In a Western Place

I finally found a place to live... in Nob Hill baby! You can come visit me now.

I wanted to give you all a heads up that this Friday, at approximately 10:00am EST (which is 7:00 am my time, hello sleep deprivation!) I will be posting my contribution to CYOB, otherwise known as the Choose Your Own Blogventure! project. Here's the gist, start here: http://nancypearlwannabe.com/blog/, then through the magic of reading and clicking things, you'll work you're way through the story via other participating blogs. You may end up at mine, you may not. Regardless, it should be an interesting and fun way to pass time on a Friday. I hope you'll enjoy it, it was good wannabebutnotclosetobe creative writing practice for me. So yeah, let's have fun with this!

In other news, I'm still feeling the intestinal wrath after my decision to eat Taco Bell not once, not twice, but three times this past weekend up in Tahoe. Or it could have been the platter of nachos and potato skins that I shared with co-workers last night at the La Piñata up in Alameda. Ugh, I so desperately need a nutritional detox... and revert back to my healthy eating habits. Soon enough, soon enough. As for Taco Bell, I will not allow those no-beef with-beans crunchy taco supremes to get me down, they're too delicious!

Is it bad that I'm still craving one?

I spent this past weekend in South Lake Tahoe where Matty's band was playing their first ever show outside of the bay area. My lips became chapped, my hands dry and cracked, and my nose, totally unusable. I couldn't touch a slot machine or another person without a jolt of static electricity shooting up my arm. How the heck did I used to live in this type climate for so long?

Here's my CYOB contribution, taking off (and finishing) from where Srah of Srah Blah Blah left off! Remember, you have to start here. See you soon?

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jake-Ryan appeared moments later wearing faded blue jeans and a heavily stained T-shirt adorned with the logo of a local used car dealership. His knobby pale knees were poking through the worn away patches and his feet were completely bare, topped with sticky cherry pie residue. He looks scruffy, she thought. Not that Emma cared too much about appearances; she was in his home after all. However the Jake-Ryan that stood before her no longer held any resemblance to the Jake Ryan that she held in her head, or her heart.

"Hey, it smells like Suppdog in here." He said.

"What's Suppdog?" She asked.

"Not much dawg, what's up with you?”

Amused, Jake-Ryan threw himself down on the living room couch while simultaneously picking up his Playstation 2 controller.

"Want to play?" He asked.

"Uh, no... I'm not really video games.” Emma couldn't help but feel a smidgen of disappointment. “I thought we were going to watch a movie?"

"Nah. I'd have to unplug the Playstation in order to plug in the DVD player. Let me get through this level so I can save. Then we can, like, hang out." He turned toward the TV.

"Um, OK..." Emma said. Irritated, she sat down on the sofa chair next to him and felt immediately drawn to the animated action on the television screen. It was almost hypnotizing to watch, and as Emma concentrated more and more on the screen, she felt her Jake-Ryan woes fade.

Until, tap tap tap...

Jake-Ryan rapped his fingers against the wooden frame of the couch while waiting for the scene in his game to load. Tap tap tap. Emma felt her face burn with annoyance. She let out a small, muffled cough as if to communicate, please stop that. However the rapping continued and Emma shifted heavily in her chair. "I, I need a drink!" She exclaimed, jumping up. “Where’s that wine?”

“Yeah,” Jake Ryan said, barely looking up from the glowing screen. “There’s a box of Franzia in the fridge. It’s my Mom’s, help yourself. A Blush I believe. It’s a mixture of both red and white… good stuff.” He commented.

Mom? She thought. Emma took another look around the room. On the end table to her right, she noticed a framed photograph of a young Jake-Ryan seated next to an older woman baring a striking resemblance. Looking down, Emma observed the latest issue of Good Housekeeping magazine on top of a freshly polished coffee table. She looked toward Jake-Ryan and spotted a newly crocheted afghan gently place on the back of the couch. This was not a guy’s apartment; this was Jake-Ryan’s Mom’s place! Emma sat back down in the chair.

Jake Ryan looked up at her briefly, “Didn’t you want some vino?" Ha, vino, that’s what the French call it.”

“No, actually, I think I should get going. I have to get up early to… “ Emma racked her brain for an excuse.

“Oh hey, I understand,” Jake Ryan interrupted. “I’m almost done here. Give me five minutes and I’ll give you a ride home. I think Mom’s Outback is in the driveway, we can take that.”

Emma sat back down on the sofa chair, feeling her disappointment turn into helplessness. She felt trapped as she sank deeper and deeper into her chair until her focus became fixed on his rapidly moving fingers. As he continuously clicked the Playstation controller, she heard an additional clicking noise from within his mouth. Click click click. She wasn’t sure how he was doing it, perhaps he was tapping his tongue against his palette? Regardless, she became obsessed with the clicks and it became impossible for her to focus on anything else. Click click click, from the controller followed by a Click click click from his mouth. Her hair stood on end out of annoyance. She sat back and stared into the glittered ceiling and felt her mind begin to wander...

Seconds later, Emma was transported back into a moment of time during her childhood. She was 7 or 8, swinging from a tire tied to the big oak tree in the backyard of the home she grew up in. Swaying back and forth, she felt the warmth of the setting sun on her face. It made her feel calm and at peace, until one of the neighborhood girls jumped out from behind the tree.

“Have you ever seen an exploding head?” The girl asked.

Emma shook her head no. The neighborhood girl continued to tell Emma that if she closed her eyes really really really tight, and thought really really really hard, she could make a person’s head explode. “Why would I ever want to do that?” Emma asked.

“Because you can.”

Those words played over and over in Emma’s head as she sat in Jake-Ryan’s apartment, eagerly waiting for him to finish so she could go home and put the night behind her. “Because you can,” her inner voice repeated, as she continued to focus on the flickering television screen.

Because you can because you can because you can...

Emma shut her eyes.

Because you can.

She continued to squeeze her eyelids tighter, and tighter.

Because you can.

She could feel her cheekbones touch her eyebrows.

Because you can.

The pressure of her squeeze had Emma seeing light from within.

Because you can.

The light felt warm, much like the light she felt from the setting sun on the tire swing.

Because you can.

She pictured Jake-Ryan’s head.

Because you can.

His head started to rumble and shake.

Because you can.

She could see the pressure sending steam through his ear drums and out the side of his head.

Because you can.

She witnessed the color of his face move through various shades of red.

Because you can.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his cranium continued to vibrate.

Because you can.

The voice continued to taunt until Emma replaced the image of Jake-Ryan's head with that of a grenade. A grenade about to detonate far off in the desert. Far, but close enough to feel the potent energy separating all matter, and all that matters. In an instant, matter splattered on the beige shag carpeting and the taupe colored walls like a spilled jug of crimson paint. There was no sound.

Emma opened her eyes just as an amazing sense of calm rushed over her. Much better, she thought. Slowly rising from the chair, she walked toward the door, stepping over his lifeless body in the process. After turning the television off, she quietly let herself out.

I’m resisting the urge to grunt and grumble about my 8 hour experience at San Francisco General Hospital this past Friday. I’m also holding back on discussing how Friday should never have happened in the first place had I received the proper treatment and attention during my initial visit 2 weeks prior. What’s the point? It’s over, and I think I’ll focus on the good stuff instead, like…

• My Kidney Infection is responding very well to the mega doses of antibiotics prescribed and I’m no longer suffering the pain and discomfort that has plagued me throughout the last 3 weeks. There was a time when I seriously thought that I was never going to feel right again… which sounds really dramatic, but that’s exactly how I felt. Hallelujah, I can pee like normal again!


• While public health care is well, what it is… until my cushy HMO policy begins in less than 4 weeks, I’m grateful that there are resources to help me out. Thanks Arnold.


• I was able to access a few of the CYOB posts from my phone while at the hospital and they had me giggling like one of the 14 year-old mothers-to-be. Hi-larious!

• I got a LOT of sleep this weekend. Good thing, this week is going to be full of fun activity. Like being able to drink something besides water.

Thanks soooo much for the wonderful comments on Friday, it brightened my day... and thanks to my friend NPW for giving me the opportunity to participate. I was a little hesitant to publish because my condition prevented me from giving the ending a good proofread, but I think it worked out in the end. Once I catch up on all my work email, I plan on spending the day “working” on getting through the rest of these CYOB posts, commenting, and not thinking about whether or not I've been exposed to TB. Weeeeee!

As you may or may not know, the Olympic torch will be making it's only stop in the US tomorrow er today, right here in San Francisco. In many ways I'm excited, but I'm also feeling a tad nervous. Nervous, because of this:

Highlighted in red is the Olympic torch route and Highlighted in blue is my morning commute to work (location indicated by the asterisk). Traffic hullabaloo! Despite that, I'm still excited about possible seeing the big-stick-o-flame even though I haven't made an attempt to watch the Olympics since 1984 (when that Mary Lou Retton was all the rage). I honestly think my anticipation stems from all of the controversy... like how originally the torch was supposed to pass through Chinatown but the city nixed the idea because the streets are too narrow. Too narrow, who are they kidding!? Doesn't matter, those folks will be hopping on the #30 bus and it's going be mayhem, mayhem on top of the recent events in London, Paris and on our very own Golden Gate bridge. I think that my best option is to wake up earlier (groan), forgo the public transportation, then hike up up up (and down down down) to work via Powell street. I'll let you know how it all goes (with pictures, of course).

As for my opinion on the whole Beijing hosting the Olympics thing: dude, sports* How about you?

* err, no comment.

We just watched a spectacular fireworks display from our back porch! I'm not sure if it was for the Olympic Torch, or the Giants opening night... but here's a poor shot from my camera phone:

[Oh wait, you can't see it because my brand new web/camera/video/MP3/will-make-you-a-pot-of-coffee-if-you-ask-it-to/phone doohicky thing isn't working. Curses!]

On a less irritated, happy in-fact, note... Matty's band, Vitamin Party, has a song on the latest episode of The All-For-Nots, a scripted web docu-comedy covering one indie-rock-pop-punk-Americana band's tour across the country. The song featured (appropriately titled "Vitamin Party") starts at about 35 seconds in and only lasts for a few moments. You'll get the gist, but if not, here's the official music video:

Not so much. At least I got to see my first San Franciscan protest. It was a biggie!

Shot from our new watering hole — dangerously located across the street from my new place. Yes, I'm all moved, somewhat settled in with snob hill life, and exhausted from a very busy weekend. I'll write a proper update, soon.

I've barely had a moment to myself these past few days — aside from sleep and the occasional shower. Yes I've been busy, what with the move, visiting Cousins that were in town, Matty's show in Oakland, working to get my online classes ready for Summer early, getting to know my new super-cool roommates, and filing my taxes at the last minute (6 forms of income in 2 different states, and finding every deduction I could made the process fairly time consuming). I'm not going to feel like myself again until I'm fully unpacked (holy moly, I've accumulated a lot of stuff in the last 7 months), send proof of my California residency to Monroe County (in New York) so they won't expect me to report for jury duty next week (which is funny because I was registered in Ontario County before I left), and getting my renter's insurance set up; pretty pricey in an area where the ground shakes every once and awhile (the recent scare tactics aren't helping). Thank gosh I have Thursday(s) off, I need a catch up day!

Until then, I shall resume my regularly scheduled posts er, start posting regularly. Maybe I'll tell you all about the new place tomorrow. Would you like that? Would you?

Or perhaps I'll write about the Taco Bell snipper riffle incident in Oakland over the weekend, a sign that my love for tacos will bring me to a serious situation, someday.

Shot from my phone on a cable car at the bottom of California street and Van Ness, yesterday afternoon. My photos never seem to convey how steep the hills really are in this part of the city — you'll have to take my word for it. Some of the sidewalks are like walls, walls I say! I lost my balance a few weeks ago and fell forward (then down, hill). Scary. This hill (leading up to my apartment) is not too bad and I usually walk hike it, but not with flip-flops on my feet and 2 bags of heavy Whole Foods in my arms. Thank you cable car! I also hop on the Powell/Mason cable car line (with the tourists) for half of my walking commute to and from work. While my heart, calves and thighs certainly reap the benefits of a daily hill climb, my knees beg to differ.

I feel fortunate that I have a lot to write about – but when it comes down to actually sitting down and writing it (or editing what I’ve already written) I get distracted by the boyfriend/wine/tacos/shiny objects. How do you daily post-ers do it?

Alas, it is late Saturday afternoon and I’m at work. Work! Honestly, it’s not so bad. I’m just sitting here at my desk, messing around on the Internet until a file is complete, which takes about 5 minutes to review, then I go back to my own stuff while I wait for the next file. Easy, peasy… and I get a full day off just for coming in for a few hours. Nice.

My new roommates: Yesmeen, Sonja and I went out last night to explore some of what Nob Hill has to offer. We started out with dinner at the Nob Hill Café, a fairly popular restaurant and a rumored favorite of the San Francisco Twins, who believe-it-or-not, were seated in the adjacent window section from us! I had to sneak a picture:

I was exactly 7 years old back in 1984 when Gremlins came out. And I was exactly 31 years old back in 2008 when I saw the film for the first time. Yep, I'll admit to it: I watched Gremlins for the first time this past weekend. Some child of the 80’s I am. What’s a My Little Pony again?

I’m kidding. I LOVE YOU BOW TIE!

I didn’t watch Gremlins back in the day because it wasn’t recommended for little monsters like me. And while my 2nd grade classmates back in '84 were bragging about how they’re parents let them go see it, I played it cool and pretended. I think I had official Gremlins stickers (in my sticker album) as proof. Anyway, it was still a fairly freaky movie even at this age… and it didn’t help that about three quarters of the way through, Matty turned to me and said:

“I hate to reveal the ending to you, but they’ll only die if they kill the head mogwai.”

“Yeah that creepy dude with the white mohawk, Stripe. He’s bad news.” I said.

“No. Not him. He’s not the head mogwai.”

“You mean, Gi-gizmo?”

“Yes.”

“Noooooooo! I—love—him!”

And for the remainder of the film I was at my wits end fearing that someone was going to off my beloved Gizmo. Thankfully, Gizmo and his trusty pink Barbie Corvette came to the rescue and all was well. Props to Matty for some unnecessary torment. Are we not a match made in heaven or what?

Has anyone seen Gremlins 2 (which I can only assumed is titled, “Billy still isn’t ready”)? Stupid Billy, you piss off the mogwais you piss off Kir! I don't think I'll ever watch it. Let's just focus on the film's summary delivered by the old Chinese Man, “You do with mogwai what your society has done with all of nature's gifts. You do not understand.”

Happy Earth Day everyone! Keep it away from light, water and don’t feed it after midnight.

The whale gods have heard my prayers! Here's hoping they move a bit more into the bay so I can catch a glimpse at lunch. I'm a big fan of whales, if you didn't already know:

My (new) idea of the perfect Friday evening happy hour: go home, throw work stuff on the floor, grab camera, go back outside.

Work is busy. Busy busy. Really busy. Busy clippers. Oh, hairdresser on fire.

More later. In the meantime, sun!

Random imagery shot between Monterey and Cambria — along the Central California coastline.

Like I haven't spent enough time on a computer this week... why not more?

The previous, temporary design needed to go and I guess work has inspired me somewhat to just sit down and get it done. I have a new design in my head... but here's an old stylesheet of mine to hold this thing over. I hope to have something up by the end of Thursday (my day off) -- in between spring cleaning and the laundry. Oh, my eyes.

I normally refrain from taking my work day home with me in the evening, but I'm still not over the fact that it took forever many minutes of staring into the bowels of my start file, bleary eyed, trying to figure out why the CD-ROM I created for one of my classes in Digital Imaging functioned properly on my PC, but gave me a file not found error on my Apple. Turns out my javascript was calling a file titled m16_s04.html, when the actual filename was m16_S04.html. s, S? Blink blink, are you kidding me? Bloody Apples, you're too sensitive... and lucky for you I figured it out in time to meet my deadline. Maybe I'm a little too burned out for my own site? Bah, nothing a little Gewürztraminer couldn't fix.