Moving blows

Well, I've up and moved. I am still at my old house tonight, but 95% of my belongings are NOT here. It's lonely and strange to stay in a house you are very familiar and fond of without much of any of your belongings. There are a few remnants to make me feel at home, though.

The things that I've kept behind for tonight's stay are: TV, ipod, camera, computer, Brita water pitcher, curtains & blinds, a suitcase of clothes, flyswatter, two 8 lb weights, Brother printer and cables, carved wooden lizard from Oaxaca, several power strips, my Miyata bicycle.

Yesterday, I moved my roommate C. to her new place at Larkin and Filbert (Russian Hill). After the move was complete, I got picked up by Sripal and Adam and we had lunch at Boulangerie de Polk. It was very crowded and trendy, but the food and service were adequate. Later, we shopped for bicycles on Stanyan Street. At 3:00 PM I took the 71 bus back to Market and 2nd, where C. picked me up to head back to Berkeley. We had to return her U-Haul van by COB.



On a side note, U-Haul offices shall be rightly understood as the closest thing to purgatory as can be experienced here on Earth. Three times during the 40 minutes I was waiting to get my vehicle, customers in line verbally challenged the management practices of the staff. ("I have to wait in this line for 45 minutes to return a dolly? This is bullshit!....etc.") And each time this happened, the U-Haul employees openly heckled the challenger in front of all the other customers. So much for respecting the customer. While in line, many people were talking about the simple changes that could be made to make the process of truck pick up, drop off, and equipment return more streamlined. Some pretty good ideas were thrown around. Unfortunately, the monopoly that U-Haul has on local moves in most U.S. cities precludes the company from ever having to enact any changes that may improve customer service.

I can think of no other worse pain than to having to report to work everyday to a U-Haul office.

Up chest high

I am up chest high in boxes containing all my paltry and frivolous belongings. Out of the approximate 40 boxes I have personally packed, I estimate that the things I actually use on a semi-regular basis is found in fewer than 10 of them. Many of the boxes were never unpacked from the move to CA in 2004. However, I am still holding onto them for some crazy reason.

Here is a sample of the contents of some random boxes:

1. Holiday ornaments, string lights
2. Camera boxes, lamps, hair dryer, GSM phone
3. Special magazines/newspapers, medical device literature, resume paper, framed pictures
4. Cube lamps, planter pots, fish bowl
5. Design supplies (watercolor kit, chart pak markers, colored pencils, triangle, two engineering scales, filled drawing tablets, some blank ones, drafting dots, exacto knife)
6. Bedding, pillows, coffee maker

I could easily continue this litany into the evening but I will spare my reader(s). But there are a couple gems within:



I was going through box #3 a couple days ago and found I have nice, clean copies of the Washington Post and the New York Times from September 12, 2001. I didn't read them over...I'll save those for a rainy day or something. There is also a copy of the Times from January 1, 2000. I also have a copy of Time magazine commemorating the death of JFK Jr. in July of 1999. I think there was also a Vogue magazine with Hilary Clinton on the cover. I'll save that one in case she ever hits the big time....could be a nice little keepsake, but most likely it will end up in the trash come November '08.

I just need two hours...

I am on day two of my most recent lifestyle change decision. Well, to be reasonable, it will likely only last for the next few weeks considering school will begin very soon. What I am doing is trying to walk/run for about two hours each day to achieve a higher state of physical wellness. In other words, my thighs need a little whipping into shape. Grad school is a known source of distress on otherwise healthy and toned thighs and hips.

For most employed or otherwise engaged people, two hours of exercise per day may seem extreme. However, for a person who really isn't working this summer, it is not very difficult to stay on top of. Why yesterday I walked/ran from Berkeley to El Cerrito with hardly much difficulty. It took me about 1:35. Today I walked/ran from Berkeley to downtown Oakland and circumnavigated Lake Merritt, a solid two hour endeavor. I took BART home from 19th Street.

Tomorrow I have no idea where I will go. Perhaps I will do the fire trail which runs for three miles behind the Berkeley science laboratories in the hills. Ususally I drive to the entrance of the trail, but I suppose I can walk this time. I DO have two hours to burn, right?

What will you do with two hours today?

Civic duty

Several weeks ago in the mail I received a summons from the Hayward Hall of Justice, a.k.a. the Superior Court of CA, Alameda County. The paper informed me that I had been selected for jury duty. Having lived here in Berkeley just shy of two years, I suppose I was due for my day on the bench. However, that does not stop me from moaning about it.

I called up the jury hotline last night hoping my group would not be called to court. Sadly, my group, G-2000, was selected. I then had the option of pressing "3" on my touchtone phone for directions to the courthouse. I pressed "3" and was informed I was not to report to the Hayward Courthouse (as described on the summons), but I was to go to Pleasanton's Gale-Schenone Courthouse located on Stoneridge Drive. Stoneridge Drive is otherwise known as a street within a maze of a business and office parks. It is a very unlikely place for a courthouse, I will tell you that.

I decided to take my bicycle on BART because the thought of a 30 odd mile drive on I-680 in the middle of rush hour, not knowing where I am going, seemed like a pretty bad idea. I left Berkeley at 6:50 a.m. in order to make the 7:04 train from Ashby. I managed to make it to the courthouse without much delay by following the Sherrif's paddywagon that was making a left onto Stoneridge Drive assured myself I was not as lost as I felt. In general, lost is a good description for what one feels upon arrival in Dublin-Pleasanton.

Next thing was to check in with the jury clerk and then sit down and wait. Soon enough, the room was filled with about 40 other people just as lucky as I was. Once we were all sitting, the clerk began an instructional video about how to be a juror. In this video, a variety of ethnic minorities who have participated in jury service provide perspectives on their experiences. As a feel-good device, the video seemed to keep people's attention. After the video was over, I put my head down on the table and drifted into a nice slumber, almost forgetting where I was for a little bit.

At 10:30, after nearly two hours of sitting in the jury lounge, we went into court where we were greeted by the slimy counsel. Judge enters, sits, and proclaims that we can all go home because the defendant failed to appear in court.

What I surmise is that the judge had us wait for two hours hoping this dude/dudette would arrive, late as he/she was. However, I guess you only get a two hour forgiveness window for being late. I wonder what the hold up was. She seemed annoyed.

At this point, the jury audibly burst out in relief - apparently we'd forgotten the enthusiasm for jury service we promised after the video had ended. People streamed out of the courthouse, into the blistering Dublin heat, and got on with their lives.

Flunk Craig

It is now Thursday. The biodiesel is still at Bateman Street.

What is the world coming to?

Biodiesel status

It is 11:15 p.m. on Monday. Five gallons of once-used peanut oil are STILL on my stoop. I would have guessed that even homeless people would have swiped it by now. It remains undisturbed and untouched on Bateman Street.

For the first time in what seems like forever, I have doubt that Craigslist can deliver. Could it be? Was my wording of the post too vague? It must be something.

I really wonder because a couple years ago I put a free ad out there for someone to haul away 100 odd pounds of trimmed aloe plant from my driveway. Said aloe was gone in less than 10 hours and I really thought I was gonna have to haul that crap to the dump myself. I would have guessed in these times where gas prices are nearing $3.50 that people would be pouncing on an offer of five free gallons of pure aceite de cacahuate. Especially here, in CA, where everyone seems to be refitting their cars with the biofuel engines.

Guess my expectations are askew.

Craigslist activity

This being near the end of July, there is a wave of relocation activity in many of America's college towns and adjacent urban centers. Year-long leases generally come due in August, so you must decide whether to renew or get-out. Obviously, many people choose the latter, therefore creating the conditions for new tenants to take their places.

Sadly, this flux of activity for movers, U-Haul franchises, tape purveyors, dolly-lenders, painters, carpeters, etc. is a signal that summer's end is approaching. Bummer!

While some move to prepare for the upcoming academic year, others, recently graduated, move to celebrate the end of their period of student serfdom. My roommate, C., is part of the recently-graduated contingent. She is moving into San Francisco to share a new apartment with someone named Carrie in a neighborhood near Polk Street.

I am moving in-town within Berkeley in order to reduce my housing expenses. While I have also recently graduated from my master's program, I am also newly matriculated into a new program. Therefore, my serfdom continues for a matter of three more years. Yes, three more years, people! Feel my pain. Or, rather, anticipate the string of blog entries over the next few years from yours truly complaining about the lack of sleep, funds, and spare time. Either way, you win and I lose.

I will return to the POINT of this entry, which is that ALL THIS MOVING MUMBO JUMBO MAKES US ALL THANKFUL FOR CRAIGSLIST AND THE CONVENIENCE IT PROVIDES US IN OBTAINING MOVING BOXES AND GETTING RID OF RUBBISH AT THE LAST MINUTE.


Craigslist founder Craig Newmark. What a dude!

Yesterday, Craig helped me requisition no less than 40 boxes. I also posted a "free" ad myself this evening. It appears as follows:

Free biodiesel (berkeley)
Reply to: sale-182778852@craigslist.org
Date: 2006-07-16, 6:46PM PDT

Five gallons of strained peanut oil, used once to fry a turkey, available immediately to the first person that wants it.

It is on our stoop for the taking.

3027 Bateman Street. Cross street is Woolsey.

The ad was posted around 7 PM and now it is 10:38 PM. The oil remains on our stoop. I wonder for how long. Biodiesel is a hot item here in Berkeley.

Ten years after writing those geeks off....

Think back a decade plus readers. We were still in good old high school, conforming to our respective clique, and getting drunk at football games on Friday nights. My life revolved around these mind numbing activities, I admit, and I was kind of close minded and snobby. I wasn't ever so popular to have any real impact on the social milleau that WAS Beaverton High School, but I certainly did not make an effort to make friends with members or perceived members of groups far outside my comfort zone.

Let us review some of the main high school social clicks:

Sports people
Stoners
Drinkers
Theater geeks
Goths
Band people
Cheerleaders
Straight-arrows (non-religious)
Nerds
Rich kids with new cars and zero personality
Trench coat clad
Mormons
Asians
Shut-ins
Drop-outs
People who accelled in what most considered weird things, like archery or 4-H

These labels, while certainly limiting, do function to organize the ratty teenagers that attend our public schools in the past and even today. Labels in high school are de facto realities of life. We all know it, so why fight it?

I will fast forward to the POINT of this article, being that labels can be overcome once we leave high school and anyone is capable of achieving their dreams.

I sound like I could give some kind of bad, shoddy graduation speech right now...

Last night I attended a music performance of the Everyone Orchestra at the Independent in the grand city of San Francisco. I don't normally go to these kinds of shows, but my roommate C. happens to be a devoted fan of the lead musician, Steve Kimock (formerly of the Grateful Dead). The Everyone Orchestra is a unique concept in that it features a gaggle of established and up and coming musicians that agree to work together for a short period of time and play gigs that feature their wide and impressive improvisational talents.

So the show last night featured Steve, other musicians and one Asher Fulero.

Asher Fulero went to my high school. I think he graduated with us. A few weeks ago when looking at the lineup, I immediately recognized his name. Anyway, from my shady recollection, in high school Asher used to belong to the trench coat and band contingent. He was kind of not involved in mainstream high school activities, and was therefore snubbed by most of us middle-ground schmucks.

As it happens, Asher is now some kind of pimped out and rocking keyboardist these days, and last night he was playing with the legendary guitarist Steve Kimock and the Everyone Orchestra! We showed up to the show and there he was, getting funky on his Nord keyboard/synthesizer unit, impressing the crowd with his melodies and even singing a bit.

I am excited about my little tally of strange people from high school going gold. So far we have:

1. Ari Shapiro, high school theater nerd, currently a correspondent for NPR
2. Asher Fulero, high school band and trench coat kid, current a keyboard pimp

This list is to be continued...

Footballed

It's a beautiful afternoon in Portland, Oregon. I am sitting at home, fighting the sleepies, and wishing that the Comcast high speed internet installer guy would hurry the fuck up and get out of the guest room so I can take a nap. I had no idea up until NOW that Comcast even scheduled appointments on Sunday. I think that practice should stop immediately - if not for the sake of the poor Comcast guy, whose weekends are now nonexistent, but for the sake of poor souls like *me*, who are hung over on a Sunday and cannot nap in the guest room because someone is drilling a hole into the side of the wall.

I am weary and tired after nearly 3 days of wedding activities in which I played a bridesmaid.

I also just got scolded by my step dad because I announced that Italy and France were in a shoot out period for the World Cup title game. (I guess they "were" in a shoot out...Italy just won a few seconds ago). While we were out at the post-wedding brunch, the final game was on and I assumed he had watched the game like all other NORMAL people. This wasn't the case, apparently. He was taping the game, to be watched later on sometime.

This man would probably find it completely within reason to wait 2-3 days to watch the final game at his convenience but would yell at anyone for talking about it in public where he can overhear who won or who scored the goals. This includes hearing the game's winner being announced on the radio. I've heard him scold the radio announcer before and seriously get mad for the simple act of listening.

In this wired and media-centered day and age we live in, it is quite ridiculous and silly to assume you can *avoid* hearing news. I think it is even more ridiculous to get mad at people when they casually and without harm in mind announce that teams are in a shoot out, too. I understand that it IS the world cup, and this is important, but he is not a soccer or football fan in the first place anyway. It's just the hype of the media and the fact that David Beckham might flash us his abs in the course of a match that Americans are readily watching soccer this summer.



Plus, everyone likes to watch the French get beat on international television.

Mall rats

Weekday trips to the mall reveal a certain detestable segment of suburban society. These people should be avoided and/or one should avoid trips to the mall on a Thursday afternoon.

I am no snob but I must draw the line somewhere. This afternoon, on an errand to find something to wear to a simple event tomorrow, I encountered WAY too many career professional mallists at Washington Square. Yes, mallists. Mallists are also known in San Francisco and Marina chicks. Or anyone living in Walnut Creek. The definition is flexible and generally refers to the kinds of people you would sidestep to avoid and hope to Jesus you never have the bad luck of standing in line next to. Especially if they are making a return.

The first mallists were in the TBD department of Nordstrom. TBD, for most people, means "To Be Determined." The acronym is in the same family as TBA (To Be Announced), etc. Very simple. The TBD department is located in a very conspicuous part of the ground floor. There is a reason for this. It is the section where the younger, financially-endowed people shop in. The clothes are cute and it is also where the expensive jeans are. I surmise the reason it is located in this part of the store is because it looks GOOD for the store to have all its other shoppers be able to see these attractive people buying somewhat expensive and very trendy clothing. It makes the store look hip and that is what is important in retail.

I shop there because they sometimes have cute tops and jacket thingies. I can't really fit in the jeans because my body works hard to retain its Russian roots and I tend to have difficulty finding things that fit my lower half. I dont really have the money to shop there, but on occaision it is okay and doable.

I encountered a mallist there being helped by a TBD worker. They were in a very serious discussion and it went something like this (forgive me if I get the brand names wrong, I don't pay too close attention to that but I need to include them here):

Mallist: "So I definitely wouldn't describe myself as a Citizens person - which make their clothes for very tall people. I guess I have been known for my AG's, Seven's and sometimes I will even wear Paige. It is just so hard, you know, to choose between all of them for once. I am just sick of being in between all these brands. I just don't know."

TBD Saleswoman: "Yes, it is very difficult. Why, these Citizens I have been wearing just don't feel right. I mean, they look damn good, but I don't feel like a Citizen girl. You know?"

Mallist: "Completely!. Oh, it is nice to know I am not the only person feeling this way."

TBD Saleswoman: "Indeed. Well, what do you think about the colors of these? They are so reminding me of that run of Sevens that came out in Spring '05. Wow, that was a hot season!"

Mallist: "Oh, right. But I wouldn't want anyone to think they are from '05. What else have you got?"

It went on an on ad nauseum. All I could think about was escaping, but not before I tried on a cute Ben Sherman top. Which, of course, I ended up not getting. Instead, I went to boring JCrew and found some things on sale.

Success of this outfit? TBD, of course.

It all happens at the fair!

This Sunday I attended the Marin County Fair in San Rafael, CA. I haven't gone to a county fair in some time (10-12 years?), a period of time that clouds the fact that most of my childhood summers featured a journey to the Washington County Fair in Hillsboro, Oregon. It turns out things have not changed too much in terms of fairgoing over the last decade. There is still a long annoying line to get your tickets. There are still senior citizens at the gates who tear your entrance ticket in half and tell you something about having a great time today. There still are a lot of creepy carnival employees and trashy bean stuffed animals. The funnel cake still reigns supreme, although now I guess there are more options in terms of toppings (soft serve, caramel sauce, and apple pie filling). They also serve cappuccino at some of the food trailers. That astounded me almost as much as the price tags for these food items - $8.75 for a smoked turkey leg; $3.75 for a roasted ear of corn, corn dog, or french fries. Burgers start at $4.75. Funnel cakes are $5 and your choice of fillings are $1 a pop. Surprisingly, 16oz. of microbrew served to you by a senior was just $5.

During our visit to the fair today, my companions Adam and Christon and I wanted to accomplish a few things. First, we would kill some time visiting the petting zoo. Second, we would attend the sheepdog trials at the main pasture area from noon to one. Next, we would go eat some fair fare. After lunch, we planned to go to the exhibition hall and perhaps attend the guacamole preparation contest. In between all these events we anticipated on making light of the carnival and county fair culture.

No, we didn't forget the rides portion of the fair - we walked through there for about 30 minutes after lunch observing the activities of the booth jockeys and dads that readilly won their sons and daughters inflatable AK-47s decorated by the pattern of our Stars and Stripes and donning a proud "USA" label.



The rides looked prety tempting: They had the Zipper, the Fun House, something that functioned like the Viking Ship, and much more. Sadly, my campaign to get us all to ride on the Gravitron was voted down by our stomachs which had just moments earlier consumed a rather greasy and gut-busting funnel cake.


Here is a picture of two of the entrants of the Marin Co. Fair Guacamole Contest. We were rooting for the neat gentleman to the right, who we surmised may have been ex-military. We called him the Admiral.


Here is Adam and Christon at the petting zoo making friends with a brown goat. This petting zoo was awesome - it had potbelly pigs, llamas, a kangaroo, fawns, goats, sheep, chickens, and some other beasts I can't remember. It did not have a hedgehog, which kind of disappointed me.


This was a snoozing potbelly pig.