cent chocolate treat to get change, and bought time on the Borders wireless network while waiting for the next bus (luckily the wireless signal reached across the street to the bus stop), so that I could let LT know I was still alive and safe, just incompetent.
The last bus came, and with no further eventful stories, about 2 1/2 hours after missing that first bus by 5 minutes, I finally made it home.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Missed the Bus
Yeehaw, I missed the bus. I was at the bus stop at 6:45, when I realized I forgot a book in the student lounge. I thought this bus was supposed to leave the transit terminal at 6:45, which would put it here rought at around 6:55, so I would have time to go back and get it. I got it, and was back by 6:53. (Yes, I checked.) Then I sat. And I waited.
And I grew suspicious.
And I realized, no, it's the one that comes in the 7:00 hour that leaves at :45. The one in the 6:00 hour leaves the transit station at :35. Which meant it came by the bus stop during the eight minutes I was running back in to get my book. And in case you didn't piece together the time math up above, the next one won't be by until 7:55 or so.
So in the meantime, the UCLA wireless network extends across the street to the bus stop I'm sitting at, so I decided to write you guys a post about missing the bus. My next step might just be to get on whatever bus comes by next, whichever one it may be. (There really aren't too many that stop here, so that's not as adventurous as it sounds.)
Oh! But I can also share with you some fun bus stories I've accumulated in the couple months I've been here so far.
- There is TV on the bus here. I'm not kidding. It doesn't play shows, it's just all tiny tiny news blurbs, and ads for Spanish-language serials.
- The "Alpha and Omega" guy. He's gotten on a few times that I've been on. His deal is to get on, then stop in the aisle and loudly pronounce that we all ought to be praising God, the creator, the kind, the supreme lord of us all. Then randomly during his ride he'll make more such pronouncements. I was OK with him until he started talking about alpha and omega...few good things happen after someone starts talking about alpha and omega, I think.
- Listening to the bus driver and a passenger debate the athletic merits of USC vs. UCLA. They started off normally, football, basketball, then jumped right to the water polo teams. WTF?
- Two guys from Florence who were a bit confused about where they should get off, and I was able to help them with the fading remnants of my rudimentary Italian.
- The new bus driver who missed a turn, so to get back on the route we ended taking the giant behemoth bus down these tiny, steep side streets in Hollywood. I was very grateful for air brakes. The looks on the faces of passersby were fantastic.
- We passed a long flexi-bus that got stuck. In another missed-turn case, the driver was attempting to make a u-turn in an intersection. After shouting to the other driver to see if she was OK, other driver explained that the middle flexi part has a sensor in it, where if it becomes bent at too sharp of an angle, it cuts off the engine. There's a button that the driver can push to override it and re-start the bus. "But apparently she doesn't know about that." You will notice, however, that he didn't offer this helpful tidbit of info to the other driver.
Public Transit Is Fun For Everyone!
And I grew suspicious.
And I realized, no, it's the one that comes in the 7:00 hour that leaves at :45. The one in the 6:00 hour leaves the transit station at :35. Which meant it came by the bus stop during the eight minutes I was running back in to get my book. And in case you didn't piece together the time math up above, the next one won't be by until 7:55 or so.
So in the meantime, the UCLA wireless network extends across the street to the bus stop I'm sitting at, so I decided to write you guys a post about missing the bus. My next step might just be to get on whatever bus comes by next, whichever one it may be. (There really aren't too many that stop here, so that's not as adventurous as it sounds.)
Oh! But I can also share with you some fun bus stories I've accumulated in the couple months I've been here so far.
- There is TV on the bus here. I'm not kidding. It doesn't play shows, it's just all tiny tiny news blurbs, and ads for Spanish-language serials.
- The "Alpha and Omega" guy. He's gotten on a few times that I've been on. His deal is to get on, then stop in the aisle and loudly pronounce that we all ought to be praising God, the creator, the kind, the supreme lord of us all. Then randomly during his ride he'll make more such pronouncements. I was OK with him until he started talking about alpha and omega...few good things happen after someone starts talking about alpha and omega, I think.
- Listening to the bus driver and a passenger debate the athletic merits of USC vs. UCLA. They started off normally, football, basketball, then jumped right to the water polo teams. WTF?
- Two guys from Florence who were a bit confused about where they should get off, and I was able to help them with the fading remnants of my rudimentary Italian.
- The new bus driver who missed a turn, so to get back on the route we ended taking the giant behemoth bus down these tiny, steep side streets in Hollywood. I was very grateful for air brakes. The looks on the faces of passersby were fantastic.
- We passed a long flexi-bus that got stuck. In another missed-turn case, the driver was attempting to make a u-turn in an intersection. After shouting to the other driver to see if she was OK, other driver explained that the middle flexi part has a sensor in it, where if it becomes bent at too sharp of an angle, it cuts off the engine. There's a button that the driver can push to override it and re-start the bus. "But apparently she doesn't know about that." You will notice, however, that he didn't offer this helpful tidbit of info to the other driver.
Public Transit Is Fun For Everyone!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
State of Affairs
In making this big move to the left coast, I thought I was going to be presented with an interesting shift to this blog--from introspection/commentary to news delivery. I'm doing my darnedest to keep in touch with all the folk back east, but as you can imagine law school keeps one a bit busy, even when not combined with moving across the continent. So, I really started feeling the need to put some basic, bald news up here. That posed a problem on several fronts, 1) I feel like it puts me in danger of feeling less responsible for communicating with people directly, 2) it's not the purpose of this blog, and 3) if I spend all my time trying to communicate daily (weekly, whatever) news, I risk losing the random ruminations on thins, which I really like doing.
A week into law school, though, I am realizing that this won't be an ongoing problem. "Why?" you ask. Well, let's put it this way: as far as straight news goes, while the last couple weeks have been an absolutely thrilling whirlwind of activity and goings on, there really won't be a whole lot to say about endless hours spent in a law school library. It's not exactly gripping reading.
So, for now, I will do what I can to balance the newsy and non-newsy pressures.
For the news, last Tuesday my roommate, SL, and I got all moved into our apartment, which is really very cool. It's pretty big and seems to be very well maintained--the guys did a more thorough job of patching/painting/cleaning than anywhere else I've ever lived. It's also in a much older house than I expected to find in this area. I think it was built in either the 10's or 20's, and as a result has a lot of really neat built-in details and considerations that you don't generally find in your usual house built these days--cupboards built into the walls, decorative edging, etc. The doors that open out onto our little balcony are very distinctly not-modern as well, and the wooden window and door frames are incredibly well preserved.
Unpacking has progressed at a ridiculously slow pace for me. Last week didn't really afford much time, what with trying to get situated, actually moving in, starting classes, etc. Over the weekend I had intended to do much more than did, but in the end after the insanity of my last few weeks at work, driving across the country, etc., I just took a couple days and let my mind vegetate. This coming up weekend is a long weekend, so even if I don't make much progress again through this week, come next weekend I won't have an excuse!
There is also the minor news detail that, oh yeah, I started law school, but my reading assignments call so you'll just have to wait for any real info on that one. Suffice to say, "I started law school."
Two fantastic factoids about where I'm living that I will close with, to satisfy my love for imparting completely un-newsworthy things:
1) I live on the 2nd floor, with entry doors at both the top and bottom of my stairs. At the top of the stairs is a handle sticking out of the wall. If you pull the handle, it actually closes the door at the bottom of the stairs. So, if you come home and have a big armful of groceries or whatever, you don't have to try to juggle everything to close the door. Go upstairs, put the stuff down in the apartment, and pull the handle. (In the interests of full disclosure, I must admit that we can't practically use it--the door at the bottom of the stairs is the main secured entrance to the apartment and it locks by deadbolt, which the handle can't help you with. All the same, I think this handle is the funnest thing ever.)
2) I live in the heart of LA. On a residential street, yes, but still in the middle of a primarily concrete jungle, buildings lined up like sardines, on street parking maxed out on most streets, the middle of one of the biggest cities in the country. Of all the things I expected to encounter in this environment, a rooster certainly was not one of them. And yet. It's far enough away somewhere that it doesn't wake me up, but days when I'm up already I'll hear that unmistakable crow.
A week into law school, though, I am realizing that this won't be an ongoing problem. "Why?" you ask. Well, let's put it this way: as far as straight news goes, while the last couple weeks have been an absolutely thrilling whirlwind of activity and goings on, there really won't be a whole lot to say about endless hours spent in a law school library. It's not exactly gripping reading.
So, for now, I will do what I can to balance the newsy and non-newsy pressures.
For the news, last Tuesday my roommate, SL, and I got all moved into our apartment, which is really very cool. It's pretty big and seems to be very well maintained--the guys did a more thorough job of patching/painting/cleaning than anywhere else I've ever lived. It's also in a much older house than I expected to find in this area. I think it was built in either the 10's or 20's, and as a result has a lot of really neat built-in details and considerations that you don't generally find in your usual house built these days--cupboards built into the walls, decorative edging, etc. The doors that open out onto our little balcony are very distinctly not-modern as well, and the wooden window and door frames are incredibly well preserved.
Unpacking has progressed at a ridiculously slow pace for me. Last week didn't really afford much time, what with trying to get situated, actually moving in, starting classes, etc. Over the weekend I had intended to do much more than did, but in the end after the insanity of my last few weeks at work, driving across the country, etc., I just took a couple days and let my mind vegetate. This coming up weekend is a long weekend, so even if I don't make much progress again through this week, come next weekend I won't have an excuse!
There is also the minor news detail that, oh yeah, I started law school, but my reading assignments call so you'll just have to wait for any real info on that one. Suffice to say, "I started law school."
Two fantastic factoids about where I'm living that I will close with, to satisfy my love for imparting completely un-newsworthy things:
1) I live on the 2nd floor, with entry doors at both the top and bottom of my stairs. At the top of the stairs is a handle sticking out of the wall. If you pull the handle, it actually closes the door at the bottom of the stairs. So, if you come home and have a big armful of groceries or whatever, you don't have to try to juggle everything to close the door. Go upstairs, put the stuff down in the apartment, and pull the handle. (In the interests of full disclosure, I must admit that we can't practically use it--the door at the bottom of the stairs is the main secured entrance to the apartment and it locks by deadbolt, which the handle can't help you with. All the same, I think this handle is the funnest thing ever.)
2) I live in the heart of LA. On a residential street, yes, but still in the middle of a primarily concrete jungle, buildings lined up like sardines, on street parking maxed out on most streets, the middle of one of the biggest cities in the country. Of all the things I expected to encounter in this environment, a rooster certainly was not one of them. And yet. It's far enough away somewhere that it doesn't wake me up, but days when I'm up already I'll hear that unmistakable crow.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Nothing Says "Welcome" Like the DMV
Today was my first full day as a resident of Los Angeles, and most of it was spent at that ambassador that all states have, that official welcome mat laid out to new residents all across the country, the Department of Motor Vehicles.
The first frustration was parking - namely, it was inadequate, the fact that it was inadequate foreshadowed the long wait inside, and the people in the parking lots should have all had their licenses immediately revoked for sheer madness. The second frustration was finally finding parking only to realize that I had left my bag, which had my insurance card and birth certificate, in the rental truck.
You know it's going to be bad when the line just to get a number is about 45 minutes long. All told, six hours of life today was dedicated to securing a California driver's license and motor vehicle registration. Perhaps 45 minutes of it was spent parking and going back to get my bag. About a half hour was spent getting my car tested for emissions. I'll be generous and say maybe 15 minutes of it was spent at actual counters talking to people and having things processed. The other 4 1/2 hours of it was spent waiting. Waiting to get a number. Waiting for my number to be called.
The number one frustration by far was this inane policy that they are only able to process one transaction per trip to the window. Need to do two things (such as license and registration)? Go through all lines twice. I got to the counter, and when told I had to pick which one to do, picked the car registration. Not knowing beforehand that I needed the smog certificate and something called a "car verification," I realized that strictly speaking I would need to go back through TWO more times - once with the required car papers, and again for my license. The woman said, "Well, it's really quick to finish the registration once you have the papers so they can just go ahead and do it."
I came back with smog certificate and car verification in hand (I know...Lancer passed Cali's smog standards...I'm as shocked as you are), ran through the line gauntlet yet again, and once again got slapped with "I can only do one transaction." Fortunately, the woman who I had the first time overheard and told me to just come to her counter when I was done with the license...grazie a dio.
I still have to go back to take the written test for the license. (Apparently when the sign says no tests will be administered after 4:30, that doesn't mean they will be administered up until 4:30.) But everything else is done - photos, plates, fees, inspections, verifications, transactions, numbers, venting. Most importantly, this written test can be done without a number. And it's only one transaction.
The first frustration was parking - namely, it was inadequate, the fact that it was inadequate foreshadowed the long wait inside, and the people in the parking lots should have all had their licenses immediately revoked for sheer madness. The second frustration was finally finding parking only to realize that I had left my bag, which had my insurance card and birth certificate, in the rental truck.
You know it's going to be bad when the line just to get a number is about 45 minutes long. All told, six hours of life today was dedicated to securing a California driver's license and motor vehicle registration. Perhaps 45 minutes of it was spent parking and going back to get my bag. About a half hour was spent getting my car tested for emissions. I'll be generous and say maybe 15 minutes of it was spent at actual counters talking to people and having things processed. The other 4 1/2 hours of it was spent waiting. Waiting to get a number. Waiting for my number to be called.
The number one frustration by far was this inane policy that they are only able to process one transaction per trip to the window. Need to do two things (such as license and registration)? Go through all lines twice. I got to the counter, and when told I had to pick which one to do, picked the car registration. Not knowing beforehand that I needed the smog certificate and something called a "car verification," I realized that strictly speaking I would need to go back through TWO more times - once with the required car papers, and again for my license. The woman said, "Well, it's really quick to finish the registration once you have the papers so they can just go ahead and do it."
I came back with smog certificate and car verification in hand (I know...Lancer passed Cali's smog standards...I'm as shocked as you are), ran through the line gauntlet yet again, and once again got slapped with "I can only do one transaction." Fortunately, the woman who I had the first time overheard and told me to just come to her counter when I was done with the license...grazie a dio.
I still have to go back to take the written test for the license. (Apparently when the sign says no tests will be administered after 4:30, that doesn't mean they will be administered up until 4:30.) But everything else is done - photos, plates, fees, inspections, verifications, transactions, numbers, venting. Most importantly, this written test can be done without a number. And it's only one transaction.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Angeleno
Voila! I have arrived in LA. My last post was from Tuesday night in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Wednesday was a "short" (er) drive from Tulsa to Santa Fe, passing through the rest of Oklahoma, the top of Texas, and the first half or so of New Mexico. About the only good thing I can really say about OK and TX was that the humidity calmed down as I went further west. Oh, and Texas looked like it had really well maintained rest stops, for what it's worth. I ended up not stopping at all in Texas, but when I stopped in Oklahoma for gas, I jumped out of the truck and landed square in a huge wad of chewing tobacco that someone had spit out. Yum...
In Santa Fe, once again sM provided lodging, this time on the other side of the country where he happened to be visiting his girlfriend. What luck! As much as Tulsa was humid and bug-ridden, Santa Fe was absolutely gorgeous! Likewise for the drive through New Mexico to get there. My favorite part was getting off I-40 to take a two-lane road to get up to the Santa Fe area, rather than going all the way to Albequerque and then backtracking up I-25. It really cut right through a lot of the gorgeous scenery that you usually only see from afar on the interstate. I attempted some pictures, but really the beauty is in the whole vista, something a point-and-click digital doesn't have a prayer of capturing.
Then Thursday was the long haul from Santa Fe to LA, with the option to stop in Needles, CA, if need be. By the time Needles came along it was only 6:00, so on the Penske truck went, arriving in Los Angeles around 10:30 or so Pacific time.
I'm happy to say the furkids were troopers the entire ride, with only a small bout of infighting right at the end. I didn't blame them for the last bit--the last day was really long and hard on them, and they were at the end of their little kitty ropes. The temporary apartment my roommate and I are staying in until our actual apartment is ready is a loft-style place, and all the open area has them a little on edge after the stress of the travel, but they're doing OK.
In Santa Fe, once again sM provided lodging, this time on the other side of the country where he happened to be visiting his girlfriend. What luck! As much as Tulsa was humid and bug-ridden, Santa Fe was absolutely gorgeous! Likewise for the drive through New Mexico to get there. My favorite part was getting off I-40 to take a two-lane road to get up to the Santa Fe area, rather than going all the way to Albequerque and then backtracking up I-25. It really cut right through a lot of the gorgeous scenery that you usually only see from afar on the interstate. I attempted some pictures, but really the beauty is in the whole vista, something a point-and-click digital doesn't have a prayer of capturing.
Then Thursday was the long haul from Santa Fe to LA, with the option to stop in Needles, CA, if need be. By the time Needles came along it was only 6:00, so on the Penske truck went, arriving in Los Angeles around 10:30 or so Pacific time.
I'm happy to say the furkids were troopers the entire ride, with only a small bout of infighting right at the end. I didn't blame them for the last bit--the last day was really long and hard on them, and they were at the end of their little kitty ropes. The temporary apartment my roommate and I are staying in until our actual apartment is ready is a loft-style place, and all the open area has them a little on edge after the stress of the travel, but they're doing OK.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Greetings from Tulsa
A quick note on the second day of my drive across the country. Things have gone very well so far--the cats have slept most of the time, and the truck is great. I had braced myself for a long drive in a rotten truck, but it is relatively new, has a CD player, not just a radio (which means the money I spent on a transmitter to plug into my MP3 player was wasted, but oh well). Anyone looking for a long distance move, I highly recommend Penske. I know it's partly dumb luck, but the truck is in great shape, the people were really nice, I got a free upgrade to a car carrier instead of a tow dolly (they didn't have the tow dolly on hand), they didn't charge me for the furniture pads that were in the back of the truck, and they gave me a AAA discount even though I don't have AAA. Word.
States I went through today which I'd never been to were Missouri and Oklahoma, but although I've been to Indiana and Illinois before, nowhere near the path I took through those states today. The highway skirted Indianapolis too much to get any view of the city, but I did go right through St. Louis--frighteningly close to rush hour, but traffic wasn't bad at all. And I snapped some pictures of the Arch! I was very surprised at how hilly Missouri was--I never really thought about it, but I guess I presumed everything west of Columbus was flat. Now that I think about it, I realize Missouri is never talked about as a plains state. Come to think of it, Missouri is never really talked about... Oklahoma, however, has provided some of the flatness I expected.
All in all, I gotta say, not a fan of the middle of America so far, at least not this part. Missouri and Oklahoma thus far have been insanely humid, and with so many bugs that there were times I swore it was drizzling, and the noise I heard was the patter of drops on the roof. Nope, it was the patter of bugs going splat. Yummy.
Besides the bugs, the only hitch so far was a 45- to 60-minute delay on I-70 west of Indianapolis, where we sat on the highway due to a wreck up ahead. If that's the worst thing that happens on this trip, I'll be ecstatic.
States I went through today which I'd never been to were Missouri and Oklahoma, but although I've been to Indiana and Illinois before, nowhere near the path I took through those states today. The highway skirted Indianapolis too much to get any view of the city, but I did go right through St. Louis--frighteningly close to rush hour, but traffic wasn't bad at all. And I snapped some pictures of the Arch! I was very surprised at how hilly Missouri was--I never really thought about it, but I guess I presumed everything west of Columbus was flat. Now that I think about it, I realize Missouri is never talked about as a plains state. Come to think of it, Missouri is never really talked about... Oklahoma, however, has provided some of the flatness I expected.
All in all, I gotta say, not a fan of the middle of America so far, at least not this part. Missouri and Oklahoma thus far have been insanely humid, and with so many bugs that there were times I swore it was drizzling, and the noise I heard was the patter of drops on the roof. Nope, it was the patter of bugs going splat. Yummy.
Besides the bugs, the only hitch so far was a 45- to 60-minute delay on I-70 west of Indianapolis, where we sat on the highway due to a wreck up ahead. If that's the worst thing that happens on this trip, I'll be ecstatic.
Monday, August 11, 2008
No Title Fits This Post
Too often in our lives, the various things we need for happiness and fulfillment don't quite mesh. We're left making choices which, while we feel they are the right ones, have an inevitable element of bittersweetness. We're left trying to balance the things we want need, the things we want need to do, the people we want need to be with. But there's never enough time. There are never enough dinners, coffee walks, breakfasts, movies, evenings spent running errands, or hugs. There never could be; those things could be infinite in supply and there would still not be enough.
The paths we feel a need to follow never have absolutely everything wewant need, and we have the unhappy task of making the best of it.
Even though I'm driving away from this place and these people, I will never leave.
The paths we feel a need to follow never have absolutely everything we
Even though I'm driving away from this place and these people, I will never leave.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Waiting
Cats have an excuse. You can't explain to them, "Here's what's going on, and why, and you guys will be OK no matter what; I'll keep you safe." Well, you can try, but they don't speak quite that much human. All they know is that their whole life disappeared with a flurry of boxes and a big noisy truck.
And they are kinda freaked out.
I, on the other hand, don't have this excuse. I know what's going on--I made it all happen. On purpose. I know vaguely what is coming down the road and why. And most of the time, I'm doing OK with it all. Every now and then, though, all I know is that my whole life disappeared with a flurry of boxes and a big noisy truck.
And I'll admit to being kinda freaked out.
I truly appreciate the kindness of those who are helping me out, especially MT who from day one said I was welcome to stay with her. But I admit I'll be grateful for the end of this week. Pretty much all I have to do these days is sit and wait, and think about how much I'm going to miss Pittsburgh and the life I had built here. Once in a while, Whiskey comes up to me and paws my arm, and looks up at me with an expression that seems to ask, "Where did home go? Why did we leave it?" I know the answer, but when all there is to do is ponder the question, your confidence in the answer is shaken. It's not exactly doubt, it's just being kinda freaked out.
And they are kinda freaked out.
I, on the other hand, don't have this excuse. I know what's going on--I made it all happen. On purpose. I know vaguely what is coming down the road and why. And most of the time, I'm doing OK with it all. Every now and then, though, all I know is that my whole life disappeared with a flurry of boxes and a big noisy truck.
And I'll admit to being kinda freaked out.
I truly appreciate the kindness of those who are helping me out, especially MT who from day one said I was welcome to stay with her. But I admit I'll be grateful for the end of this week. Pretty much all I have to do these days is sit and wait, and think about how much I'm going to miss Pittsburgh and the life I had built here. Once in a while, Whiskey comes up to me and paws my arm, and looks up at me with an expression that seems to ask, "Where did home go? Why did we leave it?" I know the answer, but when all there is to do is ponder the question, your confidence in the answer is shaken. It's not exactly doubt, it's just being kinda freaked out.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Transition, Dependence, Humility, Empowerment
To be quite honest, I don't even know when the last time was that I posted - and at this particular moment I'm too lazy to go look and see what it was.
*the next moment*
OK, we all know I was too anal to not go and look.
So the last time I posted I was just beginning to pack up my apartment. It's almost a week later, and since then I've gotten my apartment all packed up, everything put into storage, the apartment cleaned out, and yesterday I turned in my keys and officially became a roving vagabond. Alright, perhaps that's a bit hyperbolic, but hopefully this will be the closest I'll ever come to being a drifter, so I'm trying to live it up while I can.
There are so many things rolling around in my head that I've thought about posting about...some funny observation, some just plain factual to keep everyone up to speed on where I am (including myself), some deeper observation, and on and on. On any one of these things I could type far longer than any of you could read...heck, I'm accomplishing that with just the meta-commentary.
Today's post is coming from the second of many nights on several different futons, provided by the greatest generosity of my friends MT and sM. This very unique period of transition has put me in a position to be far more dependent on the graciousness of others than perhaps I ever have been before. At least, that I'm cognizant of. People helping me move. People giving me a place to lay my head. People offering advice on a new endeavor, and moving somewhere I know nothing about. People being my constant cheerleaders. People providing 2nd- and 3rd-degree of separation contacts in a far away place. ("You probably won't need this, but just in case you're in a tough spot and need a contact, here's so and so.") People offering amazingly generous gifts that in good conscience I can't accept.
People letting me know I'll be missed.
For a little bit (especially on moving day) I was busy focusing on the people who were failing to come through when I needed them. Look at all these people who are bailing...what does this really say? A few days removed (and blood less boiled), I've had time to reflect on the other side of that coin, and think about these wonderful people who HAVE come through...and what THAT means. I'm realizing, this position of extreme dependence is a humbling and empowering position all at once.
I'll stay away from the cliche that it's humbling to not be able to provide things like your own roof over your head (although it is). Rather, it's humbling to realize there are this many people with this much love for you. Humbling? You ask. Yep.
The rise of a special occasion like this highlights the daily consideration, thought and love that you get from all these people who are now going above and beyond. It makes you take pause, and notice all these people who contribute to the richness of your everyday life, and even when they are not filling such notable favors, all these people without whom your everyday life would not be what it is. Humbling to see the love all around you which helps to hold you up from day to day.
And therein also lies the empowerment. Realizing that you are the person who drew all these wonderful people into your life, that you have the ability to attract them and keep them as friends (because even the ones related to you can choose whether to be your friends). That you made enough of an impression on these people--whether over time or all at once--that they are happy to be part of your life, even through your less gracious moments.
So thank you, friends (related and otherwise). Truly, thank you.
*the next moment*
OK, we all know I was too anal to not go and look.
So the last time I posted I was just beginning to pack up my apartment. It's almost a week later, and since then I've gotten my apartment all packed up, everything put into storage, the apartment cleaned out, and yesterday I turned in my keys and officially became a roving vagabond. Alright, perhaps that's a bit hyperbolic, but hopefully this will be the closest I'll ever come to being a drifter, so I'm trying to live it up while I can.
There are so many things rolling around in my head that I've thought about posting about...some funny observation, some just plain factual to keep everyone up to speed on where I am (including myself), some deeper observation, and on and on. On any one of these things I could type far longer than any of you could read...heck, I'm accomplishing that with just the meta-commentary.
Today's post is coming from the second of many nights on several different futons, provided by the greatest generosity of my friends MT and sM. This very unique period of transition has put me in a position to be far more dependent on the graciousness of others than perhaps I ever have been before. At least, that I'm cognizant of. People helping me move. People giving me a place to lay my head. People offering advice on a new endeavor, and moving somewhere I know nothing about. People being my constant cheerleaders. People providing 2nd- and 3rd-degree of separation contacts in a far away place. ("You probably won't need this, but just in case you're in a tough spot and need a contact, here's so and so.") People offering amazingly generous gifts that in good conscience I can't accept.
People letting me know I'll be missed.
For a little bit (especially on moving day) I was busy focusing on the people who were failing to come through when I needed them. Look at all these people who are bailing...what does this really say? A few days removed (and blood less boiled), I've had time to reflect on the other side of that coin, and think about these wonderful people who HAVE come through...and what THAT means. I'm realizing, this position of extreme dependence is a humbling and empowering position all at once.
I'll stay away from the cliche that it's humbling to not be able to provide things like your own roof over your head (although it is). Rather, it's humbling to realize there are this many people with this much love for you. Humbling? You ask. Yep.
The rise of a special occasion like this highlights the daily consideration, thought and love that you get from all these people who are now going above and beyond. It makes you take pause, and notice all these people who contribute to the richness of your everyday life, and even when they are not filling such notable favors, all these people without whom your everyday life would not be what it is. Humbling to see the love all around you which helps to hold you up from day to day.
And therein also lies the empowerment. Realizing that you are the person who drew all these wonderful people into your life, that you have the ability to attract them and keep them as friends (because even the ones related to you can choose whether to be your friends). That you made enough of an impression on these people--whether over time or all at once--that they are happy to be part of your life, even through your less gracious moments.
So thank you, friends (related and otherwise). Truly, thank you.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Sounds Like a Challenge to Me
Your task (well, OK, my task):
Pack for a 2 1/2 week vacation. You have the following constraints:
Best of luck!
Pack for a 2 1/2 week vacation. You have the following constraints:
- You must have attire, equipment, and other items required for the following tasks and events:
- caring for your pet cats
- time working in an office (I know, I know...just go with it)
- time working at an animal shelter
- apartment hunting
- an out-of-town wedding
- softball game(s)
- staying at an air conditioned house
- staying at a non-air conditioned house
- staying at a hotel
- at least three trips to a bar for various farewell parties
- summer in Pittsburgh
- two moving days
- a four-day drive across the country, with cats
- summer in Los Angeles
- handling administrative tasks related to leaving a job, starting school, and moving with an uncertain forwarding address
- the possibility that it will be more like a month-long vacation with law school classes
- Everything you pack must fit in a small-sized sedan.
- You cannot afford to eat out every meal.
Best of luck!
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