Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Too Good to be True

Sunset at Playa Algodones
I'm sitting outside on the patio of Departamentos Adlai, a cute little hotel in the northern Mexican state of Sonora, in the small town of San Carlos, along the Sea of Cortez. It is overcast at 10am, and I wonder if the clouds will burn off today. When I arrived yesterday, it was sunny, and we spent the afternoon at the beach, running up sand dunes and just barely getting our feet wet. The water is warm, warmer than it is in California that is, but still not that tropical, so-warm-it's-warmer-than-the-air, warm water that you might expect in Mexico.

Today is day five of this epic trip that I am on, along with my boyfriend Jahsiah, one of my best friends, Timmy, and my two dogs, LaDainian and Isabelle. I'm not quite sure how I convinced everyone to join me on the drive to Costa Rica, especially since this isn't my first attempt at this, and let's just say the first attempt did not end in Costa Rica, nor did it end well. So, really it's remarkable that anyone wanted to come along for round two of Liz's crazy scheme to drive across all of Mexico, which is really quite large, and then through Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua, and finally Costa Rica. When you think about it, it's absolute madness. But while we are doing it, one day at a time, it feels pretty manageable. It's even been very enjoyable, which makes me feel a little unsure, like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, for that catastrophe that makes me think I was wrong all along to do this. I guess it's some part of my psyche that doesn't allow me to believe that things will work out for me. It has me asking "Do I deserve something so good?", "Have I earned this?". These two notions, deserve and earn, need to be erased from my thought process.
The notion that anyone deserves anything means there is someone, a higher power, God or whoever you want to refer to, and that that someone is keeping tabs on us and assigning reactions to our actions. I know this is not true. If it were, bad things would never happen to good people, and they do, with random accuracy. Thinking that someone has earned something as well is silly, since God, or whoever, didn't create money or the system of credit, man did, and I'll be damned if I'll let a man tell me what I have or haven't earned. Not because I don't trust others to judge my actions or reward me accordingly, but if I always based my life on what I have earned in someone else eyes, I might never see myself as worth anything more that what worth is assigned to me. Yet still, I feel a little uneasy about how good things are going. Like it's too good to be true. And maybe that's what I need to work on, thinking of things as good or bad, judging things instead of just letting them be.

Cactus, beachside desert

Driving through the desert has raised this notion of things not being good or bad, but just being. A cactus, for example, is a pokey, spiky, mean looking guy, who you don't want to run into. A cactus is bad to touch, but a cactus, can save your life if you are in the desert. It can provide food and water, if you know your cacti. So, a cactus is good. If something is good and bad, it is neither. And all things, really, are good and bad, which means all things are neither good nor bad. They cancel each other out. Now, this doesn't mean one can't strive to always be the most noble version of one's self. But just because I do my dishes, share what I have when I have it, keep my word as best as possible, this doesn't mean that I don't also do bad things from time to time, especially depending on who is judging my actions. Therein lies the rub, good and bad is simply in the eye of the beholder.

So when that other shoe does drop, it will be my charge, to not view what happens as bad in comparison to the good of this moment, but to view what happens as simply that, something that happened. I can decide if something is good, bad, or neutral, and I can decide how to react. But for now, I'm going to walk my dogs to get coffee in this sleepy little beach town, and simply enjoy the walk.

If you find yourself in San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico make sure to stay at Departamentos Adlai. As you come into town on the main Blvd, hang a right on Calle H, (no sign) just before the Ley, the supermercado on the corner. Drive down a little bit and look for the green painted buildings, the open patio facing the street with jacuzzy and all (although it is not hot) and get yourself a room. You'll be happy with your choice.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Home Sweet Homeless?

I just returned from Southern California, where I stayed with my sister, who lives in Irvine, so that I could participate in the family celebration of Thanksgiving. The majority of my Dad's family lives in Southern California, from Fullerton to Duarte, Irvine to San Gabriel, the whole lot is there, pretty much. As a child, I spent a few weeks every summer in Fullerton, staying at my Grandma and Grandpa's house. I loved those trips down there. What kid wouldn't? They owned their own theater company, The Fullerton Civic Light Opera, so the trip was always filled with musicals and shows. Being so close to Disneyland, Magic Mountain, Universal Studios, and Knott's Berry Farm, and having connections to people who worked at all the parks, we always got to hit up at least one theme park per trip. Then, there are the aunts and uncles who would spoil us with the Orange Country Fair, movies, eating out, can you think of a better vacation?!

So, it's no surprise that when I do visit the Fullerton crew (even though they don't all live in Fullerton, that was the place where my sister and I spent the most time, hence everyone getting lumped together) I get a little nostalgic and I start to feel like I should be living down there. Now, I've been in the Oakland/Berkeley area for the past 6 years, and until recently I loved it here. But a strange thing happened when I returned "home" the other day. I was not excited to be back. In fact, I was so ready to be anywhere but here, it's been hard to stay in a positive mode. There are several factors that I attribute to this little funk that I'm in.

First off, like I said, whenever I visit Fullerton, I get sad that I don't live there. I'm not really sure that I want to live in Southern California. In fact, I don't think I do. The amount of time spent driving on freeways from place to place is exhausting for me, the prevalence of chain businesses and sprawl of strip malls and uniformed houses and apartments is just not my style. That being said, I do love to visit, but because of my family. That's what it is about that place, it's not the place, it's the people. But, I still have a desire to live in a place that has more trees than people, so Southern California is not for me, at least not right now.

The second reason that I am little out of sorts being back in Oakland is that I live in West Oakland, known by some, as the ghetto. Rent is cheap, there are some really great things happening here, like the Peralta Junction, City Slickers, and I'm close to downtown Oakland for awesome events like Art Murmur. But the ghetto is the ghetto and really, I'm over a lot of the characters that I do meet when I'm trying to do something as simple as go to the grocery store, or get gas. No, I don't have any money for you, I'm not even working right now. No, I don't want to buy your CD or see the scars from where you got shot. And no, I don't have a cigarette, a lighter, or matches for you. Clearly, I have run my course with Oakland.

But the real thing that is happening is that I'm in a transition already. Getting ready to drive to Costa Rica, I have started to check out of this existence. All of the things that grounded me to this life, the jobs I've had, the routines I have formed, they are starting to erode away as I move towards the next phase of my life. And for me, it's hard to stay present and feel connected to this space and time, when my mind is so occupied with all of things the future holds. I don't feel like this place is my home anymore, and I don't know where my next home lies, so in a sense I'm already homeless, if not physically, mentally at least.

I don't mean to sound so negative though. It's not like I hate this place, West Oakland, that I have called home for the past three years. I have loved my time here. It's just time for something else now. I took a few yoga classes at the studio where my sister teaches in Irvine. In one of the classes the teachers said something that was true for yoga, obviously, but very true for my life as well. She was explaining that stillness and motion were equally important in your practice. Now, she was referring to our downward dogs and our sun salutations. How finding the comfortable place before holding it in stillness was necessary. And how if you needed to take a child's pose and simply lay still at anytime, that was just as valuable as flowing through with the rest of the class. So I realized, I've been practicing stillness for three years. I made all the necessary adjustments, got in tune with my body, found just the right way to be, and I stayed still, in that pose, for three years. And it was important. Just as important now, is the need to move, to pedal my feet, bend my knees, move my hips, wiggle my writs and fingers, shrug my shoulders, and find that next posture, that I'm sure I'll end up holding again for some time. Because let's face it, you can't just stay in downward dog forever, at some point you have to flow, you have to move, you have to explore your body, your mind, and the world.

Here's to motion and stillness, and to figuring out which one is more helpful to you right now. And whichever it is, just remember to breath.

Monday, November 12, 2012

Planes, Trains, and Automobile, No Train, Sub Boat

For the past few years, I have reasoned that my desire, my passion for travel, was born out of my trip to Japan that I took with my friend Sandra and her family, and then my trip to South Africa, that I took with my Grandma Kennedy. It has recently dawned on me, that this seed for adventure was planted much earlier and that it's not just I who suffers from travelitis, but my whole family.

At present, my Dad and his good friend Terry are living on a sail boat, meandering down the Pacific Coast. They are still in U.S. waters, for now. Soon they will sail south of the border and down to Zihuatanejo, Mexico. Their goal is to arrive in a timely fashion, so as to meet up with my Mom, my sister Alison, who will be celebrating her 30th birthday there, Seth, my bother-in-law, and a handful our of awesome friends. While Alison and crew board planes from various states, Jahsiah, Timmy, and I will be driving south, with a stop-off at the Grand Canyon, we will be working our way down to Zihua, also with the goal of arriving for the one week where the Moore clan, in all it's craziness, can meet up and spend some time in the same city where we spent Christmas last year.

My family, my immediate family, has done a lot of traveling. My sister and I both got started early in the international travel, thanks to Grandma Kennedy, and once my parents retired, they caught up really quickly. We have Central and South America, Asia, Africa, and Europe under our belts, combined we have been to all continents, save Australia (Christmas 2013 anyone?). But the truth is, we were traveling long before our international debuts. With family drives to Montana to visit the Cutbank folks, stopping along the way to see the Salt Flats of Utah, minor league baseball, Yellowstone, and other roadside attractions, a road-trip is no stranger to the Moores. Then there were the family vacations to Hawa'ii, thank you Mom and Aunt Lynn for making these magical moments occur. What better way to spend time as a kid than playing in the waves on Maui? No wonder I'm obsessed with living by the beach.

But it's not just my immediate family. The whole lot of us seem to be crazy! My cousin Vicky spent time in Belize, went to school in the UK and now lives in Scotland. Grandma Kennedy has been to over 80 countries (at least that's what I remember the count being), Grandma and Grandpa Duncan sent me jade jewelry from there voyage to New Zealand, Uncle Brett was all but famous in Mykonos, Greece, we have China under our belts, more Europe, the list goes on and on! This is a rather worldly family, on all sides!

And I think back to when Alison and I would fly to Fullerton for the summer. Now, that might not sound like the most exciting thing ever to you, but to me, it was awe inspiring. Just me and my sister, young, getting sent on a plane, alone, knowing that Grandpa would be waiting to pick us up from the airport. We would get seated first, as children flying without parents. We usually got little pins of wings to wear and playing cards. I remember exiting the plane, one of those open air airports, and it was always sticky in Fullerton in the summer (wonder why I like humidity), so the warm air would smack you in the face as you left the air-conditioned cabin. I believe that these trips are the reason I tend to be so fearless when traveling. I'll go anywhere, even if others say it is unsafe, because as scary as the voyage into the unknown might be, a friendly face is always awaiting you at your destination.

So when people look at me like I'm crazy for wanting to drive to Costa Rica, I just want to tell them, you should meet my family, they make me look normal, if not at times, boring.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

The Show Must Go On!


My head is swimming now. It  is with many, mixed emotions that I write this. Today is November 1st, which to me signifies a few things. Fall is in full effect, Halloween, probably my favorite holiday is now 364 days away, and tomorrow, I turn another year older. These facts are true every November 1st. But this year, November 1st holds more significance. It's our Thursday night show of The Fantastiks, as we always have a Thursday night show during closing weekend, but I am not working. Elaine, the new Box Office Manager of The Altarena Playhouse is working her first solo shift to see if I have trained her well. See, she will be taking over my job, now that I am leaving for Costa Rica. So, in a way, tonight marks the end of an era for me. Even though I will work the rest of the weekend and close the show on November 4th with my Altarena family, tonight I feel the reality of this chapter ending, and a new one beginning.


Another significant thing about today being November 1st is that we launched our Kickstarter Project today. It took a little more than a month to put the whole thing together when you factor in writing the short script for the movie, story-boarding the scenes, finding out where we were going to shot, lining up everyone's schedules, writing the whole profile and written portion of the project. We put a lot of work into it and I am proud of what we have created. I am also confident that we will reach our goal of $5,000, thanks to the amazing network of people we are surrounded by.

In the past three years I have gained so much inspiration working at the theater and being around such artistic, passionate, talented people. Not just the actors, but everyone who works crew, our stage managers, our costumer designers, our Board Members. I have been so lucky to be influenced by so many creative minds and I really feel as though this project, this Kickstarter, this motivation to follow this dream and go for it, ties into my experiences at The Altarena.

ManOfLaManchaThe first full show I worked was Man of La Mancha. I had never seen the show, which was odd considering my background in musical theater through my family in Fullerton and the fact that my Grandma has played the role of Dulcinea. I was not in the most mentally stable place at that time, February of 2010, as I was still quite shaken at our financial situation and our daunting task of starting over. I don't know if you know the story of Man of La Mancha, but I think it was pretty fitting for me to start working at the theater during the production. The story of this man, Don Quixote, who struggles to fight the good fight, against all odds, "To dream the impossible dream,... To run where the brave do not go,....This is my quest, To follow that star, No matter how hopeless, No matter how far." These lyrics spoke to me and reassured me that I would reach my goal, one day. And that was the hope that I needed. Little did I know, that the people involved in that production, would play such large roles in my life afterwards as well. LaMont Ridgell, who played Don Quixote, moved me to tears night after night with his beautiful voice and portrayal of that character. Donna Turner was a wonderful Dulcinea and she and her husband Stewart have continued to inspire me through their work at the theater. Chris Ciabattoni and Sydney Michaels first entered my life during that run as well. Fiona McIntosh was involved. Ryan Lee Short and Laura Domingo, who got together during that run and are together still! Perry Aliado, John Hale, the list goes on and on! I know I'm leaving people out, because there is no way to include everyone who made the production special. Then, there's the fact that so many of these folks have been repeat participants in other productions at Altarena!




So, this beautiful little family was born and has evolved since then, with the latest incarnation of wonder, The Fantastiks. How fitting that for my last show with Altarena, LaMont is back along with Chris, both as leads, Fiona is working crew, Sydney is on costumes. I couldn't think of a better way to end my time here. Although, I don't want to say end my time, because while I am going off to try something new, and have an adventure, my connection to the theater runs deep and this will always be My Little Theater, along with it being Alameda's Little Theater. Oh, it's all too much! I'm going to get all weepy. Basically, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been involved with Altarena. The love that I have watched people pour into their roles there, their jobs, and all for the love of art, all so that we can have something beautiful to enjoy, it has given me such strength to strive for beauty, to reach that unreachable star. I feel so blessed to have had this job, to have met these people, and to set out on my quest with such an amazing group of friends supporting me. Thank you all!


(Please note, this is not LaMont signing, although I would love to have that version if anyone has it!)

Monday, October 22, 2012

Holy Cow! 7 Weeks?!?

Last night, Jahsiah and I watched an Australian movie entitled, Wish You Were Here. It told the story of two sisters who travel to Cambodia with their husband and new boyfriend, respectively. After a night of doing drugs and partying too hard, the boyfriend goes missing. I won't spoil the movie for anyone, as it was good and worth watching. For Jahsiah and I though, the movie was perhaps not the best thing to have watched last night, as we both felt uneasy and nervous afterwards. As I brushed my teeth, getting ready for bed right after the movie ended, I realized that we were leaving in approximatley 7 weeks. That's about 49 days (even though we don't have a set departure date). That's not very far away at all! And watching a movie about everything that can go wrong when traveling in a foreign, far-off land, well, that's a bad idea when you are about to do just that!

We laid in bed like little kids the night before a trip to Magic Mountain or Disneyland. We were giddy, hyper, so nervous I could hear our heartbeats. Realizations of what we are about to embark on started to become just that, real, as opposed to things way off in the distance that one day we would do. When we came back three years ago from our first attempt at driving through Central America, we said we do it again. But three years is a long time to say you will do something. And that's all it has been, just saying it. But now, we are at the point of really doing it. I will admit, I am nervous and a bit scared.

Saint Augustine of Hippo
When my heart starts beating fast, and my mind starts racing and I almost want to back out and just keep on living my simple, normal, mundane, expected life, I remind myself of two things. The first is a quote that I read for the first time in Costa Rica. It was painted on the wall of the last hostel in San Jose that Jahsiah, Timmy, and I stayed in during our 2009 trip. "The world is a book, those who don't travel, read only a page." Saint Augustine of Hippo,  the patron saint of brewers, printers, theologians, and the alleviation of sore eyes, is credited to have said this beautiful quote. He lived in modern day Algeria, when it was part of the Roman Empire. His birthday is November 13th, go figure, he's a Scorpio, too. I love this quote because for me, traveling is the only way to understand the world, and therefore, each other as humans. But it also touches on reading, which is something that I struggled with so much as a child and young adult. Now I love to read and when I have the time, I enjoy it. But this was not always the case. I am dyslexic so reading can be quite laborious for me at times, even still. This is where I see a parallel. Reading and traveling are not always the easiest things to do. They both require mental aptitude, more so than sitting on your couch, watching Netflix night after night. And when you read and travel, you gain so much. Quite often, the fruits of your labor are not seen from either experience until much further down the road. But if you put in that energy and effort to learn of new worlds, sometimes real, sometimes imaginary, far off places, different cultures, characters with their own stories to tell, you will become a better person, for your view will now encompass theirs' as well. And if you can see through the lens of someone else, you can better understand them. In a time where we are constantly being shown how different we are from the rest of the world, from different religions and cultures, I think it is incredibly important that we find our commonalities, and throw off the xenophobic view of the boob tube.

The other thing I remind myself of when I start to think I am making a crazy, and perhaps poor choice of my immediate future, is a poem by my favorite poet, Robert Frost.
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;        5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,        10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.        15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.        20
I didn't really get this poem the first time I heard it, and I'm not even sure when or where that was. But I knew I liked Robert Frost and I knew this poem was about traveling so it always stuck with me. More and more, I think of this poem when I make decisions and wonder whether or not they are the right decisions to make. Because life is just that, a series of decisions, that once made, cannot be unmade, and set us down paths we will not have time to back-track on. Once you start down a road, you must continue down that road, even if it wasn't the right road. Now there will be forks in the road, and you will have the chance to decide between left or right, but you will not be able to go back. "I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference." This is the line that gets me. This is the line that I strive to personify. I want to always be on the road less traveled by. I want to pioneer into the unknown. I want to discover mysteries that modern science or television would have us believe do not exist. Like ancient maps that warned of dragons and sea serpents, I want to find mythical monsters and gentle beasts, the stuff of fairy tales. And you can't find that if you always stay on the paved road, with stop lights, safety cameras, and lots of traffic.

So even though I'm nervous, maybe even a little bit terrified, I have to keep reading this book that is the world. I have to find the dragons, the mermaids, the monsters that live somewhere down that road less traveled by. And I have to not watch movies that make traveling seem scary right before I venture into the unknown.  Now, I just need to pick out a good book for the trip.

Monday, October 15, 2012

The Hostess with The Mostest

I finally figured out what I'm good at. No, not just good at, great at. I'm a great host. Whether it's at work, where ever I'm working, or at my house, sometimes even other people's houses, I'm good at taking care of people and making them feel welcome. It's what I really like doing, and it turns out, I'm better at it than most people. So that's it, after 27 years on this planet, I've found my talent, hospitality.

What a relief. It's hard to not know what you're good at. Especially when you see other people excelling and succeeding in various other skill sets. One can become quite down on life. But to know, to really know you have found something that you can do well, it's a great feeling.

This recent discovery has come from my return to restaurant work. I've taken a part-time job as a hostess at a restaurant in North Oakland, a rather high-end, American Brasserie. I only have two or three shifts a week, which is perfect as I'm still the Box Office Manager at Altarena Playhouse, but only for three more weeks. And even though we are leaving for Costa Rica in mid-December, I needed something to supplement my income now, and something that could keep me making money through November, when the theater closes for the 2012 season. I was a little reluctant to start working in restaurants again after having felt very burnt out in my last server position. But that was almost three years ago, and my mental state was quite different. Now, I'm still not sure that I would enjoy serving again, but that's just it, I didn't say that I found my calling as a server. Sure, when I pick up checks off tables and see that servers are getting $30 tips on some tabs, and knowing that I'll only get tipped out $30 for the entire night, I get a little jealous. But it's not enough for me to want to go back to serving. No, I enjoy the other aspect of the job, making things run smoothly. Being the face of the customer's experience. Being the one that got them the table they needed, arranged their special cake be brought out at the right time. And knowing that when they call to make another reservation, I'll be the one to help them with their future celebrations.

Working at the theater for the past three years really brought me to this point, though. We have almost 900 season ticket holders and I know a lot of them by name, first and last. They know my voice, the know my face, we talk on the phone, we email, and when they come to the show, I'm the first person they see. I love making sure they feel welcome and letting them know if they have any questions, or concerns, that I can take care of them. When people leave, I want to know that they've had a good time, that's how I know they will be back. Part of it is how I view money, I guess. If I'm going to spend money on a night out, I want it to be worth it. The whole package should be good, I don't like things rough around the edges. That's where my talent comes in, I make things run, and I make them run smoothy. It's not just hosting, it's managing.

Our quest to find the perfect beans and rice
"In Search of the Perfect Gallo Pinto"Our quest to find the perfect beans and rice.

And now that I'm recognizing that this talent exists within me, I'm starting to notice it play out in other aspects of my life. We're just about to finish filming our Kickstarter Video, and then Jahsiah will move into the editing phase, while I finish the written portion of the project. Filming was a lot of fun and it took a lot of dedication, on everyone's part. In filming, I again felt somehow in tune with what I was doing, I felt very natural planning out the days, setting scenes, working with Jahsiah and Timmy to time things properly, and make things run efficiently. It was so much fun and went so well, I'm excited to keep filming things, new projects, especially on the road. One of the many ways in which we had envisioned framing our drive to Costa Rica was as a food-driven travel show, "In Search of the Perfect Gallo Pinto". After how well our Kickstarter went, I have a feeling you can expect to see that web series by February.

This new found confidence could not have come at a better time. In the past three years, I've worked on scaling back my dream of owning my own hostel. After the first attempt didn't work, I wanted to make sure I was being realistic about what it would mean to get down to Costa Rica, whether or not we would like living there, if I really did want to run a hostel, deal with tourists all day. I had to tell myself that maybe I would hate it, that way if it never happened, I wouldn't be so crushed. But now, I'm realizing, not only do I still want to own and run my own hostel, I will be so good at it. And that's how I know, that one of these days, it's going to happen. When it does, I'll look forward to welcoming you.

Friday, October 5, 2012

It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you....

I think I have a problem. An addiction if you will, to working a lot, being too busy, stressing myself out. I can't seem to help it. I have so many jobs, gigs, plans, and the funny thing is, I'm sort of a flake. I always go to work, and make sure to walk my dogs, and I've recently realized I am an administrative genius. I can juggle a lot of work related things at once, often times at the expensive of any social life or sanity. But I don't mind it, really. I mean at times it's stressful to work seven days a week and stay on top of living a somewhat healthy life, but I am hell-bent on saving money, because let's face it, it's always better on holiday, and I believe that the harder I work now, the easier life will be later. This has yet to be verified.

So, I should start by saying that I will leaving in December, to drive to Costa Rica.There you have it, the official announcement. Obligatory in the age of Facebook, Twitter, and constant connection through social media. Now, some of you may remember that I attempted this adventure a few years ago, and it was not completed. We made it to Oaxaca, in southern Mexico, and ended up coming home from there, broke, tired, hungry, but not completely broken. Jahsiah and I have spent the past three years rebuilding from that chapter of our book and we are ready to give it another go. Two quotes come to mind given this situation. The first, a negative quote that I almost started to believe in the past few years:
  • "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."--Albert Einstein.  
This quote kept seeping into my mind when I would tell people, that yes, I was going to try again, to drive to Costa Rica. The shame of failure from last time was what fueled this thought process. You see, I'm not great at anything in particular, but I'm pretty good at most things I put my mind to. I usually succeed in doing what I set out to do. So when we didn't make it to Costa Rica three years ago, my pride and ego took a big hit. Humility was the silver lining, but it took a long time for that to show through the dark clouds of depression, frustration, and disappointment. Recently, a new quote has become the mantra in my mind surrounding our next expedition:
  • "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."--Source Unclear
Now this quote, I can get behind. It took a while for me to realize that failure is the beginning of success. You can't gauge the importance of one without the other. Therefore, I will not be ashamed that I failed, I will be motivated to succeed. This is not always easy to remember, but then again, what is?

So please, stay tuned, for in between working my last show at the theater, picking up some extra shifts at my new restaurant job, filming my Kickstarter (coming by the end of the month), and creating my other blog which will be a travelblog of our journey, I will try to keep you updated on the process of getting ready for a life changing event. And hopefully, it will encourage you to try, and try again, at whatever dream is lying dormant in your brain.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Of all the Micro Breweries, in all the world, I had to walk into this one

Gravitate Towards Jupiter, Downtown Berkeley, CA
Once upon a time, I walked into a bar/restaurant in downtown Berkeley, and handed in a resume. Just back from the obligatory, post-college-world tour, I was broke, over-educated, and inexperienced in any line of work other than serving food. I needed a job and my friend Joanna had taken me to Jupiter on my first night living in Berkeley. Of course I fell in love with the ambiance, who wouldn't love an old barn, with wooden beams running throughout and a beautiful brick courtyard with Christmas lights year round? And the pizza and beer were good, so good that I thought, wouldn't it be nice to get this for free during my shift rather than have to pay for it once a week? So in that moment where my resume passed from my hand to that of the manager on duty, Eryn Blackwelder, magic happened, and I proceeded down a path.

There are those exact moments in time where you can trace back how your life would have been different if that moment hadn't have happened. Like you can almost see fate unfolding. I didn't know at the time how much would change just from that little job as a food runner and a hostess. Maybe you've had a job like this, or an experience with a group of people with whom you did a play or were on a team together. It doesn't matter what brought you together with these people, it's the fact that once you met up on that path in life, you realized, they would always be there, sometimes visible, sometimes not, but forever with you.

It might sound extreme to speak of a restaurant job in such dramatic tones, but working at Jupiter really did change my life. I went there the other night to celebrate a friend's last shift. I haven't worked there for four years, and I don't know many front of the house employees anymore. The kitchen staff hasn't changed much and we all said hello. Back when I was managing there, I used to love hanging out in the prep kitchen, me practicing Spanish, some of the guys practicing English. I've never worked in another restaurant where the kitchen staff and the front of house staff interacted so much. That was probably due to Eleanor Alderman acting as the translator and always making sure that the language gap was bridged. That was just one of the ways in which Jupiter was unique. But, back to the other night.

Tim Henry and I met at Jupiter. We were co-workers, who then became roommates, and evolved from that to be best friends, keeping in touch even though he has been living on the other side of the world for the past year. We went in to say goodbye to Joesph Scheppers, one of the truly great people that exists in this world. You won't meet very many people who are as funny, kind, smart, and enjoyable as Joe Scheppers. If you know him, in any capacity, consider yourself lucky. He's about to move down to LA LA land, a dream he's talked about since I met him, smoking a cigarette in the breezeway at Jupiter, his first night as a doorman.

So many young souls work in restaurants while they nurture their dreams. Biding their time, saving money, making connections, and drinking, drinking a lot. I think drinking a lot is almost inherently necessary to have big dreams. Dreams of being famous artists, actors and musicians, of living in far off places, of starting your own business. It's difficult to believe in these dreams in a sober state of mind in this world of can'ts and won'ts. So we drank at Jupiter, night after night, year after year, we went from co-workers, to friends, to roommates, to lovers, to boyfriends and girlfriends, mentors, gurus, guidance counselors, to husbands and wives and parents. It really was, and in some ways still is, a family. And while there are some Jupiter folks that continue to be friends in the flesh, friends like Tim Henry, Joe Scheppers, Evan Becchetti, Sarah Newman, Ben Wiklund, there are the countless others that show up on my Facebook feed or I hear about through the grapevine,  and I realize, so many of the people I am connected too, came out of the old barn.


So maybe we now live in Colorado, and Sweden, and Dubai, and France, and Hawaii, and Indonesia and where ever else we moved on to, but we are still a family. I think sometimes how I really could still call upon this huge network of people for so many things if I needed to. How we went through hell and back together on those Blue Grass Nights, those Cal game days, those sold out concerts at The Greek, and SantaCon. If you've only ever eaten there, you might not know, that part of why the beer tastes so good, is because we cried while serving it to you, but we usually did it with a smile, because we knew a quarter time was waiting at the end of the bar for us.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Today, I Love Oakland

I've been living in my apartment in West Oakland for just about three years now. That might not seem like a long time to some people, but for me, it is. This is the longest I've lived in one place since first moving out of my parent's house ten years ago. Through college and the years immediately following college, I moved approximately every 10 months to a year. Always getting bored, needing a change in scenery, adapting to the ever changing flow of roommates. Several factors have played into me being so sedentary of late.
  1. I was too broke to move. After returning to the Bay Area from what has become known as The Great Mexico Debacle, I simply didn't have extra money to move. 
  2. I began living with my boyfriend, Jahsiah. We had only been together for one year before cohabitating, but let me tell you, it was a helluva year. Once you find someone you enjoy living with, that ever changing flow of roommates coming and going seems less appealing than the consistancy of companionship.
  3. The longer you stay in one place, the more work you put into making that place feel like home, the harder it is to leave.
This has not been the easiest nor the nicest place to live, though. There are a great many opinions on Oakland and what this city is all about. I won't attempt to describe them all, as that would take way too much time for me to write or you to read. The point is, West Oakland is a place that will test your resolve, and it has certainly tested mine. There are days when I can't stand this place. Police sirens, shopping carts pushed by recycle collectors, an orchestra of conversations loudly happening in front of my house, this soundtrack plays at all hours of the day and night here. Quite is a word that does not belong in West Oakland. Privacy should probably stay away as well. And then, there are the gun shots.

I remember the first time we heard them, we were sitting in our living room, watching, ironically, The Wire, an HBO show dedicated to delving into the world of inner city politics. I didn't recognize the repetitive bangs! as gun shots, but Jahsiah, who is a little more savy, threw me, and our two dogs on the floor before laying on top of us. I was scared then. I don't get scared now. I get upset when I hear them, even more upset that, more often than not, the police sirens usually don't follow the shots, because, more often than not, the cops usually just don't come.

Now, I don't mean to be a downer because the point is, for all the less-than-desirerable attributes of this fair city, there are some days where I just fucking love this place. Today is one of those days. Soon after I woke up, I heard chants of protest growing closer. I walked outside, through my garden to find a group of folks marching against violence. They were marching, with police escorts, to demonstrate their frustration of police brutality and brutality in general, committed by anyone. There were Soldiers Against Violence Everywhere signs and it was such a beautiful thing to see on a Saturday morning.

Not long after, my friend came over and I walked him to the West Oakland BART station with my dogs. He has been living abroad for the past year so while we walked I filled him in on the things he's missed out on or discoveries I've made about my neighborhood while he was gone. Bikes4Life and Revolution Cafe, the super bomb pupusa spot. All the great little businesses that are finding a way in this mad world. I said goodbye to him as he entered the BART station and I began my walk home. Whenever I walk somewhere with my dogs, I have a lot of random conversations and interactions with folks, and today was no different. People like the look of my dogs in this neighborhood. In West Oakland, if you have a dog, it's either a chihuahua or a pit bull. I fit in nicely with my two pit bulls.

Scraper Bikes, for those of you who don't know.
If all that pleasantry wasn't enough, my walk was blessed with a scrapper bike parade. Fifteen kids and teens riding bikes through the neighborhood, playing music off the back of their bikes, where they have engineered great mobile sound systems, one of my favorite West Oakland innovations. And as I was walked home, happily enjoying the lively neighborhood, I thought to myself, this is a day that I truly love this place.

Like all long-term relationships, there are good days and bad days. There are things you love about your partner and things you cannot stand, but what you learn as you endure is that there is no such thing as constant, and there is peace in that. People will change, places will change, feelings will change, and you will change. I have wanted to live in the jungles of Central America for ten years now, and the irony of life is that I do live in a jungle, I live in the concrete jungle of West Oakland. And if you can learn to not only survive the jungle, but love it, despite its annoyances and dangers, than you can learn to love just about anything and anyone. And that is a beautiful thing.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

FOMO, Not Just for Festies Anymore...

In 2010 I attended my first, and hopefully not only, Burning Man. I won't go into the details of that experience, mainly because a lot of those memories are rather blurry and not for sharing on public forums. But one thing that I will always remember from that trip was the advice that my friend Sarah shared with me. She had been to several Burns prior, not sure how many, but she was savy. And Burning Man wasn't her only festival experience. So, she decided to share some important information with me. She informed me of FOMO, or Fear Of Missing Out, and the potenial dangers of suffering from FOMO. See, at something like Burning Man, there are over 50,000 other people doing all kinds of things that you cannont ever imagine. Theme camps, music camps, thousands of art exibits, all scattered around the desert. In one week, you have the chance to see as much of that as possible, or you can never leave the block you pitched you tent on. Either way, you will have an incredible, life-altering, ground-shaking-to-the-very-core-of-your-essence time. But the thing to keep in mind, she wisely advised, was to not let the FOMO creep in.

You see, once you start fearing that you are missing out on something better, you have failed to live in the moment. I like to think of FOMO as the evil twin to Be Here Now, although BHN doesn't have quit the same ring to it. That notion, that someone, somewhere is having more fun, doing something more meaningful, getting more out of their experience than you, that will rot your soul. You will start to doubt the validity of what you have just been through. You will think that your life and time spent were not to the fullest, when in fact, you are always doing what you should be doing at that moment, if you weren't, well you would cease to be you, and cease to live the life you are living.

It seems recently, FOMO has been creeping out of the deserts of Black Rock City and into the lives of everyday urban dwellers. I've struggled with it this summer, while watching my friends jet-set around the globe. I was invited to join them all, but declined as I'm saving my money for my big move in December (more to come on that soon!). But 'tis not only I that has been suffering from FOMO of recent times.

One of my dear friends, who will be returning from recent travels, has been exhibiting symptoms of FOMO. After a long time aboard this friend is feeling eager to return home, but reluctant for not having seen everything while journeying. This is impossible, just all too common of a feeling. When you visit a part of the world, or go to see friends or family, you start to think about all the places you didn't make it to, or the events that will happen once you board that return flight home. The birthdays you will miss, the weekend brunches you won't attend, so many beautiful things and you cannot do or see them all. How obscene that this world is so beautiful, that we suffer, not from a lack of beauty but from a sense of overwhelming abundance that we will not be able to take it all in. In this life, we make choices and to some extent we have to live with those choices. Another friend was torn on whether to stay aboard and live in a far off place or return to familiarity. I think for those of us that travel, that thrive on seeing new, unknown, exotic things, we sometimes have contempt for the familiar. We see it as mundane, or too normal to stomach. But in my wise old age, I am learning that familiar is not boring or lowbrow, it is home, and there is nothing wrong with staying home.

So, as you embark on whatever journey today will bring, make sure you align yourself not with The Fear, but with The Presence of Now. So much easier said than done. But ease and reward do not always travel in tandem. Just realize, you are where you are because of choices you have made. They don't always offer instant gratification, but that's OK. Life doesn't need to immediately pay off. And if you are not happy with where you are, I mean not because of FOMO, but because you really should make a change, then do that. But when you feel that sense of jealousy and envy start to creep in, just push it aside, realize that what you are doing has just as much importance as what someone else is doing. And remember, stay hydrated, even though this isn't the desert, water always helps.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

And Now Ladies and Gentlemen....

A little bit of poetry on this fine Sunday afternoon.

It all feels so fake.
Like I'm waking up for the first time to realize that all this is nothing more than
plastic pawns on a cheap, cardboard chessboard.
If it was carved from marble or mahogany, it wouldn't seem to bad.
But this, it's all I can do to wait for that day when I hear
"Pass Go, Collect $200", and then, just like that,
Without waiting to say Sorry,
Like a Hungry Hippo, I'm off!

Down secret Chutes and up Hidden ladders.
If I hurry, I'll be gone before you have the chance to sink my battleship.
Careful! Don't break the ice or someone will notice I'm sneaking out, through the Ballroom, with the revolver, and Mrs. Peacock is on my ass!
If I can just make it through this Candy Land of distractions and demons.
One wrong move, and KeRplUnK! It could all be over before I know it.

But like Magic Gathering, there are tricks up my sleeve.
And I'm willing to take the Risk, because you have no idea how well I know my way around this Mousetrap.
I have moves like you've never seen, the likes of which will Boggle your mind.
I will get out of this Barrel of Monkeys and when I do, I'll be the one yelling
YAHTZEE!

Because this is no Trivial Pursuit here.
This is my Life.
And this is one game, I plan on winning.

**Warning: The game is rigged. You can't lose if you don't play the game.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

A Return to Art Night

I've been working a lot lately. One might say, I've been getting my hustle on. Picking up any last odd job that I can, stashing up for winter like a little squirrel. And it's been great. A lot of my friends are off having summer vacations and enjoying the warm, lazy days of August, the last hurrah of summer. But I have been working. And in direct correlation to working a lot, I have been watching a lot of T.V.. Now, I don't actually have cable, and I don't watch current T.V., but after a long day's work, coming home and putting on Law and Order is about all my brain can handle. It's like as soon as I hear that theme song, Duh duh, my mind shuts down and I can start to unwind. I do not enjoy the fact that this has become my routine.

African Sunset Piggy Bank
For the past two school years, not calender years, I have worked at a middle school in Oakland. That job, drained me. As much as I enjoyed some of the kids I worked with, the Monday through Friday schedule sucked the soul from my very essence. Before working there, while I was struggling for money (but let's face it, when am I not) I was exploring talents that I had not nurtured previously. Completely landscaping our front yard, creating and tending to a vegetable garden, painting, drawing, having art nights, staying up late because as most artists will tell you, the witching hour is the creative hour. When I started working the middle school job, that part of my character was stifled. You see, there is a reason that the artist starves.

I never used to consider myself an "artist". A friend of mine, who is an exceptional painter and cartoonist, always felt uneasy calling himself an artist, although in my mind there was never any doubt that that is exactly what he is. I now realize that I am also an artist and I understand his discomfort in self-proclaiming such an idea. To identify as an artist is inherently narcisistic. When you say "I am an artist", what you are also saying is "I make cool things", or "You should like what I make" or even if you don't like it, you should respect my art, or see it's meaning. I'm beginning to realize this self assumed importance as I write. If I'm writing this, I think it's worth you reading. I've been struggling to find my own voice as a writer. Actually, that's not true at all because I write what I think and I'm not struggling to find what I think. But I have been struggling to believe that what I write is worth reading. 

What I'm realizing more and more, is that working, especially when you work a lot, or when you do work that you don't particularly enjoy, has a negative impact on the creative part of your brain. Look at the majority of people in this country. What is their nightly habit? How many people do you think are having an art night behind those drawn curtains and closed doors? After working as a door-to-door canvasser, I can comfortably assume that the majority of people spend their evenings, not curled up with a good book, or writing in their journal, but watching that old boob tube. I don't mean to knock the 9 to 5'ers. And I'm not saying that if you have a job, you are not creative. But there is not a creative, talented person out there, that I know, that would not jump at the chance to stop working for that less than impressive paycheck and focus on their art, whatever that may be. Just imagine the scale of artistic endeavour that could take place if so many struggling, starving artists weren't worried about how to pay rent.

An Homage to Anpanman
Candy Bebop, an homage to Anpanman
And so, last night, Jahsiah and I shut off those two distinct factions of the law, and set out to have an art night. Maybe the ensuing aftermath won't ever sell for $20,000 or hang in a museum anywhere, but my mind is healthier today than it has been in a long time. And today I plan on only attending one job, because let's face it, to make good art, sometimes you have to sacrifice some of that good money.

So ladies and gentlemen, I implore you, whatever else you do today, take a few minutes and draw a doodle, play an instrument, cut out a snowflake for christ's sake! But do something with the right side of your brain that you haven't done since elementary school. And I guarantee, tomorrow will be a better day.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

From Here to There and Back Again

I just dropped my friend Kat off at Bart in West Oakland. Her flight from San Francisco to Rwanda leaves at 10:30am. I'm usually all for airport runs. Pick ups, drop offs, trips to get lost luggage. But this time, it just made sense for her to take Bart. The traffic on the way to the city during commute time would have added an extra hour or two to her whole travel day, which is long enough as is. I do love going to the airport though, even if I'm not flying. Almost more actually because I'm not a big fan of flying, I just like being in that travel vibe.

I feel like I've had my fill of airplane hours. Hearing Kat run through her flight itineray, I went through a strange wave of emotions. Four hours from SFO to Chicago, eight hours to Brussles, another eight hours to Rwanda. A few hours for layovers, that's a lot of plane time. I do love that sleep deprived, semi-delirious, strung out feeling from all those hours in tiny seats, malnourished by airplane food, if you're still lucky enough to be served any, arriving at your destination, unsure of the time zone you're in or the day of the week. I remember when I went to South Africa. The process of getting there was as memerable as the time spent in country. I was 16 and flying by myself for the first time. I was going with a Lutheran Church group, Our Savior's Lutheran Church of Lafayette, CA. I'm not Lutheran, but my Grandma invited me to join after I had been in Japan earlier that year with a friend. She knew I had been "bit by the travel bug". She, having been to over 70 countries, clearly understood that I needed to keep going places now that I had a taste for it. She was also not Lutheran, but a friend of hers, who was Lutheran, was going with this group and, hey, if you have an excuse to go to any part of the continent of Africa, I say take it.

My Grandma was on a different flight than I was, both going there and coming back. When I got to the airport, I knew  some of my fellow church group travelers would be on my same flight, but I hadn't meet them all and didn't really know who I was looking for. Sandy, an older, sweet woman and her husband Ted, recognized me and took me under their wing for the trip, and I was grateful. We first flew from San Francisco to New York, 6 hours, where we were late arriving so we almost missed our flight. We had to get rushed over on one of those luggage carts, racing through JFK, holding on for dear life. We were the last people to board the flight to Johannesburg. It was a "direct" flight to Jo'burg in that we didn't get out of the plane for the next 15 hours, but we did stop and refuel in The Cape Verde Islands. This always stuck with me: the fact that we had to get more gas to get where we were going! You would think a huge airplane like that, one tank, and you're set. Not when you fly to South Africa though. It was literally on the other side of the world. But that travel experience was short compared to the return flight.

On the way home, we had done ground travel from Jo'burg, more in the north of the country, down to Cape Town, at the southern tip. So, to get home, first there was a two hour flight, back to Jo'burg. Layover. Flight from Jo'burg to Heathrow, London, my first time in Europe. Layover. Flight from London back to JFK. Layover. Flight from JFK to SFO. Pick-up. When that was said and done, I had been traveling solo for 36 hours. A day and a half had passed. I felt crazed. Not to mention the rush of emotions and the strangeness that comes from traversing half the globe and going from corrugated tin shanty towns to two story houses with two car garages and strip malls and traffic.

It really is a mad, mad world that we live in. Hop on a train, hop on a plane, and just like that, you can be anywhere in the world within a day of traveling. What used to take months, now takes hours.

What a trip.....

Monday, July 30, 2012

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Lotus Flower

I realize I've been ranting and raving a little bit and stuck in a bit of a depressed place for the past few days. This is something I struggle with as I am always wanting to be somewhere else, traveling, experiencing something new, but financially, I am tied to my current situation. I know patience is a virtue and I am working on reminding myself that everything happens when it is meant to, not when we want it to. I think I've been a little testier than usual since I'm suffering from a bit of jealousy towards two of my friend's upcoming plans and adventures.

My friend Joanna is going to Spain for six weeks to visit her dad. She goes to Spain about once a year and it's not a huge deal because she travels a lot, so I'm pretty used to saying goodbye and seeing her in a few months. She has already been in Colombia, Ecuador, and Ghana this year. She gets around. She was in the Peace Core in Ecuador and just finished her masters in Public Health at UC Berkeley so she travels for the non-profit that she works for and visits her connections from her time spent living abroad. She leaves on Thursday, and I'm going to be sad.

My other friend Kat is leaving to go to Rwanda for probably a minimum of one month, but since her return ticket is open ended, there's no telling how long she will end up being gone. She went to Rwanda last November with her mom, on a work trip. She became friends with the tour guide that showed that group of mental health workers around and since she has kept in touch with him, she is going back to spend more time in Rwanda and potentially travel around other parts of East Africa. (I need to tell her that I just heard about an Ebola outbreak in Uganda. Someone remind me.) I am so happy for her to get to go see that part of the world. What an amazing experience that will be! So many stories. Just the chance to see hippos gets me all worked up, and I'm not even going! She also leaves on Thursday.

Now, I have these awesome friends that love to travel as much as I do. And go to non-conventional places, which I like. I have one friend, Timmy, living in Indonesia, and I get a kick out of telling people that. So many people are afraid of so many parts of the world, or just think they are ass-backwards communities of people. I remember telling folks I was moving to Costa Rica a few years ago (that story will come at a later date) and I was warned that they don't have toilet paper down there. When I tried to assure them that, yes, they do have toilet paper, I was told once more, very seriously, that no, they don't and I should look into the place a bit more before moving there.

So, back to the point. I have this necklace. It's a lotus flower that my mom bought for me. A very simple, silver outline of a flower. It is the symbol for a church that my mom, sister, and aunt all attend, The Self Realization Fellowship. SRF assigns a similar symbolism to the lotus flower as is common in Buddhism, Hinduism, and ancient Eygpt. The lotus flower is a beautiful flower that emerges from dark, dank, murky waters and ponds. Because of this, wearing the lotus flower helps remind you that from our darkest moments, bloom our most beautiful beginnings.

I had been wearing the lotus flower for a while and then decided to take it off. I get a little obsessed wearing jewelery for long periods of time. It was around this time that my friend Whitney was going through a rather tough spot in her life, so I decided she should wear the lotus flower until she bloomed into her next phase. She ended up wearing the flower on a trip to Mexico, where she became friends  with a woman named Jaime. Jaime wore the flower back to Chicago where she lives. After Mexico, Whitney decided to go visit Jaime in Chicago. That was back in April, she hasn't come back and she is happy. I'm happy for her. Whitney ended up going to Colombia with Joanna, and wearing the flower there as well. She then decided that Joanna should wear the flower on her trip to Ecuador. Joanna did and has been wearing it since then. Joanna will be giving it to Kat, to wear to Rwanda on Thursday. That same necklace is coming back to me with Kat so that I can wear it on my next adventure, which will be in December.

This same lotus flower also lives in the form of a tattoo, behind my friend Lindsey's ear. I'm not quite sure how this whole thing got started but it's beautiful. I want to get all emotional and philisophical about how our pain and suffering, and therefore, our liberation and happiness are all tied together, but let's face it, that's a little out of my writing style. It is fucking cool though that this lotus flower is making the rounds. Pretty soon it will be more well-traveled than I am.

I guess I just think that something like this is important. And I'm not sure why, why we need symbols to remind us of things that we already know. Why we need to have habits and rituals, things that become traditions. These things, these acts, these symbols, they stand for so much and they help us stay on track. For me, right now, this lotus flower is very important. The amount of love that has been put into it. The places it's been and the people that is has interacted with. There is something magical about it.

To my friends who are or soon will be scattered about once again, Whitney in Chicago, Timmy in Indonesia, Kat in Rwanda, Joanna in Spain, be safe and be loved. And remember, when something doesn't seem to be going the way you had imagined it, or even going well at all, those mishaps and mistakes, those moments of darkness and desperation, those are the places where your roots are finding nutrients. From those places, you will bloom. 

Thursday, July 26, 2012

So, what do you do?

It's a funny thing, how tied up your identity can become with your job, your profession, the thing you do to get a pay check. Such a solid question, usually one of the first things you ask someone when first meeting them. You start by exchanging names, then ask, "Where you from?" followed usually by "What do you do?". Now, this question has always annoyed me. What do I do? I do a lot of things. What do I do to make money? Depends on the month. Once you've done something for long enough, that thing you do starts to be part of who you are. Your job is what takes up most of your time, most of your peers and friends come out of your work situation so even when you're not at work, you still end up talking about it or spending time with people associated with it. But then one day, you might quit your job, or get fired. Quitting, for a lot of people, signifies a life crisis of sorts. You wake up one day and you can't take it anymore, you've got to get out! Now, I've had a lot of jobs, last count was over 30, therefore, I have quit a lot of jobs. And for me it's not usually a crisis, I just get bored. I get bored so easily with mundane life. Its just that because I've had so many jobs, I know exactly what I don't want to do, and I have an idea of what I do want to do, but the path to get there is not clearly defined.

I've worked with kids, at day cares, as a swim coach, at the middle school most recently. I was a life guard, a fundraiser (for both UC Santa Barbara and Peace Action West). I've done literally everything in a restaurant, from dishwasher, to server, to bartender, to manager. I've made lattes all day, poured beer all night, cleaned kennels at the SPCA, painted houses, sold theater tickets, counted car parts for inventory. I mean, I've had a lot damn jobs. And I know, I'm a little stuck on the employment issue here, but it's just that I don't really enjoy working. And this is a problem, because life costs so much money. And it's not like my life is bad, or that I'm sitting around starving to death because I'm so broke. I've still been eating amazing meals and having fun with friends and doing things I want to do but I'm not saving anything. And saving is exactly what I need to be doing if I'm ever going to accomplish my goal of owning a hostel in Central America. But right now, I am barely scrapping by, but I manage to make it look good, I think anyways.

I guess I just can't get over thinking that there's so much more to people than just their form of employment. But so often we assign to others, and ourselves, such a limited scope of personality based on whatever task we chose to pay the bills. And it's frustrating. I would love to see what we all would become and in what ways we would excel if we could spend the majority of our time doing what we love, rather than what we need to do to make ends meet.

That being said, I'm off to revamp my resume and stop by a restaurant to beg for employment. Let's see if soon I'll have a new answer to the question "What do you do?"

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

The Ghost of Summer Vacation

Well, it's summer break and I should be ecstatic. At least, that's the way I always remembered summer break as a kid. Back then I was on my local swim team, which meant I got up even earlier than when school was in session, but I didn't mind that at all. I had a great group of friends, that I predominantly only saw during the summer as they attended different middle and high schools than I did. But man, those were the days. This past year, I worked at a middle school so on June 15th when the kids were celebrating their freedom, I was doing the same. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying not working at the middle school. I feel like can hear all you people who are at work reading this right now groaning and telling me to appreciate my down time. Relish in it, make the most of it. I know, I know, I should be grateful to have a summer break as a 27 year old. But when you think about it, it's depressing as all hell.

What this really means is I still have no idea what I'm doing with my life. I'm not going back to the middle school in the fall. Public education is just not for me. There are a lot of really great people who are involved in educating the minds of tomorrow and that's great. But I couldn't swing the Monday through Friday early wake up, no hats, no gum, rules. It's not that I mind rules all that much, but having to follow the same ones as the kids is a bit annoying. And something about the whole system just rubs me the wrong way. Why is it that once your child turns 5, they start spending more time at school, with other random adults, than they do with their own parents. That's odd to me. Some of the kids I worked with saw their mom or dad for about an hour each night before going to sleep due to work schedules. Some of my kids had to get up at 4am to see their parents before leaving for the day and being asleep by the time the kid got out of after school program at 6pm. To me, it just doesn't make sense. I mean, was school really just made accessible to all so that parents could work more? That's what it feels like, one giant day care for the children of the dregs of society so that they can contribute more hours to working and less to child rearing. And then, the government pays those who watch the children next to nothing, like glorified babysitters, even though they have to go through so much schooling to do a job that has very little glory and no glamor. No, I'm not going back in the fall.

So, I've been looking for bartending or serving positions. Something to supplement my part time job at the Altarena Playhouse in Alameda. But it's hard to find a position as a bartender or server these days. So many people looking, so few jobs. Which I guess is still the case everywhere and in every profession. I heard on the radio the other day that the Great Recession officially ended three years ago. If that's the case, why is it so hard to get a god damn job?! Or rather, why is it so hard to get a second job? Or just one job that pays well enough that I don't need two jobs? And what should that job be.

I've been obsessed with working for Lonely Planet for about ten years now. Lonely Planet is my bible. Since traveling is my favorite thing on the face of the planet (with my puppy dogs coming in a close second), working for Lonely Planet would be the best thing that could ever happen to me. And since I've been living in the Bay Area I have applied several times to their general base that they pull from when they have openings. There are three locations in the world where Lonely Planet has publishing offices, London, Melbourne, and Oakland. I should be a shoe-in. But I'm not. They are no longer accepting general applications, nor are they accepting freelance writers, nor book ideas, nor interns. They have too many applicants. Of course they do. There are too many damn people on the planet!

I had not planned on getting up this morning and ranting about life in general. I had not planned on anything for this morning. Each one of these aimless summer days is filled with the few same tasks: walk the dogs, clean up the house a bit, go check on the cat that I'm pet-sitting, and get in some form of exercise, a run, or the gym. Other than that, I don't plan on or seem to accomplish much. And I know, I can hear you grumblers again saying start a project, get a hobby, go enjoy the sunshine. But you know what, I don't want to hear it. Today, I'm grumpy and that is how I'll spend this glorious summer day, thinking about how there are too many people on the planet, and how summer break just isn't what it was.

Maybe I should get a slip-n-slide.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Current Me, Meet Future Me

A few months ago, one of my best friends shared a quote with me. She couldn't remember where she had heard it, who said it, or exactly how it went but the gist of it was "Imagine the person you hope to be in five years, now start acting like her." It's a good quote. Simple, to the point, motivational and inspiring. It didn't seem to have too much of an impact on me at that time other than the fact that I liked it. As I said though, it was a few months ago that Kat relayed this quote to me and apparently it did have some impact because last night, as I lay in bed, I couldn't help but have this quote play on repeat for what seemed like hours. It got me thinking about who I really hope I will be in five years. Well, not who I will be, because no matter where you go or what you do, you're still the same old you. But it did get me thinking about what I hope to be doing in five years, where I hope to be doing it, and how to make that happen.

Maybe it's because I'm going through a quarter life crisis due partly to the fact that after almost two years working as an Instructional Aide in the Resource Department at a middle school in Oakland, the most "real" or "grown up" job that I have ever held, and deciding not to return in the fall, I am faced with the question, "So, now what?". Maybe it's because I'm 27, I have no career or desire to have a career, I have no children and that biological clock isn't screaming at me to get going on that project. Maybe these reasons combined made me realize that I should do some serious thinking about the image of my future self and start projecting that image on my current self. I'm just not sure how well they are going to get along.

Five years from now I will be 32 years old. Like I said, I don't see Future Me running a start up company in Northern California or buying a house with an extra room for the nursery, although who knows what lies in that crystal ball. But here are some simpler things that Future Me will be doing, or rather, that Current Me has to start on so Future Me isn't dissapointed in how we spend these next five years.
  •  Be In Shape
           Of late, I have been romanticizing my younger body image. The funny thing is, I was never in that great of shape and despite being in better shape during my swim team years, I probably have a higher self image of my body now than I did back then. Nonetheless, will all this time off thinking about what job to get next and a gym membership that I am paying for but not using, I have decided to start running. I went yesterday, and I am dressed, as I type, to go again today, so Future Me, look out! Because two days in a row is practically a habit!
  •  Eliminate Corn Syrup from my Diet 
           I was on quite a roll of eating healthy, and avoiding corn syrup was a major part of that, just a few weeks ago. I had been suffering from some unknown skin condition for almost a year. Not trusting doctors (remember I am a hippy), I took the issue up with my acupuncturist, hoping he could stick a needle or two in my face and solve the problem. To my dismay, he told me that I had to change my diet, eliminate red wine, coffee, and spicy food. After doing so with only minimal results, I decided to do more research and learned that preservatives and corn syrup can also cause, quite commonly, skin issues and outbreaks. So, I allowed myself hot sauce on rare occasion, coffee became chai, wine morphed into beer and all things processed and especially containing corn syrup were forgotten. This worked for a while. Being on summer break and all though, I decided to let myself celebrate and indulge a bit, and we all know how falling off a wagon can be. It's a lot harder to jump back on that damn wagon when your running behind it and it's picking up speed having just lost some weight from its load! So Current Me has to bite the bullet on this and go back to being a bit more selective as to what I consume.
  •  Live Abroad
        Many of you know about my obsession with living abroad, mainly in Central America, specifically Costa Rica, although after some new research, there are other options on the table. This is a hard one to just start doing on a random Tuesday while surviving a life crisis as it does take a more physical, rather than metaphorical manifestation of change. Although this one I am working towards on a pretty consistent basis. Money was being saved, when it was being made, and plans have been drawn up. But, no job means no extra money to save so therein lies the rub!

I need a job. I would also just settle for money.

It's hard to think of what job to pursue now. Bartending, serving, dog walking, all of these have potential and could make me some money which makes both Current Me and Future Me happy. But it is hard to pass out resumes when I feel as though I'm finally starting to enjoy this down time that summer break has afforded me. My sewing machine is set up and projects are being brainstormed. The video camera, with blank tapes was unearthed last night and skits are already being discussed. And there is that run I'm about to go on. So how does one balance wanting the free time to creatively explore my potential for greatness with the need to plan for five years from now? I suppose this brings me to my last bullet point:
  • Be Enlightened
          Future Me will not worry about trivial things like jobs because Future Me will have transcended the need the worry. Future Me will understand that all things happen for a reason and while we don't always see instant cohesion from events, there is a grand scheme being carried out. Future Me will be like some crazy fit, runner, ex-pat artist Buddha that just smiles because she finally knows the meaning of life and knows how little she knows all at the same time. Or whatever.

So, to revisit the quote that started this whole rant, "Imagine the person you hope to be in five years, now start acting like her." The whole enlightenment thing, I can do that. Going for that damned run is the hard part.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

She's A Grand Ol' Flag....

There were two things I had hoped to avoid in my writings so early on in my blogging career, politics and  cynicism. After attempting to attend the 4th of July Parade in Alameda this morning, I realize there is no way to avoid either of these things. Let me be clear, my goal is not to offend anyone who enjoys parades, the 4th of July, or Alameda. I in fact enjoy all these things myself, but this morning, my misadventures in partaking in all three of these things at once proved somewhat comical to me and showed me that Alameda's 4th of July Parade is just too wholesome for me.

I woke up at 9:30am this morning, hurting a bit from the previous night's all too patriotic event of drinking beer and bowling, and decided that despite my hangover and the fact that I was already late, as the parade started at 10am and the goal was to be positioned in full parade watching mode by 9:30am, that I would grab one of my dogs, two chairs, and an iced coffee and go join in the festivities. My friend Star had suggested that I attend the parade despite my misgivings because she said it would be good for me to do something wholesome for once, as my usual activities are anything but, and that it would be good material for me to write about. As I got off the freeway and attempted to drive my normal route through Alameda to park close to Star's house, I became aware of just how grandiose this event was.

I had recently learned that Alameda's parade on this patriotic day is the second longest parade in the country. I suppose this shouldn't be that surprising considering Alameda's past as a Navy Naval Air Station until 1997. But still, with Washington D.C., West Point in New York,  Camp Pendleton in San Diego, how does Alameda outdo such iconic staples of our national pride? But, back to finding a parking spot.....

I managed to get my bearings and re-route to find a place to park. Seeing so many people in the streets, with barricades and police everywhere, hearing helicopters in the sky, I couldn't help but think, that's odd, I didn't know Alameda had an Occupy movement. I was just about to warn my sequined, fellow protesters that they might get tear gassed when I remembered this was a different, but equally as odd, form of political expression, and that these patriots taking to the streets would most likely not be given orders to disperse or face arrest.

I leashed up my 55 pound, 6 year old rescue pit bull, already seeming incredibly out of place on the island, and we began our pilgrimage to find our friends in front of  Big O Tires. After walking for about fifteen minutes we came upon the spectacle and while other dogs and kids and people of all ages stood there applauding floats going by, I scanned the backs of heads trying to spot my comrades. I glanced up at the passing floats and became aware that the crowd was applauding men, dressed in camouflage fatigues, riding floats and holding a whole variety of automatic weapons I'm not familiar with and don't care to be. Having just spent the past year and half working at a middle school in Oakland where we had to have two different lock downs due to students bringing guns to school, I decided I didn't want to be part of an event that had children cheering for gun toting patriots.

Again, my goal is not to offend or piss anyone off. I get it, you support the troops, you love freedom, that's all great. I don't want any of our troops to die abroad either, nor do I want them to kill people in foreign lands. That's right ladies and gentlemen, I'm one of those peace loving hippies. And that's when I decided, after an hour of driving to and scouring the island, looking for parking, and walking to join the throngs of parade goers, that this day of celebrating men and women, holding large guns and other toys of destruction, was, in fact, too wholesome for me.

Of course, I still plan on watching as fake bombs explode in the air tonight, over the picturesque bay, and we all "Oooo" and "Ahhhh" as we simulate warfare to celebrate this great country and of course, that grand ol' flag.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Welcome to the Present

In an attempt to finally join the modern world, based so heavily on technology, I have started a blog. This, you obviously know if you are reading these words, as you have already found my blog. For those of you that know me, this may be surprising, and trust me, I myself, am shocked. But, for the past few years I have been under the belief that one day, I will be famous for simply being me. Also, I have a fantasy of becoming a travel writer, as traveling is my ultimate addiction. In order for either of these prophecies to come true I realized I must do at least two things, get my name out there, and most importantly write.

I realized that there is no way to be famous just for being yourself. For this misguided dream, I blame Paris Hilton. When she first hit the scene, I was under the impression that her fame was for nothing other than being Paris Hilton, and while that is part is true, her name and noteriaty came only from her born identity, she still have a reason to be famous. Being part of that family is what she did. Not that she, herself, actually did anything. But still, it's more than I have going for me right now. My family does not own a hotel chain, and our monetary wealth does not rival that of a small country. So no, I can't go the Paris Hilton route.

That means I must find another way to become famous and seeing as I'm not the modeling type, nor the acting or singing type, and I don't plan on doing anything like tight rope walking between two famous buildings or being the first woman to play in the NFL, I suppose becoming a well known writer will have to suffice.

As for the dellusion of travel writing, I need a lot of work. It's not that I don't have the travel experience, quite the contrary, I've been to 18 countries, over 10 states, and I'll spare you the number of cities. So you see, I have traveled. And every time I take a trip and I pack a journal. I often go buy one specifically for that trip, sometimes with overly cliche illustrations on the front that show passport stamps and images of the Eifel tower.  But no matter where I go, for how long, with whom I travel, or the motivation for the trip in the first place, I don't seem to write a damn word in that journal! So herein lies the rub, in order to be a travel writer, you must first travel, and secondly, WRITE!

So here you have it ladies and gentleman, my first blog. Now if only we didn't have to call it a blog......There has got to be a better name.