The Black Sheep?

You know how they say everyone has a "black sheep" in their family? Well, I wouldn't really say we have one of those, but we do have some characters, that's for sure.
My cousin, H, for example. He is brillant, no lie, and he tends to get himself into those types of situations reserved for ridiculously smart - yet stubborn - people. He is fearless, and lives life with gusto, and without reserve.
2005 has seen him in Eastern Europe (Romania and Poland) and Northern Africa. Just because he wanted to go. I have urged him - many in our family have - to write some sort of book, memoire, something about his adventures.
Here is an email he wrote, details from this last adventure, which I found so utterly amazing and amusing (and, it's all true), that I had to put it up. . .enjoy!
(NB: Keep in mind that H is not one to "blend in" to his surrounding - 6'4'', broad shoulders, and fire engine red hair...)
---
To: K
From: H
Subject: "War's Over: Wermer Dropped the Big One"

It always ends. And usually, it ain't pretty. Thus the Africa Expedition. I only made it as far as Morocco. After disembarking the boat at Tangier, I made my way to Essaouira on the Atlantic Coast, where I spent a few days windsurfing (and yes, I am one dead sexy bitch in a wetsuit), earning renown from the local surf bums as "Le Grand Chat" for my spry handling of the board. We stayed in a guest house overlooking the ocean and there was a girl who came everyday to cook dinner whose skills almost (note: almost) rivaled those of my mom, but I was impressed enough to ask her to marry me. She insisted I would have to give her family seven camels though. Alas, I am not a man of such means.
From the coast I proceeded to Marrakech, where I slept on a roof with a litter of kittens, put to sleep at night by the unremitting pipes of snake charmers and the beat of drums and awakened at 4:30 am by the chants of Muslim prayers. The markets of Marrakech are truly amazing, the sights and smells of piles of fruits, nuts, meats, spices and untold heaps of god knows what extending into an unsolvable maze of narrow alleyways. I am not much of a shopper though, but I did find some kids one day being hassled by a storekeep for kicking their soccer ball in front of the shops, and invariably into his piles of fruit and whatnot. So I assisted them in executing the water over the door trick, sending one to bait the enemy by grabbing a couple of oranges and attempting to juggle them while the other had positioned a bucket overhead. When the old man came running out, the string was pulled, and voila, douched! As we began to crack up though, his expression was decidedly not one of amusement. So he and his helper came chasing after us. We raced up an alley barely wider than my own wingspan, dodging scooters, donkeys, assorted stray animals and Muslims, but a couple of old geezers are no match for Le Grand Chat.
After leaving Marrakech I spent a couple of days crossing the High Atlas Mountains, camping in a river gorge one night, before heading for the desert. A day's drive brought me to the last town before the Sahara begins. I started off staying with some nomads about two hours camel ride into the desert. Forcibly risen at dawn by the sun, wind, and flies, we would get in a couple of ski runs down the dunes. They had skis and snowboards and we would hike up the dunes about 200 feet high and ski down. Then I had to go in to town to manage my fantasy baseball team, so Mubarek and I would cruise by the other tents to see if anyone wanted a ride to town, just like Johnny B at the bustop.
I hate commuting though, and while it might not be as miserable as 395 or 66, four hours a day getting your nuts crunched on a camel hump is somewhat less than comfortable. So I moved from the suburbs back into the city. Besides needing to oversee the team in the middle of the playoff hunt, I had heard rumors of camel races. Now wherever you are in the world, even in the last town before the desert, maybe especially in the last town before the desert, two things you will find anywhere are whores and gamblers. As someone who's skittish about touching the handrail in the metro, I'm not likely to seek out the former, but the latter, they always seem to find me. And sure enough I found myself on the windswept outskirts of town betting on slow ass camels.
The language barrier being even tougher out here, all negotiations (and everything in this country has to be haggled) for wagers, odds, and exchange rates had to be made by drawing figures in the sand with a stick. I weren't too good at picking the winners out though, and the losses were beginning to mount. One afternoon I had skipped one race and I was having a drink when I saw a camel jogging up who was moving faster even at a leisurely trot than any camel I had seen before. Armed with this inside info, when that camel appeared in a race shortly thereafter, I decided to take my shot at the title. I became the center of action for that race, I took every bet I could get my hands on, and ended up with every scrap of redeemable bank note I owned in the world pegged to this smelly hump of fur.
Of course, it turns out I only had half the inside info, because when the race started (the camels start from the down position) my camel didn't get up. He just sat there like he wanted to pick his nose with his hoof even as his jockey tried to yank him around. I started cussin him, cussin his momma, cussin his daddy, cussin his grandmamma and granddaddy, as were the others who had bet on him. So as we stood there, a dozen Arabs and a Redneck yelling our lungs out at this stupid camel, I was on the verge of either balling my eyes out or grabbing the nearest hard object I could find and whipping the snot out of the son of a bitch, when apparently one of my fellow punters managed to peg the fat fucker in the ass with a rock, which got him up and going. And whoosh, he was going, as far as camels going goes (we're not exactly talking Kentucky Derby here). He could hoof it about twice as fast as the other camels, and he was gaining fast. I started running alongside him, screaming, throwing my fists in the air, and he had almost caught up to the leader when I had The Vision.
My particular vision involved sitting at the Colonial Club in Mombasa this time tomorrow, served by an African man in a white linen suit, drinking gin rickeys on the shores of the cool blue waters of the Indian Ocean. But really The Vision is that image of ill-begotten luxury engineered by every gambler right before he finds himself in some distant desert outpost with the equivalent of about 75 cents in his pocket because his camel decides to turn off the track at the last second and just go galloping off into the desert. The inevitable additional insult was that while running my glasses pulled a slip and slide right off my face and under my shoe, and I returned to find the pieces buried in the sand.
And so there it ends: sitting at a café in the dusty streets of Merzouga, sand and sweat encrusted in every conceivable crevice, blind, broke, bewildered, beaten, shoveling out my last loose coins for a mint tea. Against all of which possibly I could have risen to fight again, but against the heat, against the mad, menacing sun, beating down on and baking me all day with no air conditioned refuge in which to repose and fan the bait and tackle, against that maddening fire I was a cowed, whimpering shell of a human. So I had to open up my bag to haggle for a ride to the next biggest town. The driver started at a pair of pants, two linen shirts, and a belt; I started with two pairs of dirty boxers. We settled on one shirt and a belt.
I got back to semi-civilization, got a bank wire, took a 12-hour bus ride packed with screaming Muslims and goats, and some more trains, boats, buses, and planes later made it back to the UK, where I could recuperate under the clouds and winds and drips of Scottish skies.
So I never actually ran any guns to freedom fighters. In fact, I never bought a gun, sold a gun, or even saw a gun. Nor did I import or export anything or become the internet porn tsar of Eastern Europe.
All I seemingly managed to do was get robbed by Hungarians, play cards with Cossacks, and dance the foxtrot in a Paris nightclub. But, you know, did the things in the days. I blew my wad and then some though, so I have to leave behind the world without calendars, without clocks, where morning actually did come twice a day or not at all. On this last pass through London, I've been hanging out with my cousin's friends who work in Parliament, eating at the staff cafeteria, drinking pints at the janitor's pub beneath the House of Commons. And soon enough that will be me again: a Citizen. Working for The Man.
Eating in the Dirksen cafeteria, knocking back cold guys at the Lounge, the struggle for Truth, Justice, and Freedom fading into anecdote. But somewere in the dim recesses of passing time an eye will remain open, a lighthouse scanning the dark waters for signs of hope, dreams of liberty. Because Freedom will live forever in the hearts and minds of The People, and should they ever need me, I reckon they'll know where to find me.
Liberté Toujours,
H

ARRRGGGHH part deux

Thank you, God, for my ENT, Dr. Tipton. He is amazing! Love him.

AS it turns out, I am (apparently) allergic to SF. Who knew?
The doc poked and prodded my face and head, and even did a wicked-cool (albeit a little gross) sinus scope. hooray.

His diagnosis (for today): bad allergies combined with jet lag and slightly inflamed left ear (I'm having a hard time hearing out of it..).

BUT, as well, chronic tonsilitis. ugh. He says I should consider getting my tonsils removed. Elective surgery is fun, yes?

I don't know. What it boils down to is this:
-Every time I catch a bug or a sniffle or something, there is a 50% chance it will turn into bad tonsilitis (bad for singing)!
-My concerns: what does this surgery entail? What's the recovery like? How would it affect my singing and how soon after could I start singing without risk of injury??

Lots to think about. hmmmmm.

ARRRGGHH!!!!!!!

Of course I am getting sick right now.

Of course.

When I have nothing but a month chock full of auditions.

Fabulous.

Please pray that I
1. Get in to see my doctor today or tomorrow.
2. Get adequate rest
3. Get better soon!!!!

I found this on Cassi's site . . .

...and it's pretty funny! Cassi is located here.
---------------------------
Things to do when seeing Lord Of The Rings:

1. Stand up halfway through the movie and yell loudly, "Wait! Where is Harry Potter?"

2. Block the entrance to the theater while screaming, "YOU.....SHALL....NOT..... PASS!"

3. Ask everyone around you if they think Gandalf went to Hogwarts.

4. Finish off every one of Elrond's lines with "Mis..ter Ander-sonnn."

5. When Aragorn is crowned king, stand up and at the top of your lungs sing, "And I did it.... MY way!"

6. Talk like Gollum all through the movie. At the end, bite off someone's finger and fall down the stairs.

7. Dress up as old ladies and reenact "The Battle of Helms Deep," Monty Python style.

8. When Denethor lights the fire, shout "Barbecue!"

9. In TTT when the Ents decide to march to war, stand up and shout, "RUN FOREST, RUN!"

10. Every time someone kills an Orc, yell: "That's what I'm Tolkien about!"

11. During a wide shot of a battle, inquire, "Where's Waldo?"

12. Start an Orc sing-a-long.

13. Come to the premiere dressed as Frankenfurter and wander around looking terribly confused.

14. When they go in the paths of the dead, wait for a tense moment and shout, "I see dead people!"

15. Imitate what you think a conversation between Gollum, Dobby and Yoda would be like.

16. Release a jar of daddy-long-legs into the theater during the Shelob scene.

17. Wonder out loud if Aragorn is going to run for governor of California.

18. When Shelob comes on, exclaim, "Man! Charlotte's really let herself go!"
----------------------------------

Siblings in Europe, September 2005

I just returned from my 10-day vacation in London, France and Italy. Not nearly enough time to cover all that we did, but we managed, thanks to Easy Cruise.

Here are a few pictures:

1. Mediterranean Sea

2. Spices at market in Nice, France

3. Portofino, Italia

4. Easy Cruise One



I am working on getting all of my pictures online for viewing . . .

Laissez les bon temps rouler...

The Big Easy. RIP . . .

Out here in SF, we are somewhat isolated from the truth - from what is actually happening. We see the escalating gas prices and complain to our co-workers.

This is what is happening:

1. Looting. Not just grocery stores, clothing stores and other dry goods stores. Huge walmarts have been completely emptied. Gun stores cleaned out. There is already violence amongst those still in New Orleans, but now there are gangs armed with AK-47s. People mugging, raping and using violence to get what everyone else is after: food, water, dry clothes, shoes. This is true desperation.

2. Flooding. Not just homes, businesses. But football stadiums are filled with water. Dirty, disease-ridden, waste-contaminated water. Jails are flooded out, the inmates taken to one section of the flooded out I-10, and placed between the floodwaters on one side and guards on the other.

3. Southern Louisiana is bayou and swamp country. Poisonous snakes and crocodiles can now swim the streets. My cousin, working for the Louisiana Department of Wildlife & Fisheries, has been sent to New Orleans with his boat to help round up these animals.

4. The weather: New Orleans at any time of year is humid 90-100%, and especially right now, HOT. There is no clean drinking water, no power, no shelter, to escape the heat and humidity.

5. Poverty rate. About 30% of New Orleans' population were leaving at or below poverty level. People who had verylittle or nothing to begin with, now have even less.

6. No mobility, no exit. People are trapped, many of them sick (diabetic, heart problems) and most dehydrated and without food. It's terribly hard to organize and physically difficult to navigate the flooded streets to actually reach the people that need to be rescued. There is a mandatory evacuation of New Orleans, but people don't know HOW to get out! It's impossible. They are DESPERATE to get out, but there is NO where to go and no means.

I could go on and on. People stranded, the losing battle of the police against the crime, the death toll, as yet to even be considered - there is just too much else to do. I do not mean for this to be a doomsday message. But this is the reality at this moment on the Gulf Coast.

I had some family members evacuate New Orleans before the storm hit. They are safe, and - PRAISE GOD - there is family in East Texas and Northern Louisiana to take care of them. But, they don't know if they'll ever get a chance to go home, or if that home even exists anymore.

Pray, people. Click here to help.

Azucar!

Wow. I just returned from an amazing concert at the Shoreline Ampetheatre.

First of all, it was the perfect day - clear skies, warm and just a hint of breeze. I met my friend, JG, at Serramonte mall. He lives in Daly City, so we met and then drove one car (his) down to San Jose. Outside of salsa class, and the occasional club outing, I've not gotten to spend a lot of time with JG. We had a lot of fun -- lots of laughter, learing new vocab, musica and yes, dancing (and that was just in the car ride down! lol).

Concert lineup:
1. Chayanne. Latin pop/rock. AMAZING. This guy can move and sing like no one's business. He had so much energy, and was so fun to watch. Of course, all the women went crazy when he came on stage (boy is goooood lookin'). His music was fun, lively, with a ballad or two thrown in, for good measure. All encapsulated in a lithe, leather pants-clad, stage-commanding presence. A captivating peformer.

2. Alejandro Fernandez. Traditional Mariachi and then some. JG had made a point of telling me on the way down that Alejandro was probably going to be the most popular at the concert, due to the majority Mexican crowd. I thought the girls went wild for Chayanne.

I was mistaken.

The stage is set - 15 or so mariachi. Then, enter the singer. Alejandro has one of the most amazing voices I've ever heard. Strong, clear, and so easy sounding from the top to bottom. I bet he can sing anything! He was (I would venture to say) the crowd favorite. I was surrounded by voices - everyone knew all the words to his whole set. It was actually frustrating for me, because I wanted to join in, too. The music was moving and very passionate. The energy he put off on stage was unbelievable. Women threw their underwear at him (no joke!).

3. Marc Anthony. Salsa. Those people out there that say Marc is riding on J Lo's fame? They're crazy. He is a frigtenly good performer, crowd-worker and musician. He had so much fun on stage, and we the audience had a lot of fun. Hot hot salsa, amazing back up musicians, and limitless energy made for an exciting show.

Everyone was on their feet for the whole concert. It was THAT good...I had a wonderful time!

Notable story: We got back to JG's truck after the concert, and were about to leave, when he realized he was practically out of gas! After waiting for the stop-and-go situation to clear for about an hour, we took off, and found a gas station JUST in the nick of time.

Road trip pictures

Here are a couple pictures from my trip to Santa Fe a couple weeks ago. I was going to blog about the whole weekend, but decided instead to try posting the first ever photos on my blog!

1. Leaving Santa Fe. The sky is amazing in New Mexico:














2. Just north of the CO/NM border lie the ruins of The Morley Church.

TELL ME ABOUT YOURSELF - The Survey
Name:	Katy
Birthday:	July 11, 1979
Birthplace:	Denver, CO
Current Location:	San Francisco, CA
Eye Color:	Blue
Hair Color:	"blond"
Height:	5'11.5''
Right Handed or Left Handed:	Right
Your Heritage:	euro-mix
The Shoes You Wore Today:	Black franco sarto flats - standard work shoe
Your Weakness:	books, cd's & foreign men (ha! j/k-but not really..)
Your Fears:	ET. tripping on stage.
Your Perfect Pizza:	mushrooms, olives, pesto, feta & spinach
Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year:	sucessful audition season
Your Most Overused Phrase On an instant messenger:	ack
Thoughts First Waking Up:	"Scheisse! I'm running late already!"
Your Best Physical Feature:	Eyes
Your Bedtime:	Should be 11; on average, midnight
Your Most Missed Memory:	time spent with my grandparents
Pepsi or Coke:	Diet Vanilla Coke or Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi
MacDonalds or Burger King:	neither
Single or Group Dates:	depends on the guy...
Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea:	Lipton
Chocolate or Vanilla:	chocolate
Cappuccino or Coffee:	cappucino
Do you Smoke:	NO
Do you Swear:	i prefer foreign swear words
Do you Sing:	OH yes.
Do you Shower Daily:	Yes. But not necessarily wash my hair.
Have you Been in Love:	yes
Do you want to go to College:	Spent 7 years in institutions of higher learning
Do you want to get Married:	yes
Do you belive in yourself:	usually
Do you get Motion Sickness:	only in centrifuge-like amusement rides
Do you think you are Attractive:	sure
Are you a Health Freak:	sometimes
Do you get along with your Parents:	yes. they are great & weird
Do you like Thunderstorms:	yes!
Do you play an Instrument:	voice & piano. used to play trombone & handbells
In the past month have you Drank Alcohol:	yes
In the past month have you Smoked:	NO
In the past month have you been on Drugs:	NO. Well, allergy meds
In the past month have you gone on a Date:	yes
In the past month have you gone to a Mall:	no
In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos:	no
In the past month have you eaten Sushi:	yes. mmm. california rolls..
In the past month have you been on Stage:	no...but gearing up for auditions this month
In the past month have you been Dumped:	no
In the past month have you gone Skinny Dipping:	no
In the past month have you Stolen Anything:	no
Ever been Drunk:	once (bourbon street...)
Ever been called a Tease:	yes
Ever been Beaten up:	only stage combat
Ever Shoplifted:	no
How do you want to Die:	peacefully & quickly
What do you want to be when you Grow Up:	opera singer. performer. linguist. wife. all.
What country would you most like to Visit:	somewhere latin. and I am in love with France.
In a Boy/Girl..
Favourite Eye Color:	Dark
Favourite Hair Color:	Dark
Short or Long Hair:	just no buzz cuts or flat tops, please
Height:	5'10" and up. (I'm tall, you know!)
Weight:	proportionate
Best Clothing Style:	whatever makes you feel confident
Number of Drugs I have taken:	prescription only
Number of CDs I own:	too many to count
Number of Piercings:	just ears. but eyebrow piercings are sexy
Number of Tattoos:	i don't have any, but have not ruled them out
Number of things in my Past I Regret:	not a lot
CREATE YOUR OWN! - or - GET PAID TO TAKE SURVEYS!

Small World

This afternoon, after work, and before heading off to teach diction here, I had some time to kill. I went to the wonderfully italian Emporio Rulli on Union Square for some tea (I know! Of all things, I should've had the espresso, but I'm trying not to drink so much coffee!).

I sat outside, going over the nights' lesson, when two tourists asked to share my table. They were whispering in German, and I just couldn't resist. I asked "Woher kommen sie?" and they started and just couldn't believe that some random american addressed them in Deutsch. Turns out they were visiting from Bavaria, and were travelling around the Bay and yosemite. The man's English was much better than my German, and we had a funny conversation flowing between the two languages. They were nice folks.

Act II: post diction class. I'm walking down O'Farrell, and I pass a crepe shop. Having not eaten yet, and smelling the delicious scents wafting from the open door, I stop in. Turns out this is no imitation crepe place -- it's the real deal! I ask for a "crepe complete", and the girl behind the counter shoots me a double take, and asks me if I'm French. Anywho...we start talking en francais, and totally have this fun connection for the next 10 minutes. I will definately go back for another crepe, but also just to chat!

In more news...my recent trip to Santa Fe was great fun. I'll post more about that later. Now, it's bedtime.

(NB: AZ-I've been cleaning in my closet!!!)

You know...

...that feeling you get when you're in the presence of someone and you just are yourself? Good side, bad side, stupid side, funny side, serious side, brain-fart side, etc etc? Someone who sees it all and still likes you (in spite of/because of) all of those things. That level of comfort with another human being is special, and I am blessed to have some relationships like that in my life.

This weekend, I had the chance to reconnect with someone very dear to me, whom I'd not seen in 5 years. It didn't feel like five years had gone by, but maybe only 6 months. I hadn't forgotten that rapport, but was a little stunned to have it back (in person) after so long.

Thank God for modern communication technology, as this friend lives in North Carolina, and *you know what?* 3,000 miles is a lot of distance!


(*that was just for you, AZ*)

Questions!

This is an Interactive Internet Question Game. I got it from Blackbird (who thinks I'm adorable! Thanks!)

This is how it's played:

1. If you want to play, leave a comment below saying so.
2. I'll post five unique questions to the comments section of this post.
3. You answer them in your blog.
4. In your post, you include this explanation and an offer to interview others.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Here are the questions Blackbird asked me:

1. You have a terrible rash, the lotion you need will make your entire body blue, for a week. will you use it?
Yes. But only if I can go by the alias "Smurfette" for the week. Or guest perform with Blue Man Group.

2. Snowboarding or surfboarding?
Hmmm. Despite growing up in Colorado, I've never, ever been snowboarding, so why start now? I'll go with surfboarding.

3. (you are so freakin adorable, just scanned your blog!) tell me what the perfect evening out is.
Starts off with dinner at home with a couple friends, then we meet up with a bigger group of people for salsa dancing-preferably at Cafe Cocomo-and stay as late as our feet can handle it. Post salsa, perhaps satisfy any appetite worked up with all that dancing at the Video Cafe, and then head to Ocean beach for a gaze at the stars (unless, of course, there's fog, in which case you just head home and play scrabble).

4. favorite opera? Easy: Carmen. I would LOVE to sing her!

5. sailing on a large power yacht or large sailboat? with crew of course. Large power yacht (I've never been on one! Sounds like fun!) Can the crew all be brazilian?

PS: Blackbird, NOt to worry, I'm *ALWAYS* a good girl! :)

Darfur Freedom Summer Concert

Heads up San Franciscans!

From 5-7 p.m. on Thursday, July 21st, head to Justin Hermann Plaza @ Embarcadero One for a the Darfur Freedom Vigils happening all over the world. San Francisco's will be featuring local bands Tremolo, M.O.V.E., and Paradigm.

Since Feb. 2003, the government of Sudan has employed a militia known as the Janjaweed to eliminate African tribes living in Western Sudan. The Janjaweed's methods have included murder, mutilation, sexual violence, crucifixion, and the destruction of entire villages by fire. Over 400,000 people have died.

Last year at this time, Congress unanimously declared a genocide in Darfur. This year, join people throughout the U.S. and Kenya, Mexico and France as they commemorate the lives that have been lost.

The concert is co-sponsored by Golden Gate Community Church, Genocide Intervention Fund, Jewish Community Relations Council, American Jewish World Service, San Francisco Bay Area Darfur Coalition, www.stopgenocidenow.org , Stanford STAND, and the Office of Public Policy and Social Concerns, Archdiocese of San Francisco.

-----
Next weekend, be sure to check out San Francisco's First Annual AfroFunk Festival, with proceeds going to the "Save the Children Fund" for Darfur, Sudan. The Festival will take place at the Elbo Room on July 29th and 30th.

El Zocalo

Post salsa class last night, walked to El Zocalo with some of the salsa folk for a quick bite. El Zocalo serves Mexican and Salvadorian food. Cheap and tasty. I had a papusa for the first time (yum!), and tried someone elses' chilate with sweet yams, plaintains and something fried served in the side. The dinner was capped off by wandering musicians who came in a played a few tunes. Good times all around.

Check out El Zocalo: 3230 Mission Street (near 29th)

etc.....

I've many different things I've wanted to post about recentlly. I guess I'll just do a patch-work quilt of subjects, here.

1. London: PRAISE GOD that my brother is safe. He, his friends, classmates, etc are all accounted for, as are the handful of friends I've over there. Hallelujah. Interestingly enough, the cabinet minister for whom he works, has just been appointed the minister for the Olympics, as well as minister for the families of the victimes of the recent bombings. Wonder if he'll be offered a more permanent job there (and if so, if he'll take it...)?

2. Only my mother could use this phrase: "Those jeans are rather butt-sprung, aren't they?" I'm not exactly sure what that means...but let's just use our imaginations, now, shall we?

3. My airport adventure, as taken from the book of AZ's airport adventures, from SFO on Friday, shall be (not so) briefly recapped here:
-Arrive at 5pm sharp for my 6:30 flight (no baggage to check)
-Discover said flight has been delayd until 10:oopm!!
-Return to terminal (I'd already been through security) to speak with a ticket agent about another flight
-Nice United lady says I can get on an 8pm Frontier flight. She prints me out a paper ticket and sends me on my way.
-United is at the far end of terminal 3. Frontier is at the farthest end of terminal 1. I walk, cheerfully whistling, through barren terminal 2 to the Frontier counter.
-Not-so-nice frontier lady tells me that, while I CAN get on the flight, I am missing a CRUCIAL signature from the United lady.
-Walk BACK through barren terminal 2 to the far end of terminal 1.
-Wait in line for 45 minutes. For a 5 second signature.
-Start back towards the desolate terminal 2, to get back to Frontier.
-En Route, am "picked up" by one of the United ticket agents. His name is Sam, he speaks several languages, has lived in SF for 25 years, hangs out with some of the Giants, might know my friend B who works for the Giants and gives me his phone number for when I return to SF. Still undecided on whether or not I'll call....(maybe email).
-Return to Frontier, wait in line and get checked in
-Head to security
-Get randomly selected for a strip search and to have all of my bags thoroughly checked (re: feminine products conveniently spilled out by the guy searching). Great.
-Finally make it to the concourse. And, happiness arrives in the form of my friend Skot, who is making his way to SoCal for the weekend.
-AFter having been walking the airport for close to 4 hours, S and I sit and have a beer, as our gates are right next to one another's.
-My flight ends up getting in late (around midnight) and my folks pick me up and we drive another 2.5 hours to the mountains. My dad snoozing in the back seat, while me and my mom chat it up in the front.

I can't believe I forgot to post this!

San Francisco's Precious Cheese 2005 North Beach Festival was two weekends ago. It was SO fun:

-Food
-Live bands of all persuasions
-Sidewalk chalk art (my personal vote for most tacky goes to a really well done portrait of the mona lisa, with leonardo dicaprio added in beside her)
-Pizza tossing
-GREAT people watching.

HOWEVER, my hightlight (by far) was .........drumroll, please...............

Getting to meet Gianni Russo, aka Carlo Rizzi, Connie's jerk first husband, in The Godfather. I got my picture taken with him, as well as an autograph! AWESOME!!!

Thoughts

What a crazy week. Crazy in a good way, mind you.

I have been keeping myself busy. And, really, when I stop to think about it - which, I don't really want to do, but I've just started doing - I have to ask myself why.

Why do I fill my days and nights so full that I fall into bed (too late) only to wake up still feeling exhausted? I tell myself that it is worth it; that I am enjoying my 20's in the fabulous city of SF. And, in truth, I am. I am having SO much fun.

On the other hand, I am neglecting some important things. My aparment is a currently a catastrophe. I spent a little time cleaning the main room today, but my room is a disaster. I am not being disciplined in this area. Also, I'm not staying on top of some phone calls, organizing, etc etc which I need to do.

Basically, I'm playing really hard right now (again, in a good way), and I work hard during the day, but I need more balance. I know too, that I've been neglecting my relationship with God---I just haven't been making that time a priority.

In short (or long, as it were) I often find myself confused and constantly pondering why why why am I doing this or not doing something else. And, instead of seeking answers or prayerfully submitting my questions to God, I just sit with them, or worse, force them out of my mind.

----
More random thoughts, not related to the more serious ones above:
1. Jazz at Pearls is a kick-ass place. You must check it out!

2. I need a good (upright) bass player in the SF area. Anyone out there know anyone? I think I'm going to put together a recital for the all, with some spanish, portugese, and possibly French (read: cabaret) music, and some straight up jazz standards. I need some instrumentalists for all of this!!

3. I had a friend send me an email, asking if I would consider marrying him so he could get his green card. WHAT? ummm....no way, man. That would be too weird. He was dead serious, too! My first reaction to reading the email was hysterical laughter. Honestly, I couldn't believe what I just read.

4. I have had several good conversations with a coworker, A, this week. Praise God for that!!

My feet are killing me

...but it is worth every single aching step. Went salsa dancing tonight. It was so much fun. A random group of us went. A friend from church, a friend from Carnaval, a friend from salsa class, and even my salsa teacher came! I also ran into this guy I've met here on more than one occaision.

Lots of good dancing tonight.
M, from the metronome, is a solid leader, easy to follow, and we are in similar skill levels.

J, from MCLAA salsa on tuesday game (sadly, though, without Tio) and he is doing great! He just has to keep his confidence up, but is improving as a leader everytime I dance with him. We had a lot of fun, as he is always up for a laugh.

Jaime himself. Wow. What can I say. It is so fun - and a workout - to dance with him. Man KNOWS what to DO on the dance floor. Talk about pro, man. Gets a little crazy, but worth it!

Adam, Adam and Matt were supposed to come, but last minute had something come up. Adam, however, has expressed his sincere desire to go salsa dancing, as well as the other two guys. Oh well. Next time.

As for me, I cannot speak highly enough about going early for the class. Not only do you learn some moves, but you also meet people, whom you can dance with later.

Hasta la proxima.....

Late Night Fun

Long time, no post, I know.

Thursday night, on my way to my new favorite jazz place, I was talking with a friend about age. We decided that, as mid-twentysomethings, we were now acting more like 21 year olds than we did when we were actually 21. And by acting like we were 21, I mean partying (or, staying out late) on a Monday. Or Tuesday. Or any eve before working the next day.

I've decided to embrace this fact. Sleep be damned. Well, that is, until I am walking down the street and just keel over from sheer exhaustion. Caffeine only works so much, before it starts making me feel sick.

I know I need a lot of sleep. But, at the same time, I am having a lot of fun just doing random things, seeing people, hanging out. If not now, when?

So, as a public service, here are some of my favorite late night places in SF:
Bruno's
Yoshi's
Cafe Cocomo (duh).
Red Devil Lounge
Caffe Greco

Not to mention a few hidden gems from AZ. But if I told you about those, I'd have to kill you :)
---------------
I have to post this conversation I had last night. It is too funny not to.

Setting: Italian pizzaria, straight out of my favorite movies. Each table has a little jukebox. I selected "O Sole Mio", and the following conversation ensued:

*Bopsy: "Hey, isn't this Beethoven?"
Me: "pffffsshshshhthtthth (trying not to spew my food) HAHAAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA"
Bopsy: "Oh, no, wait. It was Elvis. He sang this." [true]

Hilarious. Simply HI-LAR-I-OUS. *some names have been changed*

I can now claim...

that there are pictures of me floating around on the internet.

Here are some SF Carnval pics, thanks to Juan Carlos Pometta Betancourt

Here comes the L.A.W. float down Mission street.

Yours truly third from the front.

Singing to J.Lo and, it seems, about to both a)lose my top and b)hurl.

Let's Get Loud!

Check out those falsies (eyelashes, that is)

Our fearless leader, Jaime. Also find him here.

El Brasileno, Sidney

Brasilian Birds in their Cage

The Girls who drank all the Jack Daniels, prior to starting the parade

[I didn't post any of the more scandalous shots here, but if you click on any of the above links, you can scroll through about 600 Carnaval pictures, about 50 of which are ours--just look for the red and gold.]

(side note)

[Is it just me, or are the ads on my blog really funny right now? "Looking for a girlfriend?"; "Date sexy rich singles"; "How to get your ex back"; and "Find a girlfriend". if there was only an ad that would read: "how to not be chickens*%t when it comes to casually handing your business card to a friend whom you'd like to see again, but apparantly he's too chickens*%t to ask for your number"]

Celia Cruz said it best

"La vida es un carnaval". That was my theme for a 'salsariffic' weekend.

San Francisco Carnaval 2005 was this past weekend. Talk about a BLAST! I have never been part of such a wild-crazy-fun-amped up-energy-driven event. Seriously.

First off, I am SO proud of our Latin American Workout float. It looked awesome. All red and gold and shiny in the bright sunlight. And a cage mechanism which opened up to reveal scantily clad Brazilians inside -- the photographers went NUTS! I have NO problem saying that had it not been for the efforts of a select few (myself included), that our firey float would never have made it to the parade. Lots of blood, sweat and yes, even tears went into that thing. And what took us days and days to build, took only 2 hours to take down. If I can ever figure out how to post a picture, I'll do so.

Secondly, our costumes: gorgeous. Sparkly, spangly, sexy, red/gold/yellow/orange concoctions of carnaval festiveness. Thanks to Estella, who worked day and night -- up until 6:30 a.m. on the day of the parade. We were on fire, as it were.

Thirdly, our music was *hot*, with DJ Bosco (Friday night regular at Jillian's) mixing our routine numbers with salsa and raeggaeton on the front truck while Victor kept it live on our second truck, playing the congas, djembe, shekere and surdo.

I have to also mention the CROWD of people who were lining the streets to see the parade. It was great fun to play off of them -- dancing, singing and flirting with the party-goers, all out to celebrate in the warm sunshine.

The only drawbacks from the whole experience? A slight headcold and the fact that I have Jennifer Lopez' "Let's get loud" playing over and over and over and over again in my head.
-----------------
MUSIC TAG (sorry about the delay, Jen....)

Total volume of music files on my computer: 939 bytes. Yeah, not much. Those of you who know me, know how lo-tech I can be.

Last CD I bought: Wellllll.....I can never buy *just one* at a time. The last few I bought: "Llegan...Van Van"; Madeleine Peyroux; and a 2005 Raeggaeton hits compilation.

Song playing right now: Well, if you read the entire post, you would know that the soundtrack of my brain is currently "Let's get loud" by J. Lo. .

5 songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:

1. "Politik" by Coldplay (A rush of blood to the head). I just really love this song.

2. The entire Joshua Tree album and Simon and Garfunkles' greatest hits. COUNTLESS hours of my existence - esp. during high school - spent listening to these with my friend Ty. Seriously. Over and over and over.

3. "Dos Gardenias" from the Buena Vista Social Club self-titled album. Beautiful song. The whole album, in fact, is perfect to play while cooking.

4. "I will survive," Cake's version. Rock-out funky, yo. This was my theme song my sophomore year of college.

5. "In your eyes" by Peter Gabriel. This is just my all-time favorite song. Ever.

I'm supposed to pass this on to 5 people. But all the people with blogs whom I know have already done this. So, if you're out there in cyberspace reading this and feel like continuing the meme, go for it!

MY EARS ARE RINGING

...in as good a way as is possible, if one is going to indeed have ringing ears, thanks to this guy and also him.

Thanks to all my peeps who turned up at the club. We had a blast!

And, as always, more drama unfolds (but not in a bad way) in the whole ex-capade (I've been listening to Janet, can you tell?

AND she had the cutest shoes EVER!

I finally got to spend some *quality* time with H, P's new girlfriend, at the opera tonight.

We talked during intermission, and then again backstage while we waited for everyone to get out of costume.

The biggest tragedy about the whole situation? Under different circumstances, H and I would totally be friends. She's really cool. Go figure.

However, P did mangage to piss me off tonight.

H was in the bathroom when the man himself comes out of the dressing room. He proceeds to introduce me as his "ex" to a couple of people. (I was like, okay....). Then, as a nicely juxtaposed comparaison, cue the "Baby, come meet these people" directed to H.

Talk about feeling like chopped liver. Boooooooooooo.

My brother would totally kick his ass for that. HA!

----
In other news, I met up with Giovanni yesterday for the first time. We meet at *$ and then went and had a beer. It was...interesting. Jury's still out.

Ever wondered...

...what you're worth? As in, if someone had to purchase you?

I bet you're all thinking this is going to be one serious post.

Not!

I was working as a temp for the nice people over at SHD for the last few months. This week was my first official 'non temp' job. I was hired over at the Fund. Now, basically, SHD gets paid because I was hired. They sold me. Seriously. I saw the invoice (I pay all the bills)!

My purchase price was $7,000.00. However, probably since I am available only in limited quantity, they slashed the price and let me go for $5,000.00.

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!

I also come with (no kidding) a "one-year guarantee". Funny, eh?
----------------------
In other news....
I met my ex's new girlfriend last night. He swung by to pick up this package from his mom at my house (he doesn't have an address at the moment) and she was in the car. He's all, "hey, do you wanna come meet my girlfriend?"

I looked at him, and I KNOW I had some sort of funny, pained, and slightly panicky expression on my face. But I couldn't stop myself, I said "ummmm...sure?"

So, we go to the car, where H proceeds to give me the one over before pro-offering her hand. P joked that perhaps the two of us could exchange notes (Lucky me, I get to see her again on Sunday when I go see Madame Butterfly).

I don't know if she knows that I'm "the republican" aka the ex-girlfriend who voted for Bush. But I sure know who she is, and damned if there wasn't a twinge of jealousy that reared its ugly head deep down inside of me last night.

All I have to say is I'm gonna look good when I go to the opera Sunday night. HA. Is that really so wrong? nahhhhhhh.

Being an adult is not for wimps.

Is it just me, or am I sensing a theme for the week...

You're the United Nations!

Most people think you're ineffective, but you are trying to completely save the world from itself, so there's always going to be a long way to go. You're always the one trying to get friends to talk to each other, enemies to talk to each other, anyone who can to just talk instead of beating each other about the head and torso. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't, and you get very schizophrenic as a result. But your heart is in the right place, and sometimes also in New York.
Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid

Pleasant surprise

The daily morning email check brought me a great surprise today.
Thanks to Gill for picking me as her blog-of-the-day!

I'm NOT the only one

...who gets random songs stuck in their head. For no reason whatsoever.

Witness This Fish's April 27th entry "sing a happy song".

I'm so glad I'm not the only one!!

"From my point of view," said the polyglot, "it is open to many different interpretations."

AZ and I went to see "The Interpreter" last night. I loved it (big shocker). Great film, with only a few lines that are too cheesy to be reprinted, even in this blog.

Love Sean Penn. Great in his usual on-the-brink-of-falling apart-but-must-plow-on-and-get-the-job-done-dramafest-intense-gazing-prodding-eyeballs-etc

Nicole K - love her. Strong-smart-but-in-over-her-head-with-cool-nationality-mix-and-determination-for-justice-and-peace-and-also-plays-the-flute.

And, of course, this movie made me want to drop everything and go work at the UN. Or really, just bolstered me on in the pursuit of learning languages and studying culture. Yes, they also help me in singing. (It's very frustrating to have to sing something, without really knowing what you are saying. And don't even get me started on trying to translate a language when you don't even know rudimentary grammar. Practically impossible).
And yet, it goes deeper than that for me, and always has. It's that 25-years tug-of-war that continues in my brain, my heart, my gut, between music and language. I've written about this before (see October 21st), and it is something that waxes and wanes. It is a skirmish (not quite a full-scale battle) that I have to keep in check. I don't know yet how to reconcile the two parts...we'll see. I'll keep you "posted".
As for now, I've started taking Spanish classes, which I love despite the fact that half my answers come out in Italian. Ack.

AA for cell phone users

"Wherever your business takes you, count on more bars in more places."



Was this tag line for Cingular conceived during a night of heavy drinking, or what?

how to meet people in the city

At work we are in the process of going through stacks of resumes. Stacks and stacks and stacks which I go through because I am the Administrative Assistant and that is my job.

It's actually rather fascinating.

If there were no ethical reprecussions, I would totally cull some of these for my personal file. Some of these people look - at least 'on paper' - soo interesting! I just want to meet them, and ask them about their life experiences.

It's like dangling a carrot in front of bugs bunny, you know?

SO, here's my thought. Call it an idea for social change (albeit, a tongue-in-cheek one). You know we all carry around business cards, right? To hand out when we meet someone interesting, either for business or pleasure. Why not just carry around extra copies of a resume to hand out as well? That way, you know some background on the person, and could really decide whether or not you wanna go have coffee/drinks/dinner/business lunch. This would practically eliminate the need for smalltalk, and would give you some great conversation-starters.

I'm just suggesting....

How to enjoy a Tuesday night

5:00 - 6:00 Spanish lessons in the Mission with Carrrrrlos.

6:00 - 6:25 Drive down 101 (yes, fun!) listening to drumming music.

6:30 - 7:00 Hear about AZ's crazy weekend in Seattle, while going back UP 101.

7:00 - 7:25 Head back toward the mission with AZ.

7:25 - 7:33 Circle. Look for parking. Repeat as necessary.

7:33 - 7:35 Find a spot. Parallel. 1/2 a block from destination (MCCLAA)!

7:40 - 8:45 Salsa class with AZ, J'aime [sic], Adonai (yes) et al!

8:45 - 9:00 Drive down Mission. Find *sweet* parking for dinner at...

9:00 - 9:45 ...Baobab restaurant. Drink "rose" (vodka, ginger and cranberry).

9:45 - 9:55 Double back down Mission to Mitchells.

9:55 - 10:05 Enter, taste and order ice cream. Notice the LACK of line!

10:05 - 10:30 Drive down Guerrero, Fell and Lincoln all the way to AZ's. See large, red, London-style double decker bus coming through Golden Gate Park.

10:30 - 10:45 Head home.

Thanks AZ, for a fun Tuesday night!!

April fool, part II

I would like to comment on the previous post. That post was written BEFORE I saw my ex for the first time since we broke up. I was nervous about it, I think.

I don't know if any of you have been in the situation of being friends with an ex. I'm told it's rare. It's kinda nice - if not a little surreal.

We're now just playing games with each other.

And, of course, I mean that literally. I kicked his ass in Trivial Pursuit over at Albatross, and he kicked mine in scrabble. We have a rematch/tiebreaker scheduled for the near future sometime.
----------------
ETC.

-I would like to point out that when spellchecking my last post, the word "blog" came up as unknown to the blogger [natch] spellchecker. Now THERE'S a proper use of irony for ya, Alanis...

-Spent an enjoyable couple hours at the Red Devil Lounge last night, hearing M.O.V.E.. They are the bomb, check out their site.

-I bought a t-shirt with Johnny Depps' picture on it. Rock on.

April fool

So I notice it's been awhile. I've even emailed myself (more than once, mind you) with things to blog about over the last two weeks. I've just not had any time!
-------------

Here is something I wrote on March 28th, unedited and posted here for posterity:

"The bottom line? Don't deny your feelings; deal with them. Attraction is a megawatt force that can sweep away your good sense, and even your values. That's why you need to respect how powerful chemistry truly is, and work as hard as you can to avoid letting your physical desires unravel your life."
The above was taken from this article

So, i happened upon this in an MSN women article on line today, and it just struck me.....b/c i know exactly what it means. For a long time, i thought i wasn't prone to this -- i mean, c'mon how stupid is that?
maybe i just didn't believe in something so powerful as just unbridled animal attraction -- all that talk of pheromones and stuff? you know....

a few posts ago, i let loose a torrent of french. towards the end i said (for those who can't read french -- and even if you can, it was written hastily and full of errors!) "that my head, heart, body and soul were all in a war against each other". a feeling that i have felt, perhaps, before in my life, but just not quite so strongly as at that particular moment.

in romans, paul often writes that he knows what is right --he KNOWS it, and yet, he continues to do what he does not want to do. the flesh and the spirit are opposing forces. Obiviously, the applies to the statement from the MSN article -- how, when left unchecked, physical desires can indeed unravel your life. isn't it amazing how people are wired? highly intelligent, rational beings with the capacity for greatness, genius and discovery....and yet we are completely susceptible to dissolving into piles of mush when the right person just even glances at us. crazy. and fun. a lot of the fun in life stems from the chemistry you have with others (and not just sexual chemsitry, either)....

anywho. I'm with Paul AND the article. i know that "working as hard as i can" not to let my physical nature win me over will never be enough. i will never, ever be able to work hard enough. i know myself too well to claim that. So, I will call on G's help for this. it is through His strength only. "Therefore, be transformed by the renewing of your mind..." Rom. 12.

Detail

I forgot to mention that my friend Ayelet and her husband have a large, blue hookah on their back patio. Awesome. It makes me think of the opening song in "Aladdin" --


"combination hookah and coffee maker! also makes julien fries..."

when worlds collide

bollywood meets hollywood for a thoroughly delightful 2 hour comedy in the film "bride and prejudice".

truly a great film. very fun and funny and makes you wanna dance. go see it, people.

also, finally watched "i heart huckabees". very interesting and thought provoking in some ways. i wanna watch it again....

l'enfer, c'est les autres

Je sais pas ou commencer, sauf que je ne savais pas que quand qq'un dans ma vie trouve qq'un autre -- je ne savais pas que tout cela me couper comme ca. Je me sens mal a l'estomac, mais, a la meme fois, je sais que c'est bete ca. J'ai aucun droit d'avoir envie de qq'un qui, en tous cas, je dois pas avoir un certain type de rapport. bon....alors pourkoi me sens-je comme ca? comme qq'un m'a battee?? c'est stupide. peut-etre c la malediction d'etre feminin. nous n'avons pas la capacite d'etre 'separee' de nos sentiments. pfff...j'ai pensee que j'etais differente, que moi, j'avais un coeur ou un esprit de pierre ou de fer. mais. c'est pas vrai.
et en plus, je le savais. je suis une creature SI sensible...des que l'enfance. ma duh!

mon dieu...qu'est que j'avais fait? quelle 'drogue' avais pris-je? tout cela ne m'aide pas comme enfant de dieu (ou bien, peut-etre oui..), mais ... en tout cas je sais que l'artiste en moi se profitera bien de cette experience. le pire est la guerre qui se continue entre mon esprit, ma tete, mon corps et mon coeur. C'etait presque finit (j'ai pensait...) avant ce soir!! Mais, avec les merveilles de la technologie moderne, ca recommence un peu. helas. "le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connais pas".
NB: j'ai tire le titre de cette post du 'huit clos' par sartre, parce que j'ai regarde aujourd'hui un film tres existentiel. selon moi, le but du film etait le sentiment que l'enfer, c'est les autres....

This post has been a long time coming....

I've had so many fun, crazy, and even odd experiences this week that I've wanted to write about. But I haven't had a chance until today! This week has just contributed to my "why I LOVE living in the Bay Area" attitude.

Sunday, March 13
I had my first Philly Cheese Steak today. Well, okay, technically it was chicken, but it was really good. Then, went to Mitchells for the best ice cream in SF with AZ, Alexis and Ashley. mmmmmmmmm.

Tuesday, March 15
Went to Berkeley for a Persian festival to celebrate Persian New Year's (which was actually this morning around 4:33am). There was music, dancing, and even jumping over fire. Then, afterwards, went the Kiki and some of her family to Jupiter for drinks and hearing live jazz. This trio was great -- hadn't heard good live jazz in a while. We also have a sip of vodka from the bottle that was snuck into the restaurant.

Wednesday, March 16
Salsa class at Social Salsa. Having SO much fun learning this. I know I'm killin' AZ with all this dancing craze -- but she did express that she appreciates my "exploring her culture..." (were those your words? :P heee hee.

Thursday, March 17 *St. Paddy's*
Up brignt and early to take the aforementioned best friend to SFO. On the way, manage to get the song "yeah, yeah....." stuck in my head. Awesome.
After catching a quick nap, head to El Sobrante for breakfast with my friend Ayelet. We eat some traditional Israeli food (can't remember the name) that was delish! Head to Oakland for a lesson and then San Rafael to meet Tyler for the rest of the afternoon. We trek up to Sonoma for some wine and general merriment.
It was a gorgeous day.
Later that night, head out to The Irish House for holiday festivities. Wear my Guinness shirt and socks(!) and there is more merriment, dancing, and Guinness-drinking. San Franciscans love to celebrate!

Friday, March 18th
Had the odd experience of being the ONLY passanger on a Muni bus for 15 minutes. I had my own private bus - down MARKET street, even. The #7 just didn't have that many takers. Eventually, we had up to 8 riders. Strange, as that morning we were so crowded you couldn't even turn around.
After work I crash, but then decide to head to The Independent (just down the street) for a concert to see one of my favorite bands, Berkeley locals O-maya. They brought with them Brazuca Brown (Brazillian!) and Bayonics (latin/hip hop fusion) as their openers. MAN was it a hot concert. Dancing, and yes, even more merriment! I love this venue, too. It's a great, not-to-big space. I was in the front all night. I could've joined in on the timbales had I wanted to. I was that close.

Saturday, March 19th
To San Jose to go to Great America with the queen! Her work sponsored a private event there and we had the park to ourselves. We didn't even get rained on! The best roller coster, by far, was Top-Gun. Smooth, fast and thrill-seeking without the whiplash. The least enjoyable was the stand-up roller coaster. This coaster had awful, unconfortable banana-seat things (feel sorry for the men who ride it!) and was extremeley jerky. Not worth it.

For Saturday night I had tried to recruit my people to head out to Cocomo with me, but there weren't any takers, barring one of the guys from my Wednesday night class. We had a lot of fun and danced for 4 hours, staying to shut down the club. And, I think I finally figured out the shoe situation, so I can avoid blisters! I'm glad E met me there ('cause it would be weird to go totally alone - as a girl), but I think he was hoping for a little more than dancing. Flattering as it is, I'm just not feelin' it....)

It's now Sunday afternoon, and as I write, I'm being serenaded by several different things. One: NCAA basketball on the TV (oh yes, I'm BITTER) and the improv piano stylings of my roommates' 8-year old brother, who's been crashing here for the weekend. It's really cool to see the two of them together. R was super excited that his bro was coming up from NC, and just watching them, I can see that he is his younger brother's hero. What a trip.

Those of you who know me

might be surprised to learn that my inner 'gangsta' came out to play tonight.

Well, okay, so I'm not a gangsta (by ANY stretch of the imagination) but I DID give a damn good rendition of Coolio's Gangsta's Paradise at tonights Karaoke-fest.

When that song dropped, I bought the single on cas-SETTE, man. I played that tape over and over and over and over until I knew it cold. Before tonight, it'd probably been 10 years since I heard that song, but it came back in a flash.

Good times, ya'll....

If Sir Mix-a-lot lived in Calistoga Springs

I
like
mud
baths and I cannot lie
You other folks can't deny
When you're sinking in
to the hot muddy paste
A cool towel on your face
You'll look young-
er than you're lookin' now
and your friends will all say 'wow'..............

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm gonna stop now before I get out of control. I could totally be a rapper, don't you think?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The queen and I went to Calistoga yesterday. First, it was beautiful up there, and NOT crowded at all (hello, off season)! Second, we actually did do the mud bath thing. It's pretty gross, but in a cool trippy way. You're like suspended in this mud mixture. But it does make your skin oh so soft. This is followed by a hose down, jacuzzi, warm blanket wrap and a massage.
Then, we went wine tasting. The ultimate relaxing day. You MUST try it.
Check out Golden Haven Spa. Off season rates are spectacular, and well worth it!

Hang Ten, dude

Everyday from 9-10 am and again at various times throughout the day, you can find me practicing a new sport.

I call it Urban Surfing.

No water, board, wetsuit nor swimsuit required.

What you DO need:
-briefcase or large bag
-iPod with headphones (or, in my case, slightly beat-up discman)
-MUNI pass
-Flat shoes (beginner); high heels (pro)
-crowded express bus (or street car, train, trolley)
-San Francisco Hills

The trick is keeping the knees soft and keeping balanced while being hurled down California street at breakneck speeds during the rush hour commute. When the driver decides to slam on the brakes behind a double parked car, you better hope you've trained enough not to fall over and take out your neighbors with a gnarly domino-effect topple. Not as easy as it appears to be.

Happy Surfing!

Imagine my pleasant surprise

when my flourescent-light induced headache was suddenly lifted as I paced the aisles of Office Max. What was this miraculous cure, you ask?

"Aruba, Jamaica, oooh I wanna take you......."


Oh, yes. It really was on the loudspeaker. And there WAS much merriment.

Brian Wilson said it best:

Aruba, Jamaica, ooh I wanna take you to
Bermuda, Bahamas, C'mon pretty mama.
Key Largo, Montego, Baby why don't we go down to Kokomo
We'll get there fast and then we'll take it slow...
That's where you wanna go: way down to Kokomo

I have always loved that song. I went through an intense Beach Boys/oldies phase in elementary school, and that was one of my favorites! I still jam out to it today if I ever happen upon it on the radio.

But, I digress. The kokomo in question here shall thus be renamed Cafe Cocomo. As evidenced in more one recent post, my February shall thus be renamed "Salsarary." (Unless you're AZ, then it can stay Red February).

I just wanted to describe my first encounter at the famed Cafe Cocomo.

My friend from Berkeley Opera and SFCM, Fabs, and I finally arrived (see yesterday's entry) at Cocomo around 9pm, just as the intermediate class was ending. We grabbed a drink, found a place to sit just off of the dance floor, and waited for the DJ (Chata Gutierrez!) to get the crowd going. It wasn't too terribly crowded, yet.

Let me set the stage for you: there are two of us, single, not-unattractive women waiting to dance. One of us (me) has limited salsa experience, but is eager in spirit and has plenty of rhythm. Plus, am boosted by a certain someone's comment (you know who you are) that I am not 'hopeless' when it comes to salsa. Then there is Fabs, who used to compete professionally as a Latin dancer. Yeah. She knows her s*#t, man! I did get to dance Saturday night, but really, I wouldn't have called the night a waste if I had just sat and watched her dance with some of the excellent leaders there---they were just that good.

The evening proceeded with a little caution, much fun, and, of course, various dance partners. Oh salsero, salsero, let me count thy ways . . .

1. Young black male. Totally inexperienced leader. It was the blind leading the blind. But we both had fun just trying it out. An non-threatening way to wade into the salsa-ery waters. We would dance a couple more times throughout the evening.
2. Cue Miguel. Fortunately, he was a decent dancer - and not many levels beyond myself. Unfortunately, he was eye level with my 'girls.' (Well, maybe not unfortunate for him, but it sure makes turns a little difficult). As an added bonus, he tells me he plays the pan flute.
3. After some egging from Fabs, I ask a tall (!) Latin man to dance. He was a really good dancer, and a great leader. I just felt bad that I didn't know enough to follow him very well. But he was very patient, kind, and explained some things to me. I must admit, however, that my merengue wasn't too shabby. Later on in the evening, he asked me dance again, checking to see what I'd learned so far.
4. Bald white dude, Sam. Told me I should've come earlier for the lesson, but that I wasn't doing too badly. Showed me some more moves and led well, but had really bad BO.
5. Suave black man. Asked me to dance, and was (again) not too upset that I was a beginner. He was just showing off, though, in his leading. All over the place -- more Cuban style, too.

All in all, I learned enough to know that I need to know more to have the confidence to really get out there and do it (and not feel bad when asked/asking to dance). HA! But, it was SO MUCH FUN!!!!! Tonight, I went to a beginners' salsa class. It was fun, and I am going to stick with this and see what I can learn. Keep an eye out for more salsa-craziness!

What a difference a day makes

LOVE that song! But what I really mean is TGIPresidents' Day. I was thankful for the morning to sleep in (even the phone ringing at 8:30 this morning did not keep me from staying in bed until 10). Yay!

It was a crazy weekend spent driving all over the bay. And, somewhat unnaturally, getting lost almost every time I hit the road. I blame a certain online map making site.

Incident one was Saturday morning. It was raining and gross. I had to be in Oakland for a competition at 10:30. I basically knew where I was going, but I printed out directions, just in case. I follow the directions and end up in some canyon in Piedmont. Despite its magnificent beauty and lush vegetation, it was not the Mount Zion Lutheran Church off of Park Boulevard. I see an old man walking his dog, so I roll down my window to say, "Excuse me, can you help me? I am in the wrong place." He looks at me -- all big red lips, diva hair and sparkling earrings -- and says, "You sure are." Classic. He points me in the right direction and the day continues.

Fast forward to incident two, on Saturday night. Still raining. After a much needed and fun afternoon with Bettina and the Queen, Fabs and I head to Cafe Cocomo to get our salsa on. Fabs brought internet directions with her. Those of you who have ever been to Cocomo know that it is in a middle-of-nowhere industrial part of SF, nearish Potrero. There are no street lights here. After asking ourselves "Was THAT Indiana street?" and doing a U-turn or two, we finally made it. GREAT night of dancing, but that's another blog.

The third incident was Sunday afternoon. On our way to catch West Bay Opera's production of Lucia di Lammermoor, SW brings out the directions she got online. However, they are not to the right place. ALAS. We make our way, eventually, to the theater. I must say that this production was amazing. Beautifully sung and incredibly powerful all around.

Now I am at home, and not planning on getting lost on my next trek (down to the supermarket). If you don't hear from me in a week, send out a search party!

Why I love MUNI

I know, I know. There are several reasons why San Franciscans tend to curse MUNI, and complain and whine and so on an so forth. Having lived here for almost 4 years, one would think I would know MUNI better. But before I started commuting via MUNI last week, I really didn't.

Sure, I was grateful for MUNI when going to the ball park, the library or the beach. Even the occaisonal trek to the movies. But I was a tourist. I drove. I still do, drive, but not nearly as much.

So why do I love MUNI? Because I get to read, don't stress out about the crazy SF drivers, and can just sit back and observe.
And boy howdy, there have been things to observe. Here is a list. Most are from MUNI, but I've thrown a few non-MUNI ones in as well.

• Middle school kids are LOUD. No one else on MUNI speaks to one another. Ever.
  First, it was a trio of middle school girls, just out of class. They would shreik every time the lights flashed. Shrieked every time they said the name of (I'm assuming) their crush. LOUD. Next, a gaggle of middle school boys, talking very rapidly in a combination of english, spanish, and pubuescent voice cracks - all punctuated with the bounce of a basketball. LOUD. The MUNI driver shushed them (but not, curiously enough, the girls!) They quieted down until they disembarked, when they went out of their way to annoy the driver, who retorted "HEY, I remember faces, guys." Whoa dude, *scary*. It was quite funny; the rest of my fellow passangers and I were totally (if silently) cheering for the boys.
  
• This morning, as I exited the trolly car, so did three guys. They RAN FULL OUT across the street and down the sidewalk and jumped into some bushes. WHAT? As I walked by, I noticed that the bushes concealed the backdoor to a restaurant. I glanced at my watch. 9:01. They had *just* made it!
  
• My job is located very close to the base of telegraph hill -- under Coit tower. About 3/4 of the way up the hill is a large house. One morning last week I saw the garbage man (waste management specialist, for your PC'ers) descending the stairs. He was about half-way down, and was dragging behind him a rather full recyling bin. Felt bad for the guy, but at least on the way back up the bins are empty.
  
• Because I ride the trolly, not just the normal express buses and so-forth, I get to see a lot of tourists. I love it. I love trying to guess where they are from--before hearing them talk--based on their clothes, accessories (fanny pack? backpack? man purse?) and attitudes. Some might say this makes me judgemental and stereotyping. I prefer to think of it as honing my skills of observation for when I start up my own PI firm. Besides, I appreciate these tourists, and empathize with them. As a traveler, I am familiar with the adrenaline rush that accompanies riding foreign public transportation: a curious mix of trepidation ("Did I miss the stop"), curiousity ("what's that?") , excitement ("Can't wait to get there!) and frustration ("What kind of ticket do I need and why do I have a pocket full of useless centimes ?!!?"). Always an adventure.
  
• Normal MUNI-ite activities: reading, staring, listening to music, sleeping, drooling, foot tapping, talking to oneself (special circumstances), continuous glancing at watch, and
  seat-shifting.
  
• Things MUNI-ites avoid at all costs: eye-contact, talking to fellow passengers, using a cell phone (!), being seen with a map, eating, smiling, flirting and PDA.
  
• I haven't figured out yet why some mornings the bus is super crowded, and other mornings the same bus isn't.

A portrait of the artist as a young man, in a way

I'll be the first to admit that I did NOT carefully read this book for my AP lit class. I just couldn't do it; couldn't follow Joyce's punctuationless rambling. (By which, of course, I mean his captivating stream-of-consciousness style).

I have, however, been enjoying The Song of Names by Norman Lebrecht. Mr. Lebrecht is not just another fiction writer penning an historical fiction about the lives of musicians and the people around them. Although this is his first novel, he has written 10 other books. He is a learned musicologist and a keen commentator on music, culture and politics.

I'm reading this book on my daily commutes, and it is quite good. Without going into too much plot detail, I will tell you that it focuses on two main characters: Dovidl, the precociously gifted violinist; and Martin, his best friend and cohort, with more of a talent for analysis than musical performance. This is their story, set during and after WWII London.

Lebrecht's characters make some fascinating observations about artists, managers, and the relationship between the two. I can't say that they are true of every artist or manager all of the time, but they are interesting, and do transcend the novels' physical setting. I include them here for your perusal.

The thing you have to remember about artists . . . is never to trust their immediate response. Whatever the news, their reaction will be self-protective. The mask goes on, and you see only what they let you see. These creatures carry their emotions around in a violin-case, reserving their only honest expression for the public stage. In private, they turn emotion on and off at will. Never believe an artist when he weeps or declares love. It's all a grand performance (pg. 150).

Treat [an artists'] upsets as you would a child's tantrums. Console, then instruct. Show compassion when it is called for, firmness when it runs out. Give them an illusion of your love for them -- but never love itself, or they will devour you (pg. 150).

Never trust a musician when he speaks about love, never trust a manager when he talks about money (pg. 151).

There is in every artist . . . a hard core of brute egotism. The talent that wrests music from a contraption of wood and gut [or any instrument] is like a natural gas. Funneled and refined, it gives heat and light. Uncontrolled, it maims and destroys. I know musicians of the most saintly countenance who commit unpardonable acts of betrayal in pursuit of some trivial gain. Confronted with the pain they have inflicted, they shrug and blame it on their art -- as if making music relieves them of moral responsibility (pg. 112).

Faced with a choice between saving the human race and having fluffy towels in their dressing room, they will always go for the fluffy towels. Art is their excuse for everything, to us and to whatever they use for a conscience. Remember that . . . Never let yourself be overwhelmed by beauty, or some artist will use it to destroy you (pg. 112).

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NB: Today is my sibling's (BEST brother in the WORLD) 23rd birthday! Happy Birthday, W!!!!

Follow-up, aka NYC part II

Technically speaking, this post has nothing to do with NYC, but for the sake of keeping last night's promise for a part two, well. . .
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My friends tend to tease me, but not in a bad way, about my rather eclectic taste in music. Not content to listen to the usual mix of 80s new wave, brit pop or the latest Dr. Dre discovery, I've always had a large collection of jazz, Latin and world music in my CD player.

I've had a fondness for jazz - especially big band -- since I was a child. Some of my earliest childhood memories include dancing with my grandma to her collection of big band LP's on her massive record player.

As for Latin music, that love affair also started in childhood. My elementary school best friends' mother, Dorenda, was (and still is, I guess) a flamenco dancer. We'd go watch her concerts, and then return to the house, sneak into Dorenda's closet and try on all her big skirts and 'play' her castanets. We put on flamenco records and dance in the basement, attempting to recreate what we saw on the stage. Classic. (Side note: I never saw Dorenda without her fake eyelashes. Even to this day. And I've known her for 20 years!)

Once high school rolled around, my ears were opened to the joys of salsa, merengue, cumbia, cha-cha-cha etc etc. Every time our group of friends headed to Rudy's house, there were assorted family members there dancing. Always. Without fail, always a party.

But what really did it for me was going to a Carnevale (SALSA VS MERENGUE VS CUMBIA! DENVER CARNEVALE 1997) party with my friend Anna and her parents. Knowing that I did not know a lick of Spanish, nor any of the dances, she gave me the following words of advice: say "si" if someone asks "baila con migo" and that was it. I danced with this guy Oscar for a ridiculous number of hours. Anytime that either of us needed to communicate verbally, we had to get Anna (conveniently dancing with Oscar's friend) to be our translator. It was literally one of the best times I've had in my life [and I still have Oscar's phone number in my ticket scrapbook -- the first number I ever got! :)]

I felt high for weeks after that. I mean, what was this music and why had I never heard any of it before?!?!? It was totally unlike the mix of classical, country and oldies that I had relished all growing up. The next day, I ran to Blockbuster Music and bought my first salsa CD: Salsa Fresca. I listened to it everyday for the rest of that school year, I think. I read and re-read the liner notes (which aren't bad), about son, sensual style, and salsero. I've worn that CD out, and am on the hunt for a new one.

The rest, as they say, is history. I've never *officially* taken a salsa dance class (lots of unofficial ones, though), but that is on my list for 2005. I mean, I dance around in my kitchen, but that doesn't count. And SF has some awesome salsa places. Vamos a bailar!

New York city?!?! Part I

Anyone remember that Salsa commercial? Where the guy buys salsa NOT from El Paso, and it's from NYC?

anyways

That's NOT the type of salsa I'm here to discuss.

AZ got hooked up on some email list of some friends-of-friends. These guys throw MAJOR parties once every couple months or so. Tonight was the Valentines Day semi-formal dance party. Featuring Wild 94.9's awesome DJ, Jose Melendez. Also fun: each lady got a red rose (!), salsa (!) lessons by Eldon Bryce from Metronome, seeing good friends and making new ones, getting to dress up in semi-formal wear (fun purple dress), open bar, hors d'oeuvres, and all for $20. WELL worth it.

Dude, sometimes I forget how much I really love to dance. I like to dance with men who know how to dance. I also like to dance with my friends in a big circle, just being silly and having fun.

But now, it is bedtime. 7am will come soon, I fear, and I need to sleep and let my feet recuperate. All in all, a really fun party. Stay tuned, cause tomorrow in Part II, I'll have more to say about Salsa (not the condiment) when I can think clearly...ciao!

Modern $*&?@ Technology

Everyone knows how to work a telephone, right?

Well, I thought I knew how to work one. I mean, I can even use my handy-dandy, high-powered camera phone. Without consulting the guide.

So, I'm at work learning how to use the front desk phone system, because from time to time everyone helps out and covers the receptionists' lunch hour.

You wouldn't find as many buttons if you were standing in one of Kathy Lee's sweatshops.

M, the fabulously patient and nice receptionist talked me through "the phone." After at least 20 minutes of explanation, she pointed me to the cheat sheet and other helpful papers. Then, I sat and watched her take a few calls.

Here is an excerpt from my lesson today:
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M: When someone calls, the name of which foundation they're calling comes up *here*. Ask them their name and organization and then try their extension. Now, you have to say xyz name twice and if they answer go back to your call and press xyz extension. If not, go back and press these two buttons. If someone else calls while you are on line 1, line 2 will NOT light up, but it will show on the message board. THEN, you have to press hold, go to line 2, press hold, go back to held 1, try their extension and go back. You can press transfer twice to go back to the original. Now, if it's a board member calling---see the list in the book---you can interrupt a staff member. If the caller sounds fishy, screen them extra carefully. If it's meany Mr. X, try putting him through to so-an-so, but they might not want to take it, but you absolutely MUST NOT LEAVE MR. X ON HOLD for longer than 5 seconds!!! Keep trying extensions until someone agrees to talk to him. If all else fails, press the eject button on the upper left corner and yell until someone gets a ladder to peel you off the ceiling.

Me: um, okay.

M: okay, you try a call now.
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Well, let's just say on my first call, I forgot to screen, forgot whom the person I forgot to screen was calling for, and had no idea which buttons to push. M helped me out, and we had tag-team phone operations. Me stumbling over English, and M pushing buttons. And then...three calls at once! ACK!
BUT, on my fifth call, things went okay. I finally got the hang of it.

Now, I don't have to fill in for a couple of months. By which time I will have forgotten everything, I'm sure.

Easy as 1-2-3

I'm sloooooooowly adding cool new things to my blog! I mean, this is a BIG deal to those of us who once confused the terms "hyperlink" and "hypercolor" [aside: those hypercolor shirts were awesome - until you started sweating and the armpits just got darker . . . ]

Witness the blog counter under my links list to the right. Eventually, it will not look so sad with its little single digits. I think the first 10 hits will probably be me, making sure it works! HA!

Just check it out. FREE counters available!

PS: Just kicked some audition arse up in Oakland. Yea!

You just never know . . .

So, I was wandering through the Sunset today, trying in vain to locate 4 x 6 index cards, when the thought struck me:

"Where did all these crazy people come from?"

Not, as in, the stork brought them or anything. But, when I lived in this neighborhood, I didn't remember all of the crazies here. Examples: the old woman smoking (that in and of itself makes you crazy in California) and soundlessly muttering outside of the Happy Donuts; old man crouching at the same corner excitedly examing a bottle he just found; the resident homeless crazy woman singing some rock song at the top of her lungs; the CRAZY-ASS drivers -- well, that isn't new.

Well, I'm now safely ensconced back in my 'hood. Right near Haight Asbury, where all the normal people live. . .

It's official . . .

. . . I am now part of corporate America. Well, at least the part of corporate America that is comprised of grant giving non-profit funds.
You are looking at the newest member of the Walter and Elise Haas Fund.
I start on Monday.

Thanks to the fine folks at Smith Hampton and Devlin for landing me the job!

In other news, I'm off to show #3 at Berkeley! Ciao!

Weird, but not in a bad way . . .

So, I've been mentioned in my first ever review as a singer. It's pretty exciting - but still a little weird, you know? It's not too bad, though. Apparently, I am hilarious.

Check it out at http://www.sfcv.org/arts_revs/berkopera_2_1_05.php

Next Sunday - there shall be champagne!