Ginger Speaks

This is the way to feed the homeless

2008-05-07T10:35:00.000-07:00

http://www.yelp.com/biz/l-a-burrito-project-los-angeles

http://losangeles.metromix.com/events/event_review/urban-do-gooders-the/346427/content

A simple veg burrito- beans, rice, mild salsa: inexpensive to make (on average, less than 40 cents a burrito!), easy to eat (often the homeless will have problems eating hard fruit like apples which are aparently common in homeless shelters), easy to hand out (these guys ride around LA on their bikes handing out burritos) and very little left over trash (no plastic containers and no utensils; just parchment paper or tin foil).

A project like this is something I would whole heartedly support, fund and volunteer for. I may be a little biased as I think burritos the world's greatest food (I would go so far as to say they were a gift for the deities), but I honestly think this idea is one of the better solutions I have heard to date. One person/agency can't clothe, house, feed and provide medical care for every homeless person in this city. However, something small like a burrito is more than doable.

The LA-based group were featured on KCRW's Good Food program over the weekend. Aparently they were inspired by something similar in the Mission and there are outposts in Houston, Detroit and Syria (!).

I did it

2008-05-01T22:22:00.000-07:00

Well, most of it. I completed 4.5 of the 5 mile run. I walked after a mile in due to my ongoing foot pain. After the second mile, I found a groove and pressed on. Had I known I was so close to the half way mark (Hopper's Hands), I wouldn't have cut across and started on the return journey so soon.

I'm feeling pretty jazzed tonight. The right foot is a little sore but I'll take tomorrow off and run the same course Saturday morning, just to see if I really can do it.

The ragazzo was waiting for me at the finish line, having finished quite a few minutes ahead of me. Seeing him in the distance was enough motivation to push through the last 1/4 mile when I probably would have walked it.

Tonight's reward for a job well done: tandoori curry.

I don't know what I'm doing anymore

2008-05-01T09:11:00.000-07:00

I'm in for a world of hurt tonight-- I mistook tonight's charity race as a 5k run not a 5 mile run. Bit of a difference there, wouldn't you say? The longest I've been able to complete in one session was 3 miles. Adding 2 additional miles might be pushing it for me. I purposely didn't run last night in anticipation of the extended course tonight. I'm also going to be out there with running enthusiasts. If that's not pressure and/or motivation, I don't know what is.

Finishing within an hour will be my main goal. Oh yah, and not dying. That's a goal too.

There is no "late night" in this city

2008-04-29T20:51:00.000-07:00

Why do restaurants refuse to put their hours of business on their website? Its bad enough San Francisco has a serious lack of late night restaurants, but when I do find a place I think could possibly be open after 10 pm, there's nothing that actually confirms my suspicions. If you won't put your hours on a website, at least update your business listing on Yelp.

Meh! Getting dinner after 9 pm should not be this difficult. No, I am not making things worse for myself, so don't even go there.

I don't have a title for today's post

2008-04-28T21:04:00.000-07:00

I honestly didn't think I had the willpower to hurl myself out the front door after coming home tonight. A normal work day, cramped train home, then 45 minutes door-to-door on a jam packed 22-Fillmore back to Fleet Feet to return my shoes. Another 30 minutes on the bus and a 15 minute walk to the apartment. That being said, I should have made dinner, curled into a ball and read my past issues of Bon Appetit.

What did I do instead? I broke in my new new running shoes on a 2.2 mile loop. While listening to Flight of the Conchords.

Oh yes. You're jealous. I'll be going again tomorrow morning. That's how excited I am about these shoes.

At some point, I had a cat cradled in my arms, picking at the nylon in my running shorts. Apparently the navy blue color offended her so much she ran off to eat kibble. What you see to the left is what generally happens as soon as I sit at my computer to do some work. Insert my left arm with a handy dandy built-in tummy scratcher under all that fur, and you've got a cat that won't be going anywhere for awhile.

I attended a coworkers wedding over the weekend and brought the ragazzo with me. From what I could tell (and what he told me), he enjoyed the weekend. I'm glad, because I'd like to see more of that happening soon (not the wedding bit, but the weekends away)! The bride was gorgeous in her hand made dress and the reception was a blast. The drive to and from was less than scenic thanks to our lovely Central Valley. For anyone reading in California or planning a trip to California, Merced blows. Basically everything between Oakland and Yosemite sucks; all 175 miles of it.

Soundtrack to a nearly perfect weekend

2008-04-27T20:33:00.000-07:00

Longview - Electricity
Rocco Deluca And The Burden - Speak To Me
Robbie Williams - By All Means Necessary
Serge Gainsbourg - Ballade de Melody Nelson
Rufus Wainwright - Peach Trees
Johnathan Rice - My Mother's Son
Serge Gainsbourg & Jane Birkin - La chanson de Slogan
Rocco Deluca And The Burden - Mystified
Jason Falkner - She Goes To Bed
Regina Spektor - Somedays
Scissor Sisters - Lovers In The Backseat
Jason Falkner - Say It's True
Richard Ashcroft - Break The Night With Colour
Rhett Miller - Terrible Vision
Jason Falkner - Goodnight Sweet Night
Rufus Wainwright - Rebel Prince
Jason Falkner - I Don't Mind

With life comes death

2008-04-24T10:45:00.000-07:00

Big British Biz has been in a state of shock since Monday morning’s announcement of a well-respected and loved colleague’s death. Meetings have been cancelled, business trips rearranged and nearly all work has come to a standstill. The mood around the office has been somber to say the least. Today is the memorial and burial service; I very much doubt anything productive will be accomplished.

There’s no denying life is a circular pattern of events. A colleague has passed, a fellow office-mate is marrying his fiancée this weekend, and a third is expecting a child in a few weeks. There will be more deaths, more births, more marriages, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. While it’s never a happy time when you loose your husband/father/brother/uncle, life doesn’t stop and neither should you. I’ve lost many family members in my short life and I’ve learned this lesson from every one of their passings. To avoid sounding like a Socialist propaganda pamphlet, I’m going to stop here.

I just realized I pulled hair out of my bra and there is someone sitting less than 6 feet from me, diligently working on a task. Sorry buddy; I may be in an introspective mood, but that doesn’t make me classy.

Not the type of shoes I had in mind

2008-04-20T20:16:00.000-07:00

Finding no other words appropriate to capture my current thoughts, the best way to say what I'm feeling right now is, "I must be a glutton for punishment."

I knew I needed to exercise more. I've known for years that once my activity level dropped to post-high school status, I would slowly start transforming into an odd human/sloth hybrid. Guess what, it happened! The benefits at Big British Biz are great, but there's one they don't tell you about when signing on; the complementary 15 lbs you receive in your first year of employment.

Something clicked while I was house sitting. I laced up my trusty pink trainers and hit the hills of Buena Vista. I found the Vulcan Stairway and huffed my way up those, two at a time. The first time I went out, I was in pain when I came back home. But something strange happened. The next day I needed to do it again. When I say need, I really mean it. I was overflowing with energy at work. My legs were bouncing all day. The only thing I could focus on was which route I was going to explore as soon as I got home. What in the world has happened to me? I'm not a runner. Runners are crazy people that need another outlet for their energy. Runners wear reflective clothing and eat Powerbars. I'm not one of these people, am I?

After the past week of running, I took a good look at my shoes and nearly recoiled in horror at the sorrid state of the soles. No wonder my back hurt so bad that week-- my shoes were hurting me, not the running! I stopped by Fleet Feet (which was an adventure in itself thanks to MUNI) and was fitted for a new pair of shoes. I didn't realize at the time, but the handsome devil who helped fit my shoes was none other than the owner. He knew a friend of mine that referred me and we spent the rest of the fitting session talking about our mutual friend's penchant for quoting B-movies and 80's television shows.

Tonight I'm looking at a new pair of shoes and an advert for a 5k race next week. I wouldn't have said this 7 days ago, but in 10 days I will be running my first ever race. Oh my gods and goddesses, what has the world come to?

Sitting house

2008-04-17T17:06:00.000-07:00

House-sitting a temperamental cat in a flat high up on a hill is not a walk in the park, let me tell you. With the good comes the bad.

The flat:

[+]Gorgeous split level 1 bedroom. Tons of space, panoramic views, lots of trees.

[-]At the top of a ridiculously large hill. Because it is the top flat, there is nothing to block the sun from heating the apartment to a million degrees during the day.

[+]The location gives me access to some of the best running areas in the city. Lots of hills, few cars, and plenty of opportunity to reflect on the day.

[-]After finishing my run, I still have to climb a huge hill and 3 flights of stairs. Ouch.

[+]This week away from my current flat mates has been heaven.

The cat:

[+]Cute kitty from London. Very photogenic.

[-]Must be let outside every morning and every evening. This directly effects when and what I can do before I leave for work and when I come home.

[+]Despite my preference to dogs, I still enjoy talking to the cat when I come home. She must like hearing humans talk to her as well.

[-]Make too much noise, and you will experience some serious kitty aggro. I was barricaded in the backyard for 20 minutes while Her Highness calmed down enough to cease hissing and swiping at my feet.

[+]I’m having a hard time finding one more positive thing to say, so we’ll just leave it at that.

Since staying at this flat, I’ve been running everyday. Last night was date night and today it shows; my legs are antsy and all I can think about is pounding the pavement with my headphones blasting the new Stephen Malkmus. The pent up energy makes me feel like a junky looking for the next hit. I’ve started a web-based running log and will be keeping track of my stats. I’m also looking forward to a 5k later in May and a 10k in July.

What a difference a week makes!

2008-04-14T16:57:00.000-07:00

I never would have thought one week from Friday I would not only be a million times happier than I previously was, but I would also completely forget about the person I was so smitten with for someone else that is a billion times better and has been around all along! I learned in the past week that I shouldn’t have to work hard to not expect anything back…and call that “dating.” When it’s right, it just works.

I believe in fate. Life works itself out; always. You meet people when you don't expect to, shitty things happen when you couldn’t think things could get any worse, and I could go on (but won't). There was a reason why I got an email Thursday morning from someone saying they didn’t want to see me that weekend…while concurrently attempting to rationalize just what was going on with someone else. The solution presented itself to me because I allowed it appear and did not force a decision in either direction prematurely.

There’s no point in wasting time on someone who doesn’t have their shit together. Unhappy with your life? Fix it, then find someone. If you’re focused on improving yourself and your environment, chances are you won’t be on the lookout and then won't be wasting the time of two people instead of one.

3 Years Out

2008-04-04T14:44:00.000-07:00

Sunday will mark my 3 year anniversary of employment with Big British Biz. I spent a large part of this past Sunday thinking of what I have accomplished in the last 3 years and the larger picture of what I’ve done since turning 18.

While in college and in the early stages of starting my life, I made a number of personal and professional contacts. Some I have stayed in contact with, others have gone by the wayside. The ones I have let slip have generally been my PR contacts due to no longer writing for my college newspaper. While working on a sudoku puzzle, I had a thought: 6 years on, what would I have made with these contacts? I know what I’ve accomplished at Big British Biz in 3 years (2 promotions and hefty pay raises), but in the entertainment biz, it’s a slow, steady, underpaid road (as a friend from college knows all too well). Could I have made it in 6 years? Have I made it in 3 at BBB?

What exactly have accomplished (or failed at):

Left school
Three jobs in 6 years
Moved twice
Racked up some debt
Gained a bunch of weight
Given the government far too much money in taxes
Have yet to determine exactly what I want to do with the rest of my life

The last part is what really gets me. My definition of making it would include being happy with what you’re doing with your life. I’m happy with the people in my life, but still haven’t found what I want to do with myself. I have a job, and it pays my bills. I don’t want to do this job forever. I could not possibly imagine a (professional) life devoted to auditing. Nitpicking is what it really is. This procedure said you needed to do x + y + z but you did z + x + y. We can’t have that, now can we?

It is unfair to expect someone in their early-to-mid twenties to fully understand what they want to do with their life. I know what I want influencing my life and I know the type of people I want to have an active role in my life. Put the two together, and eventually I will figure out what fate has in store for the next 60 years.

Had I not failed out of university and found myself at a dead end job that I was subsequently laid off from, Big British Biz would never have materialized and I would not be in the presense of 80% of my current friends. In essence, I don’t care if I could have made it in 6 years. I enjoy what I am doing right now and am happy with the decisions I have made. Even if I ever thought about jumping back in the PR saddle, I wouldn’t have a chance—my Hotmail account was hacked and I lost all the contact data I would need. These sorts of things happen for a reason, right?

Hello cruel world

2008-03-31T19:12:00.001-07:00

The post-New Year lull took over my life in one feel swoop. I feel a slight twinge of guilt for not writing anything down since January. Photos? Pssh.

To play the blame game: part of the problem was a person I started to date. That shouldn't be any excuse to abandon my hobbies, but why has someone completely taken over my life, what is happening, who am I anymore, jeez stop flipping out. Most of my mental energy was spent trying to figure out just what was going on between the two of us and finally deciding that it wasn't going very far and that I can let go now, no really Ginger you need to let go, just do it already. I don't need a g-d person to define who I am or what I do. My head was always firmly planted on my shoulders, but my feet did leave the ground for a few weeks. Friday night/Saturday morning/Saturday night and Sunday morning sex was nice while it lasted.

I've also stopped writing at work. The new space I moved into doesn't have the same energy as the last. I am in much closer quarters with my coworkers which should not effect me, but has. Teh g33k t4lk has increased since moving, so that could be a culprit as well.

With all this talk of not doing this and failing to do that, what exactly have I done in the last three months? I've been reading. I've been exercising. I've been drinking (a little) less (and thus doing less stupid things). I've been house sitting for friends in their amazing flat that overlooks the Castro/Mission/North of Market neighborhoods. I've been cooking amazing food.

Who needs resolutions

2008-01-01T19:17:00.001-08:00

I'm not one for resolutions. I hate setting goals I don't have any intention of meeting. That being said, 2007 was a year of personal growth for me so I don't feel bad about not accomplishing a whole lot outside of necessity. I packed up and moved to San Francisco. I started a new job. I made new friends. I'm living 100% car free. I haven't used a single credit card in 2007.

What I do want to accomplish in 2008:

Attend yoga classes ~~and/or join a gym~~ check! YMCA offers a discounted membership. $35 a month! Sweet.
Complete my degree
Lose weight

Further in the week I will explain the rational behind each goal.

The Disappearing Act

2007-12-03T19:26:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow marks my 9 month anniversary. I told myself I would be using this as a sounding board during my transition period. I think it's safe to say I have exited the transition period and am well on my way towards life as a citizen of San Francisco.

There have been ups and downs, but generally everything I worried about is playing out well. Last night captured everything I was thinking and feeling. There were drinks at the Orbit Room and dinner at 2223 with two of the best people I have met this year. I walked home and had a long think about where my life was in February and where I am now. Genuinely, I am happy; much more than I was in Los Angeles.

With the good comes the bad. There are always things I should continually work on. I've been drinking far too much in the last 9 months but I've also been walking everywhere to take in the sights and sounds. I haven't found anyone to date but what I have found are amazing friends.

Quick Thursday morning update

2007-10-04T09:16:00.000-07:00

I’m currently attached to a teleconference by a 3 foot spiral corded headset, but I was reminded of an amusing experience at the Farmers Market a few weekends ago:

The weather was beginning to turn and this particular Saturday morning was a tad wet. I managed to find my warmest sweatshirt and ran out the door. As I was making my purchase at the Avocado man’s stand, a shocked look appeared on his face as he asked me, “Does Coachella Valley have a train system now?!” For a moment, I thought he had gone temporarily insane. These avocados must be really good. He pointed at my sweatshirt and it dawned on me that the image currently displayed on my chest was a schematic of the Coachella Valley CONCERT venue, drawn similarly to a Harry Beck schematic map.

No sir, I am sorry to disappoint.

Cleaning

2007-10-03T20:13:00.000-07:00

When I was a child, between grammar and high school, my mother had a large cleaning task for me to complete each weekend. Rearrange the kitchen, scrub the bathrooms, purge the garage, etc. As a usual child, I moaned and groaned at all the tasks, but I eventually found my little kid groove and got everything done. I strongly believe the weekend chores, I dare call them, shape my current cleaning habits: frequent bursts of high energy, germ-killing power.

After a long think, I decided to stay in my apartment, but on two conditions: I could paint the living room and the entire house must be cleaned top to bottom. When I moved in the, the state of the house was in disarray, but I managed to ignore the dust collecting on the baseboards the year of dirt and grease on the kitchen floor. My roommate agreed and I set out to populate an intense task list that left no floorboard unturned.

The living room was to be completely emptied, swept and mopped. The fridge and freezer must be emptied, food thrown away, and completely washed and disinfected. Any germ currently inhabiting the bathroom would be bleached beyond oblivion.

When I returned from work last night, my roommate had made quick work on the fridge and freezer. I spent the rest of the evening cleaning every square inch of the kitchen and bathroom. The floors would wait until I left for the day and could be properly scrubbed.

My bathtub is now a pearly shade of white, the fridge no longer smells of a sickening combination of garlic and moldy fruit, and I will (hopefully) be able to eat off the floor when I come home this evening.

Next up: choosing a color for the living room. A trip to the hardware store is in order. The apartment has a Victoria theme including gaudy gilded chandeliers, high baseboards and stamped plaster details. The walls are divided into three sections, with the largest expansion painted a horrid crème hue that screams rental property. I have been granted authority to select and test wall colors. Fun times ahead!

The Zen of Office Supplies

2007-09-24T00:06:00.000-07:00

A few offices are fortunate enough to have on-site massages for staff to partake in throughout the day. The program was recently implemented in my office, with 2/3 of the cost being offset by the firm. For 5 bucks, we get 15 minute blocks in a massage chair with one of two “massage therapists.” The only location to set up shop was in the supply closet. To be fair, the space is much bigger than a closet (it is nearly as large as my entire apartment) however the general ambiance takes away from the task at hand. No amount of candles and Enya will help me forget that I tripped on the box of printer paper walking in. Or so I thought. Ambiance means squat when the person working on your body sounds like they are having a better time than you!

I had a few Thai massages while living in Los Angeles and they were generally fun, although it did occasionally border on the creepy side. The same feeling I get when walking into a semi-legit manicure salon was eerily similar to how I felt going to the “massage parlor” near my house in Hollywood. At the end, I emerged unscathed but a little more creeped out than when I walked in. I figured the chair massages would be a good re-entry into the massage realm. I paid my $5 and scheduled the second to last spot on Friday afternoon.

Admittedly, I was nervous while waiting for the previous person to finish. There was talk around the office all day about how great the massages were. Everyone I spoke with wished they had booked 30 minutes instead of the standard 15. At 4:30 on the dot, the door creaked open and it was my turn to enter. On the other side of the door, stood a gorgeous man (wouldn’t typically phase me) with a colored tattoo on his forearm. For the next 15 minutes, I was the most (mentally) uncomfortable I have ever been in my life.

It took a few minutes to adjust the chair to my body height, clean the face cut-out, settle in, etc. Getting acclimated with the chair was the first hurdle. Little did I know that would be the easiest issue to deal with. The massage therapist was, and this is the only way I can explain it, “handsy.” I am well aware that massage therapists MUST touch you with their hands, but this massage did not feel right. There was far too much back rubbing (similar to what a lover would do while sitting on the couch or something). He was breathing deeply and exhaling very loudly. During the first half of the massage, his hips were pressed against my back. (Just so you know, I am creeped out recalling this painful event. I hope everyone is appreciating it!). At one point during the arm massage, I swear on any grave that he was massaging my boob instead of my shoulder.

I walked out of the storage room not feeling any more relaxed than when I entered. I did not make eye contact with him at all during my 15 minutes of supposed zen. There was discussion over the week about the event and I described the feeling it gave me as “a non-sexual one-night stand!” After a few casual discussions with others, I cannot decide if a.)I am absolutely crazy or b.) he really was treating me different than everyone else. I am going back next Friday for another session. The $10 investment I am not too worried about loosing if this is all in my head and I can determine my paranoia is real. My current mental state is worth at least that.

Lots of little big things

2007-09-24T00:02:00.000-07:00

A buzz of activity has started at the place I earn money. End of the (calendar) year is always a busy time around these parts, even for my one-person department:

Review season! Everyone puts their best forward before sitting down to review the year’s accomplishments. Lots of committees, reviews and extra curricular activities seem to be making their way into my inbox and calendar.
September starts the ramp up toward Christmas. Once you hit Halloween, in a blink of an eye you’re staring down a 5 foot stuffed Santa at Macy's.
The Cole Valley Street Fair occurred over the weekend. For those not in the know, Cole Valley is the neighborhood you are exiled to when you have children. In a bout of frustration, I yelled out “Goddamnit, what’s with the Hummer-sized stroller brigade? Can’t anyone buck up and carry their children on their back like the rest of the world does?” Someone shouted back with “we’re sorry” that appeared to be drenched in disdain.
The corporate picnic happened a few weekends ago, coinciding with a state-wide beach clean up. Lots of sun (surprising!), lots of beer (not surprising) and a bag full of beach garbage. Yummy!
End of summer also means end of the baseball season. Coworkers are attempting to offload Giants tickets since their season took a nosedive and lost any chance of making the post season. An abundance of discounted tickets and garlic fries has entered my life.
Folsom Street Fair is less than a week away. The last bits (and I mean bits) are coming together and today I am on the look out for the last of my accessories.

Beware a woman with knife skills

2007-09-21T00:04:00.000-07:00

Living in San Francisco has left me with little money after rent and bills. Often enough, this is the case for many in the same stage of their careers as I. I have become very creative with my free time and limited funds. I’ve taken many trips up to the Presidio and various parks (free!). This weekend I am contemplating a trip to the Marin Headlands (free!). I’ve also rediscovered how much I love to cook (not free!). I don’t meet to toot my own horn (yes I do), but I’m a pretty damn good cook.

Trips to the used bookstore have been rooting through the stacks of old cookbooks. Most I wouldn’t touch with a 10 foot pole (salmon mousse still makes me cringe) but I found a gem a few weeks ago—a 1995 edition of the New Professional Chef. This is the main textbook for first year students at the CIA (Culinary Institute of America).

For a little while I have been contemplating attending culinary school. I don’t want to start a brand new career just yet. What I do want to do is learn the whys and hows of cooking. I want to learn master ratios and how to properly confit an onion. I’m just not sure I want to spend $40k learning how to be a better cook.

Labor-less day

2007-09-04T23:58:00.000-07:00

The lack of postings is a direct correlation to an increase in workload at the place that gives me a paycheck. I’ve also increased my knitting and reading loads, but that promptly stopped after I ran out of yarn and I finished my book Monday morning. Most of the weekend was spent at the Presidio and Palace of Fine Arts. I have the sunburn to prove it.

There’s been some drama in my home recently. A roommate is leaving to live with her boyfriend at the end of the month. I’ve been contemplating a leave for quite a while, with her departure being an opportune time to get the hell out of dodge. The apartment is not in a great neighborhood (as I’ve discussed before) and the feline tenant is not kept clean by her owner. I flat out refuse to live in a home that smells of cat piss at any time. That being said, apartment-hunting is on my top 3 list of things I loathe to do. Trying to find an apartment without a cat, in a nice neighborhood, and not falling apart at the seams is a very large feat I do not enjoy taking on.

My mood is just as gloomy as the skies this morning. Not only did I not want to return to work, but I knew exactly what it held for me: apartment hunting, lighting fires under dormant bums, and listening to a very obnoxious coworker discuss their various bodily ailments.

Soapy dreams

2007-08-13T09:50:00.000-07:00

My REM sleep has been lacking lately. When it does come, I have been experiencing interesting and fairly disturbing dreams. One such dream (involving a coworker and I engaged in a very inappropriate activity! Eeep!) occurred this morning after being woken up by the upstairs neighbors starting their new washer and dryer at 6:00 am (more on that event a little later).

Immediately after waking from this dream, I noticed I was experiencing horrible heart burn. It’s currently 9:30 and I’ve still got a faint remainder burning in my chest. Normally a few TUMS will solve my problem, but not today. Was my dream the cause of my heartburn and unpleasant waking? I’m not certain but I sure wish it would stop.

So, on to the washer and dryer. The building I live in is a duplex, conjoined to another duplex with a common backyard/courtyard. In the courtyard sits a ratty washer and dryer that the entire city of San Francisco seems to be using. A gate that separates my quad of duplexes from the next is never locked, nor is it allowed to be (from the landlord, “they are allowed to use the washer as well. It’s not fair to lock them out since they don’t have one.” GIVE THEM THEIR OWN!) The opposite duplex has a private washer and dryer in a closed space away from public use.

To make this long story short, the upstairs neighbors threw in the towel and bought a washer and dryer for their own use. They have been tenants for at least 6 years and have an unaltered one bedroom + utility room + patio apartment and lucky for them, washer and dryer connections. Guess who doesn't get to use the new, clean washers and will continue to walk her laundry to the sketch laundrymat?

I had a bit of a heart attack incident on Friday afternoon. My day was not going well, my office was hot and I needed a dose of caffeine to rid myself of a terrible headache. I tugged out my noise-cancelling earbuds and ran to the Nordstrom coffee kiosk. Upon my return, I noticed the right earbud was bobbing in a glass of water I had mistakenly left in close proximity of my keyboard. I resisted the urge to scream as I rescued the only thing that keeps me isolated from the drone of my office and shook out the water. Monday morning my headphones worked like a charm but not without a scare. From now on, I am drinking my water out of reused POM tea glasses that come with lids.

Willpower

2007-08-10T18:47:00.000-07:00

It took some willpower, a tummy full of good dinner and an interesting group of coworkers to muster up the courage to head out to a concert by myself last night. The band, Robbers on High Street, were amazing as always (I interviewed them way back in the day during my college newspaper days) and the club (Café Du Nord) was great. The show was so great I wish there was a recording of it somewhere to download. Really good rock shows inspire me to get back into the live music photography I was known for in college. My digital portfolio is half assembled and would take a little bit of work to get it into decent shape. I will need to shoot some current acts to have something credible to shop around with. I would love to become a part time staff photog at a club like Café Du Nord.

An amazing thing happened that I never thought possible: I walked to and from the venue. I wasn’t forced to park in a pay lot. I didn’t need to worry about getting to the venue early. I left the house at 9:30 and a quick walk down Market Street later, I was at my destination. Granted, I had to walk past the nasty recycling center but there was no overbearing stench. Never in a million years did I think I would walk to an event alone, meet my friends, enjoy the show, and walk back home. The entire course of events seemed so natural and fluid.

Café Du Nord reminds me of a scaled down Troubadour. The venue isn’t exactly a launching point for careers, but it is defiantly a secret stop off for larger groups wanting an intimate setting. The crowd was engaging and fairly mixed.

Ancient history

2007-08-06T21:57:00.000-07:00

I received an email over the weekend that I cannot muster the brain- or will- power to respond to. The email was from a person I last (briefly) talked to in 2005, after a tumultuous friendship turned courtship turned disaster of a year (2004).

Social networking sites have never been more than a faint blip on my radar, but after a wine-filled housewarming party, I was pretty much pressured into starting a Facebook account. Since then, a number of old friends and acquaintances have sent through notes and “friend requests,” but I’m still not certain whether that’s a good thing.

While it’s nice to know people I knew in high school and college are doing well, I don’t particularly care too much. Those I wanted to stay in touch with, I have. I predict the elimination of high school reunions as a direct response to the rise of social networking sites. What is the point of getting together to "catch up" when the past 5 years has been documented via Myspace (pot, calling kettle party of 1)?

Now I’ve gone off on a tangent- one of the notes I received was from the above mentioned person. Cue my Friday evening.

First came the obligatory “Hi, how are you?” and other pleasantries. I responded with the usual and added “How is life as a parent?” Never did I think I would utter that phrase so soon in my life. What came after I was not prepared for and thus, currently unable to respond.

The conversation turned into a reflection on life as it stands (for both parties) and continued on with a back story that explained how our relationship didn’t revert back to a friendship and continued through to over 2 years of silence.

I want to write a response and turn 2 years of silence into a friendship again, but I don’t know what to say. Chances are I will forward the link to this blog and ask for feedback (seeing as it’s much easier for them to read through 3 months of blog entries at a leisurely pace and I don’t have to spend a week recounting the last 6 months of my life AGAIN via email). Needless to say, I am nervous about what is going to happen.

'Hoods

2007-08-06T20:51:00.000-07:00

With all the free time I have on my hands now (no more deadline!), I’ve been thinking about how I, Ginger, fit into the city. I’ve tried walking more to take in the sights and sounds of my neighborhood. Riding transit is very much like riding in a car— I disembark at my destination and tend to ignore the space between the start and end points. While walking to the grocery store yesterday, I noticed a marijuana dispensary around the corner from the main drag in my neighborhood. I took notice of the closing times of the coffee shop on Market Street. I made a mental note to check out the vinyl shop on the corner.

6 months after arriving in San Francisco, I didn’t think the city was the place for me to lay my head. I missed my pre-move life and thought I was lusting for Los Angeles. While out on Sunday I came to realize I do not know ANYTHING about San Francisco! I haven’t visited half of the neighborhoods in the city; haven’t been to the East Bay since I moved; haven’t taken Caltrain to points south.

I pondered completing this exercise before, but now I know it needs to happen: I am going to trace my paths throughout the city on a map and document exactly where I go. This will give me a much clearer picture of where I should go. I don’t think I have the right to say I don’t belong in this city until I’ve actually seen it. Compared with Los Angeles, this place is tiny. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be able to do this before the end of the year. A favorite blog of mine is embarking on a review of each designated neighborhood in Los Angeles. I might start doing the same here, but on a much smaller scale.

Update

2007-07-29T22:01:00.000-07:00

It’s probably time for an update on Ginger and her activities. Keeping my head above water has been my number 1 priority, so the blog took an inevitable backseat. I’m sure you understand.

Work has shifted into 3rd gear and I’m doing pretty well with keeping up. I’m finding that I can keep my hands on everything much easier due to 1.) not juggling 3 job roles as I was in LA; 2.) the office atmosphere is much more relaxed than LA—things get done when they get done and happy hour takes priority on Friday afternoons.

This morning I returned from a trip to Los Angeles. My younger brother had surgery last week and I needed to show my support for the guy. Truth be told, I also needed a break from this horrid San Francisco weather. I was warned when I arrived that “summer” in the City is not what I call summer in LA. As I deplaned and walked across the tarmac, I felt the familiar warm summer breeze and could faintly make out an ocean breeze.

I find commuter flights out of business airports are much easier to handle than the Southwest mess I usually subject myself to. The flight on Friday night was quiet and much more comfortable than Southwest and United, while flying back early (6 am early) this morning was dead silent as everyone was still trying to wake up! I haven’t seen 5 am in many, many moons. I am starting to comprehend why Starbucks has such a strong hold on the coffee market—traveling businessmen and –women are looking for two things while on the road: familiarity (which leads to brand loyalty) and caffeine. Flights into the smaller airport near my parents’ house tends to run about $30 more than arriving in LAX, and after my experience this weekend, it is $30 well spent.

When I wasn’t reconnecting with friends or walking my parents’ dog, I was reading Rewind, Replay, Repeat. The book isn’t as great as the Chron made it out to be, but it helped pass the time in the not-air conditioned Oakland Airport and on the airplane. I’m sure Jeff Bell has a great story to tell, but he should fire his editor before writing another book. The story he was trying to tell was far too linear and did not emphasize his personal triumphs. Overcoming OCD appeared to be an arduous task but it was not reflected in Bell’s writing.

I managed to cram 7 (count ‘em) pairs of shoes into my suitcase this morning. I had nearly all but forgotten these had been in the trunk of my car since the day I moved out of my apartment in Hollywood. With this new discovery, I don’t need to buy shoes for the rest of the year! There is no room in my closet (more like an empty void between two studs that happens to have a door attached) for any additional shoes, so I may be parting with a few less than favorite pairs this week.

A much more substantial post about my current mindset and well being is in the works. To sum up my thoughts: I am starting to think I am not cut out for San Francisco.

The past week

2007-07-16T21:59:00.000-07:00

The past week (two weeks?) were a blur and have not left me much time to recharge my mental batteries. I may be more tired than I have been since arriving in San Francisco, I have started to feel a part of this little big city. Friday night drinks, Saturday bar-b-ques, Sunday morning charity races...I’m becoming a true, bona fide city dweller!

I am consistently being ignored by a member of my team when I speak to them. Today I finally turned on the nasty and gave them a taste of what they do not want to see when I am disrespected. Instead of working on a project I assigned over 6 weeks ago (and is now 3 weeks late), I am quite literally pushed aside to discussed a superfluous “pet” project with no foreseen urgency. Biting my tongue is not going to work for much longer as my tongue seems to be disapearing at a rapid rate.

Silence is golden

2007-07-06T21:57:00.000-07:00

Being a holiday week, most of the office has taken the week off. On the contrast, I have been working like a busy bee towards my mid-summer deadline. Summertime in my industry brings deadlines and new hires (fresh grads), so my time has also spent inducting these doe eyed kids to life and work practices at Big British Biz. Of all the activities that encompass my job, indoctrinating new employees is my least favorite. For 90 minutes I talk into a conference room full of blank faces. Today is my rolling indoctrination day, so I will be loading up on extra tea to get through the afternoon.

The city of San Francisco, and specifically the mass transit system, has left a lasting impression on me, and it’s not one to remember. A few weeks ago, I cut my finger fairly significantly (as I seem to be doing lately...not good). I kept the wound clean and dressed but not as diligently as I needed to. The wound ended up infected and did not go away after a week of cleaning with peroxide and topical antibiotics. Yesterday I headed over to the dermatologist for a skin check up (remember the sunburn a few months ago?) and asked him to take a look at my finger. “I am going to take a culture, but I can almost guarantee that’s a staff infection.” What?! I left with 6 weeks of antibiotics; not something I was looking forward to. I’m fairly certain I picked up this nasty infection on a bus or train handle. Starting today, I am not touching a damn thing on any transit vehicle. Ever.

Tomorrow is the first day of “Not Going to the Ferry Building and Reading My Amazing 1200 Page Book Instead.” I am skipping out on happy hour tonight so that I can get up at a reasonable hour to start reading—now that’s dedication!

Tourists

2007-07-02T13:56:00.000-07:00

Summer has arrived, and it’s brought with it Bugaboo strollers, fog and crowded MUNI street cars.

I used to love summers. The weather was warm and sunny. The streets were empty since everyone and their monkey’s uncle were at the beach. My parents’ neighborhood was a ghost town (they live across from a high school) and could bar-b-que without hoards of starved cheerleaders and over-trained track runners peering into the backyard.

Summer in San Francisco is completely different. Evil, sun-blocking fog creeps across the city and refuses to leave. Tourists flock to the city by the bay with children in tow to spend their hard earned dollars on retail excursions, cable car rides and cheap fleece jackets (it’s cold in Fisherman’s Warf, isn’t it?). Worst of all, tourists have infiltrated and destroyed my one joy in San Francisco— Saturday mornings at the Ferry Building Farmers Market.

Before June came barreling into town, my Saturday mornings were fun. My sure fire cure for a hangover was strolling the booths at the Farmers Market. Stick an egg sandwich in my backpack, walk down Market Street towards the Ferry Building and I was happy as a clam in mud. Then June came around and strollers started appearing. As each week passed, more strollers started to arrive in addition to fanny packs, oversized cameras and Teva sandals paired with white sport socks. Before I knew it, my once coveted pleasure was overrun by tourists clogging the narrow paths and snapping photos of the Bay Bridge.

Do not fret, as this agitated city dweller has developed a solution that should last well into the beginnings of Fall and the end of tourist season. The time usually spent at the Farmers Market will be temporarily diverted into reading Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace at the Hayes Valley Green. The evening light sticks around until nearly 8:30 pm, so my fruit and veg shopping will happen during the week at Rainbow Grocery in the Mission. When the weather is looking particularly nasty, I will possibly go back to the Ferry Building as the ratio of tourists to city dwellers will be at a tolerable level.

This plan sounds rather complicated and ridiculous, but I value my personal space and frankly, I can’t stand crowds of people. My feelings could possibly stem from an upbringing in Los Angeles where everyone is hermetically sealed in their houses and cars with no link to the outside world. And my distain for people standing in the middle of the sidewalk. And children.

On an unrelated note and mainly a reminder to myself, do not walk past the recycling center on Market and Buchanan during the day. The smell of rotting beer made my stomach turn over yesterday morning on my way to Aardvark Books. Perhaps it was a good thing I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet.

Butt, meet tile

2007-06-29T11:52:00.000-07:00

I’m having a hard time sitting in my chair this morning. No, I’m not anxious or giddy. It’s not my morning tea, either.

My backside made hard contact with the concrete tile stairs in front of my apartment this morning. Not only did I make contact, but I bounced down the 6 steps to the sidewalk. Had there been a camera to record the incident, I’m sure it would have the elements of a Charlie Chaplain scene.

The sidewalk in front of my apartment has become a dumping ground for the white trash neighbors next door. Someone on the other side of my fence decided to clean out the backyard and did not call the city to pick up the large trash items (for free mind you! TVs, couches, anything!). The unwanted items were placed in front of my apartment more than likely because I live on the corner of a very busy street where the items can be seen. The rest of the neighborhood had the same idea and I now have an unsightly bum magnet at my front porch. These unsightly items distracted my attention this morning and lead to my descent down the stairs on my backside.

I moved into this particular neighborhood to live in what I thought to be a nice area. After living in a ghetto un-fab apartment in Los Angeles, I was tired of trash littered in the alley, couches left to rot on the sidewalk, and broken down cars rusting in front of the apartment building. I pay a premium rent to live in a nice neighborhood and not have trash on my street.

As I sit here agonizing over my sore tailbone, I am starting to think my neighborhood is not worth the rent I pay. More than anything, I am paying a premium to be within 15 minutes of What I do to Earn Money. I don’t patronize the shops in my neighborhood, mainly because I am not a member of the tax bracket that can afford to patronize the shops! I want to stay in the city, but I know I can’t continue to live in this apartment. My options are fairly limited due to budgetary constraints and I refuse to live in a neighborhood I do not feel safe in. My mind has made the decision but my heart does not want to believe it: I am going to need to leave the city in order to be happy with where I am living. Having a taxi take me home in 5 minutes is great, but what’s the point when I can’t get to sleep because the main thoroughfare I live on is buzzing with cars and people for another 3 hours?

Last night I started the apartment hunt, yet again. It feels like just yesterday I was scouring CraigsList for a place to live (it was just yesterday! I moved into this apartment in April). I will continue my search within the city but my focus will be on outlying cities on the Peninsula. When I first arrived in San Francisco, I told myself I would not fall into the same traps I did in Los Angeles. Apartment hunting outside of the city without a car is basically impossible, so a kind coworker has agreed to schlep me around on the weekends.

Eating habits

2007-06-27T11:36:00.000-07:00

I changed my eating habits a few weeks ago to loose weight I gained in Los Angeles,and I think I am reeling some nasty side effects: tiredness, a horrible breakout on my face, headaches, upset stomach, constipation...

I have dramatically upped my intake of fresh vegetables and fruits and limited (but not eliminated) my intake of processed carbohydrates. Sweets have been all but eliminated from my diet, save for once in awhile. I haven’t increased my water intake, but I drink quite a bit throughout the day as a standard. What I have stopped eating (and what I think is contributing to my upset stomach and constipation) is flax meal. Each morning, 2 tablespoons of flax meal went into my yogurt and cereal mixture (it looked like vomit, but it was good and kept me full). Without the flax meal, I think my body is having a hard time adjusting to the new eating habits. I don’t know what to incorporate the flax meal into without changing the texture of my food. Maybe mix it in salad dressing?

Bookworm

2007-06-24T19:33:00.000-07:00

Since arriving in San Francisco, I hit my New Year’s Resolution hard and fast— I needed to read a LOT and I needed to read mind engaging literature. I dug out the AP American and Brit Literature book list from high school and I was going to read as many titles as possible. Nearly half of the titles were read in high school, but the remainder left a sizable pool of books to choose from. Reading Angela’s Ashes and Flowers for Algernon before bed can leave you rather depressed, so I have allowed myself a few fluff titles (Anthony Bourdain is a modern day hero).

I have been frequenting a number of used book shops. Unless the book has been retranslated, I don’t see a point in buying classics such as Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow brand new. The words remain the same, whether the cover is shiny and stiff or dulled and malleable paperboard. There is something to be said (and to feel) reading a used book; an undefined energy emanates from a previously read book. Since my college days, I have grown to appreciate literature much more than when I was required to read and analyze texts in a 10 paper due in some professors’ mailbox no later than 5 pm next Thursday, and be sure to date stamp the cover sheet!

My mind has been wading through thoughts of reading, writing, and where my life stands at this point in time. I am not genuinely happy with What I do to Earn Money (more than a job, less than a career). The position I filled by coming to San Francisco is designed for someone with much more experience than I. Because of this, I am finding that I can do the tasks required, but do not have the longevity and experience to understand the reasoning behind corporate decisions. I don’t want to throw the gender card into play, but I do think it has a significant impact on my working life.

Achoo

2007-06-24T11:30:00.000-07:00

I thought I was lucky enough to skip this year’s allergy season, but fate has not let me off that easy. The winds whipped up the normally dormant pollen from around the Bay and brought those pesky little buggers into my neighborhood over the weekend. Grocery shopping without a car is hard enough without adding the need to blow my nose every 30 seconds.

Pride weekend was uneventful as I live on the west side of Van Ness, thus escaping most of the reveler’s drunken screams, but unfortunately missing Dykes on Bikes. While walking home with my bounty from Trader Joe’s Sunday afternoon, I came across a few wayward participants that needed to be pointed in the right direction.

I continue to be stopped for directions; multiple times each time I leave the house. Most often these inquiries occur on Gough St., so I will chalk those up to people getting lost trying to find their way to the 80 Freeway (notice that California girl speak? Nothing is an interstate ‘round Los Angeles). A memorable incident happened while I was walking to the bus stop down 9th Street, around Howard. A woman calls out from a brand new, white Mercedes Benz, “Am I anywhere near Parnassus Street?"

Blanche for my coffee, please

2007-06-22T15:28:00.000-07:00

Listening to coworkers argue with their spouses tops my list of work annoyances. Even more so annoying is when you are able to listen to both ends of the argument. More often than not, you are required to deal with personal problems at work. I have taken this liberty many times before, however a bit skewed from the usual (I make hair appointments instead of babysitting appointments). The argument I overhead this afternoon reminded me to count thy blessings for being single far outweighs the drama of being married, with or without kids and pets.

Desperate to escape from the land of those who are tethered, I headed downstairs to the main kitchen. After scouting the cabinets, I found the most awesome mug I have seen since moving to San Francisco; simple melamine-type vessel with black embossed letters reading “Blanche.” The mug has inspired my day to be great, much like the gold shoes I wear.

Friday afternoon has descended upon offices around the city. I can let my gaze travel around my team’s area and not one person is performing their work-related duties any longer. Who can blame them? A surprise announcement of sweet treats was made at 3 pm and the happy hour notice has been sent. Why should anyone still be expected to work?
--------------
My evening activities have been limited to the few people I know in the city. Two of the people I know, a couple, always seem to have a male companion tag along to our adventures. Tuesday evening my suspicions were confirmed; each “friend” was an attempt at matchmaking. Sorry, but I'm not interested in your kind, my friend.

Airplane, take me away

2007-06-19T11:04:00.000-07:00

Every 6 months I start planning an elaborate vacation that never seems to materialize. Last year, my planning was focused on Amsterdam; the year before, London. I end up planning these vacations down to the exact train to take from the airport and which bus lines run to my featured destinations; essentially the entire package assembled into a complex timeline with associated costs. I don’t consider the effort wasted as the planning aspect does help with work related functions.

This time around, I might actually be able to take the fictitious vacation. I doubt I will have the money available for the airfare enough in advance to purchase the tickets at a decent price, but United Airlines occasionally runs specials between Los Angeles and Amsterdam for under $800. I’m fairly certain I have enough frequent flyer miles to upgrade to Economy Plus, so the flight could be somewhat bearable. The current destinations are Amsterdam, Brussels and ~~Dusseldorf~~ (edit: after speaking with a coworker, Dusseldorf is now out).

The goals I had in mind for the trip were to a.) make my way to Amsterdam, b.) ride a long distance train, c.) visit 2 or more countries. I attempted to keep the destinations within 2 hors of each other so that too much time isn’t lost for travel. After last year’s research into Amsterdam, I can focus my attention on Brussels ~~and Dusseldorf~~.

I have also conjured up an alternate destination, or as I’d like to think, part 2 of Ginger’s “never been on a proper vacation” journey. Traveling south of the equator between January and March opens up a world of possibilities. Most Americans will be hunkered down for the winter months while I will (hopefully) be living it up in New Zealand’s beautiful, sunny landscape. I can carry much less in clothing, making my pack considerably lighter.

It appears that transit in New Zealand is going to become a bit of an issue. I don’t know what their “coaches” are rated at, but I do not want to purchase an overnight ticket to Wellington without knowing a 3 year old will be kicking my seat the entire night. I could quite possibly cut Wellington out of my itinerary all together and stick with the Southwest-type flights between Auckland and Dunedin, but why would I travel 16 hours in a cramped plane to not see the capital city?

Yawn

2007-06-18T09:59:00.000-07:00

I am chugging along at half-speed today. The cuppa I made this morning wasn’t nearly strong enough to bring my brain out of the haze it’s currently residing in. This morning I am also attempting to eat healthier in preparation for AIDS Walk SF (who wants to see a lard ass in yoga pants? Not I) and man, I could kill for a bagel and cream cheese right about now.

Depressed as all hell for wasting an entire weekend on errands, I initially declined an invitation for happy hour on Sunday. A few hours later while knee deep in folded laundry, I was quite literally dragged by my feet to The Mint karaoke bar on upper Market Street. After a few beers, some George Michael songs and a KJ who was the spitting image of Alan Cummings, my mood lifted considerably. You could also say I was singing along and possibly dancing, however these are unconfirmed reports.

Last night’s events partly explain why I am so very tired today. Spending 5 hours getting groceries and miscellaneous goods at Target rendered my exhausted Saturday night, with just enough energy left to melt chocolate for my fresh strawberries. I’ve tried very hard to live in the city without a car, and while it is possible, you are forced to allocate much more time running errands by public transit as opposed to driving. I would not want to imagine how live would be as a car-less parent in San Francisco.

Goldie

2007-06-14T14:36:00.000-07:00

Shoes have an amazing power over certain women (me being one of those women). Having the right pair of shoes on your feet can make a bad day good, a rainy day sunny, a frown turned upside down. During the morning rush, I knocked a Wallflower off the nightstand and broke it (some of us are blessed with only 2 outlets in the entire bedroom and flat irons take precedence in the mornings). Yes, they suck up energy during the day, but I refuse to walk into a room that smells like a damp prison (I’ve read all about the Method O-Rings and plan on purchasing some when I’m at Target next, so don’t get your panties in a bunch). I figure with the amount of natural resources I save by not driving a car at all and keeping every light off in the house except for my small desk lamp, I earn enough Mother Earth karma points to use a Wallflower.

Anyway, as I was saying.

I ran into the mall to grab a Wallflower and come right back out. As I rounded a corner on the 3rd floor, what did my little eyes spy but a Nine West store. Ignoring my initial impulse to run towards the shoe displays, I kept my gaze fixed on the task at hand. Honest truth, I attempted to find an alternate exit that avoided the coveted shoe store, but that was not to be. I stepped into Nine West and immediately saw a perfect pair of shoes—gold satin flats.

As I was attempting to calculate my finances for the rest of the week in my head, I saw what looked to be a gift card in my clutch (yes, I carry a clutch). Could it be my lucky day? Yes it is; the card is for Nine West! Bless the shoe gods, my day is now complete!

It took more than willpower to crawl out of bed this morning—my gold shoes shot out a tractor beam that lured me out of my very comfortable bed. I haven’t said a snide comment, shot a dirty look or complained about the A/C, and I would like to think it’s due to my free shoes.

Cookies make everything better

2007-06-12T14:44:00.000-07:00

I took my lunch break to pick up a card for dear ol’dad, and ended up leaving with his card and a few extra. If there was ever a card that described my life at this very moment, this is the one. Combine that with being extremely bloated and a lack of A/C in the office, my jeans don’t feel so comfy today. I have resorted to the act of extreme slouching in my chair to ease the discomfort. And eating chocolate cookies. And throwing screaming monkeys at coworkers.

I’ll be working on a few large projects for work, so posting this week will be lighter than usual. I am working on a fairly interesting entry for next week, so be on the lookout.

Return

2007-06-11T13:42:00.000-07:00

I must have brought the sunshine back from LA on my United flight; the weather is gorgeous outside. I rant across the street to cash a birthday check and I nearly hopped on the passing 21 Hayes to get the hell out of dodge. There is not a cloud in the sky, but we all know how quickly that can change. Flying over the city on Friday afternoon, I was able to watch cloud cover engulf the peninsula; starting in the Richmond and Outer Sunset districts, and slowing moving East. Then I landed in Los Angeles and forgot that there is such as thing as cold fog and frizzy hair in June.

I couldn’t have asked for more perfect weather for my weekend retreat. The days weren’t too hot and the evenings were gorgeous. I was able to wear a summer dress to dinner Saturday night and forgo a sweater when I left for my evening activities in West Hollywood that included go-go dancers and being interviewed due to the fact I was with the only group of women in the bar.

As depressed as I am to be back in San Francisco, I have been amazingly productive today. I was very tempted to call in sick and do my laundry, finish my grocery shopping and air out the bathroom that REEKS of cat piss. Now I’m rather glad I came into work. There is a surge of energy running through my body, but that could be due to the Dr. Pepper I had during lunch. It might also be the thermostat set at 76 degrees.

I have received a deluge of passive aggressive emails from my replacement in Los Angeles (I tend to view this person as more of a placeholder than replacement since I don’t see them lasting too long) and am trying my best to ignore them. I don’t need my good day ruined by a person who does not know how to communicate with their peers.

Bandages

2007-06-05T15:54:00.000-07:00

It is amazing how crabby and mean I am without caffeine! After missing my bus this morning (NextMuni LIES! 5 minutes in Muni Land really means 2), I walked an extra few blocks to the train in shoes not meant for walking (the reason why I was taking the bus). I made it into the office in time to catch a colleague in London but I was too hot and flustered to go downstairs and make my cuppa. Slowly, I dragged myself through the morning and by the time a 10 am meeting came about, I felt like road kill. I was trying my best to refrain from biting anyone’s head off, which proved nearly impossible. Men, trying to take the lead, yet again. I wanted to scream, “just let the man do his g-d job and stop asserting yourself into a non-existent faux leadership position!” Some people are just not content to leave well enough alone. I may not be walking in their shoes, but I do sit right next to them and I am tired of listening to the schmoozing with my former coworkers. It makes my bowl of happy at lunch not so happy.

Today I celebrate the 3 month mark since arriving in San Francisco. I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished much, but in the grand scheme, I probably have.
Job: almost cheating- it was waiting for me
Apartment: I like the neighborhood, but I’m not crazy about the place. I might look for something in September/October.
Established my routes to work: very important! My mom taught me a weird lesson when I got my first car- try to take 2 different routes to work each day. It discourages stalkers from following you since you won’t have the same routine.
Read more books: I didn’t read nearly enough in Los Angeles. Not having any money to go out helps keep my nose buried in a book.
Limited my trips to Amoeba: only 2 so far, but I dropped almost $200 each time.

What I’d like to continue working towards:
Find bigger apartment.
Return to school.
Loose some LA weight: similar to the freshman 15. It creeps up on you during rush hour traffic).
See more concerts
Volunteer at dog shelter: a small rescue shelter never called me back. Do they not need any volunteers?
Friend(s): I’ve made one friend outside of work, but he’s a former employee from Big British Biz, so he doesn’t count.

Spicy Monday

2007-06-04T13:54:00.000-07:00

I think the City is trying to force me out. The humidity is ravaging my hair, not letting my clothes dry outside and keeping condensation on the windows of my apartment long after I’ve stepped out of the shower (which is supposedly ventilated by a fan, but the bathroom never airs out). I spent 20 minutes flat ironing my hair only for it to be ruined the minute I stepped outside. Let’s not start with the cop that nearly RAN ME OVER crossing Franklin Ave. this morning. Yeah, eff you buddy. Less speeding, more keeping bums off my front stoop, kthxbye.

I’m headed back to LA this weekend to celebrate my birthday with the family. The weather looks to be much better than San Francisco and chances are I’ll get to see the sun (smog be damned)! The forecast shows low 70s Friday through Sunday, but anyone from Los Angeles knows that adding 5-6 degrees to the forecast is standard to get the most accurate temperature for the day.

Today doesn’t look too taxing, so I will be taking the afternoon to mentally prepare myself to ask my supervisor for $1500 in tuition money for a few classes at SFSU. The Big British Biz offers a tuition reimbursement program, however at the very dubious discretion of the Office Leader (my direct supervisor—a very convenient factor) and Human Resources. I am still required to cough up the money up front (Dad? Help?), required to earn a B or higher for full reimbursement, and give up my first born child. The last part I’ve exaggerated a bit; I’m only required to stay a year after the reimbursement.

Concentrating might be hard, after my bowl of happy, spicy Crockpot soup and the remaining chili mango. Maybe it is possibly to overdose on “spicy.”

Killing time

2007-06-01T16:47:00.000-07:00

On the way out the door this morning, I rummaged through the cupboards, desperately looking for something to pair with my leftover lunch of pan fried shrimp with asparagus in Trader Joe’s Lemon Dill sauce (not a good choice for those who do not like Dijon mustard like myself) and leftover rice. I stumbled across a lone package of chile spice mango. “Perfect!” I thought. “I don’t like my lunch, so I’ll overload my taste buds and won’t be able to distinguish what I’m eating.”

Conveniently, I forgot about the goodies waiting in my backpack when lunchtime came around. I choked down shrimp and asparagus (thankfully the mustard flavor mellowed overnight) and read my New Yorker magazine with a little sad face black cloud over my head. When I put the magazine away, what appeared before my eyes were none other than my beloved mangoes! Score for Ginger!

Trader Joe’s is known around my house for making amazingly addictive and not-so-great food. This week’s entry in the not-so-great category was the Lemon Dill sauce, but I’m pulling through for the baked Spinach Artichoke dip currently in the freezer. Frequent entries in the addictive category are Chile Spiced Mangoes. Saying these are “addictive” would probably be an understatement. I’ve been known to polish off an entire bag in a post-lunch lull. Who cares about heartburn and a stomachache when there are spicy mangoes in the office.

The Trader Joe’s dried fruit and nut section is a great place to stock up on work snacks. I’m partial to the banana chips, just smashed bananas, apple rings, and Turkish apricots. If you bake as often as I do, TJs is also a great place to stock up on pecans, walnuts, almonds, etc. in large quantities.

The Henry Rollins DVD next up in my GreenCine queue showed up the other day, so I will probably be watching that at some point this weekend. I also need to return the Firefly DVDs I borrowed back in March, so I will watch as much as I can tomorrow while the laundry is running. I hope there’s another bag of chile mango in the cupboard. Heartburn be damned!

Budgeting

2007-06-01T12:32:00.000-07:00

Apologies to anyone I’ve been snippy with today. After finishing the month’s budget I have about $50 each pay period to spend on food. Most often, my budgets are well planned so that I do not need to keep meticulous track of how much I spend at the grocery store. This month is different and I’m stressing a little bit. The best budgeting tools I have are my arms— I can only buy what I can carry home on the bus! I would use the Safeway online ordering, but you need to spend $50 or more per delivery. Since my budget this month is split between Safeway and Trader Joe's, I am forced to pass on the convenience factor.

Usually I will plan the week’s lunches and dinners over the weekend and cook as much as I can in advance. I hate coming home and spending the next hour and a half in the kitchen. I’ve taken some time this morning and planned out every single meal for the next 14 days and most of the remaining meals for the month. Anal? Yes, but a necessary task. I want to know what I’m facing for the week and not have to guess what to put together when I get home. I could go so far as to portion everything out prior to cooking, but I think that’s where I’ll draw the line.

Breakfasts are easy—yogurt with granola and flax meal. The choices for breakfast will change throughout the year, but for the most part I keep with something simple and easy to eat at work. Fridays’ breakfasts are a freebee day since the Big British Biz brings in bagels for the staff. Dinners are looking fairly standard with help from the pantry— chilli with cornbread (already in the cupboard), chicken veggie pasta, fish with wild rice and veg (currently in the freezer), Crockpot soup (everything you can find with ground turkey and tons of spices) and my weekly Mexican meal (stretched out over 4 lunches!). Lunch will exclusively consist of leftovers from the weeks’ dinners with egg salad and tuna salad thrown in for variety.

I read through a few “frugal cooking” websites and boy do I feel sorry for anyone who eats the shit I saw: two-ingredient stroganoff (hamburger helper with canned roast beef and gravy), baked bean soup (pureed baked beans with ketchup), curried chicken casserole (curry + mayo + hot sauce = barf). I don’t feel so bad about eating leftover pasta anymore.

I want to turn this stressful month into an experiment: will planning out the month’s meals in advance help curb eating out and encourage better portion control? I am also going to calculate the average cost of food per day. I might also start a cranky meter and gauge how I feel about eating leftovers. I can imagine the readings to be a bit higher right around the middle of the month.

I don’t mean for this post to sound high-and-mighty or pompous in any way. My family went through lean times, just as many others did. I never realized we didn’t have as much money as everyone else because my family always made sure we were thankful for everything we had each day. This month is yet another growing experience and is encouraging me to find creative ways to get myself through life.

Food. Good.

2007-05-31T20:16:00.000-07:00

Food is a reappearing theme in my life, as is probably the case for many Americans. Like I said the other day, I wanted to collect my family’s trashy recipes. I also want to collect my all time favorite not-so-trashy recipes. I keep everything digital (scanned recipe cards, typed dictations from my dad), but I’d like to have something physical to give to someone at a later point in my life and say “this is what shaped my life and why I like to eat.”

It’s amazing how good leftovers taste when you’re poor. Growing up and into the beginnings of adulthood, I would not touch leftovers; flat out refused to eat anything from the microwave. I would eat tuna and peanut butter out of a can instead of “nuking” last night’s dinner. I was spoiled by my father’s cooking and I wanted to preserve the fresh taste of his salads and grilled chicken without it turning into a soggy, rubber-tasting mess.

Now that I’m living in a very, very expensive city, I do not have the luxury of having lunch out each day. In fact, I’m lucky if I get to grab a sandwich. I’ve come to find that I prefer, and almost enjoy, my previous night’s dinner over any lunch I’ve had to far in San Francisco. If I was back in LA, you bet I would toss my leftover chicken and black beans for Zankou or Bombay Café any day.

I don’t like to eat red meat or overly greasy food, but I have an intense craving for a Tommy Burger right now (with chili, cheese and pickle). My first trip into Los Angeles with my father ended with a stop at Tommy’s in Rampart. After late night musical practice in high school, my father and I stopped at the Tommy’s on Anaheim Blvd. in Long Beach. The food may not suit my highly sophisticated adult pallet (insert sarcasm), but it does bring back good memories.

I am headed back to LA next weekend and the first stop I plan on making is Tommy’s, driving home from LAX with my dad.

Motivation

2007-05-30T13:13:00.000-07:00

After a 90 minute complete-waste-of-my-time-and-energy teleconference, I can’t get myself motivated to meet a milestone on a long-term project I’ve been put in charge of. I’ve got enough finished for my presentation tomorrow, but I really should push myself to get a more substantial chunk finished, for my own good and to look good. I’ve already spent too much time customizing my iGoogle page (web 2.0 version of MyYahoo), planning the week’s meals, completing my parking permit application, and internet window shopping (Mama wants some Noro yarn!).

Can we talk about the shitty Muni service this week? Last night I stood in the Powell terminal for 15 minutes before a train showed up. After the pause in service, I watched 4 trains pass before there was one that could accommodate additional passengers. Let me tell you, I have pushed my way into many a crammed train car, smelly bum or not, so letting a train pass is not something I do often. Complete opposite situation occurred this morning—I just missed a train at 7:45 that was nearly empty (a J-Church, empty?!) and the following T-Third was equally barren. When I emerged from the station, Market Street was eerily desolate! A few cabs, a few buses, and hardly anyone walking on the street. I asked the front desk attendant in my building if today was a special holiday or if aliens had landed in the Sunset and beamed everyone into outer space.

Snippets

2007-05-29T12:45:00.000-07:00

Long weekend and all, today is going to be very painful. In addition to hitting the sauce far too much Friday night and not getting around to what I had planned on doing this weekend, I nearly fell over on the train because I was too tired to stand up. I believe a power nap is in order when I get home since I will be attending a concert tonight and I would like to enjoy the performance.

The work day was 23 minutes old when I hade received 2 all-staff emails discussing timesheets. I have received similar emails every month for the past 3 months. I've discussed my disdain for unnecessary emails before. Obviously, there appears to be a lack of comprehension about what you, author of these annoying emails, are trying to explain to a select number of staff. Instead of subjecting the rest of the population to these ridiculous inbox clogging emails, use the global address book and email these people directly. Even better, pick up the phone and call them.

I had originally set my alarm for 6:15 am to wash my hair, make lunch, and clean up my room before I left for work. When the initial alarm rang, I surveyed the morning and determined there was no way I was getting out of bed anytime before 7 am. Fate is a funny thing—I forgot the alarm on my cell phone was still active. 6:35 am came around and I had to physically get out of bed to turn it off. Guess I was getting up before 7 am after all.

I made the mistake of flat ironing my 3-day-dirty bangs (as I usually do) and I developed this unicorn-like fringe that would not lay flat. Accepting defeat, I pinned my hair back and laid on the hairspray. Bangs 1 Amanda 0.

Reading a blog entry about trashy foods in the UK has inspired me to collate family top shelf trashy food recipes. The first one off the top of my head is maternal grandma’s Chicken Tortilla. Mmm, cheesy cream of mushroom goodness.

Could it be any colder in my office today? Sheesh! Note: research and procure short summer coat. Note #2: finish boxy sweater I started 4 months ago.

Oi

2007-05-26T13:23:00.001-07:00

Hit the sauce far too hard last night to get anything done today before 1 pm. A very happy hour turned into drinks at a friend's apartment. After debating whether to walk home from Nob Hill (that's how drunk I was) or take Muni, I hopped a cab and hit the bricks at midnight. Since there isn't much food in the house, the next item on my agenda is getting over to Trader Joe's before the hangover takes over.

Dance pants

2007-05-25T12:02:00.000-07:00

There isn’t a soul in Area 51 today and boy is it nice. I can dance around at my desk and not become the subject of strange looks from the Other Worldlies.

I’m reeling in the good mood vibes after chairing a meeting that went down much better than expected. In 30 minutes I was able to present my info, ask for feedback, dish out general guidelines, and get out the door. Mad props were given for getting everyone out and on with their day. Hopefully I was able to turn an arduous task into something a bit more pleasant. I am from the school of though that 90% of meetings I have ever sat though were poorly run and continued for far too long. I learned how to properly give a presentation in high school and college (I’m certain everyone takes a general communications course in college that covers giving presentations), but they have somehow been lost in Corporate America (formerly Her Royal Majesty’s Corporate New England).

Looks like the rest of my space mates have returned from a massive project meeting which means no more dancing for Ginger. It was probably for the best.

Since I have accomplished everything I needed to this week, the rest of the day should be a breeze. A few more emails and I can start the long weekend. I am headed back to LA in a 2 weeks and I will hopefully be bringing my dad’s Cannon 5D with me. He isn’t using the camera enough and I should update my portfolio to a current state. I would like to learn enough Flash (meaning I will save up enough money to pay someone) to put together an interactive portfolio and move away from posting watermarked images on a website. We have to jump on that Web 2.0 bandwagon while it’s still rolling.

The weather isn’t looking too peachy for the long weekend. I wanted to get outside in the fresh air and finish a mass of books I bought: Eats, Shoot & Leaves; The Nasty Bits; Suicide – A Study in Sociology. I will more than likely finish Flowers for Algernon tonight if I don’t hit the sauce too hard tonight at happy hour.

No title today

2007-05-24T10:24:00.000-07:00

I didn’t think it was at all possible, but I fell asleep at 7 pm last night.

24 Hours on Craigslist arrived from GreenCine, and I wanted to send it back this week so that I had a Henry Rollins DVD for the weekend. However, I didn’t get to that point in the evening. I was having this horrible nauseous feeling before getting around to dinner. Around 7, I laid down to see if I would feel better. I then turned over to set my alarm (fearing I wouldn’t wake up) and the clock read 2 am. Gah! How did I fall asleep for 7 hours and not realize the lights were on, the window was open and I still had giant headphones around my head? Instead of fretting over the details, I set the alarm and went back to sleep until 6 am.

I am not an early sleeper. Very rarely will I ever go to bed before 10 pm, or even 11 pm. There are books to read, CDs to play, food to be made. The whole point of stocking my tea collection with Assam is so that I can go to bed late and still function in the morning after a cuppa.

Granted, I do feel extremely rested and fresh today. My daily cuppa was herbal (African Nectar) instead of the usual caffeine pumped Assam (both being equally delicious). This morning I feel as though I missed an entire day of activities by going to bed at such an unreasonable hour. The evenings planned activities included finishing the aforementioned DVD, making dinner/lunch for the remainder of the week, cleaning up the kitchen and knocking through a sizeable chunk of Flowers for Algernon (no, I didn’t read this in school, which is why I am reading it now as a grown adult).

I’m now off to a secluded corner of a restaurant for lunch. Hell or high sandwich, I will be reading as long as possible.

Su casa es mi casa

2007-05-23T11:55:00.000-07:00

Last week I moved from my temporary desk on the main floor of our office to my permanent desk in an annex space (rightfully dubbed Area 51—the people in here are not from this world). My starting location was a one-off desk in a sea of strategically located employee pods. I didn’t need to worry a cube mate taking over my assigned 6 linear feet of shared shelf space when the only person I was told to share with was a monster made of Ethernet cables and power strips living under my desk (his name happened to be D-link).

In the newly constructed annex space, I share my assigned pod with a mate. Yes, mate. It wasn’t until he mentioned I was wearing lavender lotion that I realized he knows what I’m doing during the day. I could care less what he’s doing because I usually can’t hear a thing (I don’t leave the house without my noise cancelling earbuds), but I guess my Nancy Boy lotion and leftover curry piqued his attention throughout the day. This got me to thinking about the stories I read about feuding coworkers and how a chain of events can boil over into a small-scale version WWIII.

Am I headed down the slippery path to cube-mate warfare? If anything, his simple comment has made me more aware of my surroundings, and wasn’t that the point? In addition to becoming mindful of my actions, a horrible habit of mine has become much, much more apparent: eavesdropping. The conversations are too juicy to not listen (but only when I don’t have the aforementioned earbuds shoved into the sides of head).

And now back to your regularly scheduled conference calls. Har har.

The sound of money rushing past me

2007-05-22T21:12:00.000-07:00

Since I wrote that horrible check to the government last month, I've been hiding my debit card from myself. There were too many good releases that I wanted all at once, and my bank account just couldn't handle it. New month, new paycheck, and a trip to Amoeba:

BRMC – Baby 81: the music is missing what made BRMC— the crunch. Someone mentioned it was overproduced. This group lost what made their sound. I’m curious what their live show sounds like with these new tracks.

Elvis Perkins – Ash Wednesday: Nick Drake meets Neutral Milk Hotel. I really like the cd, but it’s been done before.

Andrew Bird – Armchair Apocrypha: Andrew Bird continues to amaze me. He’s progressed as a musician and kept hold of what made his sound unique.

Elliott Smith – New Moon: a collection of outtakes and b-sides, NOT the unfinished tracks from his posthumously released CD “From a Basement on the Hill.”

Patrick Wolf – The Magic Position: interesting disc— made my walk home yesterday quite pleasant despite the howling wind.

Cinematic Orchestra – Every Day: sounds like something an ex and I would have listened to after dinner, sipping wine, talking about how much better life would be if we lived somewhere else. Don’t think I’ll be listening to this CD much.

Feist – The Reminder: amazing, just as I had expected.

Embrace – If You've Never Been: haven't listened yet.

Great Northern – Trading Twilight for Daylight: my favorite out of this group so far. I can already see 3 tracks making their way to a playlist in the near future.

Joseph Arthur – Let’s Just Be: Joseph reinventing himself, yet again. I love this guy.

Of Montreal – Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?: haven't listened yet.

Sloan – Action Pact: great, especially since the drummer isn’t playing guitar on any of the songs (link back to older post).

Wilco – Sky Blue Sky: haven't listened yet. Reviewing my pending Amazon order, I pre-ordered this and promptly forgot, and now I have two copies.

Guster – Satellite EP: I just wanted the single. The rest of the tracks aren't too bad.

Travis – The Boy With No Name: classic Travis. Glad they have a new album. This is what Coldplay could have been.

Oompa Loompa Doompa-De-Do

2007-05-10T13:38:00.000-07:00

The office is up in a tizzy (a technical term) for the next two days as everyone cleans in preparation of new seating rearrangements. 10 years of dust in an already poorly ventilated office space is wrecking havoc on my allergies, so I couldn’t be leaving any sooner. Thank the deities I won’t be in the office tomorrow. Why?

I GET TO GO HOME (could I be anymore excited?)!!

Home, meaning that smog-filled city 400 or so miles to the south. I haven’t been home for more than 3 hours since I moved up in March and I’ve been very homesick for the last few weeks. My trip won’t be all roses— San Francisco has left its mark, albeit a temporary one, as a bad sunburn. I was too naïve to use sunblock at Wednesday’s Giants game and I am unfortunately paying the price. I am no stranger to sunburns, but this one is particularly bad. Could it be that there wasn’t a layer of smog to filter out some of the UV rays?

Tonight will be Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory at Dolores Park, and then a cold bath before hopping on a plane home. The weekend will hopefully include drinks with friends, dinner with the folks and a screening of The Ex.

Bonus: I found a bottle of Cheerwine at a grocery store during lunch, and it was only 30 cents more than I was used to paying in LA at the Soda Pop Stop. That is a 22% increase, but I found it at Bristol Farms, so 22% is pretty much their standard markup.

Induction, not assimilation

2007-05-08T15:03:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I will be attending my first Giants game. Locals I have talked to would consider this event phase 2 of my assimilation into a San Francisco dweller. I even went so far as to buy a Giants hat.

I can’t be bothered to write an entry worth posting to save my life this afternoon. Heading over to Yerba Buena for lunch has killed my motivation at work, so much so that I am thinking of zoning out for the next 2 hours until I start on my arduous journey home. The weather has not killed my sarcasm, as you can see.

On an unrelated note, the Curbed SF staff should get their shit together and start putting decent content up. Their LA and NYC counterparts are making the SF site look like shit. If I am aware of the seriously big developments happening in the city, why are there not weekly columns about these ridiculous high rises? Construction updates? Planning department meetings? Sheesh…let's start writing people.

2007-05-06T22:12:00.000-07:00

The sun sure did make itself known today. The mercury rose above 80 degrees and I spent most of the day outside at Alamo Square. Even now at 10:15 pm, the air is still warm. Also amazing-- my clothes only needed one cycle in the dryer! The air is usually too humid to dry my clothes through in 50 minutes.
I can't really think right now. I am pretty tired from hauling my cookies around to the grocery store, the park, the laundry mat and everywhere in between.

A slice of home

2007-05-06T11:38:00.000-07:00

I can't begin to tell you how nice it is outside right now. My dashboard widget says it's 71 degrees and will have a high of 81! Oh my deities! Just as soon as I'm finished with laundry, I'm headed out to Alamo Square to enjoy the sunshine.

Coffee talk

2007-05-04T16:41:00.000-07:00

Items for Friday, 4 May. I’m still not at 100%, but this post is slightly more intelligent than pictures of last night’s dinner.

Weather patterns in San Francisco amaze me. Walking to work was cold, windy, and wet. Coming back from lunch was sunny with a slight breeze. I can almost guarantee I will freeze my ass off walking home tonight.
Why do the Dianetics people come out to play when the weather is so great? There goes Scientology, ruining it for everyone, yet again.
Swedish Fish are yummy.
My attitude is a tad better today. See above.
I have about half a pound of poppy seeds that I need to use up sometime soon. Anyone have ideas? I’ve made cake with them 3 times over.
I received a text message from my dear ol’ dad who said he’d spoken with my childhood best friend. I come to find out there went to a bar and drank like fishes (not Swedish). I’m scared to find out how much of my teenage years was divulged.
It’s nearly time to get my drink on at the Smelly Dehli.

Discuss amongst yourselves.

Don't mess with my rice or I will be forced to hurt you

2007-05-03T22:24:00.000-07:00

I seem to have an attitude problem today, so instead of projecting my negative energy onto everyone in the blogosphere, I will post a picture of my attitude-recovery dinner.

You're seeing Trader Joe's tilapia filets with sauted mushrooms and asparagus served with brown rice. There was more than enough left over for lunch tomorrow (which makes up for having to buy everyone's lunch today).

My usual attitude-recovery procedure would include heading to Amoeba, but that has become less financialy feasible than cooking dinner.

No title today

2007-05-02T10:57:00.000-07:00

Aw, Do I Have to Go To Work Today?

2007-05-02T10:32:00.000-07:00

For those lucky enough to work for firms that adhere to traditional corporate schedules, getting out of bed and into work can be difficult.

My department consists of 2 individuals that do not perform a direct support function or interact with outside clients, so we have the luxury of working a flexible schedule. For the time being, I have chosen to work the standard 8:30 to 5:30, but I can slowly see that fading by the wayside.

Telecommuting is certainly an option for me, as most of my interaction stems from email generated outside my office. Looking at my diary from the last 2 months, I only needed to be physically in the office 2 days a week. However I’m sure this will not paint the greatest picture of my work habits since I live a total of 1 mile (11 city blocks) from my office. Do you spell lazy with a capital L?.

What is so hard about getting to work? You have one of the easiest commutes of anyone in the office! No BART rides, no Bay Bridge, and you could ride your bike! Shut up, get up, and go to work, ya big baby.

Maybe my reluctance to start the day is part of my adjustment to San Francisco. I didn’t seem to have a problem getting up while I was living in corporate housing, but that could have very well been the central HVAC and heat lamp in the bathroom. Starting the morning on a cold granite floor in a drafty, kitty-littered bathroom is not very pleasant (but could be much worse, I will admit!).

With all my moaning about getting up early, I wouldn’t want to alter my start time to another reasonable hour. The reason: I don’t like to end my work day later than 5:30 pm. In fact, I’d prefer to start at 7:30 am and leave by 4:30 pm. I would suffer through self-initiated misery to leave at the end of the work day while the sun is still shining. Logical? Of course not, which is why I am going to provide insight.

The first job I worked after high school was a Finance position at a construction industry supplier. I was up before the worms, even after working photo gigs at night. I am certain this set the bar for my attitudes toward arriving at work. Since I started “working” at 6 am, leaving at 3 pm when the sun was still shining and I could get to class at Cal State Don’tYouWishYouKnew before the sun went down was important. Second job I held was a sales-type job that included a European client base; getting in touch with Sir Paper Lord during the business day was important to making the deal (God, I hate how that sounds).

There isn’t much of a conclusion to this, other than I really didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. My motivation: walking home on Market Street in the sunshine.

Repeat: I’m not getting old, I’m not getting old

2007-05-01T12:20:00.000-07:00

Last night I took a chance and went to see a show by myself at the Independent. The venue reminds me of a cross between the Glass House (Pomona) and Spaceland (Silverlake) without foil streamers. It was a great venue, albeit much louder than I had anticipated.

The 88 opened and performed much better than I had expected them to. “Kind of Light” has been a persistent resident on many playlists in the last year, however none of the songs appeared in last night’s set. I didn’t see this as a problem as their 45 minute set was solid and kept the crowd asking about them during the lull between breakdown and the next performance.

Sidenote: You are in a bus, with a U-Haul attached. I’m sure you haven’t washed your jeans in a week (if not more) and your last month’s worth of food as been provided by the venues you drag yourselves to. Do not develop primadonna tendances and keep the crowd waiting after sound check. Get the gear set up and move your asses out on stage. We’re paying to see you on stage, not your roadie.

I’m sure there is one Sloan record (if not more) in my collection, but I would be hard pressed to name any track off any album. As soon as they started playing, everything coming out of the speakers sounded eerily familiar—I know I’ve heard these songs before, but where? Just then, everything came into focus. I’d heard these songs in friend’s cars, at other concerts, on KCRW. I already knew the music; I just wasn’t familiar with the band.

Then the drummer came out from behind his kit to play guitar. Everything I was excited about that evening disintegrated into a pile of ash that were my eardrums (reminder: buy good earplugs).

You would have thought a single 3-song onslaught of surf-punk fueled noise would be enough for this group. I guess Sloan were not using their brains last night. I had only left before an encore once in my entire concert-attending life (Death Cab for Cutie—I only lasted 40 minutes before I had to get out), but last night made it the second.

This is where I start talking about feeling old. Walking back to the house from the bus was unusually tiring, but nothing compared to the condition I was in after Coachella 2003, so no whining from me. Waking up this morning was a completely different story. When did attending a single concert drain me so? I nearly fell asleep on the train into work, and I only ride for 2 stops.

Have I lost it (“it” being my concert mojo—technical term)? I won’t say how old I am, but I am no where near being considered old. The last concert I attended was Gomez sometime in February at the Wiltern (amazing show, by the way—tons of singing and dancing) and I don’t remember feeling anything like the way I do today. Please, gods of the underground, don’t take my (concert) mojo away.

Next stop: Boystown

2007-04-30T18:22:00.001-07:00

All aboard the Boystown Express. No, not that Boystown; we’re headed on a journey to the glass-ceiling in the corporate sky, my friends. The year is 2007, correct? I’m not living in a parallel universe of some unnamed Midwestern city circa 1967?

What makes someone think excluding a key member of a team because they are female is ok? These occasions are isolated-- usually lunch-time excursions. It may not seem like a big deal, but these activities (specifically with new team members) are key relationship building exercises. Being excluded is very un-cool.

I am gradually overcoming the ageism that exists in my office (which usually boils down to the lack-of experience factor), but I just can’t shake this feeling of inequality whenever this group of “boys” ignores my presence to chug a few beers during lunch. I can chug beer too! I can make strong, business-minded decisions over a ham sandwich (although I would prefer a spinach salad) just as well as the next male counterpart (nee boy).

Thinking I was overly emotional today (a 10:30 pm dessert run to Home on Market St. rendered me temporarily bi-polar—a triple dessert platter makes me very happy but the aftermath means wearing your fat girl pants to work), I ran my problems through a neutral party and I was not the only one who noticed the obvious exclusionary activities. Interesting.

The next course of action is obvious, and will be taken in due course. I don’t want to start down the path to Crazyland with my coworker since we have a fragile working relationship to begin with (I took over his job when I moved up here), but I can’t let this go on much longer. I need to find a way to isolate this problem but come off as a strong professional female asserting my position in the right instead of whiney girl who’s premenstrual.

Adjustments

2007-04-17T17:15:00.000-07:00

I don’t want to be that girl who can’t stop comparing x to y. You’ll hear it on the train, standing in line at H+M, patiently waiting for the 27 Bryant to show up (15 minutes late) and I am guilty as charged. Despite significant attempts to keep my mouth shut, I just can’t stop comparing San Francisco to Los Angeles.

Let’s think about this for a minute. You spend your childhood in the same house, in the same city. You get your first job in the same city you spent your childhood in. Your first apartment is in the same general metropolitan area (yet it seemed I was on another planet at times) you spent your childhood in. Let’s not even talk about the weather (what, LA has weather patterns?). Then out of left field, comes this job offer (*cough*heavily encouraged*cough*) 400 miles away. I have left everything I have ever known back with half my stuff in a storage unit.

Yes, I’m an adult. Moving shouldn’t affect me the way it is. As a matter of fact, I think I am doing pretty well adjusting to a new city. I’m finding my way around, discovering new lunch spots, where not to order take out from. I’m also not completely alone. No one can survive without a support system, and I have two strong members in mine. Ginger² has been with me since day 1. We’ve been friends for two years and in addition to having the same name, we met at Big British Biztm in LA. She’s been in the City for less than a year and still dealing with the same issues I’m experiencing right now.

Assimilating into a San Franciscan will take time, but I beg of you, don’t bite my head off next time I say “wow, the Borders in Westwood had a much bigger selection than this one.” A simple glare-of-death will get your point across and remind me to keep my mouth shut!

Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

2007-04-16T10:15:00.000-07:00

Recap:
Taxes paid? Check. $500 went towards another bomb, or tank, or Haliburton. Who knows anymore.

Grocery shopping? Check. Waiting for the N-Judah with 8 bags of groceries does not make me happy. I wasn’t planning on grocery shopping, otherwise I would have brought my old lady rolling cart.

Clean the kitchen? Half check. The ‘fridge still smells horrible, the floor is still covered in cat hair, but I did manage to clear out most of the boxes containing my precious kitchen utensils. Ahh. spatulas. I missed you!

Whining:
I’m poor as hell for the rest of the month, I miss LA terribly, I’m getting attitude at work, the dryer broke at the house leaving me with an apartment full of sopping wet clothes, and I can’t seem to make a decent cup to tea today. I want to go back home (real home down south) and sit in my easy chair (yes, I said easy chair. It was my grandmother’s and it’s very classy) without my toes freezing off.

Why corporate email sucks

2007-04-13T14:49:00.000-07:00

There really aught to be a disclaimer before the “Reply All” function is used in conjunction with distribution lists (S-F Dodgers fans; 4th Floor Graduates, Beer-o’clock attendees). A click-through semi-questionnaire validating the reason for using “Reply All” would work just as well, if not make the situation tolerable. The justification could be added at the very end of the email; “Everyone and their mother’s uncle was a recipient of this email because the sender felt the need to express their excitement for Starbucks coupons to as many people as possible.” On most occasions, the email will contain something marginally work-related.

Oh, how I wish I count on one hand how many times per week I am the victim of unsolicited corporate-generated spam mail due to the “Reply All” function, but I can’t. I would need all of my fingers, toes, the cat’s paws (all 4) and possibly the digits on my claw foot tub to accomplish that arduous task. The corporate society has regressed from lacking in phone etiquette to becoming incognizant to what email etiquette would even encompass.
…
I’ll be spending the rest of my weekend turning the kitchen upside down and reorganizing everything. Say hasta luego 5 year old paprika, your hours are numbered.

What is Ginger-talk?

2007-04-11T18:02:00.000-07:00

Ginger-talk is defined as "the ramblings that emanate from members of the ginger-haired clan of society that may or may-not always make sense to those of the non-ginger-haired clan/members of society."

Basically, I'm not crazy, but do come off as askew on occasion.

Break it down, sista

I was born and raised in Los Angeles. The city is my home and always will be. For years I've lusted after living in a city other than LA, and this year I was given the chance. Now that I'm in San Francisco, I don't love it as much as I thought I would. A bad decision? No. Being that I had never left LA, it was time to explore the world. How would I have known I didn't love San Francisco as much as I love LA? I wouldn’t have known, had I never left. I believe they call that exercise "pushing your boundaries?" Life without a car kind of blows, though. And not having Bombay Café, and Shamshiri, and Wild Fibers, and Super Mex, and a load of other things near by. This isn’t to say I hate San Francisco. In fact, I really do like living here. As soon as I find my niche, life will be good again.

Seriously, knitting?

Next to my love of public transportation (see why I came to San Francisco?), knitting takes a close second. Why knitting? Who the h-e-double hockey sticks knows. Someone put a pair of needles in my hands (and a glass of wine on the table) one day and off I went. I am fairly certain there was a bet amongst a few friends about just how many cats I would have by the end of my first year of knitting (NONE! thankyouverymuch), but I have moved in with one. Crazy knitting lady, I am; crazy knitting cat lady, I am not.

Something has to pay the bills

All the merino wool I have stashed in my room doesn't just fall out of the sky. I work for the Big British Biztm in a very cool industry handling (metric) tons of not-very cool paperwork. While in Los Angeles I worked on the very cool side (a certain Disney executive walked into our office with his shades on because he didn't want anyone to notice him?), but now the coolest things I'm involved with are auditors.