Sunday, November 23, 2008

On Being Alone

This is what it feels like to be alone.  


It feels like a wild bird caught inside my stomach, fluttering and scratching.  In my brain, it's a ticking time bomb, seconds away from exploding.  My heart a tiny field mouse, trapped between the paws of a curious house cat.  Oh, my heart... a broken, aching thing, beating but barely in tact.


The gnawing pain of it all is shocking, how thoroughly each nerve is absorbed, soaked in it.  An elephant on my chest, needles in my eyes.  I think about a razor cutting my skin, how clean it would be until the blood would finally rush out of the wound, as if it had been sleeping as the razor passed, and slow to wake.  

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

So, yes, we can, but will we?

Congratulations to president-elect, Barack Obama.  The hardest part of this presidential election was enduring all of those annoying, crazy, conservative emails that my mother sent me.  Every day, I awakened to a new revelation: Obama the terrorist, Obama the fake US citizen, Obama the Muslim, Obama the corrupt politician.  Luckily, my hard work paid off!  Obama will be president, and my mother will hopefully leave me alone. 

I'm thrilled, I'm relieved, and I'm terrified.  I'm a natural cynic (see one of my posts below for proof), and I am immediately wary of anyone in politics promising change.  The creed that Obama repeated several times tonight, "Yes, we can!" - is that for real?  I mean, of course we can, but will we?  Will he?  

Regardless, it has to be better than the past 8 years.  How beautiful was it to cry tears of joy in response to a presidential election.  It almost felt like I was in another country other than the US!  

And I sympathize with McCain supporters who are saying things like, "I want to be in a 4-year coma", or "The country just got weaker."  I know how that feels.  However, it's impossible to make the comparison between Obama and Bush, so I also encourage McCain supporters to get over it.  Did you really think he would win anyway?  Especially after Palin?  C'mon.  At least the Democrats were close in the last two elections (and perhaps rightful winners, but that's an argument for Pete, the staunch liberal, to make).  

I have nothing new to add to the conversation about US politics, honestly.  I'm not a very political person.  However, this was a historical election, and I definitely did my part - I voted!  And for the right candidate, apparently.  

However, there is one issue that I am fervently opposed to - Proposition 8.  The Christian agenda is so incredibly offensive and cruel sometimes, it boggles my mind that people find this shit acceptable.  I grew up as a born-again Christian (Baptist), and regularly went to church.  About three years ago, I finally admitted, aloud, that I was an atheist.  Still a scary thing to admit to this day, considering my background.  Anyhow, having escaped from that line of thinking, I'm perhaps a bit more impatient when it comes to their antics.  

I understand that God frowns upon homosexuality, but God has nothing to do with Proposition 8, or at least, He shouldn't have anything to do it with it.  It has to do with marriage, as a contract, not as something recognized and blessed by God.  For some reason, the thought of children learning about homosexuality and same sex marriage in school is incredibly frightful.  Not sure what that's about, but it's unlikely that marriage would even be discussed at school.  It feels, to me, like a hateful, discriminatory proposition, and I'm shocked that it's not being rejected without question.  Whenever I see those "Yes on Prop 8!" supporters on the streets, I cringe.  Who are those people?  And why are they so afraid and/or concerned with homosexuals?  Crazy Christians, I bet.

On a lighter note, in 10 years, we'll hopefully have a BART extension down to San Jose.  Will I be here in the South Bay in 10 years to reap the benefits?  God, I hope not.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Optimism

Leaving my life in NYC was tremendously risky, and since we're having a bit of a rough start here in California, optimism has been a necessary companion.

However, if you know me or have read my previous posts, perhaps it is already abundantly clear that optimism is not a part of my skill set. I prefer to think of myself as a "realist", but perhaps it would be more honest if I admitted my pessimistic tendencies. If I expected everything to go well, and it all ended up in the shits, then I'd feel let down. But if I thought that everything would turn up in the shits, and everything did, then at least I would be satisfied by my being right. Solid logic? I think so.

Anyhow. What I am getting at is this: it is in my nature to immediately think the worst of any situation, and it is hard to put a bright spin on things, so my introduction to this new environs called the Bay Area would naturally entice my pessimism to trot about and spew its shit on everything. This is especially so because I am coming from New York City, easily the best city in the US, so everything pretty much sucks in comparison. But, I am proud to say that I have been keeping upbeat about this transition. Or at least I am trying to.

California does not make it easy. For instance, when I received my new Cali driver's license, I could not believe how utterly cheap and stupid it looked. When you update your address, are you really only expected to write the new address on the back of your existing license? In what, magic marker? How incredibly official.

And the shopping carts are kept outside the grocery stores. This is a definite change, and means that I walk into the store, swing around wildly, pondering where the carts could be, and then have to exit to the store just as soon as I entered it, to find the carts stationed dumbly outside in an out-of-the-way place. (In NYC, there are no carts, just hand baskets, so perhaps carts are always kept outside of the store--I still think it's a crap idea.)

And then there's the recycling situation. In NYC, consumers pay a deposit on carbonated beverages only, and they can receive their deposits back by using automated machines that eat recyclables, and spit out a voucher in return, which can be redeemed for cash inside the store in which the machines are located. In California, the consumer pays deposits on any sort of beverage in a plastic container it seems, up to 10 cents, and can only receive his/her deposit back if s/he brings recyclables to "recycling centers", otherwise known as ramshackle huts, which are haphazardly spread throughout (not every grocery store gets a recycling center, and not every recycling center is next door to a grocery store). Everything must be sorted and put into the smelliest trash cans ever, which are then weighed. Weight determines the amount of the returned deposit, rather than actually number of cans/bottles. And, if the consumer is especially lucky, he can hang out behind people who recycle for a living, which drags out this undoubtedly pleasurable experience for a spectacular two hours. It's absolutely sadistic.

When these issues come up, I force a smile and think about how lovely my 1,000 square foot apartment is (compared to my 450 square foot Astoria digs), and how fun it will be to wash and dry my clothes from the comfort of my own home (instead of the laundromat with the dryers that stink of armpits). And I think of the mountains, or foot-hills, whatever they are, and what a beautiful change of scenery they offer. And I try to remember how nice and kind people here tend to be (even the guy who collects stranded grocery carts and brings them to the ill-located cart-paddock wished me a great day!). These thoughts often soften my reactions to the red-flag characteristics of this strange land, although I am still quite wary. Moving from the city to the suburbs is quite a culture shock, and it will definitely take some time.

Haven't I said that before, that it'll take time? Oh yeah. Once already on this blog, and millions of times in my head. Now that's optimism.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Embittered, NY Transplant

Less than three weeks ago, I was a New Yorker. I took the subway, I had a dingy apartment in Queens, I paid way too much taxes to the city, I walked everywhere. I hung out with my friends, ate tacos at Viva El Mariachi, drank at 8th Street Wine Cellar, loitered at Whole Foods in Union Square. I had no need for car keys, just my MetroCard. Didn't have a mall, but I had 5th Avenue.

These days, I live in California, in Santa Clara (South Bay). I spend my days driving around, watching TV, taking naps, searching for jobs, and walking around the mall in effort to stall atrophy. My butt has never hurt so much in my entire life--sitting, sitting, sitting.

No skyscrapers here, just redwoods and bushy foot hills. It is warm and often sunny, or other times, damp and chilly. There are trees here that I have never seen before, with seeds shaped like spiky bombs. It's not as beautiful as I thought it would be.

People here dress in North Face uniforms, complete with straight-fit indigo jeans, and possum brown hiking boots. Toyota Prius is the state flower. Most people are extremely nice, from store clerks at Macy's to your local Starbucks barista. "Hello, how are you?!?!"

Some days, I like it here. Other days, I think about my apartment in Astoria, which is now vacant, and cry. I look at my stagnant checking account, and wonder how long it will take before I am able to find a job. But on brilliantly sunny days, when I look out over the Bay and the city, I feel so excited to be here.

I just feel like my life is on pause. Most days, I sit around the temporary rental apartment for hours, my tail bone aching, napping out of boredom. I constantly feel a clawing anxiety in my chest, like I need to be doing something, but there's nothing to do.

I hope that I will never wear Uggs. And I hope that I will never wear hiking gear as my every day outerwear. But I do hope that I will come to love this place. I hope that it will one day feel as a part of my identity as New York did, as it does. I understand it'll take time, but for now, I am just waiting for life to resume.