Christine in San Francisco

Summertime blues

2011-07-09T17:59:00.000-07:00

It's summertime, and foggy. It's less than 60 degrees today in July, and foggy. (Did I mention the fog?). I've lived in San Francisco now for almost six years, not counting time spent when I was 18. I should know better by now. But this fog in July is depressing. It's a Saturday, I should be at the beach, barbecuing, hiking or something. Instead, I'm putzing around in two long-sleeved shirts doing dishes, with all the doors and windows shut, and the heater on. There's absolutely no sun coming through the clouds. I've given up the idea of growing tomatoes this season, since it didn't happen last year and barely the year before. I need to do something, badly. I turned to this blog, the first time in more than six months as something to do. A little exercise for my fingers I guess. ...

This weird, wacky weather this year. It rained several times in June 2011. There was snow up in Tahoe for Fourth of July weekend. Nationally, there were powerful tornadoes in Missouri and rising floodwaters along the Mississippi. In San Francisco, the fog in summertime is nothing new, it comes every year, and then burns off to a glorious warm late summer in October. (That's why I couldn't find a bikini for sale at any Macy's here last year, and had to drive out of town for a new bathing suit, because -- as one sales clerk told me -- they're not "cost effective" and San Francisco stopped selling them.) We crave for the sun, for warm sun, and these pockets of warmth are reason to rejoice on our pale legs when they do appear. ... And they will appear. Tomorrow, I'm guessing, will be wonderful and sunny, with just a hint of this fog.

Happy Halloween & Go Giants!!

2010-10-31T14:45:00.000-07:00

This is what I'm doing for Halloween 2010:

Last night, John and I went to our neighborhood pub hangout. We stopped at Smart 'N' Final and bought 2 jumbo bags of candy and then did our own version of adult trick-or-treat pub style. We just started doling out the candy to everyone in the bar, costume or no. ... The folks needed it. The Giants had just lost Game 3 of the World Series to the Rangers. We're still up 2-1 overall, but man, folks needed consoling. ... The candy helped.

Today, I wanted out of the house again, but boyfriend is house bound. I'm studying instead, at our San Francisco State University "bubble" library. Briefly: Our regular library (a real train-wreck, ever since I was a freshman back in the mid-1990s) is being rebuilt. So, in the interim now, we have a "bubble" on the edge of campus, that looks like an Army barracks. I'm campus-style today, but not quite. And it's Sunday, AND it's Halloween. While my friends on Facebook are posting photos and updates of what they're doing and what their kids are doing, I'm studying about nonprofit grant proposals and evaluations and all that good stuff. I take breaks by looking for a jobs on Craigslist ... and posting this on Blogger, which I use as occasionally as I use Twitter.

Happy Halloween 2010 all. My costume this year: A tired, broke San Francisco Giants fan whose in graduate school!

Volunteerism is up ... or is it?

2010-06-15T15:25:00.000-07:00

I just read this, via the Chronicle of Philanthropy: that volunteerism has increased this past year nationally as unemployment has risen. Take a look at the findings, thanks to a report compiled by the Corporation for National and Community Service. Among the findings: volunteer service is increasing in unemployed men, and housewives. Also, fund-raising is a top volunteer activity. Yet, areas with high foreclosure rates -- places in the West, like Las Vegas (where my Dad lives) and in California -- have lower volunteer rates.

This past year, I conducted a six-month research study on volunteerism in San Francisco during the "Great Recession" of 2008 and 2009. My survey results aren't as wonderful and professional as the CNCS, and my final results disagree with the overall national findings. In my findings (which are not published and will most likely never be, and are not significant) I found San Francisco nonprofits reported volunteer activity had decreased in 2008-09 over the previous year (2007). So, I don't know what's going on here. (And I needed more survey results, that's for sure. ... ) Yet the fact that unemployed people are volunteering more, their motivating reasons why they volunteer, and the tasks that they are given (higher skilled activity, such as fund-raising), were the same in what I found, as in the CNCS report.

People want to serve, they have the time to serve, and the nonprofits need the extra help in a down economy.

Quick Random Thought in the South Bay

2010-06-09T14:27:00.000-07:00

Mom has told me that with true love, he should love you more than you love him. Does that sound right? Am I misquoting her? Something like that.

The semester is over!

2010-06-03T09:34:00.000-07:00

1. That research methods class is over. It was a year long, and it's done! My six-month long project is over, completed, and graded. The final is over, and graded. I won't divulge how I did (sometimes I don't do as well as I would have liked in a test situation), but I feel very relieved and a sense of major accomplishment. I'm keeping my books -- all five of them -- and my downloaded SPSS software, although the rental agreement is over. That class was a toughie!

2. I can finally tackle this pile, the TWO PILES, of papers and books and stuff that have been sitting next to my desk for the past six months. After I moved in with my boyfriend, I warned him that I'm a graduate student, and not only does he get to live with my delightful self (ha!!), but also my delightful stash of books and papers, which grow semester after semester. By May, it was pure chaos, and even though he's not the cleanest of folk, he ignored the growing pile. We made fun of it -- we had for our sanity. Now, I can tackle it, and recycle the printed reading assignments, the printouts, the notes that I don't want, everything. And, then I can vacuum the dust-bunnies. I might have an orgasm while doing it!

3. Now, what do I do in my spare time? I'm not working right now. I was a full-time student last semester, and this concept of being a student and not working is strange to me. My internship is done. I'm looking for a part-time job or a summer job -- as are millions and millions of unemployed individuals. I've been looking for a job, it seems now, for more than two years. I started looking for volunteer opportunities, and we'll see what happens on that route. Until then, I'm keeping myself occupied with a good book (Isabel Allende's "The Infinite Plan") and visiting friends and family. I need to take better care of my body with yoga and exercise (I might go for a walk with my two friends today). I'm also trying to cook for my boyfriend more (we just had baked potatoes and soup last night, although he made them, I bought the ingredients).

If anyone reads this blog and has any ideas what I should be doing in my spare time (and they're legal and proper) let me know.

Late night on Muni

2010-05-08T22:54:00.000-07:00

I'm riding home late on the 31-Balboa after class the other night. The 31-Balboa goes through the Tenderloin and the Western Addition and then up Turk to the University of San Francisco to pick up all the kids there before coming down the hill and onto Balboa into the Richmond into my neighborhood. It starts out rough -- really rough -- from downtown through these neighborhoods and then clears up after Fillmore after Divisadero. It takes about 20 minutes, a half hour, to get home. It's either that bus route, or the 38-Geary line, and that one is just as wacky at night. It's a crap shoot either way. I usually try to sit up front, read a book, and don't pay attention to what's going on in the back of the bus. The bus driver don't seem to care, either. ...

I'm on the 31-Balboa, and a few blocks after Market into this dark point of the Tenderloin, these three guys get on, this one guy a lot larger than the rest. He goes toward the rear. He gets progressively louder and louder, starts to demand that this lady give up her purse. ("Bitch, give me your purse!" "Don't make me get angry." "Move your big, fat ass and give me your purse!") People start staring at this mess. I don't know if these people know each other or what, I don't WANT to know, my heart starts beating. I could ring the bell and get off, but then I'd be in the middle of this neighborhood, and it's not a very -- how you say? -- nice neighborhood. The bus driver is just ignoring the commotion to rear. She starts screaming. We drive a few more blocks, closer to Van Ness, a thoroughfare, and I ring the bell. I think others have the same idea (or maybe because it's a main transfer point?). I go up to the bus driver, and say, "You know, maybe you should call a police officer?" and hop off. I don't know what's going on in the back of the bus -- but I don't want to know.

I walk about five blocks up to Geary, and catch the next 38-Geary at Post. It took me about 45 minutes to go home that night.

Sunday night ...

2010-05-02T23:20:00.000-07:00

The boyfriend is asleep in the other room. He's snoring; I can hear the sound coming in from the other room, rhythmic, in and out, in and out. I've finished a glass of wine and been on Facebook. (Yes, Facebook again, the evil.) I've scanned the headlines on sfgate.com and read some story about a $1 million donation to the zoo, and the debate between the Republican candidates for governor. It's just after 11 p.m. I'm thinking about getting another glass of wine and either killing more time on the Net (hence me blogging some crap), or maybe going to bed next to the snorer, or what. What? Reading a book? Reading the remains from last week's New York Times newspaper? (It's still around on the dining table, sections in pieces, the Dining Section, the Arts sections, pieces of the front from where I want to read the opinion page but never have time ...) I could tidy up the dirty dishes that are stacked in the sink; I'll have to do them in the morning, when I get up. I could sit in peace, and listen to the outside sounds of the city night: the police cars, the upstairs neighbor's television and chatter, the next-door neighbors at times, the wind, the laundry machine in the garage, the kitty door flapping when he comes inside, the sounds he makes when he's nibbling his food. ... The sound of the clock on the wall, or now the sound of my fingers scrolling over the keyboard typing. (I just re-read those last two sentences, and that's not too "peaceful," huh?)

There is about three weeks left in school, and craziness is afoot. I have three major papers due, and I'm scared of what will become of some of my assignments. But every day begins and ends. I have to take each day as it comes, one day at a time, and learn to savor the moments when I have them.

Facebook in the Classroom

2010-04-29T09:11:00.000-07:00

There's this girl in one of my classes who's starting to get on my nerves. For half of my Research Methods class, we have the class in the computer lab, and -- rather than follow along with the professor and learn how to do the software -- she's on her Facebook account or checking her email instead. Last night, she was on Evite, creating an invitation for a party or some something. I'm like, what?! Are we not all paying good, hard-earning graduate school tuition to be here? (And for many in debt after we graduate??) I'm here to learn! If I want to be here to check my Facebook page and organize a party, I can do that at home, or at an Internet cafe for an hour, the same amount of time that we're roughly in the computer lab learning Excel or SPSS.

Last night, she was sitting in the front row ... the FRONT ROW ... in plain view of the entire class. I was trying my best to concentrate, but how could I not look at what she was looking at ... she was checking at the status updates of all her friends, their individual pages, their photos, family photos, and then "chatting" with them using the IM feature. It was distracting, it was rude, and it was blatant. A classmate of mine looked over at me, rolled his eyes, and mouthed the word "Facebook," so I know that I wasn't alone in all of this.

It's almost like those people who talk and talk and talk and talk on their cell phones in public places ... on the Muni bus, in a cafe, in the grocery store, while shopping in the mall, where ever. They have no concept of those around them, and the technology they have at their fingertips is sooooooooo vital, that they need the information NOW, rather than be considerate of those around them, the HUMAN beings and the effects they are causing with their interactions. Or, perhaps, the mindlessness of iPods that people stick in their ears. I see more and more and more people walking around with them, acting like robots, ignoring conversation, not reading anymore, playing video games, and completely ignorant of what is occurring around them. (Sometimes with the sound of their music coming out of the headphones.)

So, today, I'm going to try and take a Facebook Break. I won't log on. No status updates. No checking my sisters' pages or my friends' baby pictures. I'm going to be really good, really really good. I'm not going to write anything political on anyone else's page in response to someone else's comments. I won't join any "1 million strong against so and so blah blah blah." Or play Farkle. Or IM my friend Billy D. No, no, no. Because, it all sucks you in. All of it. ......

Home stretch

2010-04-13T23:44:00.000-07:00

Feeling a little sad today. This past semester has been a tough one for me personally, as I haven't been working, and I've been a full-time student "working" on being a student instead. It's not the financial strain that's the hardest part, it's the social isolation being at home all day in front of a computer or on the futon with my school books. It feels very much like when I was unemployed during those months looking for employment, being at home during the day, waiting for my boyfriend to get off work at night. This time around, I'm studying during the day, and I have my classes at night. ... I've found myself forcing myself to take a break -- and go outside to get some sunshine. Going outside to do errands, to the grocery store or the dry-cleaners (both of which I did today), or just soaking up some sunshine (I sat outside for a good 20 minutes or so, trying to read some of my nonprofit textbook with a highlighter).

There's a young mother who lives upstairs with a little girl, a stay-at-home mother, and I don't know if she knows that I'm in graduate school. Lord knows what she thinks of this strange hermit woman who's at home all day on the computer, sitting outside with a textbook on the stoop in the sun. I've said "hi" to her a few times in passing when she's going into the garage to do her laundry. I hear her little girl running around upstairs on the hardwood floors while I'm trying to do homework or write research papers, and I find myself cranking up my iPod to loud Nirvana or more focusing classical music instead. Again, Lord knows what they think of the strange woman who lives downstairs.

San Franciscisms -- the curb, etc.

2010-04-09T08:52:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine put on her Facebook page this morning about a listserv starting up in the Highland Park neighborhood of Pittsburgh about sharing stuff you don't want anymore. Well, here in my neighborhood in San Francisco, we already have that. It's called THE CURB.

Yes, you know you're in San Francisco when people put stuff out on the curb, and expect people to take your unwanted junk away. And they do. ... I've put out old brooms, dish wracks, paperback books, magazines, just junk, and within 24 hours, most of it is POOF! gone by the magic junk fairy!

Here are a couple of other "San Franciscisms" that I think are unique about living in this weird, quirky City by the Bay (and Ocean):

1. Along with the curb pickers are the garbage pickers, who come out on garbage night, to pick through the recycle containers and get all the CRV containers. They're pretty blatant about it, too. They come about sundown, with shopping carts or large bags and sticks, and wriffle through your own garbage in plain view. (But don't try to talk to them or shoo them off -- it won't work, and they'll ignore you.)

2. The real "Chinatown" is not in Chinatown proper, I think, but on Clement Street in the Richmond District. That's where the good Dim Sum restaurants are, trinket stores, and tons of activity. Downtown's Chinatown is just for tourists.

3. Speaking of Downtown, the Financial District and Embarcadero are ghost towns on the weekend. No activity. That's because they operate on a M-F schedule, of course. Any stores, cafes, or restaurants down there cater to the bankers and workers. However, there's one good bar that I know of down there: Harrington's. Plus, it can be a calm oasis and good parking before hitting North Beach and all the clubs.

4. San Francisco State University -- where I go school -- the main campus is waaaaayyyyyyy across the city, almost out in Daly City. The weather is crappy, it gets super foggy at night and it can take a long time to get to the inner neighborhoods -- the Mission District, the Haight, Noe Valley. I first went to SFSU as a freshman when I was 18 and lived in the dorms. At night, it got cold, and during the day, you wait and wait and wait for the M-Train or the 28-bus to take you off campus when your classes are over.

Weirdo on Muni

2010-04-08T10:21:00.000-07:00

After school, late, on the 38-Muni bus, it's about 9 p.m. or so. The Geary bus is traveling through the Theater District and into a bit of the Tenderloin toward Van Ness. It's crowded -- of course -- there are no seats. I have my heavy bag of school books, a water bottle, and my purse. I'm tired, hungry, cranky. My head is swimming after a very full lecture of ANOVA and F-tests, and I'm scanning the bus for empty seats, to no avail. (Whatever happened to chivalry, and men giving up their seats for women?) My bag of books is on the ground, I'm hanging on to the rail, because this bus driver has a brake fetish and keeps stopping relentlessly at every stop -- whether it's pulled or not -- and likes the brake.

I hear this loud POP POP POP coming from the older guy across the way from me. It sounds like popping bubble wrap, but when I look, I see instead ... a knife a unhonest to god open swiss army knife, and he's slicing into something in a shopping bag, repeatedly. Everyone is ignoring him, I'm looking right at him, but then I get scared and look away. ... He's stabbing bags of chips, nacho chips, and bags of saltine crackers, with this knife. I don't know if he's bored on the bus, or if he wants to open them to eat, or if he's sharpening the knife ... I don't want to know. He has an open knife on the bus, and he's intent on using it in some fashion.

My stop is the next one, and I quickly pull the tag and jump off! Weirdo on the bus on Wednesday!!

Who Gets a Sandwich at 5:30 p.m.?

2010-03-25T08:56:00.000-07:00

I found Epplers Bakery near Market Street and Grant. It's this old-school bakery -- the kind with the sugar cookies in funny shapes and eclairs and stuff -- and it appears to be run by an older Asian guy and his family. It's next door to a Starbucks (which is my radar that it's good and that some corporate type wants to knock it out of business), and across the street from another coffee shop. I take night classes downtown, so when I take the bus downtown from across town, the 38-Geary bus drops me off near Union Square, and I'll walk down to Market Street -- and that's how I found Epplers.

I've been getting just a small or medium cup of coffee to carry me through my three hour night class (Budgets or Research Methods I or II). It's good, hot coffee, with a dash of hazelnut or vanilla cream flavoring. Nothing fancy. One time, I was a quarter short, and he let it slide. I came back a week later and paid him back. I remember stuff like that.

Last night, I stop by Epplers, about 5:30 p.m. for a cup to go -- and there's a line. The guy in the front of the line is ordering a SANDWICH, some avocado thing and a cup of milk on the side, and he's paying with his credit card. The line's all backed up because the man behind the counter (and his daughter) have to prepare the sandwich and process his card. I'm thinking -- who orders a sandwich at 5:30?? And downtown, near the Financial District to boot?! He looked normal. Then, then, the two elderly ladies in front of me they get their muffins and coffee, and they can't work the coffee dispenser and half-and-half. It's total chaos at Epplers. The lady in front of me is a tourist from Australia (if I place her accent), and she wants a piece of cake.

I just want my cup of coffee to go! I'm eyeing a cookie, but I keep it simple, get out and move on!!

After heath care reform

2010-03-24T15:58:00.000-07:00

I'm a member ASPA (the American Society for Public Administration), and I get emails and various literature regarding a variety of topics. There is so much going on in our nation right now regarding budget decisions and policy debate. Regarding health care reform -- the topic is so heated and so political, the debate intensifying on Facebook and the like. Whether you're for it, or against it, the bottom line is that it did pass Congress and was signed into law by the president. The Congressional Budget Office issued its nonpartisan report with long-term savings that was the catalyst in congressional debate. This new report -- that I just got in my ASPA email is from the Urban Institute, and shows that if Congress did not do anything, the failure to act would have continued to escalate the numbers of uninsured in the United States, further dragging on the economy, the costs of insurance, and adding to insurance costs for businesses.

Here's a quote of the worst-case scenario:

"The number of uninsured Americans would increase
from 49.4 million in 2010 to 59.7 million in 2015 and 67.6
million in 2020. If states were to cut back eligibility for public
coverage or make the enrollment process more difficult,
the number of uninsured would be even higher. Even in
the best case, the number of uninsured would rise to 57.9
million in 2020." (p. 3)

and directly below that:

"A larger share of the uninsured would come from
middle- and higher-income families. The share of the
uninsured from families with incomes higher than 200
percent of the federal poverty level (FPL) would rise from
44 percent to 56 percent in 2020." (p. 3)

(Read the whole thing)

------------------------------------------------
Health care reform was necessary to 1) save the economy, and will be -- ultimately -- seen as a measure that will jump-start the economy out of the Great Recession; and 2) health care reform is the ultimate modern-day safety net for the majority of the middle class. The wealth do not need health care reform, and neither do the poor (they have Medicaid and/or Medicare). Health care reform is for the bulk of Americans who have seen their premiums steadily rise in the past 10 years with no government intervention or stopgaps.

To compare: the anger that Americans feel toward Wall Street and bonuses during a time of recession and huge unemployment is the same sentiment that people feel toward the HMOs and increased health care costs. Health care reform puts in place measures to ensure greater protection for the average person who needs them. Those who have health insurance are not affected, but those who need it and do not qualify for the existing programs available for seniors and the poor are now given greater protection by the government.

I think it's a wonderful thing that has happened, and the numbers will ultimately concur. If we did nothing, things would have gotten worse, which everyone does not want.

Blogger fun

2009-10-27T15:32:00.000-07:00

I am in this Research Methods class for grad school, and I am looking at blogs and who uses them. If anyone out there still reads this old blog of mine, e-mail me and let me know.

Thanks!
Christine

Hiking above HMB

2009-03-26T19:00:00.000-07:00

I used to go hiking all the time a few years ago. Practically every weekend. I used to live in the South Bay and would love to drive up into the Santa Cruz Mountains above Los Gatos or Saratoga and put a good hour or two in. Now, there are several factors in my life, the biggest of which is that I live in San Francisco and the closest good hiking spots involve a good 45 minute drive south or across the Golden Gate Bridge north into Marin County ... which means you have to pay the bridge toll coming back into the city.

I'm on spring break this week, and I'm trying to relax and make use of the time off from school and reading (whoa! with the graduate school reading assignments!!). I called up my friend Jamie yesterday and suggested we just get into the car and drive down toward Half Moon Bay to go hiking. There's this spot I know of that I haven't been to in over a year, called Purisima Open Preserve. It's up toward Skyline Boulevard, with a view of the ocean. It's a good hike, because you're going downhill for part of the way ... and UPHILL on the way back.

My friend and I immediately saw a snake's head, the head mind you, with the body nowhere to be seen. On the trail. She gets her cell phone out to take a photo of it. I shrieked a little, because I don't like snakes (and I'm always a little scared that I'll see one hiking). So, we got that out of the way. There were butterflies. Wildflowers in bloom. A mushroom, which she also took a photo of. There was no one else around on the trail, and the damp smell of pine.

The Walnut

2009-03-23T23:15:00.000-07:00

My boyfriend calls it "The Walnut." It grows on my upper right shoulder blade and for reasons unbeknown to me, it changes in shape and density. It's usually pretty hard -- hence, the "walnut" nickname -- and after a good half-hour of massage and oil, will wither away. Today, it hurt like a mutherfucker, and I'm trying to lie low without drugs. My doctor has told me in the past that a tablet or two of Aleve will do the trick. I usually like to add a big glass of red wine, at least one or two. My boyfriend has these amazingly big, warm hands that if I ask him right, he'll donate those precious 30 minutes toward cracking that walnut.

This must be one of those signs of getting older. Devolping that walnut. Today, my back (that upper right shoulder blade) was KILLING me. I noticed it later this afternoon during a rather crowded bus ride on Muni. I had been downtown all day doing this volunteer marketing thing. I was carrying my laptop computer and my purse. I had my peacoat on, since it's been San Francisco brisk out. Muni was crowded, as always. All I wanted to do was go home as quickly as possible, and lie down on my couch. But when taking public transportation, one has to assume the worst. That's when the walnut started to grow, and the bus started to get packed. We're still only in the Financial District, and I'm headed out toward the Avenues. Ugh. Ugh.

Madoff Maalox

2009-03-13T16:43:00.000-07:00

I hope Bernard Madoff doesn't weasel his way out of his maximum jail sentence, which he probably will somehow. I hope, God do I hope, that he serves the full 150 years he is meant to. I hear there's unaccounted money. I hear today he doesn't want to be in jail. Well, boo-hoo. Fucking creep. That smug asshole deserves 150 years and not a day less, and I applaud the prosecution for having him listen to victims of his little Ponzi scheme that cost $50 billion in wasted assets.

We live in an unfair world.

Detroit automakers are struggling with economic, historic and cultural shifts of profound magnitude, and corporations like AIG are routinely now asking the federal government for billions in bailout money.

There was this article in the New York Times the other day about recycling in China and how globally, it's less profitable for paper, scrap metal and plastic. So, it's piling up in China and port cities (like Los Angeles) and domestic cities are re-examining whether it's the "right" thing to do in a down economy. The good of the environment vs. the rising cost to do it. The economics of supply and demand, with a little bit of feel-good environmentalism thrown in there. Think about nonprofit charities, too, while you're at it or donations to food banks. ...

Geez, my head is swimming. Here in CA today, there are massive teacher strikes as the messed up state budget called for teacher layoffs. College tuition is going up. The cost of education and laying off teachers, versus balancing the state budget.

Oh, Lord, Won't You Buy Me a Mercedes-Benz?

Who's hiring ... BART police is hiring

2009-03-10T09:51:00.000-07:00

I'm checking my e-mail in-box this morning, and I came across this:

Dear Subscriber,

Here are the latest job postings that match your selection criteria:

Ref.# Posting Title

001649: ENTR-LEVEL Police Officer

Please copy and paste this URL, https://jobs.bart.gov/ into the address field of your Internet browser and log into your Applicant Home Page. You may apply for the position through your Job Search Agent Results or review all postings under View Job Postings / Apply for Job.

I wonder if it's connected at all to the Oscar Grant shooting at all a few months ago involving that BART police officer. Hmmm.....

Grad school

2009-03-03T09:29:00.000-08:00

I'm a first-semester graduate student at San Francisco State University now in the Department of Public Administration (and, yes, I always have to take a moment to make sure I don't accidentally type "pubic" with that one). The department Web site is here. I'm looking for an emphasis on nonprofits.

My unemployment reached a certain point in early autumn last year. I was being called in for interviews -- so I knew something was working with my resume and cover letter and prior background -- but I wasn't getting the job. I started to get nervous about my future, and I noticed a pattern developing. I would get down to the wire, and be passed over for someone with "just a little more experience." And, granted, I was exploring new territory, switching careers from journalism and communications to something more philanthropic and into nonprofits. ... As I watched in the media, I knew the unemployment numbers were going up, and I was up against an increasingly educated and experienced job pool. Graduate school was something I had thought about for the past several years in different capacities, possibly law school or public policy, and I started to make phone calls and signed up for a community college course in MicroEconomics that for many programs is a prereq (and a course I never took in undergrad). ...

San Francisco State's MPA program is fully accredited, a bus ride away from where I live, affordable for me, and offers what I'm looking for. I gathered up my documents, asked for letters of recommendation, worked on a Letter of Intent for about a week, and sent off my packet.

The day I got the letter back saying that I had been accepted, I melted. I did. I was at home, and my knees started to shake. With all the negatives -- the job rejections, the countless job inqueries, watching my budget, dealing with EDD -- this was one positive and a very big one.

I started classes in late January. I had a meeting several months ago with someone in the scholarship office to talk about how to apply for scholarships and fellowships. She said something that I like: "You need to stop thinking you're unemployed, and you need to start thinking you're a graduate student."

I'm back up!

2009-03-02T15:45:00.000-08:00

Oh, my god. Oh, my god. I have been trying and trying to get back on my old blog. It has been quite a journey. (And outside this laptop as well, let me tell YOU.) I kind of miss it. Facebook is one thing. But I'm kind of getting sick and tired of all these one-line daily updates from old high school and college friends who all have kids by now and just roll around and talk about how happy they are in their settled lives. I'm happy for them them, too, but what about me? What does that say about me and my unsettled singlehood? Am I not normal? Should I start posting photos of my weekends and the bottles of wine that I drink? The documentary that my boyfriend I watched on the Biography Channel? My little bags of groceries? My hand-washings? The books I'm reading? The huge branch that I tore down in the back yard the other day and cut up with John's saw and put into the compost bin? ... I don't know. I'm 31. I'm not married. I don't have children. I'm barely paying my rent at this point. I've been unemployed for a year. I feel like I have to try more and more to redeem myself and work harder and harder to feel proud of who I am and what I've accomplished in life. And when I look at Facebook and these postings, it's harder for me to feel like that's possible. ...

BUT I'm now a graduate student, and I'm taking charge in some areas in my life that I do have control over. My mind, my intellect, my thirst for knowledge, my curiosity, my willingness to try something new. I've never been cut from the same cloth, I know that. And now, I'm a first-semester graduate student and we'll see where the journey takes me now.

Blue Angels

2008-10-09T16:19:00.001-07:00

Oh, give me a home
Where the Blue Angels don't roam
And the skies are not cloudy all day
Where seldom is heard
A whoosh and a whrrrrrr and gggggggrrrrr!!!
And the four of them do not fly overhead.

My house is rattling with these guys...
They're loud...
They're scary...
They're kinda cool...
They're kinda a pain in the butt...
They don't stop...
I've got a quiz due for this online class I'm taking in Microeconomics, and I've got to study.
I've had a headache all day.
I'm tired, and I'm trying to take a little catnap before I start to study for my quiz.
I've got a job interview tomorrow, too, that I need to prep for.
But, no, the Blue Angels are RATTLING overhead and they won't stop.
It's Fleet Week this weekend in San Francisco.

Raccoons!

2008-10-06T13:18:00.001-07:00

Soooooo, I don't think they're cute, not at all! These little critters live everywhere. They live in San Francisco. They live in San Francisco's Richmond District, near Golden Gate Park, near the University of San Francisco, AND they multiply, they enter houses and disrupt lives.

For months, these coon dogs have been wreaking havoc on my personal life and invading the private space of my boyfriend John, entering his house through the kitty door of his cat, Weasel. I call my mom and tell her horror stories -- Horror Stories, I tell you -- of these filthy critters.

Now, granted, I have not seen a raccoon for weeks and arguably months.

On Saturday night, however, at about 8 p.m. my sister and I were walking out to my car to get something from my trunk. We had just had dinner with my boyfriend -- the three of us -- and he went inside. My sister and I walked out to my parked car on the street, near the liquor store, near Arguello.

There were SIX of them, SIX RACOONS just walking along, la-da-dee. Taking their night-time stroll in the middle of the street. It even looked like one of them was going into the liquor store. My sister, who just moved to San Francisco from San Jose, stopped. Her eyes were wide. My heart started beating and I screamed, "Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god." She was shocked. Two guys walking on the street also saw them, and the racoons continued on toward Balboa. ...

Poetry

2008-10-01T22:57:00.000-07:00

I found a published poem of mine that I forget about, that was printed out, and in an old box of "stuff" in my closet. It was originally published online more than seven years ago on a site that is no longer alive. But the site was called Red Coral Grotto, which I think is resurrected here: Red Coral. This poem was originally published in May 2001 as part of Submerged Mountain Anthology 3. It has my copyright.

Reconciliation (of sorts)

rings and sighs and dollar bills and my name written on
the sidewalk. beer bottles and

dandelions, promises, beaches and beaches and waves and waves.
particles of sun drifting

toward you. orange peels. tin ocean spray juice cans. your smell.
your big hands. your

voice, droning. circuit boards. your awkward bag. your knees,
snapping into place when

you stand. the cute way you wipe your nose with the back of your
hand. anything green.

campfire smoke, the memory. skull heads, the dog head from my
dream. THE CAR

RADIO. laughter. imitation. racist jokes. 'bumpah stickahs' from
Maine. grocery bags

and stairs and groceries spilling from the ripped bag, lettuce and
tomatoes rolling down

the stairs with the momentum of something fierce and evil, out of
control, thoughts of

suicide. dead ivy plants. stray cats laying turds under your
borrowed bed. endless beer

bottles and coffee cups in the morning. the slipperiness of sex. the
humiliation. spinning

around and around until you catch me, put out the flames.

I can never fully escape from your image, your brow, the thoughts
you have that I'll never

know of as we both look out the car window, at traffic.

Copyright 2001 by Christine Lias. All rights reserved.

Saturday night dinner

2008-09-29T13:07:00.000-07:00

The boyfriend and I went out to dinner with my girlfriend (that's a friend that's a girl, not lesbian girlfriend ... I know it's San Francisco, but ...), her husband and their new month-old baby on Saturday night. The boyfriend (that's Boyfriend, not just a friend who happens to be a boy) had never met the married couple's son yet. We were supposed to meet them at about 7:30 or so, 7:45 p.m. But they were running late. After all, they have a newborn baby. They got to the restaurant, I don't know, about a half-hour late. My friend, the girl, comes walking in with a stroller, all smiley. Her husband follows in a suit jacket. The baby was kind of sleepy. Meanwhile, the Boyfriend and I had already had a glass of wine each and started in on a cheese plate. ... We didn't leave until about two, two and a half hours later. Another glass of wine, an entree and dessert later. ...

Zazie. That's the name of the restaurant. In Cole Valley. I liked it. French cuisine. Meat and cheese. A lot of meat and cheese. The latter good for me, since I LOVE cheese. But I'm a vegetarian, so you pick and choose and find that pasta dish or go for the fish. Very quaint decor. Simple, affordable (of course, I wasn't paying for it, ha-ha!). ... Click here for more about the restaurant.

We got on this whole discussion about circumcision. My friend's baby is not. She was telling me that most babies are not nowadays. That there's a trend now towards not, that it's not approved by the American Medical Association. And then I start thinking about all the men I've been with, and how all of them are ... and how 20 years from now, maybe most young men will not. Except in cultural or religious circumstances. But then there's a question of hygiene, and fathers (?) teaching these boys how to clean extra well "down there" ... Anyway, the whole conversation was eye-opening, metaphorically, for me, a woman, raised in a house with no brothers.

New Oakland cathedral

2008-09-26T13:29:00.000-07:00

I used to work in downtown Oakland, near Lake Merritt. One of the highlights of my day was to take a break from the corporate work environment and step outside into the sunshine to walk around Lake Merritt. ... Mind you, Lake Merritt is an urban lake, so among the ducks and grass and occasional boats and boaters on the water, there are beer cans and plastic bags floating in the muck and weird homeless people begging for change on the sidelines. Corporate America has its tennis shoes on at lunch time, taking 30-minute power walks with ties and security badges flapping in the breeze.

I worked in this environment from 2005 to 2007, and during that time, the Diocese of Oakland began to build a brand new cathedral just a few blocks from where I was working. The new structure was different from a "traditional" church structure. As it began to take shape, it looked more like a football or a space ship, than the Notre Dame or Mission Dolores.

Now, in September 2008, it's completed and open to the public. There was a dedication ceremony this past week. Click here for the Contra Costa Times story.

Where's yogi?

2008-09-25T09:51:00.000-07:00

Since I've been unemployed, I've had the opportunity to do yoga in Grace Cathedral. Let me explain. ... A while back, when I was working in Palo Alto, there was a yoga studio there that I went to once or twice, and I got on their mailing list. When I moved up to San Francisco and times were hard, I still kept getting e-mails from them. I e-mailed them and asked, "Hey! Where's a cheap place to do yoga in San Francisco?" (Because yoga is supposed to be a spiritual practice and not a money-maker. Some of these yoga studios here in the city can become highway robbery.) Someone wrote me back and suggested this opportunity to do yoga in Grace Cathedral, of all places. But they had the wrong day, and I couldn't do it with my work schedule. I kept the e-mail saved, and when I lost my job I revisited the e-mail.

It's donation-based on Wednesday evenings. The yoga instructor, Jamie Lindsay, is very, very good. I've gone several times, and each time I go, my body feels the best it's felt ever. Jamie is very attentive to the body, and we start every session in a round circle (in the church's famed "maze") and go over any possible ailments / or anything "positive" we'd like to share with the group. We're doing yoga in the cathedral, which is a fetish, call that if you will, of mine. Plus, it's "donation-based," for the cash-strapped who leaves a buck or two or five or ten or nothing. (Sometimes when I had nothing, I would slip in a can of soup instead for the donation bin for the Food Bank by the door.)

Last night, I decided to drive over to Nob Hill and go. There were about 30 of us, but after 10, 15, 20 minutes, no Jamie. Where's the yoga instructor? I rolled out my mat, stretched out my legs and just started breathing. My lungs felt tight, which meant I've been stressed. I spent five minutes or so just breathing. I closed my eyes and smelled the church's insence and kept breathing. After a bit, we knew Jamie wasn't coming. Someone in the group suggested we teach ourselves, and he jumped up and said we should start doing "sun salutions." Another said, we should do it by "instinct." ... That's what I did, and I was surprised to know I could do it on my own without an instructor.

I left about 10 minutes later.

(Above photo, from the Grace Cathedral Web site: http://www.gracecathedral.org .)

Cleanup time

2008-09-18T09:28:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have never done a beach cleanup (and if anyone ever reads this blog), I heard that this Saturday, Sept. 20, there's a state-wide coastal cleanup of all beaches. Click on the link to find out more. ...

I'm a member of Surfrider, a national ocean conservation nonprofit, and my local chapter here in San Francisco likes do monthly cleanups at Ocean Beach. I've done a few, and, MAN OH MAN, the amount of debris that one can collect on one cleanup is amazing. People are filthy when it comes to the beach. I don't know who they think they are and who they think will pick up after their trash. The beach is not a garbage can, it's not an ashtray, and at the very, very least the next time you visit the beach do one of two things: PICK UP AFTER YOURSELF, or, pick up at least one piece of trash that you see and toss it in the garbage can or recycle on the way out.

These things on the shore will end up in the ocean and could potentially kill sea life, poison the water, disrupt habitats and larger ecosystems. Plus, when you go the ocean, do you want to sit among garbage or in the middle of the beach??

Shooting in the Richmond District

2008-09-17T12:05:00.001-07:00

A bicyclist was fatally shot not too far from where I live in the Richmond District. (That's "district" not city.) The neighborhood is generally pretty quiet, and I feel safe walking around at night alone as a woman.

I guess this could happen to anyone anywhere, and it's disgusting.

My heart goes out to the victim and his family.

I hope the cops catch the bastard who did this dumb act.

Read the SFGate story here.

The wedding

2008-09-16T11:36:00.000-07:00

I have my sister and my NEW brother-in-law's wedding cake in my freezer. Not the whole cake, mind you, just two very large pieces to be saved for their first wedding anniversary. That's what you're supposed to do after you get married as tradition. Somehow I ended up with these bricks wedged into styrofoam containers from the reception afterward. I hope they get them. I'm a communication person; I need to get the word out that I have these precious objects, and that they don't start freaking out sometime during their honeymoon. "Ohmygod, where's the friggin' wedding cake??" But I digress.

The wedding was just beautiful. Very quaint, very intimate. At Emerald Bay State Park at Lake Tahoe. There actually was another wedding in progress when our limo got there, and we had to wait for their wedding to wrap up before our wedding party emptied out. My sister and her fiance, who is on leave from his tour of duty in Iraq, were so happy together and the ultimate perfect couple. We followed up at an Italian restaurant in South Lake Tahoe after, and then a reception at the house rental my dad had us all staying at in town. Maybe about 20, 25 of us, mostly from the Bay Area, some from Utah and Texas.

My other sister's car was too packed full of crap on the way home, so I ended up with this little bag with the pieces of cake. Not to mention the bouquet (which the bride never threw) and a centerpiece. It took about four hours to drive from Tahoe to San Francisco, with a drive to Reno in the way to drop off Dad at the airport.

Golden Gate Bridge suicides

2008-09-10T09:00:00.000-07:00

When I first moved out to the Bay Area, and eventually to San Francisco, I fell in love with the Golden Gate Bridge. The bridge is iconic. It's known the world over, and now I can see it from my neighborhood. It's a deep red color that cuts through the fog; and I heard when the planners were first designing it in the 1930s, they had to eliminate painting it "gold" as tribute to the Golden Gate name because of the fog. ...

I don't take the bridge for granted. Every time I see it when I cut around a bend, over to the Marina or on a drive north to Marin, my heart swells up like on a first date or something. It's a part of this city.

Recently, my boyfriend and I watched this documentary called "The Bridge." It's about those who commit suicide off the Golden Gate Bridge. San Francisco is a suicide tourist spot, lured by those who commit suicide by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. Just as the bridge is iconic the world over, it's a popular and dramatic spot to do the final act. The documentary prompted a discussion afterward about who we knew in our past who had committed suicide, how they did it, and why.

Today, KCBS online had a story about Mayor Gavin Newsom opposing plans for a suicide barrier on Golden Gate Bridge. This is an ongoing debate in the community, those who want it to cut down on deaths and those who oppose who say it will diminish the beauty of the bridge. I wish there were a compromise -- like the net option -- because after watching "The Bridge" or simply just walking across (as I did one afternoon in college when a friend back east came to visit) there's nothing to safeguard someone. There are rails, but not much else to protect someone, or safeguard someone at their life's end, as other bridges or national monuments.

I'm so hot

2008-09-05T18:24:00.000-07:00

Supposedly, it got over 90 degrees yesterday here in the city. (That's hot for San Francisco!) I believe it. I slept with my windows open. So did all my neighbors, and I could hear what they were doing (as I'm sure they could hear what I was doing). Here's a recap:

Someone was listening to either NPR or KCBS news radio for a long, long time.
Two girls downstairs were giggling about guys.
My Latina neighborhood (remember "Shakira"?) got an answering machine message from her mother, who started yelling at her in Spanish.
The married couple next door were mumbling about something.

My boyfriend called me on the phone late, about 11:30 p.m., and when he asked me why I was whispering at one point, I said it's because the neighbors might hear. He said it's like the Alfred Hitchcock movie "Rear Window." ... I didn't really sleep well last night. I heard:

A police car siren
Someone's car radio with Bob Marley music
The wind slapping against my window blinds.

Today, was equally hot. My sister came over, and we got sandwiches at a local deli for lunch. Later that afternoon, instead of doing something to further enjoy the sun, I was passed out on my couch taking a nap. I woke up an hour and a half later, with a couch pillow covered in drool.

Raccoons

2008-09-02T15:01:00.000-07:00

Raccoons do exist in the wild in San Francisco. So do skunks and coyotes. Shortly after I moved to San Francisco (the second time), I saw a skunk in the flesh after going out to dinner and coming back home to see the bugger in my apartment entrance-way. You back away VERY sllooowwllllyyy. And then you wait. You don't want to upset him. ... When I had this job up north in Marin, driving north across the Golden Gate Bridge in the fog every morning, I would often see (and smell) a dead skunk in the roadway.

Raccoons, well. How much time do you have? My boyfriend lives in a ground-level one-bedroom apartment kind of near Golden Gate Park. He has a cat, and a cat-door. He went away for a week, and I cat-sat for him, and also found out overnight that along with the cat coming and going, so did a raccoon. On more than one occasion in the morning, that little bastard would tip over the trash can, root through it, and leave a trail of muddy paw prints in the kitchen that were definitely NOT a cat's. In the months since, we've witnessed the same thing, and the b-friend has not only seen the raccoon, but a whole family, at the door of the kitty door.

One night, I did, too. I actually saw the raccoon's long snout poke through.

"Hello!" he said. "Feed me, you filthy, snobby humans!"

I screamed.

"Honey! It's a raccoon!!"

I ran into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. Bam! He ran into the living room and into the backyard.

"Get out of here, you fucking bastards!!" he shouted. (There were more than one.)

I think of that today, after seeing this video on CNN.

Pseudo Wedding Shower

2008-08-30T09:59:00.000-07:00

My younger sister is getting married next month, for the second time. And it will definitely be an "unconventional" wedding. She is four years my junior and is already getting married a second time -- did I mention that? She already had the pomp and circumstance of the first wedding in a Catholic church with both sides of a large family and then the reception afterward; my extended family from Ohio flew to California to be a part, and made it a vacation in June. The first wedding was gorgeous and cost several thousands of dollars and took place in Los Gatos in the South Bay. We had the reception at this older, family restaurant near downtown San Jose that had been in business for something like 60 years or so but soon after was torn down to make way for grossly overpriced condominiums along San Carlos Street. ...

This time, it's a different deal. Her fiance is serving in Iraq, and the wedding is a smaller occassion to be done on the "fly" while he is on leave for a few weeks next month. My sister realized soon after she married her ex-husband that it was not to be, and that she really loved her soon-to-be fiance -- whom she's known since high school. He serving his first tour of duty in Afghanistan at the time.

Today, I'm driving from San Francisco down to Mom's house in San Jose, and my sisters and I are giving her a type of "wedding shower" to wish her well. I think we'll just have a taco bar and drink white wine and talk shop for a few hours. I'm bringing her a chocolate bar as a gift.

VAWA

2008-08-28T13:38:00.000-07:00

I watched Sen. Joe Biden gave his speech last night at the Democratic National Convention. One thing I learned about him -- because we were all supposed to be introduced to "Joey" -- is that he wrote the Violence Against Women Act in 1994. I volunteer with La Casa de las Madres here in San Francisco, a nonprofit that serves victims of domestic violence. When I did my training in February, we learned about "VAWA," which is short for the Violence Against Women Act. The legislation is key because it opened up legal parameters for what is defined as "domestic violence" and what is "wrong" within a relationship and the sanctity of marriage. And it was only passed in 1994. Prior to that, a woman could charge a stranger for assault and battery if she was hit on the street, but had a tougher time proving that if she was attacked by her partner.

Tonight, my boyfriend and I are going downtown to the San Francisco Hyatt for a party/fund-raiser sponsored by the San Francisco Democratic Party. We're going to watch OUR FUTURE PRESIDENT Barack Obama give his acceptance speech as the Democratic Party presidential candidate.

It's also the 45th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" Speech.

Hey, good lookin' ...

2008-08-27T16:09:00.000-07:00

I'm realizing that some of the e-mail I send to my mother I should maybe post here, since it's longish and descriptive. Like, here's one I sent her either yesterday or today (like I can't remember today ;) ). I've been volunteering a lot at La Casa de las Madres, a domestic violence nonprofit here in the city. They run an emergency women's shelter, and have a "crisis" of their own as their head cook is out on maternity leave. Jen, the director, (who was on KQED-NPR radio over the weekend talking about how domestic violence rises during tough economic times) she wants to pay me, since I'm unemployed. I offered to do it for free, since mathematically it won't add up for me because I have to report earned wages to the EDD. Here's what I wrote Mom. She was impressed with the simple fact that I COOKED:

Last night, I had a little help in the kitchen, which was very nice. We made sausage and sauteed peppers and onions and celery for 40 women and children. I heated up baked beans and corn and then we also made a side pasta salad with olive oil, garlic and spices. It's funny, I'm a vegetarian, and I've been asking if there are any vegetarians or people with special diets to cook for. And they say no, just cook whatever, and they'll eat it. I can't even imagine what these women are going through, or let alone, their kids. (Technically, they're "homeless" and Monday was the first day of school. A lot of the moms were having problems with SF Unified School District and boundary disputes with the schools to relocate the kids.) So, yeah, I'm cooking with all this meat, so I was really happy to have someone cooking the sausage so I could concentrate on the vegetables and pasta and beans. For lunch, we had steamed vegetables and salad and fish sticks. ... It's a LOT of work. It's like cooking for our family times 8, and the amount of preparation, and then cleanup, for lunch and dinner.

I was beat. I did Friday, Monday and Tuesday. They want to pay me, but I would have to report it to unemployment as "income" and it would be deducted from my benefits. It mathematically wouldn't be beneficial for me. So, I'm volunteering my time, doing it for free, and I told the director I'm being paid in "karma." But I needed to take today and tomorrow off, and then I'll come back on Friday restored.

My Obama text message

2008-08-23T17:14:00.000-07:00

It's historic!

I got my text message message from Barack Obama this morning at 1 a.m. PST:

"Barack has chosen Senator Joe Biden to be our VP nominee. Watch the first Obama-Biden rally live at 3 pm ET on www.BarackObama.com. Spread the word!"

I was sleeping when it happened. In the morning, I forwarded the message --well, as much as I could, it exceeded my text-message limit -- to my e-mail in-box, and then forwarded that message to close family and friends. Those family included both my grandmothers, one of whom sent me an e-mail back later today to say she was very impressed with both Obama ... and her granddaughter in today's technological age.

It's hard being a candidate

2008-08-21T09:54:00.000-07:00

I've been unemployed for six months now. I got two more job rejections yesterday, one from an organization that I had two call-backs from, and another from a nonprofit I had an initial phone interview from on Friday. The latter sent me a letter in the mail. The former called me on the phone to tell me of the news.

It's hard being a job candidate. Getting yourself groomed for those interviews, your portfolio ready, your notes ready, your research in order, driving or taking the bus to the scene of the "crime." Taking their questions, smiling all pretty. Asking their questions about why you left your last job, what you hope to accomplish with your next job, where you expect to be in the next 5 years, what you'll bring to the table, yada-yada, yada-yada.

I got to thinking today about Barack Obama and what he's thinking about this, too. About his possible frustration in this process. Because, after all, there's only ONE JOB for him, and he's got a lot on the table. And he's up against one final candidate in this 18 month-or-so process. I can only imagine what he goes home and tells his wife, Michelle, at home at night. What he complains about over beer or cigars (if that's what he does). I'm sure he complains. I'm sure he bitches about John McCain. I'm sure he bitches about the press, about the editorials, the pollsters, those neo-con voters in the swing states complaining about his lack of a fucking flag pin.

Unemployment numbers are up. What happens if Obama doesn't get the Oval Office? But then, we can't think like that. That would not be positive. And what happens if McCain does get it? What happens then? What happens to Obama then? What happens to me then? What happens to our national economy then? But what will happen to our national economy if -- and when -- that happens?

It's hard being a candidate, whatever type of candidate you are. For me, I'm trying to get a full-time job, hopefully with benefits. I'd like to get a job that uses the skill set I have, the natural skill set I have, the skills I invested money in when I went to college about 15 years ago. The skill set that I'm still paying off my college loans on, but I don't have a job for. The skill set that I go out on these goddamn interviews for, and get called back on, and get down to the wire for, but don't get picked. We're in a tough economy. But think positive.

Mendocino Getaway

2008-08-20T12:17:00.000-07:00

The Boyfriend John took a few days off work and we drove up to Mendocino, which is about three hours north of San Francisco. We drove north on 101 and then cut over to Highway 128 north of Santa Rosa and through the Anderson Valley. We stayed two nights in this place: The Fensalden Inn in the town of Albion, which is just south of Mendocino on Highway 1 on the Pacific Coast. It's an old stagecoach run, more than 100 years old, run by Lynn and Bob, now this bed & breakfast. Lynn makes breakfast in the morning and this wonderful hazelnut coffee. We stayed in this room that featured matching robes, a complimentary bottle of wine, queen bed and deck (John's a smoker). The fog creeps in at night, just like in San Francisco, but it's different than in the city. It was so peaceful and calm, quiet too. No cell phone reception, not even roaming where we stayed. No television. No internet. We went to bed at 10:30 p.m. -- just read in bed, there wasn't anything to do. Got up at 9 a.m. ...

We drove into Mendocino the following morning, gorgeous, quaint Victorian architecture from the old logging days (Highway 128 cuts through this state park that preserves these huge redwood trees; John LOVED it). We then went up to Fort Bragg, which has this closed Army base, and then found a secluded beach further north; there are several state parks surrounding both towns, and these tiny towns that you drive through along Highway 1.

Yesterday -- Tuesday -- we drove home back along Highway 128 and stopped to wine-taste on the way home. We went to three different wineries in the Anderson Valley:

Handley in Philo (excellent Pinot Noir)
Brutocao, also in Philo (John bought me a bottle of this Barberra variety)
Zina Hyde Cunningham in Boonville

My neighbor loves Shakira

2008-08-15T13:07:00.000-07:00

This has happened before. It's 6:30 a.m., and she's rocking out to Shakira. I live in a smaller apartment building, maybe a total of a dozen units, and the walls are thin. I have a studio apartment. My neighbor, she has this sampler, and she's listening to alllll this Latin pop music from 6:30 a.m. to 7:30 a.m. The bass is booming. I don't know if she's doing her step workout, or getting ready for work or WHAT ... but it's the same mix and I recognize Shakira. It's early and LOUD.

Now, in the normal corporate work world, I would be getting up, drinking coffee, brushing my teeth, dreading work. Or, I'd be on a bus or in a car somewhere commuting. Now, I'm "between jobs" at the moment. Either asleep or at my boyfriend's house, about to get up and tackle the fine task of looking for another job. Personally, this neighbor who is blasting goddamn Shakira at 6 goddamn f--kin' thirty in the morning is a little inconsiderate of her neighbors. She's in her element and just doesn't care. The walls are thin, and she just doesn't care. I'm tossing and turning in my bed, going crazy over here. Do I write her a polite note? Do I pound on the walls? Do I wait until I see her in the lobby downstairs some time or the laundry room? I think her name is Sandy, she's a little older and her mother lives with her. ...

But then again, I know I can be loud sometimes with my phone calls and my "Jeopardy!" and punk rock music on the radio. I try to be considerate, though. And I'm definately not doing any of that shit at 6:30 a.m. in the morning.

Two people shot

2008-08-14T15:28:00.000-07:00

Two people were found shot dead this morning near the University of San Francisco ... and near where my boyfriend and I were fast asleep in his bed, which isn't too far from where I live also. He told me about it this morning, after he got up early to get ready for work, drink his coffee and have a quick surf of the Net before jumping in the shower before getting ready.

Click here for the article

It's a little jarring. These acts of violence that happen, that can happen anywhere without warning just more than a stone's throw from where you happen to be. Not just the mean streets of West Oakland or the Iron Triangle of Richmond. This was near USF, a private Catholic university campus here in San Francisco. Two people shot dead. No motive -- yet. At least the cops are keeping mum.

Job interview, Oh My God!

2008-08-13T14:45:00.001-07:00

I had my second interview today at a Catholic Church. I know, I know. Stop it, already. First off, it's this office-type job, a "development assistant" position to help in a major capital campaign of roughly $25 million in renovations and building plans in the next five years. Secondly, I'm not practicing Catholic, I'm not converting, I'm not becoming a nun. Nothing. I want to transition from journalism and communications into nonprofit work. I was burned in my last job ... and my original career choice, journalism, is going through a tough time right now, market-wise. I really want to do "good work" and work for a good "company," that's been my line of thinking lately. Now, whether I get a job ... which is tough considering our current economy ... or go to grad school will remain to be seen. I had interview No. 2 with this employer, this parish in San Francisco, and I interviewed with two men, one of whom is the pastor.

At one point, the interview became more like a theological discussion:

"So, Christine, what problems do you have with Catholic Church?"
"Problems?"
"Well, you're not practicing, may I ask why?"
"You want to know?"
"Sure."
"I don't know if we have enough time for that," I laugh, hoping I didn't do something stupid.
"Believe me, I have a lot of problems myself with the Vatican," the pastor says.
"OK. Well, I'm a woman, and I'm single." (This is falling into a really, really weird job interview. This is becoming like confession.) "I don't like how the Vatican has come out with an edict against birth control, and its stand against pro-choice."
"Granted."
"I get into discussions with my mother, she's devout, and I just think it's a very personal matter. I'm a woman, and I feel very disconnected with the church and particularly the Vatican. For that reason, I cannot practice. But that's personal and I would keep that at home." (Get back on track, Christine, I tell myself.) "It would not interfere with my ability to do my job, or come into work and do the best job that I can do daily."
"OK. Do you have a problem working with gays?"
"Excuse me?"
"Working with gays?"
"No, not at all. I have no problem at all with that."

We ended up having a very interesting conversation for about an hour on the topics of media consolidation, teen sex, abortion, gentrification, the exodus of blacks in San Francisco and -- as he put it -- how his parishioners often use him as "free" therapy during confessional. The pastor tells me how he often works 80 or 90 workweeks, (God, I hope I wouldn't have to do that in this job!) and I ask him about outreach efforts among other religious faiths in the community, like Rev. Cecil Williams over at Glide Memorial or the larger synagogues or Episcopal churches.

I have no idea how I did overall during the interview. We shall see. We shall see. ...

It's early, and I've got my coffee (black)

2008-08-12T09:05:00.000-07:00

I haven't maintained this blog. I bet there are a lot of folks like us out there in Blogland. We over-extended ourselves with happy blogs ... and then realized the work and constant maintenance these suckers require. Or, as I personally know, we find ourselves busy with work or our personal lives or **relationships**. Ah, love. But these blogs, these b-logs, are great self publishing tools made available free online. Our Founding Fathers would be foaming at the mouth with a) the resources available b) so handily c) free d) to anyone e) ON THE INTERNET. I need to better maintain this blog.

My therapist -- whom I've also not seen regularly -- says I need to write in my journal every day. Last night, I wrote a list of local, state, national and international essential "policy issues" (aka: problems) that are in immediate need to be addressed right now. Internationally, the Russia and Georgian conflict. Nationally, our reliance on foreign fuel sources. Here in California, the fact that we are in day No. 40-something without an approved state budget. Locally in San Francisco: The rising cost of living and the inequity between the haves and have-nots (Bayview-Hunters Point vs. Pacific Heights).

I've been unemployed now for six months. Personally, I'm hit by the souring economy and rising costs and rising unemployment. As the numbers rise, that means I'm competing against more out-of-work employees, too. I've figured that I can have the very best resume in all the world, the very best references, and it all comes down to the interview, who I'm competing against, and the basic factor of luck. ... To increase my odds of survival, I am considering graduate school now, and want to study public policy and solving societal problems. How these all inter-connect.

My big mouth

2008-07-08T16:22:00.000-07:00

There's something to be said about the effectiveness of alcohol. You take any dull party, add a few bottles of bad vodka or really good wine, mix well, and out comes either great conversation or a really, really embarrassing moments. In any event, alcohol is something that loosens people up, gets them going, and has them talking ... or, in my case, talking and talking and talking.

I'm Irish, right. I have THE GENE. The talking gene. The drinking gene. The story-telling gene. The loud gene. The I-going-to-embarrass-my-partner gene. I'm pissed off as all hell gene. The world is against me gene. And it's not fair, right? I got it from my father's side of the family. I got the manners and putting the cloth napkin on my lap, and keeping my elbows off the table, that's from Mom. But once that red wine starts flowing, and we start talking about Barack Obama and how he's going to change the world, and I'm pissed off as all hell, that's Dad talking. Well, that's me ME talking, but the loudness and anger and eventually not really caring what anyone else is saying, that's Dad.

Stop the Killings in Tibet!

2008-04-09T20:59:00.000-07:00

The above photo is from the Los Angeles Times. I was on the side of the bus, to the left. We thought that was where the Olympic torch was. We were marching from the Ferry Building along Embarcadero toward the ballpark, when all of a sudden, the cop cars came and this tour van. It turned, I think it was on Townsend or something there. We all started running toward it. And then it got ugly. People starting throwing water bottles and fruit and an egg at the van. It looked like at one point they were going to overcome. I started to scream, "Nonviolence! The Dalai Lama says, 'Nonviolence!'" and we're holding our signs. I almost got trampled, and someone sprays "FREEDOM" on the side of the bus.

That's when a cop calls out, "It's a fake one." And we knew that we had been dooped. So we let that one go, but we didn't know where to go. We marched back to the park, where all the pro-China people were, and they started to just scream, "Liar, liar, liar." And ask us if we've ever been to Tibet and talk about the railroad going to Tibet and how can we love our country when the war in Iraq is going on. And I'm all, I don't support the war in Iraq. I love my country, that's the freedom of democracy. If we were in China right now, do you know how many of us would be arrested for making this public relations event look bad right now?? And I would ask them a question, like, "Why are you here?? Why did you LEAVE China?" And they wouldn't answer my question. They would say, "Why are YOU here." And I would say, "I'm here because I love my country. Yes, I'm not from here. None of us are from here. And I don't hate Chinese people, I hate the Chinese government, there's a difference."

We didn't know where the torch was. We were waiting, and then decided to march up around 2nd and Harrison, and then someone got a text-message that the torch was already in the park and that it might go by boat back to the Ferry Building. ...

So, we marched BACK along the Embarcadero to the Ferry Building, which was even crazier with MORE people. And more fights. ...

Soul Food in Oaktown

2008-04-01T15:03:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I drove to downtown Oakland to drop off a job packet I had for a city librarian position. I've been unemployed now for just over a month, and I think that was probably during the first week. I used to work in downtown Oakland, so I know the area pretty well. Instead of BART, I drove, and parked the car on Broadway, put money in the meter and then ran into Frank Ogawa Plaza to the HR department to drop off the packet ... (never mind that I have yet to hear back regarding the position).

But it was lunchtime, I was cranky. I drove down to Jack London Square. I haven't been down there, well, technically since an office party a few years ago when we went to this Italian seafood restaurant. But, when I lived in Oaktown back in 2000, things were popping down there. Things now, at lunchtime in 2008 were defininately not. All I wanted was a good salad and a cup of coffee or something, a wi-fi spot to check my e-mail. I remembered back in 2000, there was this big warehouse cafe down there, but all I saw was this friggin' un-inspiring Barnes And Noble with a Starbucks. And a Subway. No thank you.

Then I found this place: http://www.hcwchickenandwaffles.net/index.html
Home of Chicken and Waffles, the best friggin' Soul Food I've had in a long time, not that me, a vegetarian has Soul Food ever. But it was sooooooooo good. They were playing old 1960s music, and the waitress at the counter had these long, fake lashes, and she kept calling me "baby" and "honey-pie" and I had a huge chicken breast, mac'n'cheese, and these collared greens with a biscuit. ...

I think about it now, cuz I just found the receipt in the bottom of my purse.

Working SF women, back in the day

2008-03-20T13:29:00.000-07:00

There was this excellent documentary on PBS last night about prostitutes during the Gold Rush here in San Francisco. There were basically three levels: "parlor houses," cribs, and then the lowest of the low -- the imported Chinese slaves in Chinatown. The parlor houses were the creme de la creme of society, but they were in simple terms, highly paid prostitutes. And women from as far away as Paris would come to the early frontier of San Francisco to try and make money, and perhaps even fall in love with these entrepreneurs and everyone else coming into the former Yerba Buena and the new Barbary Coast before heading to the Sierras to look for gold. ...

Women didn't hold jobs back then. Their way to make money was through marriage. Or, prostitution. Life was pretty difficult for women. The prostitutes were segregates from "normal" society, but may have even held affairs with the lawyers, doctors, judges, bankers, and all others running the bureaucracy that was forming the city.

2008-03-12T20:51:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in awhile. And there are various reasons for that. Previously, it was because of work, work, work. I was working my butt off. And then, I got fired from work because they didn't like my "work performance." The boss said it was "not personal." But, of course it's personal. I got fired. It has to be a personal decision. They made the decision to remove an employee from the workforce because that employee was not a good "fit," and that's what she told me during the VERY unexpected meeting. "Sorry, Christine, but you're just not a good fit for this company."

So, for the past two weeks -- while I wait for my unemployment to kick in, hoping that it does and I can pay my rent by the end of the month -- I've been churning out the resumes and fervently hunting for what's out there. The jobs are out there, but so are the job-hunters. Folks just like me, who were either fired or laid off as their companies moved to down-size probably for NUMERO UNO: cost-cutting.

That's what irks me the most about Corporate America. You can work and work and work and come in early and work overtime and do all you can to be the good employee, but when it comes right down to it, none of that really matters. What matters is are you churning a profit for your company. You're hired to make money, to be productive, and if you're not, than your boss has the ability to fire you, or "lay you off", because most of are "at-will" employees in the state of California.

Ron Paul, Leave Me Alone!

2008-01-20T12:38:00.000-08:00

Has anyone noticed how these Ron Paul for President campaigners are popping out of the woodwork lately and really, really, REALLY getting on everyone's nerves? For starters, no one talks about the guy in major media. He has no real chance of even winning any Republican primary. (Yes, he IS a Republican.) Yet, these campaigners are so relentless on their quest. And they talk about the guy like he's this fucking (excuse my French) liberal, to end the war in Iraq and jump-start the economy. And they're all white. It's like a cult or something. They're in my neighborhood, in Pacific Heights, Russian Hill. ... Walking around, giving out fliers.

I was on my lunch break in downtown Mill Valley eating a sandwhich I bought from a local deli, enjoying the sunshine -- after a week of rain -- and this kid, this teenager on a bike (why wasn't he in school, I wonder??) comes up to me with a Ron Paul flier. He tries to give it to me while I'm eating. I politely tell him that I'm not interested, that I'm voting for Barack Obama. And the kid gets all upset and says that only Ron Paul has an exit strategy for the war and that Obama is a fraud. I almost laugh. I ask the kid, "Are you even old enough to vote?" He says no, but his parents are going to vote for Ron Paul, and that they asked him to campaign for him and that he likes what he stands for. Ok, so he's doing the campaign work on behalf of his parents. ...

He bikes over to this older guy sitting on a bench reading a book. And gives him a flier. The man takes it and reads it. After my lunch, I walk over to the man, and say, "Sir, don't vote for Ron Paul. Please vote for Barack Obama." He says with a wink, "I was planning on it anyway."

Random thoughts

2008-01-10T20:26:00.000-08:00

More random thoughts ...

Why do skunk smells and smoking marijuana smell so similar?(similiar? goddamnit, i'm a proofreader for peet's sake!)

Does Alex Trebek ever take a day off?? Does "Jeopardy!" ever go into reruns?

Will we all one day develop inner ear cancer like 30 years from now from all these iPods we got stuck in our ears all day? (A lot of my co-workers sit for hours in front of their computers with those things stuck in their ears.)

What IS technology doing to our social skills? As, for example, I call my co-worker across the room or e-mail her rather than get off my ass and walk several cubicles to ask her a work-related question? Or what is all this technology doing to my stress level, or my health, when it's SUPPOSED to be making my work and life easier, you know....???

I've never tasted a pomegranate ever. I only recently tasted a fig, a fig fig, not a fig neuton, but the fruit fig. There are so many fruits and vegetables I have yet to try. Maybe I should make trying pomegranates a New Year's resolution for 2008.

My sister Erin and me

2008-01-04T18:14:00.001-08:00

This is my sister Erin, left, and me. Erin is one of my sisters. I have three sisters; I'm the oldest. Erin is the third of four. She is engaged and is very happy. I love my sister very much. In this photo, Erin and my other sister (who is taking the photo) came up to San Francisco to take me out when I needed to be cheered up.

When it rains ...

2008-01-04T17:52:00.000-08:00

So, I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio, right? (Yes, I did. I'm answering my own question.) Back east, school districts build "snow days" into their calendars. Usually two. They tack on two extra days onto the state-mandated school year, in case school needs to be called off during the winter. Most of the time, those two snow days are used up. Sometimes, they weren't. And I think I remember a blessed school year or two when we got ended the year in June a day early because we didn't use up one of those snow days. ... During the worst of those Cleveland storms, my sisters and I would get up, some times get dressed for school or sometimes stay in our pajamas, and huddle around the radio with my mom or dad and listen to the AM station when they read out the school districts alphabetically that were closed for the day.

Today, was deja vu.

I was getting ready for work while the rains and wind hammered outside my Richmond District apartment. I was scared to drive across the Golden Gate Bridge and didn't want to go to work today. I get a call from Rose, a co-worker on my "team" at work. She said there was no power at work and some flooding. With no power, we have no computers, no e-mail, no printers, no fax machines, no voice mail. She was with Denise, my boss, who said to call back at 11 and check in. No work?? I turn on the morning news on TV and they're talking about the high wind (70 mph at the Golden Gate), downed trees, power lines, the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge closed in one direction. I was UP, so I couldn't go back to bed. It felt like a snow day again, nearly three decades later and 2,500 miles away.

That afternoon, I got ahold of the head of our HR department on her cell phone. Work was called off for the entire DAY. Still no power, traffic and rain a mess everywhere. Someone somewhere made the executive decision to keep our butts home. Good call, I guess. But now, I was bored. I vacuumed my studio. Read a few chapters in my book. Made some tea and a salad for lunch. Put away the rest of my Christmas presents and stuff. Made a few phone calls. ... And it's only 2 p.m.

random post T-day

2007-11-26T13:14:00.000-08:00

1. The stores are programming you to buy, Buy, BUY with their Christmas songs, Christmas displays ... and Hurry! You have have only about one month left to max out your credit cards and buy useless junk for your loved ones!!

2. Thanksgiving is the start of the drinking season to drown out your sorrows that you either a) don't have a loved one; b) want to forget your loved ones; c) need to see your loved ones; d) love the taste.

3. It's the best day weather in San Francisco, but it gets pretty cold at night!

4. Mini van drivers are really bad drivers. Especially on holidays.

5. There is no way in hell you are getting ME to get up on 4 a.m. to Target on Black Friday. I'd rather sleep in.

6. What does it say about our country that we have a holiday devoted esclusively to eating and watching football, and then the following one to shopping for a holiday one month away?

7. I'd like to go to the beach ... five hours away. For a week.

8. I wish I wasn't sick for Thanksgiving. Now I'm not, and it's back to work. Ugh.

Forget Barry Bonds ...

2007-11-16T11:12:00.000-08:00

I called my Dad last night (he's a Barry Bonds fan, and I wasn't sure if he heard of the news or not; he lives in Vegas). He told me that my grandparents are moving today to an assisted-care facility on a "30-day trial basis" and if it works out, they'll be there permanently. I had talked to my Grandpa about a month ago, and he told me they were thinking about, since my Grandma's not been too good, but this was sudden news to me. I was asking him about their house and their belongings. Their books and photographs. ... I made the decision that I really want to see them soon, and in the next few months, maybe after the holidays, I'll take a week off and fly back to Akron and visit them and their new home.

Times change I guess. They've lived in that house for almost 50 years I believe. It's a sign of things to come, things I don't want to think about. How Grandma needs someone to help her out with the basics: cooking, cleaning, laundry, her housewively duties she's done for more than 60 years. I know this must be very hard for both of them, to give up their home and go into a new place, to give up some of their privacy and open themselves up to someone else. Grandpa is a bit relieved, but I know it's also a bit embarrasing ... and expensive, too.

And many more seniors out there are going through this same thing.

Creative Control

2007-11-12T10:36:00.001-08:00

There's an article in today's Wall Street Journal about the Hollywood Writers Strike:

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB119482950368089597.html?mod=mm_hs_media

And it's about how times have changed since the last writers strike in 1988 (but yet they haven't). The writers want creative control over their content and a share of the profit ... something I can completely identify with as a writer and creator myself. But back then, there were no DVDs, cable was not nearly as big as it is now, there was no Internet (publicly, right, Mr. Gore?), and most women were still teasing and hair-spraying their hair. Yet the strike crippled Hollywood for a spell. The writers wanted to stake their claim and get their fair share. ...

Writers are unsung heroes in society, whether they are scribbling obituaries, police blotters or making us laugh with mindless sit-coms during the evening hour. They are essential to a healthy, working society, and have been since the cavemen days when we figured out a way to pick up a stick and transpose our thoughts onto something concrete for others to see.

Actors are just as important, too. But let's keep things in perspective here. ...

Oil Spill in the Bay

2007-11-08T15:08:00.000-08:00

Information from the local Surfrider Chaper in San Francisco, concerning yesterday's 58,000 spill in SF Bay:

* If folks see oil in the water, call (985) 781-0804

* If folks see oiled wildlife, call (877) 823-6926. Animals will be picked up and taken care of.

Local beaches have been closed for HAZMAT and are being cleaned up by trained professionals. Surfrider asks surfers to take the weekend off and stay out of the water for safety reasons. ....

:(

Halloween, etc.

2007-10-31T09:22:00.000-07:00

Dia de los Muertos, last night, I was in the Mission District at an open mic poetry reading I go frequently at the 3300 Club. ... We had an earthquake, 5.6, centered in San Jose to the south, where my mother and sisters live. This is the poem I read last night. ... Happy Halloween.

Beggar’s Night
c. 2007, Christine Lias

The silence is maddening
Alone with the thoughts in my head
The blood pumping through my brain
Footsteps echo on cold concrete
My eyes focus on crunchy leaves and cigarette butts
The October wind blows strands of my hair
As it pushes along another thought out into the fog
Beggar’s Night, my grandmother would call it
Halloween observed
A night the neighborhood children make their rounds
Knocking on doors, looking for candy
The city has its adults instead dressed as hookers
Women looking for their own male candy
My hips are similarly wrapped tight
But the party has now dispersed
The liquor bottles are empty
The couples have left to go home and fuck
I am alone, walking solo on an empty street
The fog creeps along beside me
Accompanying each step
The carved faces of pumpkins jeer and wonder if she’ll ever find another
This grown woman – beautiful, they say – but alone, yes, now
With herself and her thoughts
It is middle of the night
Moon high in the sky night
She’s walking to her car night
She’s checking behind her shoulder night
She thinks she hears something approach night
She walks a little faster, a little faster, night
She’s craving a cigarette oh so badly night
But are these things really happening?
Or are they just in my head
I have to wonder.
What is real and what is exaggeration –

Beggar’s Night
Halloween observed
A funny smell hangs in the air
The full scent of leaves burning
Twigs and branches afire
Patchouli and eucalyptus
Overflowing garbage bags
Cider and beer and red wine
(I have drunken too much red wine.)
The leaves are stirring around tonight.
The gods are creating their brew
Change is all around tonight
We must move forward, me and you.

Shake the leaves of old
Bury the past
Beggar’s Night
Will not last.

Friends & Finnegan's Wake

2007-10-07T17:06:00.000-07:00

These are some of my friends at a bar called Finnegan's Wake in the Cole Valley neighborhood behind Haight-Ashbury a few months back. It's not the most flattering picture of me (with the tattoo) -- I'm not known for being photogenic -- but it's a good snapshot because it's got my very good friend Melanie (with the bunny ears and tiara), Jamie C., Jamie M., and Suzanne in the back hiding. We're all in the media business. Well, kind of. ... I used to work in journalism and now work in marketing. And Suzanne was smart to get out and go to law school for three years in Davis. She just took the bar exam and is waiting to see if she got admitted or not. She wants to be a public defender (not a prosecutor, mind you). ...

We were celebrating Melanie's bachelorette party. She just got married in July. Suzanne also just got married to her boyfriend of four years. After she graduated from UC Davis law school shortly after in June, she moved in with her new husband, a software engineer in Berkeley. The two Jamies are both journalism editors, as I used to be. Melanie works as a reporter for a newspaper I used to work for in Palo Alto.

It's good to have friends, it's good to have the support network that you need for the times when you feel alone and need a shoulder to cry on. It's also good to have those same friends when you just want to have a really fucking good time and not be alone in your apartment on a Saturday night. I never take them for granted.

Critical Mass-holes

2007-09-28T10:10:00.000-07:00

It's the 15th anniversary of Critical Mass, the en mass bicycle crap ride that happens the last Friday of every month at about 6 p.m. starting from the Embarcadero through the city. Sometimes I would get caught in it coming home from work, or my bus would on Market Street or near Union Square. Here are my thoughts, since the media is covering this puppy right now:

1. The SFPD rides along with these motherfuckers each and every month, wasting taxpayer money. Why, I haven't a clue. The bicyclists should be paying for the rides, not the city as a whole, since we all groan when they happen.

2. These police should enforce all the traffic laws that they're breaking, running through red lights, etc. Not helping to support mass chaos.

3. We all hate them. Critical Mass does not help support bicyclists or encourage eco-friendly transit. I was taking mass transit, and my friggin Muni bus was at a standstill because of those bicyclists.

4. Those bicyclists are often rude, cocky, they shout out things to bystanders or those of us helpless and who can't move. Again, I don't know why the city and SFPD supports these rides.

A used tampon...

2007-09-23T15:02:00.000-07:00

I did another beach cleanup this morning at Ocean Beach, sponsored by the San Francisco chapter of Surfrider http://www.sfsurfrider.org/ , and the grossest (or is it most gross?) thing I found was a used tampon. A wet, open, used tampon. On the beach. ... I also found a guitar pick, a large bandage, a ton of barbecue skewers and unused wooden matches, a little silver nitrous oxide cartridge or something, a Barbie doll arm, a smashed-up bottle of gin, medicine tablets, and a shitload of cigarette butts, among other things.

La Casa de las Madres

2007-09-21T21:57:00.000-07:00

La Casa is a good cause, a great organization. It's a domestic violence nonprofit that I found out about when I was working in Oakland and thinking about going to law school a few months back. A lawyer suggested that I needed more nonprofit volunteer experience on my resume, so I called them up -- they're in the Mission District -- and offered to do some journalism volunteer work while waiting to do a 40-hour training session in September to help staff their 24-hour call center on the weekend. Only problem is that I got a new job now, and law school plans are off for other reasons. So, the idea to do September's 40-hour training for the call center is on hold. (They have another one in February that I may do instead.)

But I did get to help La Casa on a few editorial projects. ... And, October is Domestic Violence awareness month, so here's a shout-out to a terrific organization that helps dozens of stranded women, children and even men, and has been doing so for three decades. (I wonder if anyone reads this blog.):

http://www.lacasadelasmadres.org/

New Golden Gate Commute

2007-09-06T21:30:00.001-07:00

It's been awhile since I've posted. ... I wonder if anyone reads this damn thing. But oh well. Whatever. A lot has happened, in a relatively short time.

1. My previous job -- name undisclosed, but it's in downtown Oakland, for those loyal readers here and at the previous blog -- kut the cord. They gave me less than two weeks.
2. Within a HALF-HOUR of that conversation with my "boss" I step off BART, and I get a call on my cell phone from a marketing company in Mill Valley offering me a permanent job. I accepted it over the phone.
3. No more No. 1. I gave notice the next day.
4. Another boss at No. 1 took me and a few other co-workers out to dim sum at a restaurant in Oakland Chinatown. She's Chinese, and I had no idea what she ordered. It ended up being

CHICKEN FEET

which was perhaps a fitting tribute to my life in the past two, maybe two and half years. (And I ate some. I pulled the skin off the bones, apologizing to those poor critters.)

Today, I'm driving home from work across the Golden Gate Bridge after working at my new company in Mill Valley. My commute now is about 20 minutes and $5 bridge toll. (Instead of Muni and BART and about an hour each way.) I'm caught up in the fog, the wind and my car is rattling side to side as I work to keep it confined within those dashed lines and the car in front of me, which is similarly working hard to do the same. There's a large cargo ship sailing underneath me and some tourists posing to the right of me as my car whips by the San Francisco County line. ...

I piss on you, woof!

2007-08-17T15:04:00.000-07:00

Every morning, I take this express bus from my outer Richmond District studio downtown to the Financial District to catch BART to wisk me off under the Bay to Oakland to my dead-end data-entry job. ... It's morning, and I'm so not a morning person. The bus is usually fast, and it's a good way to wake up, read the paper, and see most of San Francisco. You start seeing the same people, the same sites, etc. ... It goes down Bush Street in the morning, and past the Eglise Notre Dame des Victoires church in the little French neighborhood downtown past the "TenderNob" district, past the Cable Cars.

Well, this morning, I see someone walking their DOG (that's "God" spelled backwards), and they stop to PISS on the outside of the church wall.

Is it just me, a natural cat person who was raised Catholic, or is there something sacriligious about that??!!

2007-08-08T15:09:00.000-07:00

Here's a word I'm getting sick of in Corporate America:

Verbage

Why can't we just use the word "words" when discussing contracts or other documents?

A blog in the fog ...

2007-08-07T18:20:00.000-07:00

There are these bloggers out in Chicago who want to form a union and receive health benefits, etc. There was a write-up by the Associated Press that's circulating the wires nationwide on the issue (note to self: search for "blog" and "union" on Google or Dogpile or other search union and it'll come up, but I'm lazy write, I mean right now, after work.) ....

This gets into the whole journalistic vs. personal blog debate. Is a blog something of professional value? There are some that are, such as Daily Kos in Berkeley, or Barack Obama's that offer insight into someone of value (although I doubt he really write's the thing). But then there are one's like mine. That I scribble here and there for friends and family, and the occassional Web surfer, and maybe put something up about an SF event of note. But I wouldn't want to UNIONIZE. It's a hobby. A blog has an element of alternative to it, even though this one is overseen and run by Blogger.com, a large company. A blog allows anyone a forum to write about whatever they want, whenever they want, and not have to wait for the next press run. ...

Starbucks = BAD

2007-08-06T13:30:00.000-07:00

So, I wrote up this column the other week in the SF Daily protesting a new Starbucks coming to the corner of 5th and Geary in the Inner Richmond. There are two guys leading a signature petition drive to overturn a SF Planning Commission decision approving it at the site of the former Cala Foods inside a new Toyota Service station. There are TOO MANY Starbucks in the City, about 80. We don't need another one. ... Anyway, the Examiner wrote up their news story about the same issue today. The Board of Supervisors vote is tomorrow the 7th at 4:30 p.m. ... Stay tuned....

Beware of cows crossing

2007-07-30T10:58:00.000-07:00

The b-friend and I drove up to Point Reyes to do some hiking on Saturday. It was just gorgeous. We drove north out of the fog and muck of the city, across the Golden Gate and through all the small towns in Marin up north to Olema to Point Reyes. Hiked through all the poison oak and such (none yet on my leg, cross your fingers) for about an hour and a half) and then went driving around the countryside to the lighthouse at the point. http://www.nps.gov/pore/

Walked dowwwwnnnnnnnn 300 stairs to this old lighthouse at the base of a cliff with the wind just whipping up around. I swear I saw dolphins leaping out of the ocean. (He says they were seals, but I don't think seals jump in sync like that.) But then you have to hike back up those same 300 stairs, which are numbered every 10. ...

Before we get to the lighthouse, however, you drive through the remote dairy countryside, which is peppered with these old historic ranches, A, B, C and so on that are dated 1865 and such. At one of them, all the cars were at a halt because the cows were CROSSING the road and being herded by a rancher on a track-driver.

2007-07-23T10:22:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in awhile. Life calls. Blogs can wait. My apologies. (Does anyone even read this sucker? I wonder...)

Random things to mention:

1. I caught the bouquet at one of my best friend's wedding last weekend in Golden Gate Park. I reached out and grabbed it. My boyfriend's reaction was "Oh no." Oh yes, buddy. Oh yes. I'm over 30 now. Let's start negotiating.

2. I saw Gavin Newsom at my bus stop last week. I am sooooo in love with that man physically, although his mayoral policies need polishing up. He was campaigning. I was running late for my bus, which was pulling away. I almost ran into him and his suit. I ran past him and was screaming out "Shit!!!" He looked good, let me tell you!

3. I love sleeping in. I love sleeping in the foggier it gets, and it has been foggy in my hood. I keep my window open near my bed to hear the fog horns as I sleep, which makes for some interesting dreams.

4. Dave slept over the other night during the earthquake. I instinctively woke up before it started to rumble. And then it started. I rolled over and clutched him and said, "We're having an earthquake." He says, "Yes, I know." (He's a smarty-pants.) It lasted about 10 seconds. I rolled over and looked at my clock. 4:43 a.m. The next day, I found out it was a 4.2, centered at the Mormon cathedral in the Oakland hills near where I used to live on the other side of the bay. All the ladies at work were talking about it.

Mexico DF

2007-06-27T11:29:00.001-07:00

Friday night after work, I was beat, but I wanted to take full advantage of the weekend, you know? I work in Oakland, and use public transit. I did not want to get off BART, take my Muni alllllll the way home, and then wait for my boyfriend to pick me up to go out. I wanted to start right then and there, and I called him and told him so like the bitch I can be. I got off BART at Embarcadero, walked over to the Ferry Building, bought an espresso and then walked to the rear of the building to hang out on the deck and watch the ferry boats and cargo ships go under the Bay Bridge. ...

About 45 minutes later (there goes my swift plan), Dave picks me up and the Ferry Building. We mull about in the area and came across this brand-spanking new restaurant: Mexico DF. It was Friday and the thing had just opened up that Wednesday. It was EXACTLY what I needed. I ordered a glass of Spanish white wine and some high-end chips and gaucamole to start off with. He got duck flautas (yes, duck). I got Mexican cheese salad for us to split and some chilled mahi-mahi.

Today, Wednesday, the Chronicle's Food section had a mini-review about the same restaurant under it's "Opening" header. I should have posted it here first to beat them out. ...

Only in California....

2007-06-26T14:02:00.000-07:00

... Can I sit on my lunchbreak in a park near work, sucking on a lollipop that a co-worker gave me from a recent trip her family took to Disneyland, and there's this Asian guy dressed in a BART T-shirt doing Tai-Chi exercises with a pole getting all sweaty, worked up, you know. We're all watching him. And then, and then, he takes a break, walks right by me ... and BELCHES really loudly.

Rest in Peace, my fellow journalist

2007-06-22T16:41:00.001-07:00

http://www.mercurynews.com/news/ci_6192538?nclick_check=1

Ed Jew and representative government?

2007-06-20T15:34:00.001-07:00

This is part of what I wrote on the ProSF ListServ regarding the whole Ed Jew debacle. D. Miles Jr. responded that he liked this part the best. (Thanks! Whoever you are....)

"If he's a man of honor, he will confront the truth and have a heart-to-heart meeting with his family and with his constituents, and not keep dragging this on and on with his lawyers and what-not. Just step down, Ed. Confront the truth. YOU DON'T LIVE IN THE SUNSET DISTRICT. YOU DIDN'T EVEN TURN YOURSELF IN IN THE SUNSET DISTRICT."

"It's not right!"

2007-06-12T15:25:00.000-07:00

When I moved back up to SF almost two years ago from the South Bay, there were several things I missed very quickly from down south. Lower car insurance rates, for one. Free and plentiful car parking, for another. 24-hour supermarkets. But I also began to yearn for structured, left-hand lanes and those precious left-hand lights.

Here's a good one: Geary and Arguello. It's not a huge intersection, but it's a well-used artery for those Pacific Heights and Presidio folks, UCSF medical folks, Haight-Ashbury people, and people like me in the Richmond District. I think there's actually a left-hand turn lane, but no left-hand turn light, which does a hell of a lot of good. You wait for the pedestrians to clear once the light turns green. You inch forward as much as you can, wait for the other cars across the way to go as well, and of course you have to wait for the cars in front of you to go forward, too. Before you know it, it's yellow and red. And there's only been ONE CAR that's moved forward. Nice. ...

Welcome to city living, ladies and gentleman. Now, after it takes you ten friggin' minutes to get through the intersection and you finally maneuver your way to your point of destination, you have to find a place to PARK. Good luck. That's why people with cars take the bus. That's what my grandmother in Ohio doesn't understand.

Clean & sober George W?!

2007-06-11T15:39:00.001-07:00

This is from an Associated Press photograph of last Thursday's G-8 summit, and that's our "clean and sober" president sipping an ice cold beer with the German chancellor. Now, I don't know if it's nonalcoholic (I'm gonna say no....), and maybe we can say maybe he needed it after all he's been going through with Russia's Putin. Still, remember how when he initially ran for president, and he touted being dry and all that? How he didn't need AA? Maybe he does.....

Sgt. Pepper Day today

2007-06-01T11:57:00.000-07:00

http://digbysblog.blogspot.com/2007/06/happy-sgt.html

Mud and Zen

2007-05-30T16:16:00.000-07:00

Every worker needs a day off. Every worker needs a day in the MUD. Check this out:

http://www.oasisspa.com/

It's a day spa in Calistoga that my boyfriend and my mom drove up to this past Sunday during Memorial Day weekend and had a MUD BATH. It was a first for all three of us. (Mom had her own room. Dave and I had our own couple's room.) You strip naked (oooooo....) and then soak in this goo, a heavy substance of peat moss, volcanic ash and mud. I started cracking up immediately as soon as I got my big old butt in the stuff. It was, by far, the weirdest thing I've ever done, but also felt sooooooooo damn good.

It's Wednesday today. My co-worker actually said I'm "glowing" today. She asked if I'm wearing makeup. I told her, "I wear makeup everyday."

Here's to the Calistoga mudbath, and a three-day weekend. What every American worker needs.

My friend Billy

2007-05-24T14:29:00.000-07:00

This is Billy.

He is from Philly.

He is really, really

cool, man.

(And he is available, ladies. E-mail me at the above address if interested.)

Yes, I want fries with that!

2007-05-23T14:53:00.000-07:00

If I'm paying over $6 for a friggin' vegetarian burger, I should bloody well expect to get fries with the sucker. But this is California. This is the Bay Area. So,
a) The burger costs more than $5
b) Fries are EXTRA
c) I'm ordering a veggie burger anyway, not a real one.

So, that's how they make their money. Fries are extra. If I get the burger, the fries and a Coke, my little lunchtime meal is close to $10. No joke.

I guess you can take the girl out of the Midwest, but you can never take the Midwest out of the girl. THAT'S JUST RIDICULOUS to not give someone fries with their burger, especially if the darn thing is more than five dollars.

Chron Gone Wrong

2007-05-18T15:43:00.000-07:00

Something is wrong
With the Chron
When you slash
Your staff
By a quarter
And then expect
The news to reflect
All that is fit to print.

The Times are changing
No, wait, that would be the Chronicle
Publisher Vega
Is hitting his newsroom hard
I'm glad I made the tough decision
And got out of the biz
already.

I believed...

2007-05-16T13:43:00.000-07:00

Here's to the Golden State Warriors.

It was a great season. No, it was a remarkable season.

You went farther than we thought you would.

You went farther than many thought you could.

It's a shame it's over, but here's to this past season.

Let's see what you can do next year.

If a tree falls in the city ...

2007-05-14T15:54:00.000-07:00

At the corner of Park Presidio and Clement over the weekend, Dave and I saw a baaaaaa-aaaa-dddd accident. Well, at first, it looked like a police shooting or something. The intersection was blocked off, there was yellow police tape looped around the area, and several cop cars out to block traffic (and the curious, such as we two). I live nearby, so I wanted to know. Then, we knew it was an accident, it looked like it involved two cars, but why were there city maintenace crews, men with leaf-blowers, a John Deere tractor?? Well ... (I WISH I had a picture)

One of the older growth trees toppled over and SMASHED onto a parked Volkswagen car underneath. I mean SMASHED, like what you do to bubble-wrap. There was a huge hole next to it where the tree used to be; the city crews had uprooted the sucker. We saw what looked like a reporter with a notepad talking to an officer. He was the owner of the car, getting information about who to call. ...

What happens in that situation? Dave says that many, if not all, insurance carriers will not pay for "acts of God." I say, "that's the whole point of INSURANCE. To protect our valuables from the unknown." But then you have larger firms, such as Allstate, leaving California, refusing to cover homeowners from earthquakes and hillside fires because they're too costly. ...

This poor guy. He parks his car overnight on the street. He wakes up the next day to go get a cup of a coffee or, perhaps, go buy his mom a Mother's Day present or something. And instead, he has no car, it's totally undriveable, and he'll have to wrestle with his insurance, the city of San Francisco parks and maintenace officials, etc. and figure out the basics before work on Monday morning. Ouch. Sucks to be him.

Sexy Police Commissioner....

2007-05-11T14:11:00.000-07:00

Theresa Sparks, the CEO of sex store Good Vibrations, was voted in as the new president of the San Francisco Police Commission, to replace Louise Renne on Wednesday.

http://www.sfgov.org/site/police_index.asp?id=20446

Renne, in defiance, quits the board. This will be interesting for the city. ...

The Whistler

2007-05-10T15:40:00.000-07:00

At my work, there is a man who sits two cubicles up from me, and he has this habit of whistling rather loudly while he's working. He also whistles while he's walking around, and past me to pick up something off the copier or fax machine. He's really loud. And I'm not really sure what he's whistling, old show tunes or 1950s Broadway musicals or something. He does this ALL the time, almost like he's trying to tune everybody else out. I stopped him once and said, "Hey, what are whistling?" And he says...

"Was I whistling? I didn't notice."

This man used to be our group's manager until recently when he stepped down because he couldn't handle the responsibility. He said he wanted to be back in the action again. ...

Muni Survey

2007-05-04T11:28:00.000-07:00

http://www.sftep.com/tepsurvey.html.php

It's called the "Transit Effectiveness Project" and is only taking responses until May 15. We'll see if it'll do anything ... but it is an election year for pretty boy Mayor Gavin Newsom.

Warriors Fever

2007-05-03T10:51:00.000-07:00

They have to win tonight (Thursday). That's what everyone's saying around here. They should have won the other night, but they blew it in the last three minutes of play. They blew it on defense, and then Dallas got all those foul shots and closed the gap. If the Warriors had won that game, there would be nothing to watch tonight cuz they would be going on to play the Spurs in the finals. ... This is what happens to me, mildly interested in basketball and now Golden State is in the playoffs for the first time in more than a dozen years and there's someone like Baron Davis that you're rooting for and a good coach like Don Nelson and having lived in Oakland for a few years. ... THEY HAVE TO WIN TONIGHT. Dallas and Dirk cannot go on again to the finals for another year. It just ain't fair.

And then it wouldn't be fair to that guy me and Dave saw at the pizza and beer joint on Tuesday night watching the game on television who was bare-chested and pounding his fists on the bar and yelling at the top of his lungs "Go Warriors!!" Like Mel Gibson or something primal.

Broken Connector Ramp

2007-05-01T14:58:00.000-07:00

Forget about the Golden State Warriors for a minute. ... (although I admit, I've got a bit of a basketball fevor, and I was at a dinner at my mom's on Sunday night, and everyone's like, where is this coming from? why are you suddenly into the game? oh, yeah, you played girls basketball in seventh grade, too....) But aside from all that. The Bay Bridge 580-880 ramp mess. Here are my thoughts:
1. I wonder what happened that caused that accident to occur. Really, I mean, c'mon.
2. I'm glad the driver is OK. He could have been killed. Others could have been as well. But timing is everything.
3. This is a great reason to get people out of their cars and into mass transit, like BART.
4. This is a great reason to get our law makers to re-examine the fucked-up mess that is mass transit. We need more money into mass transit. We need faster, more efficient, cleaner mass transit.
5. If they can rebuild this portion of the connector ramp so quickly -- let's watch! -- how come it's taking nearly two decades since the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake to rebuild the Bay Bridge?? And Southern California already has stuff built since their Northridge quake from the 1990s??? Bureaucracy does not make sense, nor is it fair in love and war.

Beach Cleanup

2007-04-24T13:46:00.000-07:00

Sunday was Earth Day, and while Bob Weir, Rat Dog and Sammy Hagar performed a free concert in Golden Gate Park, I and a few dozen others were quietly doing our beach cleanup at Ocean Beach. Sponsored by Surfrider and a few other organizations. Of course, I showed up at the wrong end of Ocean Beach, the Sloat Avenue/SF Zoo end and not the Fulton Avenue/Windmill side. But it's all good. I ended up bumming an open garbage bag off a volunteer and picking up trash as I began my hike along the coast toward the other end. Waaayyyyyy down the other end, two miles toward Fulton Avenue and then two miles back the other way back toward my car. Four miles total, in flip-flops. While carrying a heavy garbage bag and doing hard labor, bending up and down and picking up crap. .... Here are some of the highlights:

* A toothbrush
* A pen
* About 100 bottle caps
* About 100+ pieces of styrofoam, probably from coffee cups
* A couple of bags of dog poop (one handed to me by a dog-walker herself)
* A beer can
* A beer bottle
* A container of Chinese food
* A piece of weather-resistant green tarp
* A burned-up piece of book
* An elderly walker
* A belt buckle
* Orange peels
* A piece of wood with screws in it (I picked this up as a health hazard)
* A couple of cigarette boxes, empty
* Candy wrappers
* Pieces of fire-crackers, looked like
* A cardboard box

2007-04-17T12:57:00.000-07:00

My thoughts and prayers go out to the victims, their families, friends and loved ones from Virginia Tech. My thoughts and prayers also go out to the shooter's family, friends and loved ones, although recent reports say he was mostly a loner type. There is a lot of confusion, anger and deep, deep rage toward that man, but I feel a lot of sadness that no one was able to stop him and help him out of his hole. We're learning that he was an English major, and that his writings pointed led some professors to offer psychological help. This man felt totally alone and separate from his classmates, so alone and hurt that he wanted to inflict the same type of pain on them that he felt -- and had been feeling for years. It's sad that in an age of high-tech communication, that he could travel from one side of the campus to another after shooting two students -- and no one ordered a lock-down. It's sad that the information that trickled out of there was about numbers and data of numbers of how many killed, how many injured, and it took us how long to find out about the stories and more of the details of what happened, who was killed, and who committed this atrocious crime, the bloodiest in our nation's history. ... A sign of our times, I guess.

A case of the "Muundays"

2007-04-16T14:46:00.000-07:00

Alarm clock, 6 a.m. I slept with my contacts in. Again. Accidentally. I found out when I woke up and one was rolled up inside my eyeball. I had to go into the bathroom and water down my eyeball with contact solution and find it. My left eyeball was bloodshot. The other one was stuck to my eyeball. ....
I was running late. After. I get to the bus stop, just in time for the Muni bus. Oh, wait! Did I forget to turn off the coffee pot? Shit. Did I? Didn't I? I'm imagining I did, and I return home at 6 p.m. tonight, and my apartment building is burned to the ground. TV news crews on the scene for the evening news cast. Cause of fire? Some idiot tenant forgot to turn her pot off. Oh, fuck it. Fuck the bus and getting to work on time. Better safe than sorry. I go home. Yup, it's OFF. Shit. I run into my neighbor in the elevator. He's up EARLY, taking out his garbage. "Are you a stockbroker," he says, eying my work clothes. "No, I work in Oakland. In an office building." "Oh," he says, "that's a long commute. You take the bus and BART?" "Yup." .....
I get to work ONLY 15 MINUTES LATE and there is nothing for me to do. I'm sitting on my ass for about two hours, reading my newspaper, eating a piece of fruit, reading the developing CNN news online about the shooting in Virginia Tech, trying to look busy.
Yup, a case of the Mundays. ......

Ocean Beach

2007-04-09T08:54:00.000-07:00

I was at Ocean Beach yesterday on Easter Sunday. It was a gorgeous day. Windy. Sunday. A good sized crowd. Kids running around. Kites. A few guys doing crazy sports with the wind: this one guy had a large kite attached to a surf board, and he was riding the waves with his kite. .... Anyway, the beach had trash on it. That's a given. It's an urban beach. But what was even sadder was the state of the side concrete walls at the parking lot across from Golden Gate Park, between Lincoln and Fulton. It's always been in a shoddy state, but it just looked really shabby. Holes peaking through. Rusted support poles showing. Graffiti on the other side. And this is a beach. People come hear for recreation and take pictures here from all over the world. I guess it's got some kind of nostalgic value. But I wish the city would pump some money into renovation soon before the fog and seawater crumble the whole thing away. It looked pretty sad. I had to discipline myself to look above those walls and concentrate on the beautiful water beyond it. Look beyond the trash below and at the rolling waves in the background. ...

Josh Wolf is a journalist!

2007-04-04T08:57:00.000-07:00

Now that he's a free man, I must re-iterate what I continue to re-iterate: Josh Wolf is a JOURNALIST. The Chronicle's Debra Saunders had this awful, awful column claiming that because he was not employed by a legitimate journalistic organization, that he is a blogger and not a professional journalist. Well, Deb, the times, they are a changing. Wolf is a blogger. He is also a journalist. He was a the longest jailed journalist in our history. And he will go down in history as such. The New York Times described him as a blogger videographer, but then also as a JOURNALIST. He is a freelance JOURNALIST. He chronicled police brutality. He refused to comply with the pigs. He is someone I admire. The old-timers don't have the guts that Josh Wolf has. And Josh Wolf makes peanuts. I wish him all the best. He's my contempory.

2007-03-29T14:56:00.000-07:00

I found out the other day that my doctor, Dr. Ruben Montes, passed away. He was young, 42, I think is what I remember reading online in an obituary I found on him (search for his name in Google or any other search engine online). He was brilliant; he studied at Harvard. He helped me out tremendously last year during a difficult time in my body's health. I found out about his death when I called in to fill a zero refill that Dr. Montes had placed me on indefinitely, and the tiiny voice on the other line very flatly told me the news. Now, I have to get a new doctor, a new prescription with a new name attached to it. I had to search online for more information on my doctor's death, because I could get no more information from my health care provider.

This was my doctor, who made me well last year. And now, he's gone. Life is so fragile. It can be gone in an instant. With no further explanation. Now, I'll be given a new doctor, to continue making me well. Another person, with a new personality.

High crimes and misdimeanors

2007-03-26T09:24:00.000-07:00

So, I have this frog. Well, I haadd this frog. A decorative ceramic outdoors frog that I bought for $9 at Pier 1 Imports about four years ago and had for several moves ... until now. Someone stole it over the weekend. I am so pissed about it. Someone in my controlled-access apartment building, in a relatively good neighborhood stole this frog. I don't know if it was an angry neighbor, one of their friends or family members, someone who snuck into the building, the person who does maintenance on the weekends or what. But it's gone. I've lived in the building for more than a year and a half now. And it was stolen in a small window of time, maybe six hours or so. .... Dave noticed it when we came back home late Saturday night after being out for dinner and drinks in North Beach, and -- boom! -- where's the frog? Ribbit, ribbit! It's gone! We checked the floor. We checked the garbage room, the recycling bins. Nothing. It's kind of like someone would steal a welcome mat or a wreath on a door, you just don't steal someone's decorative item outside their front door. ....

Oooo! I'm MAD. I could croak! Wait, that's not right. Maybe he or she should. They will. ....

Location, location (and timing)

2007-03-21T15:37:00.000-07:00

I e-mailed Leah Garchik, who has that gossip column in the Chronicle, and suggested she run something about the following. She wrote me back and said she would (and had gotten several other tips, too, on it), but fellow news columnists Matier & Ross beat her to it. This is what I had:

You know, it seems kind of odd, that for a man supposedly going through "rehab" and trying to battle alcohol abuse, he would do his darndest to avoid things like bars, liquor stores and what have-you. For someone like our own dear Mayor Gavin Newsom, we would hope he wouldn't -- oh, I don't know -- set up his re-election campaign headquarters next to a liquor store or something. But no, he's RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER from the brand new, shiny, very large BevMo! on Van Ness and Sutter Street, within spitting distance for his campaign volunteers to stock up on cheap beer, wine bottles and Champaigne for if our G-man gets re-elected, which seems likely to happen, since he doesn't seem to have any other opponents. ....

Anti-War March

2007-03-18T20:25:00.000-07:00

Of course I was there. At Justin Herman Plaza at the Embarcadero, then marching along Market Street to the Civic Center. I don't know how many people were there. Initial crowd counts only place it at "3,000" (that's what SFGate said ... bullshit, if you ask me), it felt like 50,000 or so. The city shut down Market Street, which I'm sure was bad for its economy, tourism shopping and all, one day after the St. Patrick's Day Parade and now this. ABC News national said it was bigger than New York City's protest, that it was the biggest in the nation. We are the hometown of the House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, who many at the rally said has done NOTHING ... close to it ... to bring our troops home and out of harms way.

There were several signs that read "What would Jesus do?" and I kind of liked that, on a Sunday. What would Jesus do? He would feed the poor, administer to the sick and wounded, and pray over the dead. He would pray for the Bush administration, which is making some baaaaadddd decisions, and continues to do so. .... So help me, God.

Bay Area Gypsies

2007-03-15T13:26:00.000-07:00

The summer of 2005, my boyfriend Dave (whom I've "blogged" before) and his friend Gavin (not THAT Gavin) went to Italy. We visited Rome, Pisa, Florence, Lucca, as well as some time in Croatia. Rome is an amazing place. We'd like to go back. I'd like to go back. There is so much to see. I've actually been there before, when I was 19. But for anyone who's been to Rome, they most certainly notice something very modern and an eyesore: the gypsies. They're everywhere. They ask for money. They come up to you when you're taking pictures, when you're eating gelato, when you're enjoying the scenery. Or they're just there. And in a way, that's their job. And I mean "job." I mean that, because there was one day when we were at the Spanish Steps, and it began to pour rain, and someone who looked like a little old lady begging at the steps, suddenly got up and began to get the heck out of Dodge, very quickly, her 90-year-old legs running quite nimbly. Dave and I were struck by that and still talk about it. Perhaps her makeup would have washed away. ...

When tourists comes to San Francisco, or even those just visiting who live close by, I wonder what they think of all the homeless. They're everywhere, too. It is expensive to live here. Times are rough. Believe me, I know. But I wonder, how many are genuine, and how many are just smart and know how to work it, how to go where the money is, where the tourists are, where the European visitors are ... those who don't speak English? Those pumping up the sympathy factor and making a living off it? I wonder when I start to see the same faces day after day, almost as if they have a full-time job doing what they're doing ... If they can get a few quarters here, a few quarters there, and make a few dollars an hour, tax-free, that's close to minimum wage, with no boss, no schedule, no rules.

More on this later....

I'm a Gemini

2007-03-12T11:10:00.000-07:00

I broke down and saw it, "Zodiac," over the weekend. I wanted to see the new "Reno 911" movie because when I had cable, I used to love that show on Comedy Central. But it was showing at 11:30 p.m., and we had missed the 7:30 p.m. showing. I had heard mixed reviews of "Zodiac" and was a little ambivilant of seeing such a hyped movie about a series of mass murders so close to home. ... But I'm kind of glad I saw it.

For starters, any movie with Robert Downey Jr. is fun to watch. And watching him play a coked-out reporter working at the SF Chronicle was really, really fun to watch. He reminded me of so many people I know, in and out of the business. Two, the whole thing is about the Chronicle. Period. How can it not be? I still can't believe any newspaper would be fanagled by a psycho. But it was the 1970s, and it was a different time. (They didn't even have fax machines, for gods sakes). They were looking to boost ratings. Three, it's a great period piece. I was born in the '70s, so it was fun to watch it from a kitschy perspective (like when they were watching TV and a Slinky commercial comes on). And of course, that the whole thing happens so close to home.

I met this guy in a bar two blocks from my house less than a week ago, and he told me he saw it. He was in his mid-40s. He said he lived on Washington Street, and he knew the kids who were the witnesses to one of the Zodiac killer's murders featured prominantly in the movie. He said he didn't even know, until he saw the movie. ... He said the movie was THAT accurate.

My boyfriend Dave gave it an OK. He went and saw the move "300" the next day.

Kerouac Alley

2007-03-08T12:56:00.000-08:00

So, the repaving of Keroauc Alley is now complete. Boom Bah. Skip a Beat. Those of you who have read various posts on "Christine in San Francisco" over the weeks know that I noted back last year when they first ripped up the historic alley, and my boyfriend Dave and I got drunk one night in Vesuvios next door and then took pictures on the back of some of their construction equipment. .... I talked to some employees at City Lights the next day and then tried to pitch a story to the Chronicle (yawn), but they weren't interested. ...

Well, dog, the thing's done. There's a plaque with JK's name now, and some Chinese characters. There's going to be a celebration on Saturday, March 31, noon to 4 p.m., with a bunch of city dignitaries, and literatary ones, too.

I wonder how many of them will end up drunk in the end in tribute? I wonder how many of them have ever read Beat prose or poetry? (no, I shouldn't say that, that's mean.)

I'd love to go, but I'll be out of town. In Vegas.

Is God a Man or a Woman?

2007-03-01T15:00:00.000-08:00

I was at the 3300 Club ( http://www.3300club.com/ ) in the Outer Mission the other night after work, and I met Omar. I've seen him there before. Omar is in his late 30s. An attractive Latino man, bearded. A poet. He's from Nicaragua. We talk, flirt a little. He has a girlfriend. I have a boyfriend. It's just friendly conversation, though. Nothing to jump the gun about. ... But we start talking about Catholicism. He asks me if I'm Catholic, and I tell him that my family is, that I come from a family of Irish Catholics, that I went to Catholic schools growing up, that my mother is a devout Catholic, but, no, I'm not a PRACTICING Catholic. And he smiles and asks me, Why, Why, Christine, why not? And I tell him that as a woman in the Catholic church, I've never felt welcome, that I could never understand, since I was little, why priests could consecrate communion but not nuns, why women are not allowed to become priestesses. (And then someone at the bar made a crack about how priests like to molest little boys.) .... I tell Omar that I have differences with the Vatican over reproductive rights, and that it's a very male-dominated.

Then he says, "Do you believe God is a man or a woman?"

I say, "Neither."

He says, " Do you believe in God?"

I say, "I believe in a higher power, something that we cannot control, yes. But I don't know if that is a Man or a Woman. .... In fact, it could be a woman, because of the power to create. Like giving birth."

(We're drinking beer, mind you.)

He smiles, leans in, and says, "God is a woman. I know. I've always known. I believe God is a woman. God is not a man. There is a man force, yes. But that is where the anger comes from, that bad energy against God, trying to suppress Her."

Rain, and Hail, and Thunderstorms, Oh My!!

2007-02-27T11:27:00.000-08:00

Was I in Kansas last night or my San Francisco studio?! I mean, where was I?? I was sitting there, it was windy and rainy, and RAINY, and then, there was hail pounding against my windows, and then I heard a couple of cc-rr-aaa-cc-kks!!! You ain't never hear thunder in the Bay Area. Seldom do. And then, this morning, I hear about a landslide in North Beach from the rain last night, 100-plus people evacuated. Man. Talk about the weather.

Mardi Gras in the Marina

2007-02-21T10:27:00.000-08:00

Him: "Um, excuse me, do you know where the mask store is?"
Me: "What?"
Him: "The mask store?"
Me: "I'm sorry, did you say, mask store?"
Him: "Yes. I heard there's a great mask store around here."
Me: "Umm. ... I'm not sure. ... Maybe try a stationery store? I've never heard of a mask store."
Him: "That's okay. You know, with Mardi Gras today and everything."

He was of Indian descent, wearing a striped, tailored shirt. I was disshevelled, as always. Wearing gym clothes, on the way to the gym. This was Chestnut Street, heart of the Marina District. I don't know which MASK STORE he was referring to, in the middle of Starbucks, the Gap, and other various chain stores ... but I wish him well on his journey.