The Kat's Meow

Hope!

Wednesday, 5 November 108 0:24:58 PST

Obama won! And we will soon have an intelligent and articulate man in the White House again. Someone who truly believes we're all equal and really wants to make things better for everyone regardless of who they are. Never in my life have I felt so much anxiety about an election before. I couldn't concentrate all day worrying about how it would all turn out. And honestly it turned out even better than I had expected with McCain conceding even before we'd finished dinner. It feels amazing. It feels hopeful and I'm excited and relieved and I think a lot of other people around here are as well. I could hear shouting and excitement in the street earlier and can still hear a little of it now. January 20th can't come fast enough.

Dia de los Muertos

Tuesday, 4 November 108 0:07:00 PST

I've always been fascinated by this holiday, but this is the first year that it's meant anything to me because we did the Dia de los Muertos procession in the Mission. It was more lovely and more lively than I had expected. There were lots of people dressed up and made up, some of them incredibly and beautifully lavishly. I didn't take any photos, but there are plenty on flickr.

The procession is slow and short, starting at 24th and Bryant and ending at 26th and Harrison. There was a giant stagecoach pulled by a team of bicyclists on one giant bike (reminds me of a conference bike at work) with about 6 bicyclists pedaling (it looked like six bikes in two rows all attached or welded together -- I didn't get a very close look).

And the altars at Garfield Park are amazing and beautiful. I thought about my mom all day because I was thinking about going on the procession and what I was going to take. In the end, I only took a little candle to light for her because I had no idea what to expect. Next year, I think I might take something a little bit bigger.

I like this holiday. It seems weird to call it a holiday, maybe tradition would be more appropriate, but it suits me because it's such a sweet way to think of the loved ones you've lost. It's not morbid, it's not sad, it's a celebration of all the things that person enjoyed in life, and the memories you have of her. She's often in my thoughts, but on this day, I get to share her with other people who miss their loved ones as much as I miss mine.

Do Re Mi

Sunday, 19 October 108 23:39:00 PST

Me and Ed at Do Re Mi singing our hearts out

So we finally had our karaoke night that we've been talking about for like a year. And it was way less painful than I expected. In fact, it was fun the entire time. I think Ed or someone just started singing as soon as we got into our room and we were off. Then we were fighting over microphones and songs...no, actually there wasn't any fighting, but there was lots of singing with and without mics. My favorite was "Dick in a Box" by Ed and Isaac -- I wish they would perform that at every get together of ours! Sadly, the photos didn't come out that great. I wanted to post the cute one of me and Ineke singing "I Kissed a Girl" on either side of Ed while he's taking a swig off a flask but it was a little blurry. Instead you can enjoy my tonsils. I don't even know what we were singing, but boy am I into it.

Do Re Mi was an interesting venue. You rent a room with a karaoke machine in it. It's Korean -- you can tell by all the Korean text I can't read. There's no bouncing ball over the words to help you time your singing to songs you don't know so well. It just lights up the word at the speed you're supposed to go. And the next line is above the line you're singing. I found that a little weird. One of my other favorite moments in the room: Jess tearing down a wall light in the karaoke room. It took two men to fix it.

We went back to The Bar on Mission afterwards. One of us girls said something about not liking her body (wasn't me!). And one of our male friends, god bless his soul, said something to the effect of, oh dear, if you girls only knew that i'd lick rancid butter off of any of you. Which I interpretted to mean you're crazy. you girls are all crazy about your bodies cause you're all so hot i'd lick nasty rotten food off of any of your bodies just so i could put my tongue on you.

Then it was on to my house where we set off all my smoke detectors and filled my living room with smoke at about 2 in the morning. Isaac says "You've never used the fireplace?! You're breaking my heart." Mike says "Fire?" I say "I have duraflames!" Light fire. Mike examines the flue. No one's really sure if it's open or not. The fire going in the fireplace smells like...melting plastic. Jess goes "cough cough". Smoke detectors activate so we disassemble them all. Minutes drag on...we end up kiling the fire with a fire extinguisher. Fun while it lasted. This morning my entire living room was covered in ash.

The Cure All

Thursday, 14 August 108 23:10:14 PST

There's nothing a hot tub, a bath bomb, and Nine Inch Nails can't make better. Uplifting? No. But dark contemplation and a sense of relief and relaxation? Yes.

I won't let you fall apart
We'll find the perfect place to go where we can run and hide
I'll build a wall and we can keep them on the other side

Relationships are complicated things. My sister got robbed at gunpoint in Oakland just recently and it scared the hell out of me to hear her tight little voice on the phone just after it happened and I didn't even care about it -- about everything she'd lost -- all I could think after I realized she was safe, was that she was safe. They didn't hurt her and she was safe. And what a vulnerable place that is -- loving someone so much that you'd give anything for her safety.

We're in this together now
None of them can stop us now.

When it comes down to giving things up and making decisions, everything's a compromise. A setting aside of one thing for another. Someone told me once that every time you make a decision, you grieve for the things you decided against. Maybe I've mentioned it before because it's been stuck in my head ever since, but she's right. You give up one thing to pursue something else and it's a loss, and a part of you grieves for what could have been. In love, in careers, in life and life threatening situations, you can't have everything you want...you wouldn't possibly know what to with it all.

It didn't turn out the way you wanted it do, did it

My two favorite albums are The Fragile (Left) and Things Falling Apart. I love all of Trent Reznor's music, but these two albums let me sink into myself and let my thoughts run their course.

Do you know how far this has gone?
Just how damaged have I become?

Girls' Dinner

Friday, 8 August 108 1:06:43 PST

The boys are off on their survival trip -- no food, no water, just some long johns and a liter bag for each boy in Yosemite (quite appropriately at Jackass Lake :). We're just hoping they come back alive. While they're roughing it, we had girls' dinner (well, girls plus a 15 year old boy :) with barbequed rack of lamb, pasta, and artichokes, and lots of wine and several martinis.

I love my girls and I feel like I haven't seen them in forever what with the Zurich trip and the family visiting. I've been writing a lot lately and thinking quite a bit about my age. I went and had my annual pap this week and she asked me if I had any questions and I said no -- then said, wait! How fertile am I, now that I'm almost 35? Turns out I still have quite a few reproductive years ahead of me. But my eggs are getting old.

I know I've said this before, but it continues to amaze me to watch my girls getting more and more beautiful as they get older. I wonder if they know it. I wonder if I, too, am getting more attractive. I somehow doubt that I am, but I see them growing more and more radiant and attractive and sure of themselves and I adore them -- one of my girls turns 43 next week! 43! ;)

I wish I'd taken a picture of the dinner table with my lovelies around it because it would've made a great photo. I came back from Switzerland and all I wanted was to be alone. I had to get over that quickly because my sister and my son came to visit (and that's been fun!), but now I really feel like I'm ready to not be alone and it's good to have the girls around -- to remind me that growing older isn't a bad thing, and that good friends make everything in the world better.

Luzern

Sunday, 20 July 108 13:07:49 PST

I spent the day in Luzern and it was a perfect day! A co-worker recommended I go saying it was the most "Swiss" town in Switzerland. I didn't have a plan -- someone told me of a museum I should visit, but couldn't find it listed so I just wandered around all day. It hailed! It was on and off rainy today with bouts of sunshine breaking through. The first real bit of rain soaked my pants and included hail. It lasted for probably less than half an hour -- I should've sat in a cafe, but didn't know how long it'd last so I just kept wandering.

I love churches -- yes, the atheist in me hasn't gotten over my love of churches. So I'm naturally drawn to them when I wander and visited about 4 or 5 today, including walking into two services. I sat in one for about 15 minutes (it was in German) and left at communion (that part I understood). The Fransican church was my favorite -- very Gothic inside with the most amazing stained glass I saw all day -- the stained glass behind the altar is the most impressive. There is a gate, but they leave the door open so you can walk right up to the altar and gaze at the stained glass. I took a few photos and will post them when I have more time.

I also enjoyed the Lion monument and the Glacier Garden located just behind it. I didn't know it was there, but it was only 12 francs to get in (about $12 USD) so I did and I spent about two hours there -- I only left because they told me they were closing the watch tower which is where I ended up, overlooking the city. They have a ton of information and visulations about the glaciers melting and the pre-historical Luzern (the mediterranean oasis the site of modern day Luzern used to be -- before the ice age that is), but they also have this weird hall of mirrors in "Alhambra" style, as well as some historical rooms and furniture.

The train ride there and back was lovely -- I wanted to ride back while it was still light outside to view the other side of the country side I missed this morning. It's green and lovely. I saw some hairy and multicolored goats, and the cutest, crimp-haired, golden brown, adolescent cow. But my favorite sights were the communal gardens -- at first I thought they were cute little shanty towns with itty bitty houses. But those houses were garden sheds. A small plot of land mostly evenly divided into rectangles where people grew an assorted of vegetables and flowers -- it was lovely -- probably about 15-20 plots. I only wish I could've gotten to walk around in one.

Spatially challenged

Tuesday, 15 July 108 14:47:00 PST

I caught the right tram to go home but somehow it dropped me off somewhere and it wasn't my stop. It stopped one stop before my exit and jet lag hit me hard today so I was completely zoned out. We stopped at the last stop -- I'm sure the conductor made an announcement and I just didn't understand it. But I remember thinking to myself, gosh, a lot of people are getting off at this stop, then went back to staring out the window. It was 9pm by this point and still light outside and all I wanted was a glass of wine, then bed. The conductor came walking towards me and said something and then I finally woke up out of my daze and looked around and realized he was shooing me off :)

View Larger Map

So then I start walking in the direction of home. Except I clearly have no sense of direction because I went the wrong way and only after a few blocks did I have the sense to look at a map. I'm an extremely slow map reader, but I can usually figure things out.

Today was the first day the weather has been beautiful -- it's been raining and overcast since I arrived on Sunday morning. As I made my way back home, I saw tons of people filling up all the outdoor spaces, eating and drinking. When I got to the hotel just after 9:30pm, my lovely little outdoor courtyard was full of people having dinner. It wasn't the quiet peaceful retreat it was last night, but still a lovely place for a glass of wine and an email.

The saving grace of being lost in a new place, is that I don't mind :) No matter how tired I am, it's still a pleasure to see streets I haven't seen yet.

The not so forgotten art of foot binding

Tuesday, 15 July 108 14:27:56 PST

I just recently finished Rice Bowl Women, a collection of short stories from China and Japan as early as the 600s which, of course, includes stories of foot binding. Coincidentally, I had dinner at a friend's house recently and she was telling us a story about her Chinese friend -- a strong independent girl. Her grandmother had her feet bound (in my ignorance I hadn't realized foot binding happened as recently as the 1930's). One day, this young woman had her feet up in plain view and her father said to her, "Who's going to marry you with those giant feet!"

Everyone knows that the ideal of beauty is varied and diverse, but it seems to me that the idolization of these tiny, little feet must not have extended to the naked foot. If you do a Google images search on foot binding, you'll find actual photos of feet that were bound. I have a hard time imagining men found those deformed feet sexy. Surely men only appreciated the foot when clothed in elaborately embroidered litle shoes, no? But shoed or unshoed, the little feet were adored -- and apparently, that adoration hasn't been completely forgotten.

I <3 Zurich

Monday, 14 July 108 14:55:22 PST

I love the Swiss. There's a lock box in my closet for valuables (not that unusual), and a skeleton key to lock my closet (I've never seen that before). I used a porta-potty yesterday and it had a) a sink, b) it flushed, c) it had a trashcan and d) a toilet brush to clean the toilet (the only thing missing was soap). The bathrooms at work have (in each stall!) some sort of purifying cleanser for you to wipe the toilet seats down with. I love it when a country understands my need for cleaniness and sterility.

I'm staying at the Romantik Hotel Florhof (don't make the mistake of thinking the first two descriptive words are actually part of the hotel's name -- the shuttle driver that took me to the hotel from the airport chuckled at me when I said its full name, and all he repeated was the "Florhof" part of it). The service here is amazing. I called on Sunday night to say the LAN wasn't working for me. The guy wasn't especially helpful saying I should come to the lobby and use the public computer. But in his defense, he did say it was late and no one was around to fix it (it was near midnight), and b) at least they had a public computer for me to use should I be desperate. I did find one open wireless network with enough signal strength to do what I needed to do. The impressive thing was that the next morning, someone came up to my room to ask me about my internet connection and said she'd have someone look into it. And it was fixed when I got home.

I love the switch near the front door that turns on and off all the electricity to the room -- no fear of leaving something on all day. I love the inviting spaces in the hotel where I can have a drink at night and read. This bull is in the courtyard where I sat tonight for an hour or so after work til well after dark. The weather is a bit rainy, but it's still relatively warm.

There's something about being someplace new and realizing the things you take for granted -- like knowing how to cross at a crosswalk -- at home are things you need to relearn elsewhere. And maybe I'm simple and easily amused, but I enjoy the novelty of it all -- the feeling of not always being entirely sure of myself. I've been in other parts of Europe -- Germany, France, Czech Republic, Netherlands, but nowhere have I felt as inconspicuous as I do here. Maybe it's because I can get away with speaking English, but I think it's more than that -- it's really diverse here in terms of languages spoken and nationalities floating around -- more diverse than anywhere else I've ever been.

Everywhere I've eaten today there's been fresh, yummy, whole grain bread. It's a little bit like heaven. And the Zurich office is as good as I've been led to believe it was. The fire poles are a thrill, and the water room is luxurious and relaxing -- I slept off a little jet lag in there today :)

First Night in Zurich

Sunday, 13 July 108 14:15:25 PST

I don't know why, but I'm completely enchanted with the bathroom -- it's so white and clean and sterile looking:

Unfortunately, I slept right through the middle of Sunday here, but I'd just arrived and gotten into my room after waiting 3 hours in the lobby (I got here pretty early) and I was dead tired. When I dragged myself out of bed, it was 8am my time.

I love new cities. I'm such an urban girl -- my first and most favorite thing to do is just walk around, wandering wherever I fancy with no destination in mind. I'm drawn to pretty alleyways, churches, architecturally interesting or historic looking buildings. Sometimes I walk towards the crowd and sometimes away. I was wishing I had my German boy with me today, but I love wandering around by myself too.

I love all the different languages. People here seem to know several and switch easily. My waiter at dinner knew German, English and Italian. The front desk here knows German, French and English. And who knows what other languages they may speak. I've heard lots of German and English, some French and Italian, and bits of Chinese and Korean just today in 4 hours of walking around.

I got a little lost coming home, but I never mind being lost in a new place. I wander around and don't pay attention to where I'm going. I used the two big churches near-ish my hotel as landmarks and finally gave in and used a map as it started to get dark around 9:30pm and I found myself walking through the quaint cobblestone streets essentially in circles :)

My Lolcat addiction

Saturday, 12 July 108 1:43:12 PST

I'm completely fascinated by icanhascheezburger.com. I must visit the homepage, no joking, at least 10 times during the day -- anytime I'm waiting for some code to run, waiting for something to build, taking a break, eating lunch -- basically anytime I have a free cycle during the day, I'm looking at that damn site!

If you know me at all, you know that I often update my gmail status message with my current favorite lolcat. Most of them suck -- which you'd think would make me check the site less, not more, but I think every time I see a sucky one, I think to myself -- a good one is on its way, it has to be! My current favorite:

(click to see full size)

My son today said to me: "'god is your problem?' Aren't you going to offend aunt Jess?" (my status message says "god is your problem" and links to that lolcat.) You know, as is, ooohhhhh, you haz a ceiling cat....that's why you haz problums. Get rid of the ceiling cat, you'll be fine.

I took a poll of my friends once and asked them if any of them were as obsessed with that site as I was. Three male, three female. Two of the guys weren't even interested. One of them gets a kick out of lolcats, but answered "No" to 3 out of 4 questions. One of the girls didn't know what icanhascheezburger.com was, but the other two answered yes to most of my questions. Mabye it's cause the site is full of adorable, anthropomorphized little animals. The site literally makes me want to get a cat -- sometimes it makes me go browse real-life kitten listings and I fantasize about taking photos of it and making up cute little captions.

The whole lolcat meme is fascinating to me. I think especially because it's streaming into real life now. In San Francisco, they painted a lolcat mural, and then there's this flier that's been going around for a while now: Mising lolcat; responds to "cheezburger". My girlfriend (the one above who didn't know what icanhascheezburger even was!) saw that flier in Bernal Heights the other day and took a photo of it for me!

What is it about being able to make fun of the world and current events, and god and the devil, and everything in between with cats and dogs and hamsters and inanimate objects with faces that we all find so fascinating? It just must be true -- no one can resist the cute.

The Subway Stripper

Friday, 11 July 108 1:18:17 PST

I love this story! A subway stripper in Chile was arrested for trying to strip near the presidential palace. She strips on the subway cars; the media call her the "Metro Goddess". And she's doing it -- to make Chile a less prudish place.

I love this idea because I think sexual repression is unnatural. We're designed to procreate. I'm not a hedonist -- I don't think people should be running around trying to procreate however they can, but I do feel strongly that people should feel comfortable thinking and talking about sex. With friends, family, but especially with your partner. Think about it -- if you can frankly talk to your partner about sex, what can't you talk about with him?

And what about your child(ren)? Do you really want them growing up into their sexually mature years learning and believing what their school friends tell them about sex? Like how you can't get pregnant the first time you have sex, or how oral sex isn't really sex -- kids believe this shit! And the list of other things they believe is long -- here's just one page full of them.

I'm a big fan of education, openness, and honesty. Teaching kids and uninformed adults about sex, contraception, etc. so they can make educated and informed choices when they need to. I think anytime you try to make something natural seem unnatural, you end up encouraging secrecy and deception -- because if you make it bad, it's not going to stop people from doing it, it's just going to change the way that they do it. Another good thing about being comfortable with your own sexuality is that it makes it easier to accept other people's sexuality too -- whatever that may be.

So hurray to the subway stripper! I wish we had poles on the Bart :)

You have the wrong email address...

Wednesday, 9 July 108 20:18:00 PST

I'm amazed at the amount of mis-addressed email I get. I get a lot of spam, including email from places where people have signed up with my email address -- that's my favorite. Every week I have a few people trying to recover the password for "their" email address from gmail -- they clutter my inbox, but I can just ignore them. Then I get people emailing me just to see if the address if valid -- just ignore those as well. And then I get a lot of mis-mailed email. Sometimes someone has typoed the address, or left off the rest of the email address (like black.kat@gmail, or kat.kramer@gmail, etc), but the most amazing thing to me is people who email other "close" people with the wrong email address, or important emails that get mis-mailed to me -- like emails about insurance claims, rents not being paid, or all the business docs that people send me.

I got an email the other day from a poor mom practically begging her son to email her and dad. She said dad was bummed to not be able to get a hold of his son in his times of need. It was sad, but seriously -- how do you not know your own son's email address?! And really, his name is Kat? Maybe that's why he doesn't get in touch with you.

Sometimes I email people back and tell them they have the wrong email address. Like if it sounds like they're looking for some long lost friend, or it's a really cute and sincere email and I feel bad they won't get a response from whoever they meant to really email. Or if it sounds like something important -- business related or something like that. I had someone once explain to me, no -- you know -- the PG&E rebate for the air conditioner, after I told her I wasn't the Kat she was looking for. No, seriously, I don't have an air conditioner and you're emailing the WRONG address!

What I learned about George Carlin

Friday, 27 June 108 0:20:00 PST

So I'm sure you all know that George Carlin passed away this week. I'm not a big follower of comedians, but I have seen some of his stuff and found him funny. One of the first videos I watched after his death was his classic Seven Dirty Words routine. And being someone who swears a lot, loves language, and enjoys people who defy convention, I immediately loved it. I have an image in my head of Carlin as a white bearded, bald guy. But in this clip he's young and handsome and seems more jovial than I ever remember seeing him -- like the world hasn't quite worn him down and jaded him yet.

Add to it the fact that this routine got him arrested and got the radio station that broadcast his uncensored routine sued in a first amendment stir and it makes it all the more charming.

A friend of mine was saying how when he was a kid his parents had vinyl records of Carlin's routines -- vinyl! I think it's not uncommon to see someone differently after his / her death. I always thought of George Carlin as a funny grumpy old man, and now I've got a different, more interesting image of him in my head. Though it's too bad it takes death for me to soften my heart and open up my mind.

Some links to more informative articles:

Every time we lose a single girl...

Sunday, 22 June 108 0:14:00 PST

Every time someone I know gets married it kicks off marriage related topics in my little head. I was just thinking about how a year and a half ago there were four of us engaged women at Ed & Ineke's wedding and none of us wanted to catch the bouquet. Clearly that speaks for itself. In the end, the bouquet got tossed twice and I only ended up with it out of pity for everyone involved in the whole affair -- the poor scared girls that didn't want to touch the thing (including me) and the poor bride who had to toss the thing twice.

So why didn't any of us want the bouquet? One of us was just gun shy about marriage -- she ended up happily married (just recently). One of us is unhappily married. Two of us quickly disentangled ourselves from our pending commitment errors -- one of us at the very wedding where the unenthusiastic bouquet toss took place.

Every time I hang out with my friends lately, I find myself wondering how much of their relationship status affects mine. I'll bet that if they were all single, I would probably be more inclined to stay so. Not to say that I'm in a relationship just because my friends are, but that their lives, given our closeness, can't but affect me to some degree. I see their intimacy and happiness, and their flaws and strains, and my gut no longer recoils from it -- the thought of spending forever with one person (or at least the foreseeable future) -- in fact it seems potentially worth giving up my freedom for.

The New and the Old

Tuesday, 17 June 108 23:17:00 PST

Two of our closest friends got married this weekend. It was a beautiful and touching ceremony -- they had a close friend marry them, they had close friends read at the wedding, then of course, the traditional best man and father of the bride speeches. I guess none of that would be interesting if you didn't know them, but since I do and know them well, I found it wonderful and sweet.

Another close friend lost someone close to her this weekend, too. I never know what to say to people when they're going through something that raw. And I never really knew what to say to people who would say nice things to me when my mother's death was still new. My heart breaks for her.

On the shuttle ride home while I was thinking about all this turmoil and change this past weekend, I couldn't help but think how often the start of something is tied to the end of something else and warm memories blend in with heartbreak and maybe that's a good thing. My mom died the day after my sister's birthday so forever those two things are tied together. Our friend will remember her grandma's passing on every one of our friends' anniversaries. I think each year it gets easier to focus a little more on the birthday, but the death will always be there.

Consuming our morbid thoughts away

Monday, 9 June 108 0:48:00 PST

This doesn't seem like new research because it seems to me that it's a given that eating and shopping are relatively common coping mechanisms. It's not unusual to hear stories about women addicted to shopping or food. I suppose men share these same problems but perhaps 1) less numerously, 2) less excessively, or 3) less conspicuously (but I haven't researched this so I'm just stabbing blindly).

There was a recent New Scientist article about how thinking about death or dying can spur buying or consuming behavior. Students wrote essays about either their own death or a trip to the dentist (I think it's funny that the options were death or dentist). After these kids wrote these essays, they found that people who had written about their death ate more cookies when given the opportunity, and also hypothetically purchased more items than those who wrote about the dentist.

But they also evaluated the students' self esteem. The ones that had low self esteem and had to write about death were more excessive in their behaviors -- ate more cookies, bought more things -- as a way of "subconsciously escaping self awareness, which is heightened by thoughts of dying". Those with high self esteem weren't really affected by the thoughts of death.

For those affected, it wasn't just the thought of their own death, but watching clips of death related news also stimulated this consumption. I love the quote at the end the piece which has one of the research professors (who, btw, has a PhD in psychology and is a professor of Marketing at his university) saying, gosh, I hope marketing folks don't exploit this by placing food ads right after the news. Really? But isn't that your job -- to teach people how to best market their goods?

Thoughts of death make us eat more cookies full article at New Scientist

My favorite drug

Tuesday, 3 June 108 1:37:33 PST

My favorite hormone is back in the news! And this time it might cure some mental illnesses. Oxytocin stimulates pair bonding, affection, and breast milk. It helps you associate good feelings with social interactions and to be able to empathize with others. Mothers who have their oxytocin production interfered with stop nursing and caring for their young; children who are neglected in their youth grow up with stunted oxytocin receptors. Researchers now think that oxytocin could help those with mental illnesses that affect sociability or empathy (like autism).

It's coincidental that I just read Above the Thunder and was thinking that I must have a lack of oxytocin in my system -- my mothering and nurturing instincts are low.

It's also coincidental that I was just talking to a friend of mine about how some really intelligent tech geeks are sort of autistic in that they aren't very good socially -- they can't read signals, they don't know how to interract with people, or sometimes even don't know why they should bother.

Perhaps we could all use a little extra oxytocin: I love you, you love me; let's take care of our family.

How Does Craigslist Work?

Tuesday, 27 May 108 22:18:00 PST

I just moved and have some household items I have to sell -- things that are too small or too big for the new place. Saturday morning I took some photos and posted two ads on craigslist. Six hours later, I removed said ads and was done with the whole business.

Quite frankly I was surprised it went so fast. A woman called and left a message about my dining room table and chairs while I was out for a late lunch. I returned her call and she wanted to come over and see it. The topic of fitting it into her car came up and she told me what kind of car she had and I said ok. I was excited someone was interested because it was the first phone call I'd gotten about the ads, but then I began to contemplate how crazy it was to invite a complete stranger over to my new home.

An hour later a man called, asked for me and said he was downstairs and I started to think...What a clever scam -- have the woman call and set up the appointment, but send the man to the actual address. Clever and diabolical indeed. But because I had gotten an email from a man's address with her name on it (she had a really unique name), I assumed they were husband and wife and I looked out the window and the car she had mentioned over the phone was downstairs so I went down and let them both in.

They came up, looked over the table and chairs, agreed they both wanted them, and then as she was counting money out of her wallet, she asked, So what do you do at ___? You work there, right? And I froze for a second, then said, How do you know that? And her husband laughed and said, caller id! Damn work issued cell phone! He continued, any anonymity you thought you had is gone. It made me laugh (and also immediately wonder if I'd called anyone else back).

Then 15 minutes later another couple came over to look at the rug. Again -- woman called, asked if she could she come over right now to look at it. I said ok. I got to the door and she was adorable and looked non-threatening. He had murder in his gorgeous sky blue eyes. But I let them both in anyway. She got excited about the rug, and he completely softened and became solicitous -- it was actually quite sweet. She paid me; they took the rug. The end.

I don't know the magic of craigslist and how it is that I've never had a bad experience on it. I've met people on craigslist, I've bought both my motorcycles off there, I found my writing group, I've found all of my SF apartments on there, and my pet rat, now I've even sold stuff, and almost every person I've interacted with via ads on craigslist has resulted in a pleasant experience (I had one slighly unpleasant experience with a woman trying to sell a motorcycle, but I didn't buy her bike and it wasn't that big of a deal). What are the odds though? And how often are there unpleasant experiences -- because I find it hard to believe all these strangers come together via anonymously posted ads and end in 100% satisfaction. I think I'm just lucky all my experiences have.

Not Living in a Studio Anymore

Saturday, 24 May 108 23:52:00 PST

A close friend of mine recently said, Kitty Kat...it's time you move into a bedroom now. Seriously. Yeah, yeah.

Every night this week I've run through the same ritual -- come home from work, walk through the entire flat to make sure there are no murderers or thieves hiding in any of the rooms, get a drink and go to bed (not to sleep but to watch tv or work on my laptop until I pass out). This is my version of moping. I don't want to see anyone or talk to anyone. I just want to be in my bed.

The other night this same friend (after I told him how I'd been spending my nights) said, Oh I get it -- you're in the living room because you're pretending you still live in a studio apartment! You moved into a studio with "extra" closet space! Actually I moved into a two bedroom flat.

Every time I come up the stairs to my flat, I think ahead to how I have to walk through the entire place before I can get comfortable. But I realized that I must've done the same thing in my last place -- it's just that all I had to do then was to walk through the living room to the bathroom and I had seen the entire place. I'm not more anxious here; a two bedroom place just requires more walking through :)

How We know We're Getting Old...

Friday, 23 May 108 1:08:00 PST

The father of my son called me the other day and told me this hilarious story. So he was at the gas station/diner/liquor store early in the morning one day -- he travels a lot for work so probably gas station -- and this young chick in her early 20s wearing a tiny little mini skirt and looking like she'd been up all night drinking and partying starts chatting him up asking about his tattoos and stuff. And he's thinking, hey, yeah, I've still got it...rock on when she asks him if he has any sons.

Um yeah

Can I have their number?

Yeah, well, he's 14

Yeah, can I have his number?

Uh, no...he's fourteen.

I didn't have the heart to tell him our child was 15. Though to be fair, he couldn't been 14 when the event actually occurred.

My son's father is charismatic -- he could always talk to the ladies, so I don't doubt that this little young thing saw potential in him as a sire of fine young sons she'd like to meet. But you know you're getting old when you cease to have potential as a mate, but the fruit of your loins sure looks interesting.

And he's not the only one getting older. It's fascinating to me to see how my body is changing -- all these years, I foolishly thought I was safe from all the bad things that happen to women's bodies as they get older, but gosh, was I wrong. This last year has been especially enlightening in this regard. Weight that I used to drop easily is much more tenacious. And exercise which I never used to get enough of -- is becoming more and more of a pain in the butt to make time and energy for. My body is more tired, my feet ache, I want more sleep.

But for all that, I can't complain about getting older. At least no one's asking me for my daughters' phone numbers yet ;)

Bay to Breakers 2008

Friday, 23 May 108 0:30:37 PST

Photos on flickr.com/sfkat:

Another Reason I'm a Girl

Tuesday, 20 May 108 22:07:54 PST

Another Bay to Breakers under our belts -- this year is my boyfriend's first. I think Tucker's first, too. I spent the day entirely too sober. In fact, half way through I was thinking to myself that I never wanted to do this again.

This is one of my favorite costumes (seen early in the day):

Tucker was trashed, and Ed was trashed and sans his wife. Normally Ineke keeps him occupied and happy, and without her, he's a little boy. The boys got into a tussle at one point and even when I know they're messing around, I can't stand to watch it -- I can't stand the idea that someone might get hurt. Tucker kept telling me what a good mommy I was the entire trip and I thought oh god...I've devolved to this...mommying my male friends.

This year there were a couple of nasty episodes -- perhaps every year there is ugliness and I've never noticed before because I've been intoxicated. It makes sense that tens of thousands of drunk people must result in some nastiness. But it turned me off to the whole thing. But next year will roll around and I'm sure I'll forget and we'll be here again, in our dirty bathrobes, walking up the hill with a bunch of drunks and the giant floats they're pushing into our ankles. (Pictures to come shortly).

One of the boys

Tuesday, 20 May 108 0:45:44 PST

My boyfriend works on a ship so he comes and lives with me for a month at a time. We've been together eight months but have only been in the same country for just over 11 weeks in total.

One of the things I realized on his last trip was that one of the reasons I fight relationships is because I want to keep being one of the guys. I don't want my boyfriend to take my place in my circle of guy friends! I don't want to miss hanging out with them because he's hanging out with them. I don't like the idea that guys night out will actually only be for guys and not include me anymore.

The other thing I realized was that I'm being slowly edged out of the guy group whether I have a boyfriend or not. And after thinking about it for a while I realized that it's been happening for a while now and I'm ok with it. I like hanging out with the girls -- I actually prefer them. I was out with the boys one night last week and it was 3 of them and me (including my boyfriend) and they were talking about their bachelor party weekend and whatnot and I was bored! Partly because I'd heard all the stories before, but partly because there were no other women to goof on the men with me or to counter with bachelorette party stories with.

I don't know why it is that as I get older I care more about my clothes and my earrings and my makeup and making aprons and photo albums and pretty little table settings. Good god, if I'd known this was what I'd turn into when I was 17, I probably would've cried my little heart out and tried to extinguish myself. But here I am, 17 years later and I'm having fun. And I'm a girl, goddamnit, a real honest to god girl and I never would have guessed it, but I like it.

Let Me Upgrade You

Saturday, 29 March 108 18:18:22 PST

I purposely stopped blogging here because I thought I was going to start a couple of new blogging projects. Except I just kept thinking about them and didn't end up starting either one.

So I'm back here now and contemplating upgrades. This blog software is ancient and needs a lot of hand holding to do simple things like updating the side nav. I can never remember which side nav file to edit. And I have to manually run the perl script everytime I add a new entry (I could set up a cron job but that might take me 30 seconds). I have to touch a file if I edit it to maintain the original timestamp. I can't turn on commenting or any of the other bells and whistles up to date, modern blogs have without installing and configuring additional software. I feel like I'm a decade behind.

I've always been a do-it-myself kind of girl. Use the software I have the most control over, write my own apps. But these days, I find it's foolish to try to do everything yourself. What you want is to be able to pull data from all your multiple sources and get it in one place. The other thing that I'm slowly starting to enjoy is the social aspect of sites like flickr.com and goodreads.com -- you can share books with your friends and browse other people's neat photos, make comments on, make new friends, join communities of like minded folks.

I know, I know, online communities were all the new thing like 10 years ago or more, and I have a bunch of profiles that prove I was aware of this long ago, but I clung to the old notion that my data, my content, had to be hosted only on a server I owned for a very long time. It took me forever to get on flickr because I was torn about this -- my files on someone else's server? It used to make me uncomfortable. Now, I appreciate and understand the value of these services. The only thing I'm concerned about now is migrating content over from one app to another. I moved all of my book reviews to goodreads, but that was easy because I only had 5 or 6 of them here. What about all my photo albums that aren't in flickr? Or all these blog entries when I move to blogger? I haven't quite figured that one out yet.

Flu Kitteh Visits the Doctor

Wednesday, 26 March 108 23:16:00 PST

This is me. Except I'm not in your house licking your straws. And the thought of drinking soda makes me a little queasy. In fact, the only things on my approved diet list right now are white rice and chicken soup. Sometimes I have some potato chips for salt, but I don't know why I'm craving salt since I drink at least a gallon of water a day. I drink the stuff non stop because my throat is continually parched and sore and needs an endless supply of hot water to soothe it. And sometimes I have a couple of mini Twix bars and some Red Vines. For variety. Though I've found that if I eat anything other than the rice and soup, my digestive system starts to malfunction and breaks down.

I've been sick for seven days. And not really getting any better. I finally went to the doctor today and got some meds. I've been out of work for 5 days so far -- 5 days! Starting last Thursday. I've worked from home on every single one of those days. I think Thursday and Friday, I'm going to try resting instead. Maybe that'll help me feel better.

I have a thing about going to the doctor. He never really tells me anything I don't know when I'm sick. I can probably fight off whatever I have on my own eventually. And it costs me money since he's outside my network (he used to be in my network which is why he's my doctor to begin with, but no longer is). Combine that with my father's diagnosis of "You'll be fine" to whatever it is I have all my life, and you can see how I have mixed feelings about going to the doctor.

But seeing the doctor makes me feel good -- he makes me feel better and I feel like I've done something good for myself. I like my doctor. Do I think he's a genius with an answer to every one of my questions? No, but he does pretty damn well and he makes me feel like he cares, he remembers my last visit, he's comforting to me. I've never had a doctor before that I felt that way about. He listens to my lungs, looks at my tonsils, listens to the symptoms and progression of my illness, he nods and listens and contributes to my descriptions. He gives me a list of meds to take for the symptoms that most bother me, and prescribes antibiotics.

Being sick is like living in someone else's body for a while -- your body is an alien to you. What is this weird slimy stuff coming out of my head? Why can't I eat the stuff I normally eat? Why can't I think? Every little act -- for example, leaving the house -- becomes an traumatic ordeal. I walked to Walgreen's on Easter Sunday -- 10 minute walk to the store and my body was sweating and chilled and I felt so uncomfortable both physically and mentally. Meds cramp up your tummy, food makes you sick. Your bowels are your enemy and your head is a giant cotton puff -- good for nothing but collecting lint. And like this, I think I can work. Eh...tomorrow I sleep.

Our Multiverse

Tuesday, 25 September 107 22:21:28 PST

I've been obsessed with this New Scientist article I read recently about how there is not one universe, but there are multiverses. If you're familiar with Schrödinger's Cat, the multiverse theory implies that it doesn't matter if the cat is dead or alive when you open the box, there is another universe where the cat is the opposite.

So in the simplest scenario, imagine the world you live in, the world you know -- or at least the reality you know -- and that there is another one of you that does the exact opposite of what you do. That's the simple version because it implies binary choices. Now imagine how many multiverses there really must be. And then imagine what this means morally? The better a person I am in the universe I know, there must be another entangled me in different universe that is just as evil as I am good. So what's to compell me to be good?

Last week, Ed and I were talking about an article he'd read about how this world could be a simulation. I found a few papers out there on the topic so I'm not sure exactly which one he read, but it stuck with me. And now I wonder -- would you bother to run a simulation if the multiverse theory were true? Wouldn't the simulation spawn the extra multiverses it needed, then what would be the point of observing one over another?

Then, there's Dexter. I'm beginning to think that watching that show is actually taxing my mental health, but all of this ties in together. Dexter. What's wrong with being a serial killer? If, say in another universe, you're a doctor helping people live? There's a scene in the episode called Circle of Friends, where Dexter is talking to another killer in jail and asks, What do you normally feel?, and his friend answers, Nothing. Fucking nothing at all. So empty. But in our multiverses, there'd be a him somewhere that didn't feel empty. Would emptiness mean anything then?

Your Friendly Serial Killer

Tuesday, 18 September 107 0:18:00 PST

I've been absorbed in Dexter, the Showtime series about the blood forensics expert/serial killer. I love this criticism of the media buzz around Dexter on the Media Research Center's site (a conservative group). I found it humorous.

I'll admit to having a long time fascination with serial killers. I used to read true crime novels (those hideously unliterary little mass market books) when I was a kid and was always especially interested in the serial killers -- the ones that were compelled to repeat their rituals over and over and over again. I see in my son this same fascination with death. The last time he was here he picked up a death encyclopedia. I told him he could pick between that and a coloring book on brain anatomy (we were at Paxton Gate). I was hoping to color the amygdala with him and talk about anatomy or something foolishly educational. Of course, he chose the book that catalogued different ways people died and when (which, btw, he's learned quite a lot from), and I picked up a black and white photograph of what looked like a pile of dead dolls.

My fascination with murderers is partly why I love crime dramas. Though I also love them because each episode is discrete -- you don't have to watch an entire season to get it. Sure, there are some insignificant narratives that arc through a season, but I'm only interested in the crime. That human relationship stuff always makes me impatient.

Last night, I saw the most gruesome CSI episode: Pirates of the Third Reich. Why is it that every strong, independent, intelligent, attractive woman on TV just happens to own a pair of knee high black leather boots and a matching bull whip for just the right occassion? Like whipping your daughter's murderer to death. The episode was about a methodically organized serial killer (much like Dexter). And in both the CSI episode and the Dexter series, there is just enough gore to be a little scary, but not enough to make me turn away.

The thing with Dexter is that he really doesn't seem that off. The things he thinks aren't so foreign to me. I was thinking tonight how it's a little like anthropomorphizing an animal. Not that I would equate a human being to, say, a cat, though arguably you could say that by society's standards, serial killers aren't "human". But, it's a little like that -- attributing feelings and thoughts to something, a person in this case, that don't actually exist. But in the series, Dexter's desire to fit in, to live a normal life -- isn't that what we all want? Maybe it's harder for some of us than for others, or maybe I don't understand your average person very well, or god forbid, maybe I'm giving away too much about myself when I say that I can relate to what that character thinks. I feel like he's just a lonely, longing person who feels like he's missing something, play acting through life, a different mask for different situations, and I think many of us have felt the same way. And I think that's the point the show is making -- that he's a serial killer, but he's still just a person like you and me.

The cinematography is gorgeous. The scenes from the opening credits make the mundane look threatening and murderous. It's like an mini allegory for the entire series. And you would have never thought that a butchered, bloodless body wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine could be beautiful. But I promise you, it is.

Dreaming About Mom

Monday, 10 September 107 23:15:00 PST

I dreamt about my mother last night. I haven't done that since she died. I don't know if I've ever done that -- I can't recall ever dreaming about her, but it's hard to remember dreams anyway.

I remembered it vividly while I slept, but now all I remember is that I dreamt that she came back from the dead and was sitting at a table with us talking about dying. In the dream, I so heartbroken. I was crying in my sleep and I woke up in the middle of the night crying.

I think it affected my entire day. I wanted to stay isolated, dwelling on my own thoughts. And now, for the first time in many weeks, I feel lonely, like I'm missing something.

The other day I saw a hummingbird on my patio for the first time since I've lived here. My plants are doing awesome on the patio and are blooming like crazy right now. Some of the plants I took from my mother's garden are blooming for the first time since I've had them. This weekend, I looked out on the patio and saw a hummingbird in the geraniums. My sister thinks that when a hummingbird visits her, it's mom. I don't believe that but because she does, whenever I see one, I think of both her and my mom.

For me, there are multiple types of "writing". There's my hardcopy journal, my blog, my fiction, and then long personal emails. And each pulls at me at different times. I think I write in my journal and send personal emails least often, my fiction second, and my blog first. But fiction's moving on up. I want it to win out over all the others. I dragged myself out of almost sleep last night and this morning to start a new story. Answering the call to write is natural now in a way that hasn't been for a long time. And it keeps me sane and content and hopeful in a way I haven't felt in a long time either.

Liberals Are Smarter!

Sunday, 9 September 107 22:47:28 PST

I mentioned (only semi jokingly) recently that liberals were smarter than conservatives. Now I have research that backs me up! Please note, though, that I admit that a) I have a slanted view of this issue, and b) am not a scientist. Real scientists in New York have shown that brain scans could eventually predict voting patterns.

Study participants had to push two buttons based on whether they saw the letter "M" or "W", but each person was shown the same letter 80% of the time. For the other 20% of the time, conservatives only managed to hit the right button 53% of the time, while liberals were better at adapting to the change and hit the correct button 63% of the time. I personally think that being able to quickly adapt to change means you can think better on your feet, adjust arguments to be more appropriate for the conversation at hand, handle crises without melting down, better see someone else's point of view (e.g. empathy), etc. Isn't that a sign of greater intelligence?! I'd bet you Daniel Goleman would think so.

This finding supports another study that conservatives stick to what they know and are habitual creatures (I'd link to the article, but it's only available for a fee). If you are stuck in your ways of thinking and unable to adapt, doesn't that also mean you are less likely to evolve? And therefore less fit to survive? See how this all fits in with my theory?

The article also says that voting predilections could arguably be genetic -- but what about learned behaviours? What about how neural pathways change with different stimuli? I can't imagine that how you vote is *all* genetic. And another caveat (in my opinion) is that the study only contained 43 people -- that seems like an awful small sampling of people. But again...I'm not a scientist.

My Son, The Jock

Friday, 7 September 107 10:49:56 PST

My son called me yesterday just after his first water polo practice and I was so proud of him! Not because I want him to be some high school jock, but precisely because he's not. I've tried to encourage him to exercise, to moderate what he eats and to make healthier choices. I try to lead by example and hope that my passion for running and vegetables gets ingrained in his brain and sprouts new neurons that help associate running -> mom -> good.

Treading water for a long time is hard. Even more so for someone who isn't in physical shape. He just had his first practice but they have their first game this week. And he doesn't have to play if he doesn't feel comfortable, but he said he thought he'd give it a shot anyway.

He just started high school, too, so I was asking how he liked it. He says he's getting pushed around. Walking down the hall, someone'll just push him against the lockers. Being a girl, I didn't know this kind of torment in high school. I think there was some mild freshman hazing in band (yes, I was in my high school band), but it was nothing. Is that because you're the new kid? Yeah. So I guess it's happening to your friends, too? No, just me. Porsch (his older sister) thinks its because of the way I dress. Cause they're all gangsters.

Oh, it made my heart cringe! I was picturing him in my head in his clothes and wondering what about them might be offensive -- a futile exercise really because what do I know about what's in the minds of today's teenagers? Not to mention teenagers growing up in a different environment than I did. I didn't even know what was in their minds when I was one of them.

Are you going to join a gang? No, mom, why would I do that?

I'm proud of him because he's strong and makes do. Like I do. You learn what lessons you can, then move on. Not to say that nothing gets to you and that things don't end up festering in your heart, but there's a resilience that makes even the worst of things bearable enough to get through. Because if they weren't, you'd end up crazy or dead. High school isn't forever, but it always seems like it is.

The Kindness of Strangers

Wednesday, 5 September 107 1:11:24 PST

I've had the nicest (and funniest) experience with strangers the last two days. Last night when I got to the 24th and Mission Bart station from SFO, I stopped at my favorite burrito place to eat and went outside to stand near the bus stop to have a cigarette before I hailed a cab home. As soon as I had my cigarette lit, someone came up to me and offered me a ride home. I saw him before I went in to eat, and he looked and seemed friendly and I didn't get any creepy vibes at all, so I said yes. He ended up being as friendly as I suspected he might be -- we talked about work and where we lived and riding motorcycles on Skyline. As we got closer to home, I was worried he'd ask for my number, but he didn't -- just gave me the name of the place he worked at in case I ever wanted to stop by.

This morning, I was sitting on the bench in front of Hahn's Hibachi on Castro (around the corner from my shuttle stop because I didn't want to be smoking in front of my colleagues), and I had a bunk book of matches from the Hard Rock Hotel in Vegas and couldn't get the damn thing lit. Every time I'd strike a match, it'd flare up, then immediately die. As I'm struggling with the matches, this guy comes up to me and offers to help light it and takes the book of matches from me. I told him thanks, but the matches were bunk, so he takes four at a time, fails in lighting them, then acquiesces that I was right. I ask if he's got a lighter by chance and he says no, but wait -- I'm going to get that lit for you (though you shouldn't be smoking those anyway) and takes off. I thought he'd gone away so I snuck into the doorway of Hahn's Hibachi and again, try the matches, but then he returns with a lighter and lights my smoke. I think he went to Walgreens two doors down to buy a lighter to light my cigarette. So I thank him profusely and he walks away again. Then I'm sitting on the bench, holding a bunch of used matches in my fingers (cause god forbid I litter), reading my book, enjoying my smoke, and he walks by again and grabs the burnt out matches out of my hand as he passes to toss them out! I thanked him again.

I love that movie, Pay It Forward because it's touching and beautiful and because I think it would actually work. Because random acts of kindness engender other random acts of kindness. After that guy lit my cigarette this morning, I picked up some trash lying in a flower pot I was sitting next to. Perhaps it doesn't seem kind, but I don't know if I would've noticed the paper sack wrapped beer can or would have thought to throw it away if it hadn't been for that stranger. And I've been thinking about these two things that happened to me recently because I consider myself a kind person, but how often do I go out of my way to do something nice for someone I don't know -- not often at all. But I'm rethinking that.

Since we're on the topic of strangers...I had funny thing happen to me tonight as I was leaving my gym. It was just about 11pm and I saw this attractive couple out in front of the Four Seasons Hotel next to the gym and there's a guy walking down the sidewalk asking the man if the woman is with him. He responds, yes, and the guy says, You guys are an attractive couple -- you look good together, and as I reach him on the sidewalk he turns to me and says, Do you know where you'd look good? No, where? In my bed. And I start laughing! Not in a cruel, mocking kind of way (cause that's mean), but in a genuinely amused kind of way (because I am). And he says, in the lingerie I'd have picked out for you, you'd look scrumptious, man! Scrumptious! Fresh peals of laughter, and a thank you. That made my night -- who uses scrumptious anymore?! :)

Decadence of Vegas

Tuesday, 4 September 107 2:24:44 PST

Vegas is lights, slot machines jingling 24/7, hot women dressed in their sexiest clothes, guys trying to impress, drinking, smoking, dancing like strippers, and money blown like there'll be no tomorrow. This is good for three days tops. In fact, a three day visit is the ideal length of time -- you have at least two full nights of partying, plus a possible 3rd if you're hardcore (which I'm not). This gives you enough time to enjoy the pool, gamble a bit, try out various restaurants, and still have enough time to rest a bit before each evening's outing. I didn't actually do much of any of that because I spent each day recovering from the night before -- not in a sick kind of recovering -- more a relaxed, sleep all day kind of recovery which was nice.

I was looking around me at the fascinating mix of people this weekend. It doesn't matter how beautiful you are, there is always someone hotter, thinner, and younger than you in Vegas. Look at us -- three cuties about to hit the town, and none of us could stop ogling the other eye candy around us -- mostly women because as one cab driver said, Vegas is a place where women wear their sluttiest clothes and don't look slutty doing it (well, he said something along those lines anyway :)

I thought Justin Timberlake said something clever when he said who came up with this idea that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? He said he was from Tenneesee and what happens in the backwoods there should stay there, but this shit that goes on in Vegas -- everyone should know about that. The next night, I'm in a cab and the driver's telling me how this thing about what happens in Vegas should stay in Vegas was the best thing ever -- cause the girls just go crazy out here. I don't know what exactly "crazy" means to him, but for me it's letting go just a little -- wearing the clothes I hardly ever wear at home, not being embarrassed about being drunk out of my mind, and dancing with my skirt hiked up to my ass with Ineke. That's Vegas.

Favorite quote from this trip: She's a classy broad. That's why we bring her with us.

Recommendations from this trip:

Forty Deuce is always a blast. The girls that dance there look like they're having real fun, and the 3 man band is great. And I like the crowd mix.
StripSteak had both really great food and really great service
If you need a safety pin to pop a blister, the Logo Store has a great assortment of sundries (better than The Store in The Hotel at the Mandalay Bay).
If you're staying at The Hotel at Mandalay Bay and you ask for a fold out couch and they say they'll give you one -- they're lying. They've lied to us twice about it now. But they will bring you up a comfy ass cot instead.

The Nicotine Patch is Evil

Friday, 31 August 107 13:38:03 PST

I have never been able to kick my nicotine addiction. I'm always either smoking or trying to quit. Except I never really try that hard. Instead of quitting smoking, what I've actually done is replaced cigarettes with nicotine patches that I supplement with the occassional cigarette. And if I feel like getting back into full on smoker mode, I just stop wearing the patch for a week or two. Then get back on it.

I think what the patch has done for me is actually worse than what would've happened to me without it. Not only is it a crutch (actually more like a cane) that helps me get through withdrawl, but it's an artificial "out" that lets me allow myself to smoke whenever I please -- because it'll be easy to quit; just get on the patch! And surely, I tell myself, being on the patch all the time is better than smoking every day.

Without the patch, I'd either still be smoking a pack+ a day towards inevitable death, or would have tried quitting several times before (hopefully) succeeding to slow down in my approach to inevitable death. Right now, I'm in this middle ground where I'm not a real smoker, and I'm not a real quitter, and I have no idea what my death stats are.

I think part of my problem is I have an inflated and false sense that I am safer from the cancer causing effects of smoking than most other smokers. Because I work out regularly, because there is no family history, because other people in my family smoke. I'm not afraid of it. The more dangerous and risky a drug is, the easier it is to use the fact that you don't want to die as the impetus to quit for good and never look back. An overdose is immediate, and guaranteed if you overindulge. Overindulge in cigarettes and maybe you'll get diarrhea and a bad stomach cramp and headache (I'm making those symptoms up). Dying from cigarettes takes time. Too long to be a deterrent.

I read this article the other day about how most mouth and throat cancers have decreased as expected with the reduced rates of smoking. Except for those at the base of the tongue and tonsils. They think it's caused by HPV (the genital warts virus). Now, if you had to choose, would you want to tell your mother you had throat cancer from a) giving head or b) smoking? Ding, ding ding! I choose smoking -- it's the best of both worlds (interpret that how you will ;)

Lessons in Adulthood

Thursday, 30 August 107 0:31:04 PST

I came home last night after seeing Avenue Q with my friends and my power was out (damn that construction!). Luckily I had a headlamp hanging on a doorknob nearby and it was late anyway so I got settled in for the night. Getting ready for bed by candlelight/headlamp is fine. The only thing that sucks about no power is no internet (and no open wireless networks near home either).

The musical was really good! We had a biggish group -- eight of us, and every single one of us had a good time. We were talking about it well after we left the show -- and some of us were still thinking of it today. My favorite (and possible spoilers coming up in case you don't want to read ahead) characters were the Bad Idea Bears. Just imagine the cutest little baby puppet voices on Sesame Street giving you horrendous, unsolicited advice, then being really, really heartbreakingly sad when you don't take it. For example: you're depressed, your friends, the Bad Idea Bears, come to visit. In his sweet little baby voice, one says, you should hang yourself while the other one runs offstage, comes back, and in her sweetest little baby voice says (as she hands you a noose) with this piece of rope I found!. Their suggestions are so awful, but their enthusiasm is so contagious, and my goodness, you don't want to hurt two of the cutest little baby monsters you've ever seen, do you?!

Ed said he heard something on the radio about how it's supposed to be like life lessons for adults. It's not just a parody of Sesame Street -- it is Sesame Street fror adults. There are all these shows and educational programs about how to be a kid, a teen, a college student. What about when we leave college and we have all our fool headed ideas about what adulthood is like? Where are our educational programs about how to deal with our ever growing bills, or how to save money when you're making minimum wage, or how it's ok to have no idea what you want to do with your life even though you're in your 30's? What about those lessons, huh?!

Well, this show is it. It tells you straight up how a B.A. in English is a useless degree, how there's a fine line between love and a waste of time, how everyone's a little bit racist, depression isn't uncommon, life is mundane, not everyone knows what their purpose in life is, the more you love someone, the more you want to kill that person, throwing pennies off super tall buildings is bad, the internet is for porn, everyone's a little empty inside, and even well educated people can't get a job. I feel so smart because I'm so familiar with all these lessons -- it's like reading ahead for the exam. Except the exam is every damn day. Thank god I have a good sense of humor and singing puppets are funny.

The show only runs until the end of this week (Sept 2) in San Francisco so see it if you can. You can find a list of other tour dates on the official Avenue Q website.

The Joy of Writing

Tuesday, 28 August 107 0:15:00 PST

The weeks that I have to turn in a story for my writing group are good because they force me to email out something that's somewhat "complete". I haven't turned in anything longer than 3 pages and none of them I could really consider complete, but that I'm writing fiction at all is a delicious thing.

Lately I come home at night and I'm compelled to write and it feels good. I was talking to a good friend tonight about how when you hate work, it's a really tough thing because you spend so much of your time there. And until fairly recently, I was miserable at work for many months. And all that time I was trying to sort out what it was I wanted to do next. I have a lot of interests, I considered a lot of different things, but in the end what I love and have always loved is writing. The only reason I haven't pursued it is because I'm scared. I look at what Marg has done, and what Ineke is planning to do, and look at the other independent women on the periphery of my life, and I find what they've done, or are working on, inspiring. Fear is a silly thing to let get in the way of something you really want to do.

Now that I have a long term goal -- something I haven't had since I moved to San Francisco -- I'm content. I'm still not crazy about work, but everything's tolerable when you know you're working towards something better.

I haven't really written fiction since I graduated college. I half assed wrote one complete, new story when I applied to graduate writing programs years ago, but nothing since then. My new stories lately weave in bits and pieces of my real life in a way that's entirely new to me. My stories in college were complete fictions, and while imaginative, are completely different from the stories I've been writing lately. It's still fiction, but drawing on the pieces of my nonfiction experience has been interesting.

I obsessively read over a submission several times before I hit send. Part of it is the editorial process, and the other part is just hearing it over and over again in my head because it pleases me, and because I'm trying to hear if it'll please other people, too. So many people know I write and so few have read any of my fiction. Somehow it's ok to present it to less initimate people to critique, and scarier to give it to someone you care about to read. An intimacy and trust I'm not confident enough for. Yet.

96th Birthday

Saturday, 25 August 107 22:58:01 PST

We went to my grandma's 96th birthday party today. Seeing me and my sister always makes my grandmother cry. And it's hard on my aunt and uncle, too -- the ones that were closest to my mom. All of which wets my eyes and breaks my heart (used to make me bawl).


Grandma on her 96th birthday	Cousin Joseph, Me, Doug, Cousin Allis, Jess

Revisiting the Accident

Saturday, 25 August 107 22:26:00 PST

To attend Grandma's birthday, we were driving on the freeway my mom died on today and it's a regular drive for my sister, but it's only the 2nd time I've driven it since my mom's accident over a year and a half ago. As we were driving home, I was watching the side of the road wondering how the hell she drifted off into the dirt shoulder when the asphalt shoulder is so wide, but then it narrows and I imagine that must be where.

In my obsessive post death search for anything related to my mom, I found a callous post on some usenet group about her accident and it made me so upset. Just a couple of days ago, I happened across it again unintentionally and it incited some old anger in me. But it quelled pretty quickly. Death is so commonplace -- it's meaningless unless it's personal. According to the Fatality Analysis Reporting System, over 39,000 people die a year in fatal car accidents in the U.S. (at least back in 2005 and trending upward every year). And according to the CDC, motor vehicle fatalities were only about 0.02% of all fatalities per year in the U.S between 1988-1992 (source: Atlas of United States Mortality), though motor vehicle accidents are the leading cause of injury death in the U.S. (between 1979-2004).

At over 2 million deaths a year, that averages out to close to 6000 deaths per day (rounding liberally).

It's been long enough that I can start weaving the story of her death into my stories. Bits and pieces of that whole experience (most of which I've blogged here) will color both the fiction and nonfiction I write for probably the rest of my life. One random death on one day like any other, but this one was my personal death.

Burning Man Sex and Out of Body Porn

Thursday, 23 August 107 22:52:24 PST

I love this Violet Blue article on Burning Man. It cracks me up. I've been to burning man twice and will probably never go back. I think it's vaguely cool that people are so into it, and every year as the buzz about it grows and it gets closer and closer to Labor Day weekend, I get the slightest itch to go back. But I'll never scratch it -- it's just not my scene. I love the art, I love the enormous installations, I love the community feel, I love the communal environmental activism, I even sort of love the playa and don't mind being covered in dirt all the time. But it's a little too hip for me, a few too many people that are too into it, and a little too much effort to be in costume for an entire week. It's like one big rave where everyone looks and is cool, and I don't do either well.

In other news: out of body experiences scientifically explained. Now we know that it's not a) a psychic phenomenon, and b) it's not just something that happens to loonies. Just imagine the applications in porn!

Shrinks vs God

Thursday, 23 August 107 22:50:37 PST

I love this quote by Ann Coulter: Liberals go to therapy. Conservatives go to church. (Right Wing News compiled her best quotes from last year -- most of them are too long, but some of them are real gems). It's so true, isn't it? Priests, pastors, confessors -- they're really like shrinks (is shrink a derogatory term?)

I stopped seeing mine. Not for any particular reason other than I've been too lazy to call my insurance to see what it'd cost me to keep seeing her. But I also felt like I'd go in and just sort of sit there, not sure what to talk about. We spent the first session talking about my mother, then she never came up again and she was the reason I was there in the first place!

I had four sessions with her and in two of them she asked if I thought I had a drinking problem. And I said no both times (btw, I'm quite confident I do not have a drinking problem). So when I woke up on the morning of my 4th scheduled apointment with a raging hangover, I called in sick -- I wasn't about to go in there after I'd just told her I didn't have a drinking problem, hung over on a school morning! I'm sure she would've been suspect of the validity of my previous denials. Besides, I was too hungover to talk.

So I've started to blog about more personal things again. Mostly because I'm no longer worried about future employers finding this blog. If you search for me, there isn't anything I'm really ashamed of online. No naked photos of me (at least none with my face -- haha, just kidding, potential future employer!), no stories about late night drugfests (just the occasional boozefest with friends), no compromising videos, no crime or violence. Just my raw voice. Oozing with sarcasm and heavy handed with profanity. It's me! Yay!

I read this in the news today about a settlement in racial harassment suit against a health clinic. It obliquely reminded me of some of Ann Coulter's quotes. Racism in code words -- think about it -- that someone would come up with coded language (not very well coded) to deride someone else because of race. Sneak attack racism. Who the fuck comes up with this stuff? And how much hate must you have in your black coal heart to think this is ok -- in a place of healing even. Tsk tsk.