home sweet craigslist ad

Be wary of ever becoming too comfortable. For it is precisely that moment that the universe seems to choose to sweep your feet out from under you and give your world a good shaking.

And so, after almost two years at my current residence and countless vows that it would be "the very last place I ever move as long as I'm in San Francisco", I find myself once again immersed in the seemingly endless search for a new home. The last time I was looking for an apartment to rent--from an actual owner or property management company, not just just a room to sublet--I was a 23-year-old student with a cat, no stable, provable income and no credit. Not exactly your ideal candidate for tenancy in the fine city of San Francisco.

I have to admit: I kind of thought that it would be easier now, mired in quasi-adult-hood and respectable tax-paying citizenry as I am. But over the past two months I've somehow found myself pulled deeper and deeper into the same heartburn-inducing, hair-pulling-out, anxiety-ridden chase I remember from years ago. Except worse. I think that trying to find a job in San Francisco may be the only thing more frustrating than trying to find an apartment. And only then because you can be locked out of certain jobs for being "overqualified", but if you want to really want to--and can--pay someone an absurd amount of money to to live in a roach-infested closet in the tenderloin you shouldn't have as much of a problem. As long as you have immaculate credit and no pets, that is.

The paradox of San Francisco, as I see it, is that it is incredibly, teeth-gritting-ly hard to rent an apartment. And yet everyone in San Francisco is Always Moving. I'm not kidding. I myself have lived in seven different residences in the almost 7 years I've lived in the city. Going on eight. And the crazy thing is, I've found that this is not uncommon, but rather seems to be the rule. Most people I know--and have known-- in this city move, on average, about once a year. Maybe two.

My first was a hectic 6-person house way yonder in the outer sunset. The most current roof over my head is a quirky Edwardian in the lower haight bursting at the gills with 5 roommates, and at a year and 11 months this April--and I'm praying that is all--actually my longest residency in SF to date. The shortest, for the record, was a desperately-entered-into, month-long sublet a block from USF with matted camo shag carpeting in the lobby and up all 8 narrow flights of stairs, where after being unable to bring myself to cook even a microwave meal in the dingy shoebox of a kitchen or tolerate the high-pitched whining from my otherwise very nice roommate when she would open her bedroom door for 2 seconds and my cat Jasper would bolt in--she was allergic to felines, unbeknownst to me at time of lease-- I quickly realized I must give myself over yet again to the terrible Craigslist Tango. In between I've lived many lives in many different apartments of all shapes and sizes across NOPA, western addition and the haight: alone, with a boyfriend, with boys, girls, cats, dogs, a snake, with 1 roommate and with 4 or 5. All interesting households, and all beloved, at least for a time.

So why, I have to ask myself and the universe, do we San Franciscans persist on torturing ourselves with this crazy, competitive goose chase and with hauling our many boxes of junk and slowly decaying Ikea furniture with us all over the city? Is it because the grass is always greener? Because there are just so many wildly different and wonderfully unique neighborhoods and Victorians and Edwardians and Modern-Style Condos and we're just dying to try them all on for size? Are we all on a never-ending quest for cheaper rent, for nicer roommates, a rooftop view or the ever-coveted in-unit laundry? Or do we just have a terrible case of restlessness and apartment ADHD? What golden goose of a flat can possible be worth the headache of schlepping yourself all over town to see 5 different places a week--4 of which are tiny, dirty holes--and the heartache of losing that 5th one that was just perfect to the group with credit scores one point higher than yours?

I'll admit, all the stress of it all has had me a little down lately. Ok, a lot down. I don't think I've felt this off-balance since my near-nervous breakdown last fall. And yes, like then my crankiness and emotional instability have me even more worried that my long-suffering loved ones will soon be running for the hills. Not to mention that two of my closest friends also now happen to be prospective roommates, and as much as we love one another inevitable tensions and frustrations can arise from the chaos of the hunt. Suffice it to say that this reluctant optimist has seen better days. But you know, today I realized that I'm a little tired of feeling sorry for myself. So I think maybe it's time to pull myself up by the bootstraps and just get on with it, whatever "it" may be.

Because although the circumstances that have brought me to move this time are far from pleasant--see: hypocrisy, verbal abuse, one bathroom for 5 people--at the very least it serves as a push to change my surroundings, to give me a new perspective and a new home to reevaluate my place here and refresh my point of view. And a valuable reminder not to get too comfortable; whether in my home, my job, my relationships...in life in general. Because when you get too comfortable is when you start to become stagnant, cease to grow, and often lose appreciation for what you have without even realizing it. Come to think of it, maybe that's why San Franciscans are constantly on the move. Maybe it's because we are wary of becoming too complacent, too stationary. Too numb to the bizarre, impetuous, fortuitous amazingness that blossoms on every street corner and down every alleyway here.

So instead I will try my best to embrace each unexpected moment as it arises and welcome the chance to rejuvenate my perspective, so that I may always be grateful and that life may always be full of wonder and new surprises. And I hope that--if I am able to successfully control my stress level in a positive way--all of my hair and fingernails will still be here to enjoy it with me.

what's wrong with this picture...

WE ARE ALL WORKERS...

especially little six-year-old boys...?

Ok, I don't know. Maybe it's just me. But I remember when this Levi's ad started appearing on bus shelters months ago, I had to do a double take. Have you ever seen a billboard or magazine ad or commercial that just makes you go: "Uhh... that could really be taken the wrong way..."? I feel like they're everywhere if you're really paying attention, but we've all grown so numb to being bombarded by constant multi-media advertising that we often just don't notice anymore. Anyway, all I could think when confronted with these particular ads was "Uhhm, what now Levi's? Are you trying to say you use CHILD LABOR?" Hmmm. I mean, ok, the kid in the oversized shirt is cute and all, but maaybe not the best use of matching slogan to image, if you really think about it. Perhaps not the greatest advertising choice ever, considering the connotations it evokes. Just saying.

another year bites the dust

If you're like me, you're finding yourself here on New Year's Eve trying to figure out how on earth another year managed to sneak its way to an end while your back was apparently turned (all while scrambling through the back of your closet trying to find a dress to wear). And of course trying to come up with clever last-minute New Year's resolutions, just in case someone asks you (someone will), and because if you put making them off until next week as you're tempted, it will completely fuck up your 2010 resolution to procrastinate less, and that's no way to bid a year adieu.

I sort of inadvertently made a resolution a few weeks ago when I finally joined the 21st century and switched from my $20-no internet-no camera-no regret if I lose it-Go phone to an iphone (second hand, though... BABY STEPS). I vowed to myself that I would not get drunk on the power of all that technology (literally) at my fingertips, lest I become one of those people who seem to have their phone surgically attached to their hand, or apparently find social networking at a bar or restaurant more important and interesting than actual socializing with the people around them. Or, god forbid, one of those people downtown I constantly shake my head at, who are always on the verge of bumping into you because instead of looking where they're going their eyes are glued down at the little electronic device in their hands.

This phenomenon seems to be growing at an alarming rate, and besides annoying, I also actually find it quite sad. I have to wonder, have people become so numb to their surroundings and so apathetic to the world around them that they prefer the little universe in their phone to the physical one? What ever happened to walking down the street head up, eyes open, taking in the sights and sounds and occasional spectacle? Just think of all you miss... the pristine majesty of a skyscraper, the bright-colored new mural on the side of a building, the guy playing the organ on the corner, tufts of cloud just turning pink and orange as you make your way home from work, the waggly-tailed Boxer puppy straining against his leash to try and sniff your leg, the guy in the gorilla suit at the bus stop (hey, I live in San Francisco...). Being alert, present and conscious of your surroundings should not just be for tourists, it should be an everyday way of life.

So all of this got me to thinking that this year, I want to be start living my life more consciously. Not just by avoiding whiling away an inordinate amount of time on my iphone or laptop, but by being more aware of each day and each moment, more observant of the world around me, the needs of others, the beauty in the details. And more than that, more conscious of time as a whole, on a bigger scale. I know it's cliche, but it really seems like as I get older the years start to go by faster and faster, and before I know it the year and so many of my plans for it have gotten swept up in the whirlwind of days trailing back the months on the calendar I'm throwing out to make room for the new. Sometimes I feel like I get so caught up in the tasks and goals and dramas of the day that I don't even leave myself time to look forward. So this year I hope will be the year I figure it out. Or if not quite figure it out, make steps in that direction and start to make bigger plans for my life, for positive change and growth. Make a concerted effort to occasionally take a step back from the urgency's of the moment to take a wider look at time, at my life and the world and my place in it.

This all is a tall task for me, and part of me wishes I'd just said I vow to go to the gym more often and cut down on refined sugar... but deep down I know I have the resolve, and the support and encouragement of loved ones. Looking back on 2010, it's been a pretty dynamic one for my group of friends. It's seen moves, dramas, major life decisions, new jobs, new outlooks and changes in relationships. It's shaken us all up a little, for bad and for good. Mostly for good, I think. But through all of it, I had a solid foundation, people in my life who I was there for, and who were there for me. And I have faith that whatever this new year brings, we'll continue to see each other through.

So wherever tonight finds you, I hope it is filled with glitter, friends and reckless dancing, and most importantly, that your night and your 2011 are filled with love.

Happy New Year!

from now on, our troubles will be miles away

I know it's Christmas Eve, and I should probably be writing some warm, fuzzy little ditty about how the fire is crackly and the lights are twinkly and I'm grateful for such-and-such, etc., etc. And it's not that I'm not grateful, or that I'm not happy that Christmas is here with its family time and cheer and ornaments and chocolate and comfortably familiar pine-scented living room. It's just that I'm feeling a little melancholy and a little reflective. Maybe a bit disillusioned.

I keep thinking back to a post I wrote last summer, a time when I guess the world through my eyes seemed somewhat renewed; fresh and full of possibilities. And I've been wondering if maybe I was just a little naive; blinded perhaps, by adrenaline and new hope. I don't know, maybe I was wrong. Maybe everything in life does have to be difficult and painful, and I just wanted it to be easy. Maybe the good things that come our way are really all just blind coincidence, and we hold onto those and try to assign them deeper meaning in order to make ourselves feel better.

But still, even when it seems like everything's going wrong and that my assertion that things really can be that simple seems like the delusional, naive ranting of a madwoman, it seems that deep down, the die-hard optimist in me still stubbornly insists that things can be, should be easy, as the natural state of things. That it's not life or work or relationships that are necessarily hard, but us making things hard for ourselves most of the time. Because we doubt, we second-guess, over-think and self-sabatoge. Because we're afraid of failure, or of commitment or of getting hurt. Or maybe even of realizing what it really is we want, because then we have to dig down and find the will and the courage to go and get it. And all of this because, after all, we are human.

I feel like when we're kids, everything seemed so much easier. And yes, of course this is due largely to the fact that as children we are generally taken care of and protected. We don't have to worry about rent and bills and deadlines and dating and finding jobs and keeping jobs. We don't have to figure out what we're doing with our lives or wonder if we're on the right path, because, when you're a child, there is all the time in the world for that still. But I have a sneaking suspicion it may also have something to do with the fact that as we grow older, we start to be told, over and over and with increasing frequency, that the universe is cruel. Love is painful. Life is a bitch and then you die. We're taught that we need to harden and prepare ourselves for this dog-eat-dog world, as if going into battle. It almost seems like this all becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I kind of have to wonder how it's even possible for us to have a fighting chance.

So how then, do we rediscover that simplicity, that ease of life? I wish I knew for sure, because... well, it would sure make things EASIER (hah). But I think that maybe: a little more compassion, open-mindedness, laughter. A bit more faith in the world and the people around us. A little less taking ourselves and everything just so goddamn seriously (because we're adults). Being a little more conscious of the energy we hold in our hearts and give out to the world. And a little more surrendering some of the hard-fought control we seem to need to have over every aspect of our lives and giving ourselves over just a bit to intuition and the universe and the mysterious forces that rule it. I don't know, maybe I really am a delusional madwoman, or a crazy hippie. Or maybe I'm just over-simplifying. But I still have to think that if we can let go a little and just get out of our own way, maybe that's a good start. That's where I intend to start anyway.

So I hope that this Christmas finds things easy for you, wherever you are. And if not easy, then I hope they are at least good. And if they can't be good, then hopeful.

Merry Christmas, and may your hearts be light.

over the hills and down memory lane

Driving down Guerrero on this damp, grey morning, Led Zeppelin came on the radio and suddenly I was audibly transported to senior year of high school... driving my '83 Volvo wagon to school (tardy, of course) in the late fall rain, sleep-blurred eyes at 8am wakening to the sounds of 107.7 "The Bone" blasting on my car radio: Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Who. I think that there must be nothing quite like that time in your life when you really discover classic rock for the first time. It is an epiphany of a profound nature, especially to the teenage mind. So welcome to my little trip down memory lane, and please enjoy the music. Happy rainy Friday!

momentum

All of a sudden my head is whirling with possibility, body longing for grass and sky, mind for creative outlet. There is still next to no free time but I can almost see the light of the end of the tunnel, and all of a sudden I can think of a million things I want to do...

Get up early on Saturday to make homes and plant things in the ground. Slap on some sneakers and go on a hike. Take museum trips. Go to shows and get lost in the music. Make snowflakes. Learn to surf, rejoicing in surrendering myself to the waves. Read War and Peace, lying in the sun. Build a window seat. Strum my uke 'til my fingers hurt. Take a hoop class and dance in the park on a Sunday afternoon. Dip my toes in nerve-numbing ocean. Bust out my long- neglected acrylics and paint, colors exploding like fireworks in my mind, spilling onto blank canvas as synapses spark.

And suddenly, I feel rejuvenated, because through the exhaustion and the confusion, I feel inspired. I am alive. The world rocks me gently, whispers: "Be well, go forth, create."

keeping it together, keeping it real

I think I had a minor nervous breakdown the other day, and it wasn't pretty. But I think maybe it helped me realize some things. Let me start at the beginning. See, I feel like for the past month or so I've been sitting in a giant pressure cooker of an office, mind and body growing ever more tired as the clock ticks on and 12 hour days and 60 hour weeks and even my dreams start to blend together in that wondrous time we in the world of political advertising euphemistically call an Election Cycle.

And then a funny thing seems to happen: the stress of work and the deprival of things you love to do, the things that make you feel good that you have give up in order to sit in an office all day, start to combine and morph into a fear of losing the people in your life you care about--alienating them because you never have time, driving them away because when you do you're tired, or cranky, or just brain-dead and probably not very interesting to be around. I think this is the worst part, the anxiety of losing the people who help to make you happy and keep you sane in the first place. And I know that for the most part it's an irrational fear, but when you're living in Crazy-town and not really feeling like yourself, it can be damn hard not to believe.

I feel like I've been kind of a loner for a large part of my life, and mostly relied on myself. I don't take a lot of people into confidence, and I seem to be allergic to asking for help. But I have learned over the years to trust and let people in, and I know how important it is to have those people, few as they may be, who really get you and will be there for you, to laugh and cause mischief with in good times, and to remind you to breath and steer you back to something resembling sanity in the tougher times. But I also know that it's ultimately up to me to keep myself afloat; to have the insight to know my limits and to remember that I have the strength to finish what I start. And most importantly to remind myself that my life is good and the world beautiful, despite the chaos of the current moment.

Yesterday one of our freelancers came into my office, clearly distraught, to tell me he had to leave for the day. Later that day I found myself responding to his apologetic email explaining that he wouldn't be in the rest of the week with the reassurance that "there are more important things in life" than mail pieces, and I suddenly realized that I haven't really been living this philosophy myself. Yes, I take pride in my work; in doing the best job I can and following through on my commitments, and for that to happen work has to pretty much dominate my life and take up most of my time for the moment. But that doesn't mean it has to define me, or defeat me.

In a post at the beginning of the New Year I resolved: "to make the choice to take control of my life and exercise my free will to be happy. To not let anything or anyone take the joy out of me, not let anyone make the sun seem less bright or the world less beautiful through my eyes." I think that I need to remember that resolution now more than ever, to practice what I preach and apply it to my current situation. To keep my wits and my sense of humor, and not let my job and all its pressures dim my view of life or make me an anchor to drag myself and others down. I just need to have the mental fortitude to cling to this philosophy, and faith in the saintly patience of loved ones to not abandon me in my occasional times of anxiety or delusion. And maybe a rock garden.

And if I manage to make it out of this election cycle in one piece, I also resolve to finally get the tattoo I've been wanting for almost a year now (sorry mom): the word "timshel", as a more tangible reminder of the free will that gives me the power over my life; the choice that only I can make to be live well, love well and see the beauty in everything always. Because though you may not know it to spend 5 minutes in my office this fall, there are more important things than mail pieces.