Another Saturday

So this is a post of random thoughts.

I have got to be the world's the laziest person. I could just say that I'm a tail end GenXer so there but I am so lazy. I say if I had company coming over I might keep my room in some sort of semblance of order but I've never done that (to all parents reading this, you're not a bad person for making your kids clean their rooms, lest the end up like me, a 28 year old adult that never cleans her room).

I bought a sewing machine a month and a half ago and two weeks ago I bought two patterns, for a skirt and a top. Both claimed to be Sew Easy. I cut out the fabric for the skirt last night and as I listened to delicate crinkle of the pattern fall in between the new shears and I remembered my mom doing just the same at our dining room table. She tried to teach me once, at my request when I was 12 or 13, and I was so impatient and obnoxious that I never finished the project. Fast forward fifteen years later I was sewing curtains with my then roommate Mark to cover the total 22 feet of window space in my super hot apartment and I kept thinking then as I was last night it would have been better to learn from my mom. Regret is the toxin of life. I found myself holding the pins in between my teeth just like she did though as a child I often asked her not to as I was afraid she swallow one.

A friend from high school that I've maintained contact with through letters and now email during the mundane work day married a guy who has written a novella. I'm driving to Palm Springs tomorrow (est time 2 hours but I'll offer a report afterwards) to have dinner with him. What else do I have to do? After an initial reading and feedback he asked for a line by line edit so I'm off to Borders to pick some things for myself and treat myself to some girly coffee drink with whipped cream and maybe even a lemon bar while I finish editing Love Will Travel in the cafe. Oh so trendy, yes? I don't know if he's expecting it but I want to surprise him with my completed edit and donated copies of Poets & Writers magazine.

Saturday Night

So I'm all into saving cash these days. So much so that I even made dinner tonight (and it was healthy!). And as a girl that doesn't have cable I am so stoked that Empire Strikes Back is on. Sure I have to deal commericials but that's ok. Rearranging the bedroom is so not happening tonight. If my hair was longer I would sport the Leia-esque do but sadly I cannot.

In My Ears

The new favorite band this week: Umphrey's McGee.

Like where I get most of my new music from, University of Pennsylvania radio 88.5 WXPN, I discovered them when I was illegally streaming at work. Hey, it's part of the benefits package, they just don't know it.

Category: crunchy jam band. The sticker said something about "sunshine vocals". Hmm, not really The Partridge Family but the vocals are good with Walt Whitman simplicity and Paul Simon poignancy coupled with synchronicity and tight muscianship a la Phish and Allman Brothers yet all their own.


From their site:

Devotees of “all cool music,” the band identifies
The Beatles and Led Zeppelin as primary influences with a reverence the
members describe as “biblical.” They also share a love for the music of Yes,
Gabriel-era Genesis, King Crimson, the Mahavishnu Orchestra, Miles Davis,
and Jaco Pastorius. Their own playing and writing reflects these influences,
yet maintains its own contemporary originality through a diligent avoidance
of clichés (both musical and lyrical) and a willing patience to wait for the
freshest expression of an idea to emerge. Sometimes song ideas sit dormant
for years before finding a place in the band’s vast repertoire. Using 8-bar
segments and progressions (building blocks they have dubbed “legos”),
primary songwriters Jake Cinninger and Brendan Bayliss construct their songs
piecemeal and with the active participation of their bandmates. All
arrangements are collaborative. Lyrics, too, are collected over time and
groomed to be thought-provoking and open to interpretation. This is a band
that likes its audience to think while they’re dancing. Solid songcraft is
the first crucial step in that process.

I'm in possession of one ticket for their show Wednesday, May 4th at The Belly Up Tavern in Solana Beach. A concert on a Wednesday night, doors open at 7:30, show scheduled to start at 9. Such decadence.

Governator

It was a normal Monday workday. I fought the alarm clock and the stupid shower doors that someone that was a good idea, really what is wrong with shower curtains? And then fought with my hair and finally out the door with my small pile of stuffs for a day of productivity: donations to the office kitchen of previously read issues of Shape magazine, bag o’ baby carrots for snacking, gym bag that only gets a workout traveling from apartment to car to office back to car to complete the cycle again and envelopes addressed for bills to be mailed to some mysterious place called City of Industry, California where the industry is apparently high interest rates.

Arrive at work and follow normal routine, turn on computer, grab mug and water bottle, head to kitchen to make tea and to the weird office supply, printer/fax room that also houses water cooler. And it wasn’t a metaphor when standing around the water cooler I heard, “Did you hear who’s going to be hear today?”

“Who?” I mumble in response.

“The Governator,” she exclaimed

In my short time as a resident of The Golden State, I’ve learned that it’s standard practice, regardless if you’re Red or Blue, to yes, refer to the 38th governor of Cal-ee-forn-ya, Arnold Schwarzenegger as “The Governator” or if you’re on friendly terms, ‘da gov’nuh’.

The official email was sent out at 11 am announcing the event, with location, outside on the grassy knoll by Building D at 2-2:15 pm and that he would be taking questions. One of my mom’s favorite expressions when anything was about to go down was, “I’m going to pop some popcorn and watch the show.” And that’s just what I was planning to do.

Like any good employee-owning sheep I headed down per the email at 2:17 only to have to wait in line in the sun. Had I known I wouldn’t have worn a long sleeved black shirt and my two inch Steve Madden boots but fashion and politics make nice bedfellows.

While waiting in line I noticed protesters on the sidewalk. Not many and with my with my poor eyesight (even with contacts) I could only make out the “Protect” part of the signs. There wasn’t any chatting and the local sheriff’s department wasn’t in riot gear so it was safe to assume they weren’t the opening act.

After over an hour of waiting finally he arrived. But we had no idea why he was addressing a group of employees from Science Applications International Corporation (SAIC). I guessed he’s a Republican; it’s a DoD contractor and while I still think that’s a valid hypothesis, SAIC actually gets very little CA state contracts. They can’t afford us.

Governor Schwarzenegger arrived corporate caz, slacks and a tie-less, button down and successfully managed to work in the word ‘California’ over 15 times in the first ten minutes of his speech but thankfully it wasn’t translated to an applause button at a pep rally like the way President Bush works in “stomp out terrorism” as often possible getting any crowd to go wild.

There were high tech presentations with graphs and charts behind him about revenue and spending and a lot of finger pointing to the ‘politicians in Sacramento’. Governor Schwarzenegger had four reform issues he was campaigning and conveniently people were standing by with petitions to be signed.

What did impress me is that he actually said the phrases, “This is my opinion” and “This is what I think”. I either didn’t agree or he hadn’t even made an articulate declarative statement but it was refreshing to hear nonetheless.

He took questions from the audience or rather I should say he asked, “Would you like to see me tap dance? Heel, toe, shift, ball, change and I really respect and admire teachers and nurses, and what you’re a grave digger, well thank you too!” When fielding a question about a lack of funding for community colleges he touted his support by saying he learned English at Santa Monica Community College and then he let us in a little secret, that back in Austria, he had really wanted to be a salesmen.

Whack!

Downtown San Diego has a trendy area, the Gaslamp, a five square block area of restaurants and bars where the pretty people play. The outstretching blocks are undergoing a period of gentrification but it’s a process where old and new business, organization and residence have to make nice, leaving renovated expensive lofts to neighbor community health and outreach centers. It can be block by block when heading north or south off the arterial streets so the sidewalk pedestrian mix is eclectic with pan handling amputated veterans and DINKS poorly paralleling parking their SUVs.

Caught in this fray is the Central Branch of the San Diego Public Library on E Street that offers limitless knowledge but no parking. Two blocks away I scored a spot that I neatly and expertly maneuvered The Red Baron into (the ’94 Honda Civic hatchback DX has an amazing turning radius). As I retrieved my books for return from the back seat I noticed an unkempt man my age, plus or minus two years, pushing a shopping cart fill of salvaged trash items, talking to himself or someone that I nor the couple walking behind him, couldn’t see. He approached a metal sign (imagine inverted V on sitting on the sidewalk) that noted the parked regulations and with not even so much as a wind up, kicked it as hard as he could making a loud scrapping, metal to pavement sound on the quite Saturday afternoon, sending the sign a good five feet. He didn’t notice me as he pushed his cart pass my piece of temporary claimed urbana. He repeated his goal kick with a second sign that was on the corner but didn’t miss a beat when he looked both ways when crossing the street.

The couple walking hand in hand reached me and as I locked my car I just looked at them and said, “Sometimes that feels really good.”