Choices I've made:
What if I had gone to boarding school for high school?
I took the Secondary School SAT in eighth grade but attended public school a mile from home. I didn't want to go away for high school.
What if I had gone to the large local state university instead of a small private one fifteen hours up I-5?
I decided I should to see what it would be like to leave home. Honestly, I went telling myself I could come back at semester break if I didn't like it.
What if I had moved to Colorado after college?
I had fallen in love and stayed in Tacoma, then moved to Portland with my girlfriend.
What if I had gone to graduate school in Seattle?
I was waitlisted for UW's School of Social Work in 1995, but didn't reapply the next year because I didn't want to go back to school.
What if I had purchased the Vernonia (OR) Independent newspaper?
I wasn't up to the challenge of being self-employed and bisexual in a town of 2200.
What if I had moved back to California by myself?
Among other reasons, YaYaWOT's husband pointed out that since I was moving anyway I may as well bring Denver D with me.
What if I had stayed at CSU East Bay in 2005?
I was attracted by UC Berkeley's reputation and wanted to go there, just like a high school senior would.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
I don't care, and yet...
I'm a little sad about the Rockies losing the World Series in four games. I'm surprised I have any feelings about it at all. I care even less about baseball than I do about football. I only care about football to the extent that vaguely following the 49ers has made it a little easier to live with my mother and my brother, big football fans that they are.
However, I do love Colorado and the Rockies (the mountains, not the baseball team), and the Rockies' Triple A team used to play in Portland when I lived there. I can't remember what they were called, but they had beautiful patches on their hats: A rose in front of Mount Hood.
"There's always next year!"
However, I do love Colorado and the Rockies (the mountains, not the baseball team), and the Rockies' Triple A team used to play in Portland when I lived there. I can't remember what they were called, but they had beautiful patches on their hats: A rose in front of Mount Hood.
"There's always next year!"
Sunday, October 28, 2007
An 80's Night
Last night I went to AsiaSF for a Halloween party hosted by No's company, Perfect Party Plans. The Killer Lady, MA, and a couple other people met me there. Wearing suits and Christmas presents in front of their hips, No and Psychopat performed their version of a SNL spoof of Justin Timberlake (to which I was going to link, but NBC demanded it be deleted so it's gone), which was totally hilarious, and there was also a performance by one of the Ladies of Asia.
When I got there the DJs were spinning '70's tunes. I met up with Macho, and No and Psycopat were working and introduced me to a few people, and then another couple guys I know came in. Later the DJs were playing '80's music: Michael Jackson, Madonna, Bruce Springsteen. When they played "Billie Jean" everyone sang it at the top of their lungs and Macho and I busted out our Michael moves.
Several weeks I graduated from high school, I was in this club back when it was called The Underground. You didn't have to produce any ID to get in, though it was not an all-ages club. I was there because friends of mine were doing a light show. I don't remember if they served alcohol to the kids there (though they probably were; amazingly enough, The Underground wasn't closed by the SFPD for liquor license violations until couple years later). I recognized one of the guys in this crowd of teenagers because we had known each other in elementary school. It turned out that half the senior class at MacAteer High School was there that night. The DJ played The Roof Is On Fire and as loud as the music was, Mack's senior class was louder.
When I got there the DJs were spinning '70's tunes. I met up with Macho, and No and Psycopat were working and introduced me to a few people, and then another couple guys I know came in. Later the DJs were playing '80's music: Michael Jackson, Madonna, Bruce Springsteen. When they played "Billie Jean" everyone sang it at the top of their lungs and Macho and I busted out our Michael moves.
Several weeks I graduated from high school, I was in this club back when it was called The Underground. You didn't have to produce any ID to get in, though it was not an all-ages club. I was there because friends of mine were doing a light show. I don't remember if they served alcohol to the kids there (though they probably were; amazingly enough, The Underground wasn't closed by the SFPD for liquor license violations until couple years later). I recognized one of the guys in this crowd of teenagers because we had known each other in elementary school. It turned out that half the senior class at MacAteer High School was there that night. The DJ played The Roof Is On Fire and as loud as the music was, Mack's senior class was louder.
Mystery Flower
This plant with orange and yellow flowers appeared in the planter in front of th house a few months ago. I do not know where they came from; they haven't appeared in previous seasons we've lived here.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Cow Tipping
When Bink and I took a fiction writing class together in college. Our professor had the class break into groups and workshop our stories that way, as well as turning them in to him for review. Bink and I weren't usually in the same workshop group, as it happened, but one time when we were one of our classmates had written a story about cow-tipping.
She had never done it, but had heard about it from her roommate, who was from one of the many small towns on the east side of the Siskiyous which send their high school seniors to our college. I don't remember anything about the woman who wrote the story but I remember the story in painful detail: Some teenage boys creep out into field and tip a cow, which drowns in the mud. The story ends with the boys laughing about how they'll have to work for the farmer to pay back the $500 the cow cost him.
Being raised in the city I have spent little time around cows, and everything I knew about cow-tipping was that freshmen at UC Davis were supposedly required to sign a "no cow tipping" pledge during orientation. Bink, however, grew up in an island community where people did have cows and she explained to me that it was a pretty big (and expensive) deal if a cow died. I was irritated that the story was so bad; she was irritated that the writer had so obviously no idea about what she was writing about.
However, this has made cow-tipping a little bit of a running gag for me with Bink. Not cow-tipping itself (of course), but references to cow-tipping. Last winter there was a picture in the Chronicle of a row of birds sitting on the spine of a cow, and the caption was something like, "One, two, three, tiiiiiiiiiiiiip!" I sent it to Bink.
I watched Cars this evening, and I didn't like it that much. It was the "make friends and be a better person" Disney-type storyline, but I found the lead character, Lightning McQueen, totally unlikeable until the last ten minutes of the film. But I laughed and laughed at the tractor-tipping scene. Made the film for me.
She had never done it, but had heard about it from her roommate, who was from one of the many small towns on the east side of the Siskiyous which send their high school seniors to our college. I don't remember anything about the woman who wrote the story but I remember the story in painful detail: Some teenage boys creep out into field and tip a cow, which drowns in the mud. The story ends with the boys laughing about how they'll have to work for the farmer to pay back the $500 the cow cost him.
Being raised in the city I have spent little time around cows, and everything I knew about cow-tipping was that freshmen at UC Davis were supposedly required to sign a "no cow tipping" pledge during orientation. Bink, however, grew up in an island community where people did have cows and she explained to me that it was a pretty big (and expensive) deal if a cow died. I was irritated that the story was so bad; she was irritated that the writer had so obviously no idea about what she was writing about.
However, this has made cow-tipping a little bit of a running gag for me with Bink. Not cow-tipping itself (of course), but references to cow-tipping. Last winter there was a picture in the Chronicle of a row of birds sitting on the spine of a cow, and the caption was something like, "One, two, three, tiiiiiiiiiiiiip!" I sent it to Bink.
I watched Cars this evening, and I didn't like it that much. It was the "make friends and be a better person" Disney-type storyline, but I found the lead character, Lightning McQueen, totally unlikeable until the last ten minutes of the film. But I laughed and laughed at the tractor-tipping scene. Made the film for me.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Car Kit
I don't know how but Zirpu found an emergency-preparedness company in Utah that sells all kinds of stuff to help you and your family be prepared for an emergency.
Honestly, they sell everything you would need if you wanted to go off into the woods and get ready to survive social-economic collapse, the invasion of Martians, or the takeover of the government by the devil (wait... has that already happened?), short of guns and ammunition. In the case of any of those events Zirpu's already laid in some reference materials (like this and this). They sell #10 cans of freeze-dried everything, water purifiers, stored-food preparation appliances, home-storage cookbooks, and what would otherwise be known as fancy camping gear.
I purchased a 72 hour kit plus a stove and fuel cans. I'll leave the stove combo in the garage with the rest of our emergency gear, but the kit is going in the car. Given how much stuff is in it, I was happy to see the size of the pack. I already keep a change of clothes, a pair of boots, and a sweater and the jumper cables in the trunk, and the trunk isn't that large (due to the electric battery, the seats don't fold down either).
I hope that I am at home in bed with Zirpu when the earthquake happens (I keep my glasses on the bedside table for a reason). It's as likely that I will be at work on an island and he will be at work across the bay. Because it's already known that a lot of people work and study far from home and it is likely that major transportation links will be damaged, it is easy for me to imagine that I may have to walk back to the house if I'm not there. The pack will make it easier for me to make that walk.
The emergency may not be an earthquake. It could be a fire, as our neighbors in SoCal are all too aware, and we could have to jump in our car and bug out. What would we take, if we had time to load up? The computers, the fire safe, a sculpture Phil made that I can't photograph...
Are you ready?
Honestly, they sell everything you would need if you wanted to go off into the woods and get ready to survive social-economic collapse, the invasion of Martians, or the takeover of the government by the devil (wait... has that already happened?), short of guns and ammunition. In the case of any of those events Zirpu's already laid in some reference materials (like this and this). They sell #10 cans of freeze-dried everything, water purifiers, stored-food preparation appliances, home-storage cookbooks, and what would otherwise be known as fancy camping gear.
I purchased a 72 hour kit plus a stove and fuel cans. I'll leave the stove combo in the garage with the rest of our emergency gear, but the kit is going in the car. Given how much stuff is in it, I was happy to see the size of the pack. I already keep a change of clothes, a pair of boots, and a sweater and the jumper cables in the trunk, and the trunk isn't that large (due to the electric battery, the seats don't fold down either).
I hope that I am at home in bed with Zirpu when the earthquake happens (I keep my glasses on the bedside table for a reason). It's as likely that I will be at work on an island and he will be at work across the bay. Because it's already known that a lot of people work and study far from home and it is likely that major transportation links will be damaged, it is easy for me to imagine that I may have to walk back to the house if I'm not there. The pack will make it easier for me to make that walk.
The emergency may not be an earthquake. It could be a fire, as our neighbors in SoCal are all too aware, and we could have to jump in our car and bug out. What would we take, if we had time to load up? The computers, the fire safe, a sculpture Phil made that I can't photograph...
Are you ready?
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Frustrating
When communication isn't happening, whose responsibility is it? How do I fix it if it's not my responsibility that the communication isn't happening? I think I know how to handle it if it is my responsibility.
Today I had interaction after request after question misunderstood by the same person all afternoon. This is something she's done before but she seemed to have forgotten how to do almost all of it. I didn't know anything was wrong until she started complaining about how the bags aren't marked. I remarked that we don't mark them because all the bags always are the same thing. Boxes we mark because they aren't the same. She knew this last week.
She asked me, from across a long room, a question about something, to which I said yes - later to learn that she wasn't asking me what I thought she was asking. When she asked I was tied up in explaining something to someone else and I couldn't go to her, and I thought I knew what she was showing me (even though it was from the back side).
At the end of the night I asked if a pile of stuff on a table belonged to someone and she said it was hers. Five minutes later, when the someone else was gone, she says, "That lady forgot this."
How do I deal with this the next time I see her? I didn't realize how frustrated I was about all this until I was driving home.
Today I had interaction after request after question misunderstood by the same person all afternoon. This is something she's done before but she seemed to have forgotten how to do almost all of it. I didn't know anything was wrong until she started complaining about how the bags aren't marked. I remarked that we don't mark them because all the bags always are the same thing. Boxes we mark because they aren't the same. She knew this last week.
She asked me, from across a long room, a question about something, to which I said yes - later to learn that she wasn't asking me what I thought she was asking. When she asked I was tied up in explaining something to someone else and I couldn't go to her, and I thought I knew what she was showing me (even though it was from the back side).
At the end of the night I asked if a pile of stuff on a table belonged to someone and she said it was hers. Five minutes later, when the someone else was gone, she says, "That lady forgot this."
How do I deal with this the next time I see her? I didn't realize how frustrated I was about all this until I was driving home.
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