June 29, 2008

30 till 30: Day 19

I saw Wall-E last night, and now I have the entirety of Short Circuit running on loop in my head. If you think that's helpful when you're trying to put together the table of contents for a literary magazine—well, no.

















Separated at birth? Perhaps. Indelibly etched in the BCB's mind? Oh yes.

June 28, 2008

30 till 30: Days 17 & 18

The last few books I've read make a weird trio: John Berger's Here Is Where We Meet, Lisa Lutz's Meet the Spellmans, and Sarah Vowell's Assassination Vacation.

The first is a lovely, spare novel by one of my favorite writers (try At the Wedding by way of meeting him), the second is a cheesy but entertaining local mystery that I snagged from the shelf of advance copies at work (I heart free books), and the third is by a very funny writer who turns up on NPR a lot—but it took me an incredibly long time to get through, because I just don't care that much about the minutia of dead presidents' lives. Daughter of a historian and all.

The main lesson I learned is that mysteries aren't great bedtime reading. My brain is active enough when I'm trying to make it rest. I should stick with short stories that tie up neatly and don't complicate my dreams.

June 26, 2008

30 till 30: Days 15 & 16

Happy halfway point!

To celebrate the fact that I get to spend the remainder of my 20s reading about Ecuador, I just went to Peet's for one of their new blended tea thingies with the sort of human name. I'm not sure what was in there, except for tea and a lot of whipped cream, but it was a good excuse for a walk.

June 24, 2008

30 till 30: Day 14

I like to think of myself as pretty quick on the uptake, but it took a really long time to dawn on me that I didn't just have to suffer in my sweat lodge of an apartment. That's why natural selection made landlords.

One phone call and one plumber visit later, the insatiable radiator in my living room has been shut down for the summer. Apparently, the whole building is on the same heating timer, so I have no control over it when it's attached to that system. But it can be disconnected at will.

All together now: The heat is . . . OFF!

June 23, 2008

30 till 30: Day 13

Say that on the way home from work, you get the urge to make soba sesame noodles. Then you realize how delicious it would be to have some sautéed spinach with garlic on the side. So you stop at the little market a block from the subway to buy spinach, and there's a display of enormous red cherries. Fruit and greens in hand, you head home and drop your bag and take off your winter coat, because San Francisco has no idea if it wants to be Hawaii or Iceland. Then you cook up the noodles and the vegetables, and the whole thing only takes 20 minutes, and you put it in a bowl and eat it and it tastes exactly like you imagined it would. Then you have some cherries, and they're sweet and perfect.

Instant gratification in real time. That's the only reason (well, plus Netflix) I can sit down to edit again after editing all day, and maybe even enjoy it.

June 22, 2008

30 till 30: Days 10 & 11 & 12

So the daily post isn't turning out that way, but I promise I'm doing my best. It's probably smart to reset expectations by saying that I'll post as often as my gorilla-size schedule allows between now and birthday time. A few random snippets from the weekend:

First my electric toothbrush died (but it did set longevity records first), now my electric kettle seems to have died. The funny part is that I stood there for a full five minutes being pissed that I couldn't make tea, then turned about two degrees to the left and saw my regular old teapot all squat and red and functional on the stove. Poor outdated technology gets no respect.

The heat wave broke none too soon—I loved that I had to wear a coat today. But my leather jacket fell apart a few months ago (today's theme: possession death), and I'm really sensing the void. I can't remember ever not having a leather jacket as an adult. It feels like a weirdly critical part of my style. But I've spent some long afternoons in Mission and Haight thrift stores, and my new leather baby just hasn't shown up yet. Keep your fingers crossed.

I got to walk through a tunnel and swing on a swing and slide down a slide and climb around on a jungle gym yesterday. Remember being a little kid? Those were some fun times.

June 19, 2008

30 till 30: Day 9

For the past few days, I've had that nagging about-to-get-a-cold feeling, made worse by nights of tossing and turning in my extremely warm apartment.

I'm a believer in trying homeopathy before reaching for the hard drugs. But staying home, going to sleep early, avoiding caffeine and alcohol, not running too hard, inhaling steam, popping the occasional Wal-Profen, and drinking so much water that I feel inflatable haven't done much.

This afternoon, my wise friend Mary recommended hot water with lemon, honey, and a little whiskey. I have a jar of honey from my stepbrother's bees, but the only liquor I keep on hand is clear. Then I remembered: that fifth of a bottle of Maker's Mark left over from my 28th birthday party. Did it survive the move from Oakland?

It did. I put a few drops in my tea, and my throat feels about a thousand times better. I'm still heading to sleep at a preschool hour tonight, but my mental magic 8-ball says the outlook is good for a healthy weekend.

June 18, 2008

30 till 30: Days 7 & 8

Two things I'm proud of today:

1. A little, in a nostalgic way: The Celtics winning their first championship since the mid-'80s, which is probably the last time I saw them play. (My bro was a huge Lakers fan when we were kids. Guess we were destined for the West Coast even back then.)

2. A lot, in an it's-about-time way: All the absolutely thrilled couples getting married at San Francisco city hall and across the state. Seriously, even a 30-second report about this on NPR makes me cry. I've never heard people sound so happy.

June 16, 2008

30 till 30: Day 6

Today marks my head-first dive into enormous piles of work that will munch away at my sanity until early July. Three things: Canteen #3, Moon Handbooks Ecuador, the August issue.

I wish I had more exciting news, but sometimes this is just how I roll. So sleepy. See you tomorrow.

June 15, 2008

30 till 30: Day 5

Every time I go to L.A., it feels like a difference place, and I haven't liked any of those places too much. But now I think I've finally found my Brooklyn of the lower West Coast: Santa Monica.

Thanks to my enthusiastic and creative hostess, I learned that there are great bookstore/cafés and really cheap massages and underground dance parties and an uncrowded waterfront for strolling, plus a Big Blue Bus™ that shuttles you around when you're too weary for the afternoon walk home.

We also discovered the world's most delicious potato tacos at 3 a.m., which is exactly when potato tacos should be eaten. Please stash that bit of wisdom in your back pocket.

June 14, 2008

30 till 30: Day 4

Ladies and gentlemen, the birthday card bar has been set—and set high.
(Grandma warning: Mild obscenity to follow, with flagrant use of italics. Cover your eyes.)

Cover: Two women chatting.
W1: "Where's your birthday party at?"
W2: "Don't end a sentence with a preposition."

Inside: Same two women.
W1: "Where's your birthday party at, bitch?"

As always, the Semi knows what's what, and I dare you not to love her for it.

June 13, 2008

30 till 30: Day 3

It's so nice out, I think I'll go to L.A. to visit the Semiotician.

Tales of southern hijinks coming soon.

June 12, 2008

30 till 30: Day 2

I was obsessed with musicals when I was a kid. My Fair Lady, South Pacific, A Chorus Line, Oklahoma, Bye-Bye Birdie...I'd listen to nothing else.

My family sat
through epic performances by the children's theater company I joined. They patiently watched me play Elsa in The Sound of Music, the Artful Dodger in Oliver, a pregnant hooker in Kurt Vonnegut's God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater. All the standard roles.

In college, musicals started to annoy me. Since then, I haven't been able to listen to one without wincing. Except for a few nostalgic favorites—see above—I don't have the patience to sit through that kind of show today.

Unless it's free. Last night, I took advantage of some press passes and went to see Hairspray at the elegant Orpheum Theater. And I have to admit, it was kind of awesome.

The lights! The songs! The costumes! The hair! All around us, delighted schoolgirls and flammable men applauded and whistled and danced in their seats. So now I'm not afraid to say: Every decade or so, bring on a good musical. I'm in.

June 11, 2008

30 till 30: Day 1

In exactly 30 days, I'll wake up with no more 20s left. How about that?

To commemorate the transition to adulthood, I think I'll post a little something every day from now until then.
Last time I did this, I was getting ready to leave Paris (warning: very ugly, outdated website), and it really helped pass the time.

I'll also buy a house, throw away my "Fabulous Disaster" T-shirt with the skull and crossbones, and register for a complete set of CorningWare.

Or, you know, not. But the posting idea seems good.

June 09, 2008

This is my brain on ship week

Our daily lives consist of work and human connection. Even when we're not doing one of those two things, we're trying to do them or thinking about them or worrying about them or feeling pleased about them.

During the day, I work and I communicate. Reading, typing, talking, fixing, disseminating, running into old friends in the street, assessing strangers from behind sunglasses. When my brain kicks into overdrive at bedtime, I'm either going over work in my head or anticipating it, or I'm thinking about my relationships and where they are and where they're going, including the ones that don't exist yet. Sometimes it all melds into an impossibly tangled panorama called dreams.

My dreams are often long, colorful, shot in widescreen format, full of people I haven't seen in years or never knew very well. Childhood friends whose real faces I'm not sure I could pick out of a lineup. Or entire work days, totally banal and so realistic that I feel like I haven't slept when it's time to get up and start all over. Nightmares are always anticipation, too—nothing bad ever happens, but I know with complete clarity that it will. It's just a matter of waiting.

When I run, I tell myself I need to stay healthy because of the energy my life requires, because I have to be able to take care of friends and family and children,
of everything on my desk and in my house. Also because of how lucky I am that my body has the strength to run in the first place. Don't fool yourself, exercise is work. It's also meditation, but meditation is work.

When I take photographs, it's a matter of capturing that moment so I can share it. Also for the pleasure of preserving it, because otherwise it's only ether. Then I wind the film and stop at the photo place on the way to the office, get it developed and pay for the prints and scan them, post them and comment on them and show them to people who care because the images came from me, or are of them, often both.

When a flight is about to take off, I hope it won't crash in a big fiery ball, because I have so much left to do and so many people to know better.


It's not that I mind either of these two reasons for operating. I actually love most of it, most of the time—feeling useful and productive, feeling connected. But it's also essential to remind myself that not every moment and action has to be in service of something or someone, including myself.

It's all very well to take a picture or record a word for its greater utility, but sometimes it's best just to sit on the couch and not worry about it. It doesn't all have to get done, and sometimes the meaning gets lost in the doing. Sometimes empty is best.

June 02, 2008

Californians: Please vote NO on 98

If Proposition 98 passes in California tomorrow—which it's expected to, because homeownership advocates across the state outnumber cash-strapped San Francisco renters—all forms of rent control in our city will become obsolete. Landlords will be able to raise rents as much as they want for new tenants.

I can only speak for myself, but it means I'd never be able to afford to move from my current place. I imagine many other young professionals are in the same boat.

It's already hard enough to pay for our lives here. Let's not be part of letting it become impossible. Please vote against Prop 98 on June 3.

* * * The BCB says NO to 98 * * *

June 01, 2008

To the wedding

200 Brazilians + 50 Jews + a rabble of rabbis + infinite goodwill = a transcendent celebration.

The sun was shining on High Meadow when I arrived late Friday afternoon, and it never stopped.
I don't think I've ever been part of a happier group. We all gathered, an extended family, to give Josh and Vanessa the joyful, raucous launch into marriage that they deserve. Each of them inspires remarkable loyalty and love in their relationships, and I expect they'll be an unstoppable force together.

Along with feeling lucky to be part of their village, I got to catch up with my own (there's a lot of overlap). Parents and grandparents, brother, cousins, childhood friends. There's nothing quite like spending time with people who've watched you grow up, even as they're growing up themselves. They help me appreciate familiarity in tandem with constant change, and they're a powerful reminder of how kind people can be to each other.

We stayed in the same rambling house where Avi and his band of brothers have been gathering for years, down the path from the wooden building where he and Josh first apprenticed as carpenters, down the road from the farm where Josh's parents met. The place came full circle, along with the rest of us.

I put some pictures over here. I might post a photo essay about the wedding sometime, but more likely I'll just let the faces speak for themselves.