Judgement Day (Again!)

I'm now staying with my grandma in Visalia, working on school stuff and helping her out with whatever she wants. We're going to do eBay and go to the movies and stuff like that.

The way I see it, I saw enough of the GOT to know what I think and how I'm going to go about this thesis paper. I came in with amazingly high expectations, and I was disappointed, and that really sucks. Believe me, this was not at all how I imagined things going. And you know, I tried. I tried about 18 million ways to make a change and I only became more and more convinced that I wasn't good enough, wasn't smart enough, and was completely worthless to the GOT and, in association, Greenpeace. I made (?) and lost friends, I lost confidence, and I lost motivation.

BUT!

I'm not writing this to cry and complain and continue being the sadistic hate-monger those ol' GOT peeps think I am! I'm saying this because I think it's pretty frakking awesome that I did this, and that I did try, and even that I was shot down, because I learned a lot. If you look back at all my moody posts, I am trying in every one to find some reason this is all worth it. Sometimes that reason was, "to learn that life is a bitch," but it's still a lesson, and I still think this experience was a good one. Sometimes, even if things don't turn out all rainbows and sunshine, you need to just say, "oh well" and move on. At least that's what I plan on doing.The only thing that's total bullshit is that I can't just move on, because I keep getting sucked back in. With catty emails, with bitter voicemails, with an overall lack of support. So here's the part where I make a request: Tell me you like me, if you do. Don't just read this and think that I may have a bit of a point or that I'm interesting or that I do a mildly good job of standing up for myself. TELL ME. I could use a little confidence boost after all this. Oh, and if you read this to have something to hate, then please don't contact me. I don't want to have to change my phone number (Sprint customer service is terrible).

This is still a collection of my feelings first and foremost for a school assignment, so I'm still going to be posting. I'm not technically a Greenpeacer anymore, but I'm still gonna write about it! And other stuff! And fun stuff!! So stick around if you're nice. And if you're not, well I think that says more about you than it does about me. Boo Ya!

And Please, Direct All Scathing Emails to Joel Stein

Below is an article in the latest Time, written by the insanely adorable Joel Stein. (At left I've included a picture, for obvious ogling reasons.) I totally see where he's going with his general claim, but there are some points here that I don't really agree with. Even so, I think this relates to my thesis and my research, so here it is.
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My wife's parents are hippies. In general, this has made my life a lot easier. Instead of questioning their daughter's future with a journalist, they were awed that I was able to pay for the 475-sq.-ft. (45 sq m) apartment we lived in for six years. And that I was all sophisticated with my use of deodorant.

But it does mean that my lovely wife Cassandra grew up with different habits--habits that are now my habits. I'm a hippie by marriage.

I care about the environment as much as anyone else. If the environment wasn't looking where it was going and was about to get hit by a car, I'd yell, "Hey, environment, watch out!" I get weepy when I see a poorly rendered CGI polar bear drown. But unlike me, Cassandra was taught to spend more time actually caring than remembering that she is supposed to. We flush the toilet only when absolutely necessary, for instance. Which, in my unenlightened opinion, would mean every time we use it, especially since her being a child of hippies means we have to take a lot of vitamins and eat asparagus.

Now that we have a house with a backyard, Cassandra has decided we need a compost heap. Apparently she has very warm memories of her childhood compost. What these are I find hard to imagine. Sledding down the compost pile? Building compost castles? Making compost angels? Playing Batman, Robin and the Case of the Maggot-Ridden Tofu Pup?

At first our compost system consisted of a Tupperware container that I put eggshells and banana peels in. I was supposed to put a lot of other stuff in there too, but there was also stuff I was absolutely not supposed to put in, so I simplified it down to the things she would notice if I threw them away in the regular garbage.

When the Tupperware container disappeared, I was greatly relieved. This was foolish. A week later, Cassandra decorated our kitchen with a large green compost bin--which, I may point out, is clearly made of plastic--and told me to throw all kinds of stuff in there. This stuff would then sit in our kitchen. Rotting. I was starting to understand that there are reasons besides shunning deodorant that hippies smell bad.

Then the UPS guy delivered a coil of bamboo fencing so large I could barely lift it. This would demark the compost area in our yard. That way, we could enjoy rotting things both inside and outside our house. And denude a small part of Vietnamese jungle.

As far as I was concerned, we were replacing an environmentally superior system: I put food in the garbage disposal, it went out to the ocean, fish ate it, and I ate the fish and put the uneaten fish bits right back into the disposal--a perfect, waste-free circle of life. Cassandra didn't see it that way. She wanted the thrill of watching food decompose. I wondered if we could do something else for the planet instead: save trees by ordering fewer fashion magazines, protect cows by massively reducing our purchases of boots and handbags, conserve energy by not watching Gossip Girl. But the compost isn't going anywhere.

I realize our planet has limited resources and Chinese people want cars and all this is making our planet warmer for reasons I'm pretty sure I understood when I left the Al Gore movie and have no idea about now and am not nearly interested in enough to watch that Al Gore movie again. But I'm convinced that the environmental movement is less about making sure we humans can continue to do important things like fly and drive and spritz ourselves with cans of Evian and more of an excuse to advocate an anticonsumerist, antiglobalization, anti-good-smelling-kitchen agenda. People were living in communes, crocheting their own Rasta hats and conserving office electricity by not getting a job long before they knew it was preventing global warming. So don't pretend that some of this environmentalism isn't about pushing a lifestyle. Somewhere someone is arguing that carbon emissions are somehow reduced by jam bands.

I'm fine with Cassandra's new, cool Prius. Those curly fluorescent bulbs we have are great. And I do think we should replace our plants with cacti, only partly because they seem so much more badass than rosebushes. But I believe our messy oil age will be replaced by better technology, not by a planetary embrace of Luddism. Because really, what's easier--one smart dude figuring out how to run cars on sea monkeys, or convincing all of Asia to never try air-conditioning? Those people eat spicy food.

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This article was reprinted without any permission whatsoever, but was originally published in Time Vol. 171 No. 13, for the week of March 31, 2008

Also!

I added pictures to my Flickr account, so if you're more of a visual learner, click that little slideshow to the right! There are pictures of me dressed as a tree, adorable sea otters at the Monterey Bay Aquarium, and, uh, other stuff that I can't remember! Check it out! Now! Go!

I've Run Away

I really needed to get out of San Francisco, Greenpeace, everything. I've been having such a hard time expressing myself and feeling understood/validated, and so I hopped a train and ran away to my grandma's house. I did this about two months ago when my grandpa died too, and it's amazingly therapeutic. My mom is here too, so I have double the support system. It's also nice to have people to talk to about my concerns/issues who don't have any pre-conceived notions or agendas. I just need to talk. To sleep. To think.

I'm learning so much more about interpersonal relationships during this semester than I am about activism. I think these lessons are much harder to learn, but I still believe they are beneficial. Plus, these inadvertent lessons are in the context of activism, so I guess it's all intertwined.

I'm at Panera right now working on stuff for my credit back at school. It's strangely satisfying to complete concrete tasks for actual, tangible credit. In an admittedly age-inappropriate way, I miss organized education. It's so easy to organize my life when I have a set structure and tasks and a plan. I miss knowing what's coming up, what's going to happen. I never know explicitly what I'm doing within the GOT until I'm in the midst of doing it, which really makes my brain jelloid. This is because I am actually 35 years old. I did warn you that my musings are age inappropriate though.

In personal news, I chopped off my hair (again). Everyone in the office keeps asking me if it feels weird, but, as old buds know, my grow-out was the weird phase, not the chopped-off part. What I'm trying to say is, I feel like me again. Hair-wise at least. We'll see when I can return to my planned to a T life ... I'm thinking May.

To Do: Smoke Less Crack

Did you hear the news? It's March! I don't really know what happened to February, because it went by in such a blur. Once, on the 20-somethingth, I wrote a check and said that it was the 9th. I think that is a good way to express how not-with-it I have been during this whole month.

As I mentioned in the last post, I'm back in the ol' apartment after a week in Berkeley. We have to go back (and back to work) tonight, but I'm pretending like we don't and instead I can sleep and watch Project Runway and eat cheese until the end of time. Anyway, to follow in this theme of brainless vegging, I'm going to do an itemized post of all the non-Greenpeace things going on in my life.

1. On Tuesday in the hotel room, I was about to put on moisturizer/sunscreen when I realized that it was all the way across the room. Kate's Olay NONsunscreen was right next to me. I used it and sat outside all day tabling. In turn, the one day in five odd years that I don't wear sunscreen, I get a peeling sunburn on my nose and chest. I was also wearing my Star of David necklace, and now I have a sun-tattoo marking me as a chosen person.Also, this photo was not edited or retouched in any way. I really do look this cracked out today.

2. I have developed a habit of eating approximately one block of Tillamook sharp cheddar a week. I realize that this may be a problem, but I refuse to do anything about it. Cheese has now become the cornerstone of my personal food pyramid.

3. Last night Kate and I went to a party at our friend Travis's friend's apartment. It was completely ridiculous, and I'll probably have to post about it later. Teaser: We met a thug named Dion who had gold grillz (top and bottom), and spent his Saturday night "shooting dice" at the bus stop.

4. It's my grandma's birthday today, so happy birthday Jozia!!! You're 79, but you don't look a day over 70. Also, Kate and I had gelato in your honor and took pictures. They will be posted soon!!!

And the Enviro Guilt Sets In...

I have used the same Nalgene water bottle since either my sophomore or junior year of high school. It's been so long I can't even remember which. Ol' Nal and I were tighter than tight. It went everywhere with me. I even took to keeping it next to my bed for when I needed a drink late at night or wanted to down some Ambien. It had a recycling sticker on it that was all bubbly and weird looking from being run through the dishwasher. I had to replace the cap because mine melted when it touched the hot blade of said dishwasher. I had a little mouth guard too, because I was so fond of gulping, but not of impromptu showers. Sadly though, the days of Sarah and Nalgene are gone. All because of Greenpeace and my liberal guilt.Nalgenes are terrible, in case you haven't heard. I actually heard this a year or so ago, but I was already so attached to Old Blue that I decided it was hearsay. Turns out my denial could only last so long. See, Nalgene bottles, when heated, seep out some terrible gases that slowly rot your insides and kill you. Well, this is how Greenpeace staff members make it sound. (What alarmists!) I kind of figured I was doomed from growing up in the 80s/90s and eating Happy Meals and watching TV, and that Nalgene vapors were kind of low on the Things That Are Killing Me List, but whatevs.

Anyway, if you want to know more about how Nalgene is evil/homicidal, follow this link.

So the Greenpeacers are all anti-Nalgene. They're anti a lot of things actually. Now that Nike owns Converse I'm not sure if I'm allowed to wear my Chucks anymore. Oy. The point is, I have caved to peer pressure and bought a Sigg bottle today. Kate and I both felt the need for street cred and bought some eco-chic, Swiss made, $20 (!!!!!) water bottles. Mine is so hardcore and ridiculous though. Here's a picture:Hahaha. But seriously though, could you resist this? It's a skull and crossbones mosaic made up of graphics including: A razor blade, a pentagram, a pinup holding guns, a komodo dragon, and a hammer and sickle. Ooooh, anarchy was never so refreshing! The guy at whole foods told me there's also a matching skateboard for sale. LOL.

So now I am quenching my thirst the sustainable death-free way, while attaining the approval of my comrades, er, co-workers. I still miss my Nalgene, but I'm keeping it in a box in my room (which sounds totally creepy but isn't). Take that Greenies!

Toursity Tourism

Last weekend the 'mates and I went to Pier 39/Fisherman's Wharf/the beach, and this weekend we traipsed around Fillmore and the Financial District. We're finally starting to get around to really seeing the city, as opposed to looking at the lights from the top of our hill. The thing that stands out from all our trips, though, have been the bus rides. I liked riding the bus before, but in San Francisco, there is really no telling what will happen on the bus. Kate saw someone get arrested and dragged off the bus, we both met a man who asked if I was Chicana and told Kate that her feet look like hands, and today we rode from Fillmore to Potrero with a woman who yelled, on the bus "I sell dope!" She wasn't lying too, because I saw her make a swap with this other guy and then talk about how the police are following her, trying to jack her product.

None of these pictures are from the bus, but they are from some of our toursity adventures of the past week or so.As always, more photos available on the ol' Flickr account!

Obligatory Apartment Post!

We have now officially moved. Well, we moved a week ago, but there have been many events between now and then that have kept me from informing you all on the new digs. Now we're on Potrero Hill, which was originally settled by Slovenians - there's a museum and everything. Sadly, that is neither here nor there, so let's get to the good stuff!

Our home sweet home is delightful. We live below our landlord, a nice guy with two adorable daughters and a dog that I promise you looks more like a bear. Chris (landlord) also has a wife, whom we have never met, but we have asked two different women if they are Mrs. Landlord. One was the dog walker, and one was the nanny. Whoops.

We are also near a lot of cute little businesses along 18th St, and not too far from a Starbucks and a Whole Foods. On the subject of Whole Foods, can I just mention that our neighborhood WF is the largest in the city, and has a spa in the middle of it. It also has a "bistro" and a gelato bar. It is also, clearly, ridiculous.

Here's the view down our street:Nice, right?! And in case you don't stalk on Google Maps Street View like I do, here's our house:Our door is down some stairs behind that little gate on the left. The house is not only on a street-hill, but also a lot-hill (uh, like parallel and perpendicular, in this photo), so although at the front of the house we are under the sidewalk, in the back we're actually on the second level, and have sweet porch. Also, my room is under that bay window. Say hello. Actually, here's the view from my room:Sexy, right? Oh, and here's my rooms:I know what you're thinking, and yes, it is Ikea-licious. We also have another bedroom, a bathroom, a living/dining room (with cable TV praise Allah), and a kitchen. A kitchen that apparently has one of those "old" dishwashers that you have to pull out of the wall and attach to the sink to wash the dishes. I had no idea that this type of contraption even existed. It's like that time in a class when we were learning about Hi-Fis and the professor was deeply disturbed that no one in the class knew what a Hi-Fi was. The decor is not as random and entertaining as our old place, but we do have a picture of a woman's thighs decorating our bathroom:Oh yeah.

When Only Cake and a Nana Will Do

I'm at my grandma's house, having an alterna-funeral of sorts, in which we eat (a whole) cake and watch Project Runway. I wrote a really long (and entertaining!) post while I was on the train coming here, but I can't figure out how to get it from my laptop to my Treo to her desktop so I can publish it. Perhaps there is a trip to Panera to steal wireless in our future, or perhaps you will have to wait until Friday to read about my trip across the bay and inland to the magical utopia of Visalia, CA.

As for being here, I'm not sure there's much to say. The point of me taking this little trip was that I didn't have to say anything, or feel isolated on a metropolitan peninsula while my family was in the Skoke at my grandpa's funeral (Grandpa, I'd pour out some of this Diet Coke for you, but it's beige carpet). Anyway, I'll be here eating cake and yelping over the Lost premiere with my BFF Roger Rabbit until Friday.Until then, my sweet admirers...

Moving Day!

There were a few problems with our Arkansas St. apartment. One being that there have been six murders in the past 24 days, all of them taking place in our 'hood. Another being that our front door did not have a deadbolt lock. This was uncomfortable for us, but it was very upsetting for the parental units.

Somehow I became very proactive and got us an interview yesterday with a guy in Potrero, and the apartment he was letting was just what I had imagined when I decided to move to SF. It's bright and in a great neighborhood. We can walk to work and Whole Foods! Plus, we can see the city from down the hill, which I'm sure is going to be awesome at night. So basically I made this whole little schedule for us, with viewing the apartment and meeting this guy, and I made all these calls and now we're moving in - just a day later! I was a total grownup! Whodathunk?!

It's kind of stressful to be moving just six days after moving here, but I really think that we'll be super comfortable in our new place. I guess Potrero used to be kind of industrial, but is now becoming more of a community, and the family we're renting from is part of this group of pioneers. More later - wish us luck!

Rainy Days 'Til Monday

It is so biblical here. It has been rain non-stop since yesterday afternoon, and according to the forecast, it's going to be like this all freakin' weekend (and yes, that was a shout out to R. Kelly).

In fact, I was looking at the doppler fortune teller this weekend and it looked like this:I was trying to think of things Rebecca and I could do during our two week adventure before work, and everything was ruined by the massive sheet of rain that is attempting to drown us out of here. No trip to the zoo, no exploratory walks around the city. All we can do is try to stay warm/dry, usually by hanging out on the internet in our apartment. I even thought we could run away to my grandma's, where she could mother us and take us to Target (hi Grandma!), but then I realized it's probably rainy as frak there too, and how would we even get there?

So I don't have any new adventures to tell you about, or any new pictures to post. Unless you want to hear about/see me in sweatpants eating saltine crackers, looking out the window, pouting.

Welcome to Our Home

Here are some select shots of our apartment, complete with commentary. The most interesting thing about the place is probably the art. We figure each resident has added something of their own, because the thought of one person being responsible for the collective decorating is too much for Rebecca or me to take.The view of Alabama Street from our apartment. Which is orange, by the way. A picture will be posted soon, I promise.This is my room. The ceilings here are about 12 ft, I'm guessing. (I have 9 ft ceilings at home, and these are taller than that) But the walls in my room are completely beige! Ugh. There is a trio of Southwestern somethings over the dresser, continuing the strange decorating theme that runs through the house.The kitchen, obvs. There was a lot of food here when we moved in, so we're systematically figuring out what is still good and what is too gross to even ask about. I ate some preserves today that weren't poisonous, at least not yet!

For more pictures of the apartment and the strange artwork found within, you can visit my Flickr page at this address (There's also a link on the right side of this page). I'll be posting ALL my pictures here, even though some will be in the blog, so if you're the kind of person who watches DVD featurettes and/or stalks people, then this is right up your alley!

You should really check out the pictures I took of the decor (on Flickr). A piece I believe to be titled "Hey Seuss" is so far my favorite. We also have a Will Ferrell in Blades of Glory bobblehead. Oh YEAH.