I think I have a project.

But, I’m not sure how long it will last. The other night, I was buying a sub sandwhich, and while a waited for the toppings to be added, I grabbed a copy of the SF Gaurdian. The current issue is their Best of the Bay Awards - where readers and editors pick their favorite places/things/people in the Bay Area (mostly SF), and publish them in the tabloid-like, mostly-advertisements paper. There are tons and tons of listings, for pretty much everthing imaginable. From “Best Cafe” to “Best Paper Clips With A Past,” if it’s considered cool, it’s in there.

So my project is to walk to all the ones I find interesting. I kind of figure, that San Francisco is only 7 miles by 7 miles, and I live pretty much in the middle, so I couldn’t have to walk too far to get to these places.

On day one, I walked 1.5 miles down to “Black and Blue,” ranked Best Tattoo Shop.

My friend, Lindsay, had a consultation there with Idexa, the owner. So I got to meet her and see the woman-owoned and operated shop that is kind of famous in this area. I talked to Idexa about the fact that the Guardian said this about her shop: “The renowned female artists at B&B may not be able to pee while standing (we think), but they’ll man up to the needles any day. Best tattoos in town.” That sort of grossed me out… for several reasons. ONE - how did whoever wrote this know that they all identify as female? TWO - how did they know that they can’t pee standing? And THREE - why do they have to “man” up to needles. Gross. I was pleased that Idexa felt pretty much the same way I did about this.

Yesterday, I walked 2.2 miles to Green Apple Books, ranked “Best Independent Book Store; Best Used Book Store.”

It’s down on Clement Street, in what I would consider to be Richmond? Anyway, it was totally cool. Working in a “big box” store, for some corporate, giantman, I am always excited to see how little indie places run. It’s just so more creative and fun. Everything was labeled with posterboard and markers. There were quirky signs placed throughout. There were interesting books stacked everywhere, with seemingly little order. It ruled. I didn’t buy anything because I wasn’t really looking for anything in particular - and it was sort of over-whelming. But, I kind of think that’s the purpose.

today was touch, yesterday was go.

It’s been an adjustment… moving into a new place, with new people. Mostly, leaving behind the old is the hardest. Leaving Oakland felt (still feels) sacreligious. However, I must say, I do love my new neighborhood. Everything is so close… and there’s life at all hours. I did realize today, as I walked around, that there are SO many people in this city. It’s one thing to see a gathering of people at a specific location (resteraunt, park, theater), but seeing gatherings of people not interested in one activity feels so different. There are so many people in one spot, but they are all actively doing something unrelated to one another.

night number one in SF

Warning: I wrote a journal entry… sorry.

I’m here… it was quite a day, but I’ve made the leap! I now rest my head in a big ol’ city, in a big ol’ Victorian. The ceilings in my room are high, and there are boxes stacked everywhere… it’s kind of like I’m living in a small nook, between the blocks of a Jenga game.

My only complaint, thus far, is the bathroom. It is tiny. When you sit on the toilet, you can rest your chin on the sink. It’s something else. I’m used to so much room, so this is definitely an adjustment.

I walked around the neighborhood a bit, after taking half an hour to find a parking spot. I like my surroundings. Lots of people and things to look at.

I have to work tomorrow at 7 am. AND - I don’t have to leave an hour and half early to get there either! Holla!

spin that SALLLAD

I found this article totally funny. Some company (a British one, duh) took a survey of the most and least useful gadgets in people’s life. Of course, cell phones were #1. But also in the mix were hair straighteners and salad spinners. Hilarious. Bread makers and foot spas were the least.

My favorite gadgets of ALL time include this:

And this:

let it burn.

I just finised David Sedaris’ newest book, entitled, When You Are Engulfed in Flames. It was thoughtful, disgusting, scary, wretched and then always hilarious. What’s better, is that my friend went to his recent book reading/signing in SF and had him sign a copy especially for me. This is what he said: “To Taylor- I’m so angry I missed you. David Sedaris.” Basically, I’m famous.

I couldn’t help but to notice that he has dedicated this book to Ronnie Ruedrich - who he mentions a few times in this collection of short stories. She is a friend of his, if this is the same Ronnie from the stories. I realized that I would love to be her, who ever she is. #1 - She is friends with David Sedaris. #2 - Her friend dedicated a book to her. She must be an amazing friend. I don’t really care to write a book, but I would consider myself “made” if one was dedicated to me. Keep that in mind - all my brilliant friends!!

why are we (I) so afraid to be alone?

The only time in my life (that I can recall) where I have ever physically been alone was in Alexandra, Victoria, Australia. A part of the “experiential learning” program I did as a semester abroad involved a weekend stay in a remote town at least 2 hours away from the city (Melbourne) and the comforts of known faces (home-stay families) and Americans (other students in the program). I received the name of a town and a bus ticket from the program director… the rest was up to me. I booked a room for two nights at the Shamrock Hotel and Pub, and loaded myself onto an empty bus headed North East.  I listened to the Pixies on the way there and arrived in Alexandra (population 2,000) with big hair, a rolling suitcase and a poka-dot cardigan.

There was little to do there. Apparently, it’s kind of a stop off between the mountains and the city, though at that time of year, I seemed to be in the company of only locals. I walked through the swinging wooden doors of the tavern I was staying in and was greeted by the eyes of about a dozen confused, on-the-way-to-waisted, individuals who all appeared to know one another. Crickets were chirping in the background - for two solid minutes that’s all I could hear. Trev, the owner/bartender/ hotelier passed a “G’day” my way and Bev showed me my room. I put my suitcase on the twin bed and went downstairs to sit in a corner table and drink a beer. No one approached me, and I sure as hell didn’t approach any of them. After a few glasses of some ale, I returned to my room, where I waited for the weekend to be over.

I was alone. I wasn’t miserable. But I was bored. I attempted to make a time line for my semester studies, I played a lot of spider solitaire and I walked aimlessly around the one block of town. I returned to life with not much to report and was told to try to look at the lack of activity as something in of itself (Australians don’t make friends easily, are weary of strangers, cultural differences…). This was hard to do, given that 4 of the other American girls in the group had stories of gallivanting through the woods with burly Aussie men, drinking with a pack of surfers and hooking up with a sailor from New South Wales. Of course, they were all skinny, trendy and conventionally “American” - so their cultural experience was totally different (on many levels, this jut being a prime example of exactly the kind of Americans I was dealing with over there. This is not to say that a few of the Americans in the group ended up being some of my closest friends - they were not however the ones having drugged out orgies with Aussies).

I’m thinking of all of this because I am embarking on journey in about a week and half, and I am preparing to be alone. Of course, I won’t be physically alone very much. I will be living with people I don’t know too well, in an apartment with no common space, surrounded by a city I know only sort of. I’m nervous I will be lonely. I keep reminding myself that I have done so many things completey alone and always loved them. The things that I’ve done independently have always turned out to be amazing and have bettered me and my life. I only hope that this step follows the upward trend. We shall see.

my iPod is issuing tuung

Well, that is not entirely true. I don’t have an iPod. I have an MP3 player that is not an iPod, but rather a Dell Pocket DJ. It has the coolness level of still using your Walkman circa 1988 and I have always been ashamed of it… the little buddy stays in my pocket, where no one can see it. Anyone who notices a white wire breeching from a denim lip at my waist (I hope) would think there was a lime green iPod attached. No one knows what is actually there, except me, my room mates and the group I went to Australia with.

I know because it’s mine (duh), my room mates know because I have to charge the thing and I trust them enough to not have hope in my cool-ness and like me anyway. The Australian group knows because I take kindly to tripping. I was climbing King’s Canyon, and while taking a spill, the player errupted from my pocket and collapsed onto the red dirt with a great force. The world stopped spinning, and everyone (even the Hungarian tourists a few steps ahead of us) was astonished -not that I had fallen, but - that what had been in my pocket the entirety of our stay had been but a silver square with a blue face. It wasn’t lime green, it did not warn me of it’s playlists in color, it had no round-touch-turner-thingy and it certainly had not been marketed with catchy tunes. I ignored the blood draining from my knees, wrists and shoved the DJ back where it had come from, leaving a stain of rusty dirt/blood on my cut-up tee shirt and cotton shorts. The iPoded group would say they were most concerned with my well-being, but I swear they were all taken with my pocket - kicking themselves for believing I could be cool in any sense of the word (even the Hungarian tourists a few steps ahead of us).

things that are fun, things that aren’t

Weddings can be fun. Seeing relatives, dancing with your grandfather, being amazed at your sister’s ability to socialize and eating are all very enjoyable!

Being stranded at airports, not so fun.

New adventures can be delightful.

Packing and physically moving are not really that fun.

i will miss my room mates, best friends…

… Granted, they will only be about 7 miles away, but it feels like they will be days away because I’m used to living within a 20 foot radius of them.

I’ve lived with the same gals (my best friends) for the past two years. We have a kickin’ apartment, in Oakland, and we have had an outstandingly wonderful stay together. And yet, it feels time to move on… to different things, places. I’m finding it all very sad. The truth is, I have no idea what I’m doing with my life but I have found an apartment in SF (”The City”) and will haul myself and my belongings across the bay August 1st. So, for nostalgia’s sake… my roomies and I try to take a “house picture” whenever we are together for some kind of an event. Here are some from the past couple years:

September, 2006

October, 2006

November, 2006

January, 2007

February, 2007

July, 2007 (plus my brother)

oh, wait, that isn’t us

July, 2008

 

LOVE YOU GIRLS!

what’s the story