citling rivalry

I think I was vaguely anti-New York after a lifelong fascination/crush on it because I had bad experiences the last two times I visited - in fall of 2000 because my boyfriend at the time sort of broke up with me while I was visiting him, and in fall of 2001 because when I visited I had nothing going in my life and hadn't gotten my first job yet, and was visiting friends who were mostly in transitional phases in their life and mildly unhappy, and I had no money and felt guilty even buying myself so much as an unnecessary cup of coffee.

On that trip, hanging out with an old friend who had gone to school in NYC, I got sick of her telling me New York was the place to be and worth making $27,000 a year in a crappy entry-level job and paying $1,000 a month for a closet in the village and buying designer clothes on credit to look the part, and that it was all worth it because she was in the place to be. I saw that kind of attitude a lot here. Probably worth noting that it seemed to be pronounced in out-of-staters who had moved to New York. But the uppityness and seemingly necessary financial irresponsibility really put me off.

I get protective of San Francisco, because I think it's such a spectacular city and it's the first city I've lived in where I feel like I belong. I get annoyed and overly defensive when people say California is fake and phony and not as friendly, because I've lived in LA, and usually the people complaining were buying into stereotypes that while sometimes true, were so obvious it felt redundant to bring it up and actually showed a lack of imagination - of course there are fake people in the bar scenes on Sunset or Hollywood Blvd. - what the hell did you expect? But does it mean the whole city is fake? Or does it mean they're blowing off the whole city based on a group of people that makes it a point to play into the stereotype in the first place?

Of course San Francisco has obnoxious hipsters, and annoying hippies, and fake former frat and sorority types, and uppity yuppy thirty- and forty-somethings with I-own-this-town entitlement. But I'm not going to hold it against it.

I've only been here since morning and I'm still jetlagged, but New York is growing on me, now that I could see mid-twenties real life here - I could cut it and make friends and make enough to survive and be myself here. And it's nice that getting around and recreating is more convenient. Happy to be here.

I have this thing about myself that I like to pretend makes me a more interesting person or potentially a better writer. It's that I am sometimes so highly aware of words and references and the way they're used in culture that I am constantly finding things trite or insincere, and constantly trying to talk around them or avoid them or barely reference them so I can stay original or convincing or sincere or smart or whatever.
Maybe my saving grace is that I'm protectively accepting of my friends and other people I like when they use words or references or culture that are cliche, and I stick up for their intelligence, sincerity and originality against my own head.
If I were capable of applying half of this self-consciousness towards not saying things I shouldn't because they're inappropriate, or wrong for the situation or might hurt someone's feelings, I probably wouldn't always be getting mad at myself. Though I'd still get mad at myself because it is most likely this self-consciousness that makes it difficult right now to write anything of any real seriousness or length because everything seems stupid or trite or like something no one would care about and isn't even worth doing. So I leave off most projects shortly after I start them, which also makes me mad at myself, because it's one of the few somewhat achievable dreams I still have going, since I'm probably not going to be good at performing or public speaking in the even distant future, and I most likely don't have any usable skills that could be used to actually save the world or anything.
So what do you do if the way you are keeps you from doing things that you want to do, which are also supposed to be what you are? You could approach it as though it'll be even more you once you get over the limitations of the way you are - the real ideal you. Or you could do that whole accepting yourself and your limitations and being realistic and giving up thing. I like to think therapy comes somewhere in the middle, but my last experience with therapy didn't really go that well, since he passed away and I'm still doing the back-and-forth with my insurance company for reimbursement.
An old friend I used to have seemed to care about nothing more than meaningful relationships and love and close friendships, but was so difficult in constantly demanding certain behavior or reassurances that he couldn't help but push people away because it was too much work to be close to him, and almost impossible to love him because he was always expecting you to prove it before you even had a chance to feel it. Okay, I can think of more than one person that describes.
It's like girls who aren't stunning and seem to care about nothing more than being pretty and getting guys. It really makes you think. Not necessarily about what they're doing wrong, but about how sad it is that the one thing a person seems to want most might be impossible because of the way they are.
I'm not sure at what point you can identify that something about you is preventing you from being who you want to be, or whether that's reconcilable. I know that I don't really believe it will come together without me working at it, since I don't believe anything related to bettering onesself comes without working at it. But there is something to be said for being realistic and developing your strengths while accepting your weaknesses.

seattle adventures

At the bakery this morning with the New York girls, while looking up at the breakfast sandwich offerings, I hear my name called from somewhere by a guy. He calls it a few times while I look around stupidly until I realize it's coming from the baking table behind the counter - it's the first friend I made in college, an English major I met at orientation. It doesn't make sense to me to see him here, since he's from LA.
In college he sort of tried to date me the first weekend of school and I freaked out. Then he and my roommate both joined the men's and women's rowing teams, respectively, and as a result of their co-ed parties had a very brief fling at one point out of boredom that neither of them was that into, around the time at which we drifted apart.
He tells me he's there training for the olympics for rowing, and asks how long I've been in Seattle. I tell him I'm just here for work and for the corporate office holiday party, and sort of feel like a jackass with my black turtleneck and white coat and laptop talking about coming up to headquarters for a party while he's baking by a hot oven and training for the olympics. It reminded me of when I used to think I'd spend my twenties pursuing my dream, until I realized that my dream wasn't really working in publishing or journalism or living in New York anymore than it was working in online advertising in San Francisco, and because of whatever emotional defect I'm still working through I'm not capable of or ready to write things of my own creating for publication, so I figured I might as well choose the latter since it's more fun.

For our Q4 team event we went to an indoor go-cart racing place in Redmond. I didn't expect to be very good at it, and was really just hoping to avoid injury and potentially have fun. Not surprising that I came in last place for lap times in each qualifying round. This placed me in 7th place out of 8 in the bottom tier of the final rounds, where winner was the first to finish. Somehow though, everyone kept crashing and I just kept going around them. I figured I was a lap behind everyone, but somehow I came in first (first of the worst) and received the same shiny trophy with a car on top as the winners of the two higher-tier rounds.
This was followed by a (sinfully) decadent feast at Blue Ginger in Bellevue, where we ate not only Korean barbecue but sashimi too, with both sake and beer. Ten kinds of fish eaten five different ways later, I am back at the hotel, resting up for the holiday party tomorrow.

not to let a bad morning be a bad day

I wasn't even going to stay over.
BART almost never fails me, which is why I always take it to work from Noe, despite it being a 7-min walk further from the abysmally unreliable J.
The BART train I boarded this morning was right behind a train that had broken down, though they neglected to tell us for like 7 minutes while we stood on the packed train like a bunch of losers believing it was a normal delay. When they told us a technician was on the way I went above ground to get a cab and try to still make it to work without being too late, but of course there were no cabs anywhere. No answer from the boyfriend and no one else to call, and no one to take my money in exchange for transporting me, I took the 14, packed with people and crawling at walking-speed, trying to keep my balance and keep my laptop bag from falling off my shoulder while getting clocked from every direction by angry middle-aged women on crack, the smell of urine aboard unmistakable. I transfer to the 47 and get into work 35 minutes late - total commute time of 1 hour and 10 minutes instead of 30.
It's so stupid how stupid things like that can ruin my whole day, and my entire outlook on life. But in the morning when everyone's a zombie relying on electricity and hot water and traffic lights and transit to work, if something doesn't work it feels like all of civilization is a sham and nothing works and we don't even have control over our own lives. Guess I'm projecting.

L: That's so weird that they would send you artisan cheeses as a gift.
A: I know, I wonder why.
C: I know why - my roommate works for them, and the girl who buys all their client gifts just quit, so all the reps are going crazy and passing the work around between them, because it's the holidays, and I bet it just got to somebody's turn who said "Artisan cheeses - that's a good idea for a gift."
L: And they're such random cheeses to select, too - sheep's milk, goat's milk and Camembert? Camembert is like the riskiest cheese to give as a gift.
A: I guess they didn't think of bread or crackers either.
L: You better put that Camembert away, that's going to start to smell.