Remember that Time?

Remember that time when I was sick of living in land-locked Ohio and decided to search for jobs primarily in California? I applied to almost every school that had an opening. I had never been to northern California but I had this gut feeling that I would love it. I figured it would be just like southern California except with less traffic and smog, more moderate weather, and more hippies. I was right on all accounts.

Remember that time I accepted a job at San Jose State University and drove across country in three days (to the hour)? I only brought whatever could fit in my car and sold the rest. Once I got here, I ended up sleeping on the ground for the first three weeks until my bed got delivered.

Remember that time within the first month of my job, I found out my supervisor would be leaving for four months to work on a ship for Semester at Sea?

Remember that time I discovered that there was more to San Francisco than the Financial District and Embaracadero? Shane made me walk around Golden Gate Park, through the Haight, up and down a mountain, through the Castro, Dolores Park and Mission until we finally reached the 16th Street BART station. I ate the most amazing burrito ever (and still go back to that taqueria). That day gave me the desire and curiosity to come back over and over, wanting to discover more.

Remember that time I moved four times in under two years?

Remember that time I planned a leadership conference for 400 people with no experience in planning leadership conferences? I’m pretty happy with how it’s turned out and think of it as one of my greatest accomplishments in my job. And when will I get an excuse to use Pirates and the London Underground as themes again? Probably not anytime soon.

Remember that time I made some great friends and went on the following trips with them: weddings in Santa Barbara, conferences in San Luis Obispo, beach trips in Santa Cruz, weddings in Merced (dreamy, dreamy Merced!), job signings in Berkeley, Thanksgiving in San Francisco, reunions in Los Angeles, and countless tourist trips in our own cities.

Remember that time after two years at SJSU I accepted a new job in corporate America? Although I’ve enjoyed this rollercoaster called higher education, I am excited for a new opportunity. I am excited to be living in the greatest city in the world. I am excited for the friends I’ve made and those I am making. I am excited to walk to the beach when I want serenity or to the Haight when I want crowds. I am excited to be blogging after a week hiatus.

Remember that time I couldn’t think of a poignant way to end this entry?

permanent press, medium heat

One of the patterns I have developed since moving to the city is doing laundry on Tuesday nights. I chose Tuesday mostly from a process of elimination. Monday is too long already and to do laundry would just elongate the pain. Wednesday nights have some of my favorite trashy tv shows (but can be substituted for happy hour quite easily). Thursday is a good night to hang out with friends, anticipating the sweet sounds of Saturday and Sunday just around the corner. And Friday– well, I usually save my Friday evenings for reviewing my bug collection and polishing my rock garden. And since the weekends are quite hectic at Sunshine Laundry, Tuesday is my default day. Tuesday is the day when I rinse, wash, heat and repeat.

There are some perks about doing my laundry in public. I love showing everyone my underwear (whether they want to see it or not). I’m quite proud of the money I’ve spent on my Old Navy Lingerie collection. It’s a good investment. And I must say I look good in the boxers that say “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” all over them. That was $4.99 well spent. Something I’m also proud of is how I have horrible laundry etiquette. I’m well aware that one is supposed to divide their loads into things like “whites” and “colors” and “delicates” but I prefer to divide my loads into “top half of the basket” and “everything else I didn’t grab the first time around.” I don’t really buy clothes that would bleed and my whites usually stay pretty bright so I have little use for bleach. I’m sure this will come to haunt me one day, but for now I enjoy living life on the edge.

I really like that using a laundromat forces me to do it all at once. I’ve always hated laundry because I go through the same conflict of do I stay around and diligently listen for the machine to get it done quickly so others can use it? and do I put my clothes in the dryer and come back whenever and deal with the wrinkly mess that will await my folding fingers? No more conflict when I do it all at once. And the best part is the counter space to fold all your clothes when your done. By the time I get home, all I have to do is put them away. I used to hate folding my clothes on my bed, so now I don’t have to associate my sleeping palace with dirty laundry… but instead with things like blankets, pillows and my silky, soft skin.

And what about the characters that come in the laundromat when you’re there? There’s always those who walk in, put their clothes in the machines and peace out. Since I live a few blocks away and haven’t worked myself up to the point where I can leave and feel comfortable that my clothes will still be around when I get back, I sit on the bench and watch my striped socks swirl in the washing machine filled with one carefully measured scoop of Air Breeze Tide.

Then of course there are those who stay in the Laundromat. Some people bring nothing with them and just sit there. Others will bring books or iPods, jamming to Laundromat appropriate music (for a list of Laundromat Appropriate Music, please refer to the LAM guide at your local Sunshine Laundry). A few people will talk on the phone, making laps around the machines as they speak with their friends or partners or grandparents. Doing laundry is a great time to call the grandparents. When you tell them what you’re doing, they can’t help but be proud that you can do your own laundry now.

My favorite type of people are those who come with their friends, most likely drink between loads and insist on singing really bad songs as loud as they can. Wait, did I say “favorite?” I meant “please never come back.”

Where other nights can bring unknown adventures, Tuesdays are reliable because of their quirky predictability. Although the people and songs and books and strange looks change, I know I will always be entertained by my fellow Laundromaters. We’re a rare breed: we public displayers of laundry, we shower and tellers. It’s a shame if you don’t do your laundry at the laundromat; you people are really missing out.

#85.5: Celebrating Holidays

Although people around the world have celebrations throughout the year to honor meaningful days in their culture, white people in the US love making sure that you know they are celebrating a holiday. These holidays come in two forms: American holidays that give them an excuse to be proud to be an American, and religious holidays that give them an excuse to show their love for Jesus Christ. It can be argued that these holidays are celebrated more out of routine, but any excuse to clean the grill or dust off your tacky Christmas sweater for a tacky Christmas sweater party is good enough for white people. Point them to the hot dog aisle at a supermarket or the spinach dip and carrots on Grandma’s kitchen counter and they are ready for any momentous occasion.

White people love American holidays because it gives them a sense of pride that they can’t find in their jobs or marital affairs. White people love being the best and since America is the best country (and thus so are American cars, furniture and food), they love making sure others know that our founding and milestones should be witnessed around the world. Along with this thought, it is also common for white people to think that not only are their creations amazing, but that no one can meet their high expectations. American holidays are a great time for Dad to remind everyone that all French people are mean and that food is meant to be eaten with your hands, not with tiny sticks.

But if there’s something white people love more than celebrating American holidays, it’s celebrating religious holidays. And since the majority of the country is Christian, they love to use this fact as defense for why it’s okay to say and write “Merry Christmas” everywhere in public. (Side note: Using the same logic, why don’t white people say things like ‘Have a white day!”?) White people think it’s a crime against humanity if anything is planned or scheduled for a Christian holiday, but require others to bring in excuse notes to prove that they were really celebrating heathen days such as “Solstice” or “Pesach.”

The best part about celebrating a religious holiday is getting to hang out with your extended family. Although you wish you could do this everyday, you weep a little on the inside knowing that you can only eat tuna casserole and slightly burnt ham on a few days of the year with your twin counsins who insist on pinching each other under the table. After a few “amens” and stories about how cute you were as a child, white people can get through the meal as fast as possible in order to spend the rest of the day reflecting on why their celebrations are so important that supermarkets and hair salons close.

leaving my heart in san francisco

Tony Bennett released the song I Left My Heart in San Francisco in 1962 and his words are often associated with the beauty of this fine city by the sea. Tony wrote:

The loveliness of Paris seems somehow sadly gay,
The glory that was Rome is just another day,
I’ve been terribly alone and forgotten in Manhattan,
I’m going home to my city by the bay.

As someone who also thinks the wonders of the world hold nothing to this cultural explosion of hilly goodness, I hope I never leave my heart in San Francisco because that implies that I have left the city, never to return. Instead, I want my heart (and more importantly, my perfectly-chiseled body) to remain in this city by the bay as long as it can. I’ve moved around so much, and for the first time I finally have found an emotional and spiritual connection with a city.

Something that’s always been important to me is aesthetics. Urban planning, architecture, public art, mountains in the distance, dramatic sunsets… these things matter! I am someone who is inspired by what I see and when a city can offer me any combination of the above, I have found love. Yet San Francisco has managed to give me all of above plus cultural, artistic and dining experiences like I’ve never experienced in a climate that is never too extreme. This city truly has anything a person could want (with the slight exception that it will eventually break off and float toward Hawaii).

Just today I managed to walk in one of the largest parks in an metropolitan city (fact: Golden Gate Park is actually larger than Central Park in NYC), go food shopping one block from the ocean, eat coconut tofu and noodles in the heart of the hippie revolution and sit in a field where tons of people were openly smoking weed and no one seemed to care. The only things this city lacks are expansive parking lots and ugly surroundings. If you want those, please look elsewhere.

What excites me most about living here is that although San Francisco is only about 7 square miles, I feel like I can continually make new discoveries every time I step out of my home. I think part of the reason I keep moving is because I master a city and am ready to try something new. It’s refreshing to know that I can’t use that excuse this time.

I leave you with the rest of Tony’s song… may his words inspire you to come visit me soon.

I left my heart in San Francisco, high on a hill it calls to me
To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars.
The morning fog may chill the air, I don’t care.
My love waits there in San Francisco, above the blue and windy sea,
When I come home to you, San Francisco, your golden sun will shine for me.