For reference, a baby boomer in my life said that it was ok to be gay, but that they just couldn't accept someone who was bisexual. This is among the more outlandish things they have ever said, and I felt that an explanation of bisexuality might prove informative to them and other baby boomers.
I think I should take some time to explain bisexuality to
you, since I think your strong feelings about it aren't based in fact.
This is something that your generation was never educated in when
growing up, unlike mine. In addition to my advantage of age, I've
received a decent amount of exposure to the issue because every girl
I've dated since my first kiss has been bi (including the one I'm seeing
tomorrow!).
Everyone lands somewhere on the Kinsey scale
spectrum, from gay to straight, and everyone is a little bi. Gay men can
successfully have sex with women, and the opposite is probably true for
any heterosexual man. They might not enjoy it as much, but it would work and it would be at least a little enjoyable. It helps that people are turned on by people in general.
You
can appreciate when a woman is pretty and I can appreciate when a guy
is pretty and we can both admit that pretty people are more pleasant to
look at than unpretty ones, even if they're not the gender we're
sexually attracted to. You may think that's totally different from being
"a little bi", but it's not really. Sexuality isn't nearly so tidy as
we wish.
I guess I
can see one thing potentially more subversive about bisexuality than
homosexuality-- it's no longer a question of choice. Bisexual people
have the choice whether or not to act bisexually, so from a Christian
morality standpoint I guess you could say practicing bisexuals are the
worst sinners of all. Let's be clear about what choice there is, though,
because being born bisexual is just as little of a choice as being gay
or straight. Acting on it is the part where bisexuals are uniquely rich in options.
Being born with a bisexual orientation
can be convenient if you're, say, going to an all-girls school, and
less convenient for keeping friendships uncomplicated. I've heard a
couple bisexual girls say they are just attracted to people, not gender,
which might help minimize that complication. I've heard a different bisexual
girl say she had multiple "types" and was
only into those people. I've also heard people profess that they "liked
everyone". In any case, it's still a complicating factor for
having platonic friends.
There are also a lot of interesting
associations with being bi. People think of bi girls in completely
different terms from how they think of bi guys.
Bi guys are often
thought of as "gay lite" because it's pretty common for young gay guys to
call themselves bi while on their way out of the closet before
eventually honestly calling themselves totally gay. Even if
people don't think of bi guys as being probably just gay, there is a lot
more prejudice about it-- probably for the same reasons there is more
prejudice about being gay and male than as a lesbian and with the added
ingredient of confusion that bisexuality lends.
Bi girls, on the other hand, make a lot
of people immediately think of threesomes. Apparently they get a lot
more junk mail on OKCupid than pretty much anyone else. Of course, most
bi girls are about as interested in threesomes as most straight girls,
which is to say not really.
I admit I have a positive association
with bi girls. Being out as bisexual means they've put some thought into their sexuality, which is
an indication that they are open minded and comfortable with themselves (though it
is no guarantee). It also means that there's the distinct
possibility that I can talk with them about boobs or about how hot an actress on TV is. In short, bi girls have some of the perks of
heterosexual guys while still being into guys. I'm no more concerned
that a bi girl would cheat on me than that a straight one would-- being
bi doesnt make someone fickle or flighty or even more sexual.
There's
a good chance I will end up with a bi girl, so I'd like you to think
long and hard about your problem with bisexuality. I cheerfully hope
that you will no longer have that problem by the time I'm ready to marry
somebody, whether or not that person is bi.
Cheers and love
Friday, December 14, 2012
Sunday, October 28, 2012
On Prop 37 and Genetic Modification
This is probably the California proposition I've heard talked about most, and it happens to be the one I care about the most. Prop 37, if effective in convincing agribusiness to abandon GM crops, would be expensive, but I'm more concerned about the expense of the lawsuit wars it would open up and the complete lack of impact it's likely to have on anything and everything.
Since the idea of Prop 37 is to give consumers choice, let's investigate that. First of all, the idea of labeling is to provide information, but it turns out to be information we already have. Essentially all conventional cotton, canola, corn and soybean products will be at least partially derived (and typically mostly derived) from GM crops. After that, sugar beets, squash and papaya are the only remaining crops for which commercial GM crops can be found. No genetically modified animals have been approved by the FDA. So, not a whole lot of uncertainty to be resolving there. Second of all, those opposed to or afraid of GMOs who want products containing one of these seven crops can buy organic or foods labelled GMO-free.
With this in mind, it's really very difficult to interpret Prop 37 as anything but a referendum on genetic modification itself. Unfortunately, the public understanding of genetic modification is rife with misinformation. There are a number of myths about genetically modified crops that I'd like to dispell (I'd like to credit NPR for some of the material here):
"Everything is GMO these days" and "We don't know what's GMO and what's not"
Like I said-- there isn't much mystery about what is or isn't genetically modified and only seven crops are even potentially GMO-- every tomato you can find in a store, no matter how anemically pinkish and tasteless, is GMO-free.
"Monsanto will sue you for growing their patented GMOs if traces of those GMOs entered your fields through wind-blown pollen"
This has more to do with Monsanto than GMOs, really, but this is a myth. The full explanation can be found on the previously-mentioned NPR article.
"GMO crops give people allergic reactions"
Genetic modification that may introduce allergens into crops is something the FDA specifically prohibits, looks out for and makes sure doesn't happen.
"Seeds from GMOs are sterile"
Way back in 1998, there was a big controversy when Monsanto suggested making GMOs with "terminator genes", which would make crops that could otherwise be replanted act instead like hybrid seedless watermelon seeds-- farmers would have to keep coming back to get their fix. The public outcry over this was enormous and Monsanto quickly shelved the idea, never to revisit it.
"GMO crops have animal genes in them"
Like the terminator gene, this was something people became very worried about in the late nineties. There was some conception of genetic modification creating half-animal frankenplants-- a silly fear that grossly overestimates our ability to change the genetic make-up of organisms. Nonetheless, US law prohibits inserting animal genes into crops.
"GMO crops are poorly understood"
This last one I'm going to take some time with.
The testing required for FDA approval of a new GMO is very expensive-- to the tune of 50+ million dollars. This is the reason that only a handful of crop varieties are genetically modified-- most vegetables don't have enough market share to justify such an expense (squash and papaya with virus resistance genes inserted were licensed before FDA approval became so expensive). Part of the testing is knowing exactly where the inserted gene is (transgene is the word used in science). There is also thorough testing of the gene product, or the protein that the gene codes for, to ensure that it is safe for human consumption. So, for every commercial GMO, we know exactly where the transgene is, what protein it codes for and we have extensively tested the protein for safety. To quote this article, "every major scientific authority on the subject – from the American Medical Association to the National Academies of Science to the American Dietetic Association to the World Health Organization – has confirmed the safety of eating currently approved foods made with biotechnology."
Genetic modification has been used in science since the early 70's, and for the last two decades transgenic organisms have been one of the most important tools used by scientists to learn about cell biology. I've personally genetically modified E. coli and I've worked with many strains of transgenic C. elegans. Those who understand the science of genetic modification and have personally worked with genetically modified organisms overwhelmingly support genetic modification as a technology to improve agricultural crops' productivity, nutritional content, disease resistance, environmental tolerance, etc., not to mention non-agricultural uses like making insulin and other drugs. Indeed, a number of Nobel Prize-winning scientists have come out against Prop 37.
At the end of the day, whether or not Prop 37 passes, I hope its existence on the ballot encourages conversation about genetically modified crops and that the public comes to a clearer understanding of what genetically modified food is, because there is a lot of misplaced fear. With a little knowledge, consumers can avoid GM food if they want, but GM food is unequivocally safe and therefore does not merit labeling. More importantly, Prop 37 is just a poorly-written proposition, written by and for regulation litigators (to whom it would create additional business) and organic grocery stores (who have an ideological axe to grind). It is opposed by scientists, farmers, food companies and the majority of California newspapers.
Since the idea of Prop 37 is to give consumers choice, let's investigate that. First of all, the idea of labeling is to provide information, but it turns out to be information we already have. Essentially all conventional cotton, canola, corn and soybean products will be at least partially derived (and typically mostly derived) from GM crops. After that, sugar beets, squash and papaya are the only remaining crops for which commercial GM crops can be found. No genetically modified animals have been approved by the FDA. So, not a whole lot of uncertainty to be resolving there. Second of all, those opposed to or afraid of GMOs who want products containing one of these seven crops can buy organic or foods labelled GMO-free.
With this in mind, it's really very difficult to interpret Prop 37 as anything but a referendum on genetic modification itself. Unfortunately, the public understanding of genetic modification is rife with misinformation. There are a number of myths about genetically modified crops that I'd like to dispell (I'd like to credit NPR for some of the material here):
"Everything is GMO these days" and "We don't know what's GMO and what's not"
Like I said-- there isn't much mystery about what is or isn't genetically modified and only seven crops are even potentially GMO-- every tomato you can find in a store, no matter how anemically pinkish and tasteless, is GMO-free.
"Monsanto will sue you for growing their patented GMOs if traces of those GMOs entered your fields through wind-blown pollen"
This has more to do with Monsanto than GMOs, really, but this is a myth. The full explanation can be found on the previously-mentioned NPR article.
"GMO crops give people allergic reactions"
Genetic modification that may introduce allergens into crops is something the FDA specifically prohibits, looks out for and makes sure doesn't happen.
"Seeds from GMOs are sterile"
Way back in 1998, there was a big controversy when Monsanto suggested making GMOs with "terminator genes", which would make crops that could otherwise be replanted act instead like hybrid seedless watermelon seeds-- farmers would have to keep coming back to get their fix. The public outcry over this was enormous and Monsanto quickly shelved the idea, never to revisit it.
"GMO crops have animal genes in them"
Like the terminator gene, this was something people became very worried about in the late nineties. There was some conception of genetic modification creating half-animal frankenplants-- a silly fear that grossly overestimates our ability to change the genetic make-up of organisms. Nonetheless, US law prohibits inserting animal genes into crops.
"GMO crops are poorly understood"
This last one I'm going to take some time with.
The testing required for FDA approval of a new GMO is very expensive-- to the tune of 50+ million dollars. This is the reason that only a handful of crop varieties are genetically modified-- most vegetables don't have enough market share to justify such an expense (squash and papaya with virus resistance genes inserted were licensed before FDA approval became so expensive). Part of the testing is knowing exactly where the inserted gene is (transgene is the word used in science). There is also thorough testing of the gene product, or the protein that the gene codes for, to ensure that it is safe for human consumption. So, for every commercial GMO, we know exactly where the transgene is, what protein it codes for and we have extensively tested the protein for safety. To quote this article, "every major scientific authority on the subject – from the American Medical Association to the National Academies of Science to the American Dietetic Association to the World Health Organization – has confirmed the safety of eating currently approved foods made with biotechnology."
Genetic modification has been used in science since the early 70's, and for the last two decades transgenic organisms have been one of the most important tools used by scientists to learn about cell biology. I've personally genetically modified E. coli and I've worked with many strains of transgenic C. elegans. Those who understand the science of genetic modification and have personally worked with genetically modified organisms overwhelmingly support genetic modification as a technology to improve agricultural crops' productivity, nutritional content, disease resistance, environmental tolerance, etc., not to mention non-agricultural uses like making insulin and other drugs. Indeed, a number of Nobel Prize-winning scientists have come out against Prop 37.
At the end of the day, whether or not Prop 37 passes, I hope its existence on the ballot encourages conversation about genetically modified crops and that the public comes to a clearer understanding of what genetically modified food is, because there is a lot of misplaced fear. With a little knowledge, consumers can avoid GM food if they want, but GM food is unequivocally safe and therefore does not merit labeling. More importantly, Prop 37 is just a poorly-written proposition, written by and for regulation litigators (to whom it would create additional business) and organic grocery stores (who have an ideological axe to grind). It is opposed by scientists, farmers, food companies and the majority of California newspapers.
Monday, September 3, 2012
The Strange Summer
After I broke up with Sarah, you may have noticed that I made a string of increasingly distraught posts followed by a spat of furiously ragged polemics. This, of course, was no coincidence. I have been unhappy. Those uncompromising barbs came from a place of pain. While this is an explanation for those posts (as well as other correspondence from that time of similar tone), it is neither an excuse nor an apology. I won't retract them, because they are true and much of their value and truthfulness lies in their intensity of emotion. They are things I thought of saying much earlier, but they were catalyzed by that (unrelated) discontent, and I'm glad that they were.
I'm still unhappy, even miserable, and the nice or fun things I do now aren't fulfilling the way they should be. One friend suggested I consider a therapist. Another friend pointed out that being depressed is perfectly normal and that depression isn't clinical until it has persisted for over six months, something I have no expectation that it will do.
I am, as people go, an unusually happy, balanced person, but for now I am subject to that seed of doubt: "What if it was an illusion, a facade, a temporary cheat? What if I'm just a miserable person on the inside, and that's why I couldn't make it work with Sarah and that's why I won't be happy until I give up the hubris of my own way of thinking?" I've certainly had people insinuate as much at various (earlier) times in my life, people incensed by my glib, entitled, I-have-all-the-answers posture. I've brought such scrutiny upon myself. Further, I have no real proof that they were ever wrong. Part of that break-up was fueled by an underlying neediness in myself that I could never trace the source of, and that insecurity was definitely among the strains underlying my furiously ragged polemics.
There have been a number of other events this summer that, taken as a whole, have made for a very strange, muted, almost dreamlike summer.
My maternal grandfather died. My childhood dog died. My 63-year-old aunt, who has beaten breast cancer twice, had something cancer-like identified in her for the third time. Fortunately, I have since learned that it turned out to be a rare bone disease. I'm not sure how bad the bone disease is, but it's certainly better news than the likely death sentence that metastasized cancer would have been. One of my closest friends's boyfriend, who I knew and liked and who made my friend happy, killed himself. My friend was the one who found him. My mom and sister were in a violent car accident, in which their car rolled four times. The car, that we were once driven to middle school in, did not survive. Fortunately my mom and sister are okay.
None of these things have been my pain alone. My sister was good friends with the guy who killed himself, our childhood dog was officially her dog, and she's started a PhD program in the middle of Iowa far from everyone, including her own still-new boyfriend. My mom, who was the driver in that car crash, will worry about the recurring headaches that Bri got after the crash and losing your dad is a heck of a lot harder than losing your grandfather. Even with Sarah, the pain I bear is mirrored in her, and she has less of a support system. So, I can't feel isolated, but I do feel emotionally withdrawn and extraordinarily fragile. This summer has imbued in me a sense of mortality which I have only previously experienced in a few sober moments of childhood.
I said earlier that I seem to be an intrinsically happy, balanced person. I think most of the Vidrines are, come to think of it. I feel enormously lucky to be blessed with a sturdy, clever mind, good culture, and a rich array of people who care about me and who I care about in return. This summer has made me feel lucky, and for that I am thankful. I won't forget that this summer has also made me feel terrible. Both feelings will pass.
I'm still unhappy, even miserable, and the nice or fun things I do now aren't fulfilling the way they should be. One friend suggested I consider a therapist. Another friend pointed out that being depressed is perfectly normal and that depression isn't clinical until it has persisted for over six months, something I have no expectation that it will do.
I am, as people go, an unusually happy, balanced person, but for now I am subject to that seed of doubt: "What if it was an illusion, a facade, a temporary cheat? What if I'm just a miserable person on the inside, and that's why I couldn't make it work with Sarah and that's why I won't be happy until I give up the hubris of my own way of thinking?" I've certainly had people insinuate as much at various (earlier) times in my life, people incensed by my glib, entitled, I-have-all-the-answers posture. I've brought such scrutiny upon myself. Further, I have no real proof that they were ever wrong. Part of that break-up was fueled by an underlying neediness in myself that I could never trace the source of, and that insecurity was definitely among the strains underlying my furiously ragged polemics.
There have been a number of other events this summer that, taken as a whole, have made for a very strange, muted, almost dreamlike summer.
My maternal grandfather died. My childhood dog died. My 63-year-old aunt, who has beaten breast cancer twice, had something cancer-like identified in her for the third time. Fortunately, I have since learned that it turned out to be a rare bone disease. I'm not sure how bad the bone disease is, but it's certainly better news than the likely death sentence that metastasized cancer would have been. One of my closest friends's boyfriend, who I knew and liked and who made my friend happy, killed himself. My friend was the one who found him. My mom and sister were in a violent car accident, in which their car rolled four times. The car, that we were once driven to middle school in, did not survive. Fortunately my mom and sister are okay.
None of these things have been my pain alone. My sister was good friends with the guy who killed himself, our childhood dog was officially her dog, and she's started a PhD program in the middle of Iowa far from everyone, including her own still-new boyfriend. My mom, who was the driver in that car crash, will worry about the recurring headaches that Bri got after the crash and losing your dad is a heck of a lot harder than losing your grandfather. Even with Sarah, the pain I bear is mirrored in her, and she has less of a support system. So, I can't feel isolated, but I do feel emotionally withdrawn and extraordinarily fragile. This summer has imbued in me a sense of mortality which I have only previously experienced in a few sober moments of childhood.
I said earlier that I seem to be an intrinsically happy, balanced person. I think most of the Vidrines are, come to think of it. I feel enormously lucky to be blessed with a sturdy, clever mind, good culture, and a rich array of people who care about me and who I care about in return. This summer has made me feel lucky, and for that I am thankful. I won't forget that this summer has also made me feel terrible. Both feelings will pass.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
How to Vote Like a Christian
Voting morally is an essential duty of every true Christian. If your church's congress or Pope or local Priest/Minister make suggestions it's easy, but if they don't provide sufficiently extensive guidance or if you want to figure out for yourself how to best carry out God's will, you may find yourself in a quandary.
For all the lip service that is lent to the Ten Commandments being the foundation of good law and for all the tablets and inscriptions of those commandments in American houses of law, you may be shocked to learn that only two of the commandments are written into law: thou shalt not steal and thou shalt not kill. Considering that America is an overwhelmingly Christian nation, it seems puzzling that we enforce only the two commandments that every nation on earth, Christian and heathen alike, enforce.
There are a few famous examples of Christian-run governments that attempted to enforce God's law to a more thorough extent, but unfortunately they were infamously harsh and/or authoritarian (Geneva circa the Reformation comes to mind). Let us dispense with past mistakes and begin anew.
Sodomy and all manner of sexual perversions should of course be prohibited. Until these things can be outlawed, nothing resembling acceptance or tolerance of such behavior should ever be passed into law. This behavior is never okay and we as Christians should make this holy truth clear with our votes.
For all the lip service that is lent to the Ten Commandments being the foundation of good law and for all the tablets and inscriptions of those commandments in American houses of law, you may be shocked to learn that only two of the commandments are written into law: thou shalt not steal and thou shalt not kill. Considering that America is an overwhelmingly Christian nation, it seems puzzling that we enforce only the two commandments that every nation on earth, Christian and heathen alike, enforce.
There are a few famous examples of Christian-run governments that attempted to enforce God's law to a more thorough extent, but unfortunately they were infamously harsh and/or authoritarian (Geneva circa the Reformation comes to mind). Let us dispense with past mistakes and begin anew.
Unfortunately, modern American law only partially encourages observance of God's commandment "thou shalt not kill". We
should do everything in our power to make abortion illegal once again,
but that's just the beginning of voting according to God's law.
Just as Jesus stayed an entire crowd's hands by saying "He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her", so too should we depart from the institution of capital punishment, as the blood of those criminals is on all of our hands, as voters.
We
should also vote against unnecessary warfare. It is one thing to
protect ourselves from a genuine invasion and quite another to bomb vast
countrysides on the other side of the world, killing tens of thousands
of innocents, for some theoretical insulation from a repeat of 9/11,
which killed a relatively paltry two thousand. This sort of violence is
appalling and decidedly unChristian.
As
taxpayers are currently footing the bill for the massive killing
machine that is our military and this military facilitates an aggressive
attitude toward international politics, we should also downsize our
military to one reflective of an attitude of self-defense, not of
aggressive enforcement of worldwide dominance. This will also promote a
greater sense of humility across our nation. Our international actions
this past decade have frequently been grounded in pride, selfish fear
and an insufficient love of our neighbors. Downsizing our military budget by an order of magnitude would
go a long way towards stifling those American sins.
Sodomy and all manner of sexual perversions should of course be prohibited. Until these things can be outlawed, nothing resembling acceptance or tolerance of such behavior should ever be passed into law. This behavior is never okay and we as Christians should make this holy truth clear with our votes.
Even more important for protecting our country's social fabric, though, is preventing divorce and sex before marriage-- the two biggest contributors to social fragmentation and destruction of the family unit. The legalization of "no fault" divorce across states in the early 1970's had an appalling affect on the social fabric of America. One of the most important steps to bringing that fabric back together is going to be reversing that legislation and forcing married couples to work things out.
The problem of sex before marriage is a more difficult snarl to untangle. Abstinence-only sex education has done little or nothing to stem the rising tide of babies born out of wedlock. There is a deeper root cause at work here: young people are waiting until very late in their lives to marry and have children intentionally, and they are succumbing to temptation in the meantime. This is a result of a shifting economy, but Mormons have demonstrated that marrying early and having children within wedlock is feasible. Mormons consequently have a much lower rate of out-of-wedlock births. We should start by prohibiting sex before marriage and then institute a program to encourage marrying early, perhaps just out of high school as was typical in the 1950's.
An important topic of the Lord's teachings that we also need to take into consideration at the voting booth is that of poverty and wealth. Jesus said "it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God." He also suggested to his apostles, "If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven." Between these two quotes I think we have a clear God-given mandate for how to structure our government's tax and entitlement systems.
First of all, American government should take money from the rich until they are no longer rich, and in so doing save their souls. We should then take this wealth and distribute it to the poor and save America's soul. It is very simple and it is very much in keeping with the gospel. The fact that America, as the most God-fearing of first world countries, does the least redistribution of wealth in this most moral of directions quite frankly boggles my mind.
These are the first and foremost things we need to vote for to save our souls and the soul of our nation. There are many further things we could do, such as formally recognizing America as a Christian nation and enforcing all ten of the commandments, but those must wait until America is ready for our holy vision. Baby steps, my fellow Christians, baby steps.
For those of you who enjoyed this dose of common sense, I recommend checking out my friend Rob's Reasonable Person's Guide to the Bible.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Gay Marriage Part 2: After Reason
I have tried approaching this topic reasonably. I attempted to craft a logical, facts-based argument in favor of gay marriage. The impact was unfortunately negligible. My mistake was in treating gay marriage as an issue for which reason plays any role. Living in San Francisco has also changed my attitude towards the issue. I had spent a lot of energy trying to understand the conservative viewpoint, but it turned out I didn't adequately understand the liberal viewpoint. The following is an adapted version of a letter I wrote to my uncle. Pierre, I apologize for singling you out when you are no more guilty than anyone on your side, you were just the catalyst.
I know it's surprising and potentially upsetting to think that so many Catholics are ignoring the Pope, but excluding Hispanics from the statistics in the article wasn't actually that disingenuous. The second article I sent says, "For all the opposition by leaders in the Catholic Church, their flock isn’t following. 'Nearly six-in-ten white non-Hispanic Catholics (59%) favor allowing gays and lesbians to marry,' Pew reports, 'as do 57% of Hispanic Catholics.' This shouldn’t come as too surprising. Catholics have been leading the way on same-sex marriage for some time now."
I agree that the emphasis on white Catholics of the first article raises an eyebrow, but at a 2% difference it's hardly something to get up in arms about. Considering that both Hispanic Catholics and non-Hispanic Catholics are roughly 10% more in favor than the national average of 48% from the same report, it doesn't seem far-fetched to generalize that Catholics as a group are a major demographic leading the charge on gay marriage.
As to the question of whether or not these are "real" Catholics, the pollsters do their best, but it would be much more difficult/expensive to parse an additional variable for cross-control (ie. churchgoing rates of respondents). By the flip side of the coin, are you really so interested in disowning the vast majority of those who call themselves Catholic? "You're not a real Catholic unless you single-issue-vote for theocracy, have had sex the same number of times you've had children and flagellate yourself every morning before coffee."
The argument that legalizing gay marriage represents a slippery slope or opens a Pandora's box is absurd. California or New York would sooner pass Jim Crow laws than legalize first cousins marrying (both are cut from the same Southern cloth, in our minds). There is no other "rights" group looking for an expansion of marriage law with even a trace of the sincerity, fervor or political legitimacy of the gay rights movement.
Based on your own very technical definition of "deviant", I will disagree that gay marriage is "merely an attempt to make themselves non-deviant." By your definition, they will never be "non-deviant", but they can be treated like first-class citizens and granted rights that cost the rest of us nothing. Gays are looking for their (theoretically secular) government to acknowledge that they exist in the most sensible legal way available. Don't tell me extensive legal documents or civil unions are the same thing. They are clumsy workarounds to a glaring hole in contemporary law. The hole is one generated by a social reality that's at least 40 years old: gay people act remarkably like heterosexual people. They find someone they want to spend their lives with, they own houses together, they adopt children, etcetera. The elegant solution staring us in the face is legal marriage-- but that's not the argument to endorse it. The real argument to endorse it is that to willfully ignore and actively lobby against that elegant solution is insulting. You're telling people, "fuck you, this may be a secular government, but it's a democracy and you will play your charade of open, legally-recognized homosexuality over my dead body and every other REAL christian this country can muster."
Do you have any idea how ugly your side is? Do you have any idea how many people hate Middle America, the Pope, Jesus because of people like you? I have heard so many people in this city speak fervently about how ugly religion is and, coming from my background, I didn't understand at first. Living here for awhile you realize that nobody cares if a person gay. People don't play guessing games, they don't gawk, they don't ask, they just don't care. That is true non-judgement, not the silly mainline christian charade of "hate the sin, love the sinner". Do you have any idea how liberating, how utopian that feels, even to someone who isn't gay? It becomes very easy to understand why people here think of Middle America as a hell pit of judgement and scorn. I've seen it from both sides and I know your heart is in the right place, but I understand people here when they wrinkle their nose at the idea of living in Louisiana-- too much racism and religious zealots and judgement, they say-- and it's true! Isn't judgement for the afterlife? When did Jesus say that good people should tell other people how to live with their words and, when that becomes socially uncouth, with their votes? Y'know, I don't even care what Jesus said, because that wouldn't make it less ugly.
I know it's surprising and potentially upsetting to think that so many Catholics are ignoring the Pope, but excluding Hispanics from the statistics in the article wasn't actually that disingenuous. The second article I sent says, "For all the opposition by leaders in the Catholic Church, their flock isn’t following. 'Nearly six-in-ten white non-Hispanic Catholics (59%) favor allowing gays and lesbians to marry,' Pew reports, 'as do 57% of Hispanic Catholics.' This shouldn’t come as too surprising. Catholics have been leading the way on same-sex marriage for some time now."
I agree that the emphasis on white Catholics of the first article raises an eyebrow, but at a 2% difference it's hardly something to get up in arms about. Considering that both Hispanic Catholics and non-Hispanic Catholics are roughly 10% more in favor than the national average of 48% from the same report, it doesn't seem far-fetched to generalize that Catholics as a group are a major demographic leading the charge on gay marriage.
As to the question of whether or not these are "real" Catholics, the pollsters do their best, but it would be much more difficult/expensive to parse an additional variable for cross-control (ie. churchgoing rates of respondents). By the flip side of the coin, are you really so interested in disowning the vast majority of those who call themselves Catholic? "You're not a real Catholic unless you single-issue-vote for theocracy, have had sex the same number of times you've had children and flagellate yourself every morning before coffee."
The argument that legalizing gay marriage represents a slippery slope or opens a Pandora's box is absurd. California or New York would sooner pass Jim Crow laws than legalize first cousins marrying (both are cut from the same Southern cloth, in our minds). There is no other "rights" group looking for an expansion of marriage law with even a trace of the sincerity, fervor or political legitimacy of the gay rights movement.
Based on your own very technical definition of "deviant", I will disagree that gay marriage is "merely an attempt to make themselves non-deviant." By your definition, they will never be "non-deviant", but they can be treated like first-class citizens and granted rights that cost the rest of us nothing. Gays are looking for their (theoretically secular) government to acknowledge that they exist in the most sensible legal way available. Don't tell me extensive legal documents or civil unions are the same thing. They are clumsy workarounds to a glaring hole in contemporary law. The hole is one generated by a social reality that's at least 40 years old: gay people act remarkably like heterosexual people. They find someone they want to spend their lives with, they own houses together, they adopt children, etcetera. The elegant solution staring us in the face is legal marriage-- but that's not the argument to endorse it. The real argument to endorse it is that to willfully ignore and actively lobby against that elegant solution is insulting. You're telling people, "fuck you, this may be a secular government, but it's a democracy and you will play your charade of open, legally-recognized homosexuality over my dead body and every other REAL christian this country can muster."
Do you have any idea how ugly your side is? Do you have any idea how many people hate Middle America, the Pope, Jesus because of people like you? I have heard so many people in this city speak fervently about how ugly religion is and, coming from my background, I didn't understand at first. Living here for awhile you realize that nobody cares if a person gay. People don't play guessing games, they don't gawk, they don't ask, they just don't care. That is true non-judgement, not the silly mainline christian charade of "hate the sin, love the sinner". Do you have any idea how liberating, how utopian that feels, even to someone who isn't gay? It becomes very easy to understand why people here think of Middle America as a hell pit of judgement and scorn. I've seen it from both sides and I know your heart is in the right place, but I understand people here when they wrinkle their nose at the idea of living in Louisiana-- too much racism and religious zealots and judgement, they say-- and it's true! Isn't judgement for the afterlife? When did Jesus say that good people should tell other people how to live with their words and, when that becomes socially uncouth, with their votes? Y'know, I don't even care what Jesus said, because that wouldn't make it less ugly.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Fleeting Contact
Well, it finally happened. I saw her. My train was crossing the intersection of Church and Duboce and I saw her on the corner decide to wait for it to pass. For a second I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. She's dead, my mind said, she no longer exists.
But she did exist, standing on the corner, looking at my train. I thought, she's going to see me for sure, then she looked a different direction. I started waving a slow, plaintive wave, for what seemed like a long time, but was only a few seconds-- maybe a half-dozen waves. I stopped waving. She continued surveying the street. Her head stopped when it came to me, long enough that I was certain. I started waving again. She hesitated for a pregnant moment, then waved back. My train finished crossing the intersection and came to stop in front of my-- our-- old apartment, and then it was over. She crossed behind the train with the rest of the people on the corner, and I turned away from the window and sat back down in my seat.
I looked around the train to see if anyone noticed. I could feel myself breathing hard, feel my brain buzzing with exclamation points. I certainly felt like people should be looking at me, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I tried to take deep breaths. Then I changed my music player to something cathartic. My phone buzzed with a received text and my heart leapt. It was from a friend about meeting later in the evening. Sigh.
When I saw her, I saw a shadow future pass before my eyes. Things that would not be. In those few seconds any fragile illusions that I was over the worst of this, that it would be as easy as I naively hoped a week and a half ago, drained like water from a suddenly cracked plastic bucket. It isn't over. It's not even halfway yet. In a way it was a relief. I will not feel like a sociopath or a bloodless traveler. My love is real and will be real in the future. I was never faking anything.
Things have gotten decidedly harder since Bri left on Sunday. My roommate is gone for a couple weeks and I still haven't cleaned up from Bri's visit. My apartment looks like I am. I am a mess. Music doesn't sparkle the way it did the first and second weeks, but I am at least as emotionally unbalanced. Or maybe my emotions are just more on-target. I miss Sarah and think about missing her on a regular basis now. Each time my mind grabs onto something specific about her, it's sad like sand oozing out between my fingers. I know I'm never going to remember it with that same clarity. If I ever remember it again, it will be an old memory. Alas, such is loss and such is the tragedy of time's passage.
But she did exist, standing on the corner, looking at my train. I thought, she's going to see me for sure, then she looked a different direction. I started waving a slow, plaintive wave, for what seemed like a long time, but was only a few seconds-- maybe a half-dozen waves. I stopped waving. She continued surveying the street. Her head stopped when it came to me, long enough that I was certain. I started waving again. She hesitated for a pregnant moment, then waved back. My train finished crossing the intersection and came to stop in front of my-- our-- old apartment, and then it was over. She crossed behind the train with the rest of the people on the corner, and I turned away from the window and sat back down in my seat.
I looked around the train to see if anyone noticed. I could feel myself breathing hard, feel my brain buzzing with exclamation points. I certainly felt like people should be looking at me, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I tried to take deep breaths. Then I changed my music player to something cathartic. My phone buzzed with a received text and my heart leapt. It was from a friend about meeting later in the evening. Sigh.
When I saw her, I saw a shadow future pass before my eyes. Things that would not be. In those few seconds any fragile illusions that I was over the worst of this, that it would be as easy as I naively hoped a week and a half ago, drained like water from a suddenly cracked plastic bucket. It isn't over. It's not even halfway yet. In a way it was a relief. I will not feel like a sociopath or a bloodless traveler. My love is real and will be real in the future. I was never faking anything.
Things have gotten decidedly harder since Bri left on Sunday. My roommate is gone for a couple weeks and I still haven't cleaned up from Bri's visit. My apartment looks like I am. I am a mess. Music doesn't sparkle the way it did the first and second weeks, but I am at least as emotionally unbalanced. Or maybe my emotions are just more on-target. I miss Sarah and think about missing her on a regular basis now. Each time my mind grabs onto something specific about her, it's sad like sand oozing out between my fingers. I know I'm never going to remember it with that same clarity. If I ever remember it again, it will be an old memory. Alas, such is loss and such is the tragedy of time's passage.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
One Week After
Well, it didn't feel how I expected it to. I guess I anticipated too much. The last week was wreathed in the vague numbness of depression. We finished up our bucket list of things we wanted to do together-- visit the Flower Conservatory, eat at a favorite restaurant, visit a certain soju bar in Japantown, try a classic diner on Market, have a last quiet night in. Except for the part where we fit an entire full-size mattress into the
back of Jack's Camry by folding it in half and shoving it in unison, the move Saturday was uneventful. The goodbye Sunday morning was poignant and tear-filled, in spite of my persistent sense of unreality. I spent the rest of Sunday watching TV, trying not to think about anything. The weekend gave way to a strange trip of a week.
I've done something extremely social every day since saying goodbye. I played ultimate frisbee Sunday night and chatted afterwards until late. I visited my coworker Matt in Oakland to watch Breaking Bad and had a great time talking with him and his people. On Tuesday, I had a proper "roommate dinner" with my new roommate Carolyn and we talked for much of the evening. On Wednesday, Cory Logan picked me up in his motorcycle to hang out. I ended up making a new friend, spending the night and being late/hungover for the next morning's staff meeting at work. We played another game of ultimate on Thursday night. Friday, my whole workplace bussed off to go-cart as a team building exercise. I'm still sore from the go-carting, which was incredibly fun and instigated me to talk with many different people at work.
I've spent a decent part of each day in a plain rotten mood, angry at the world for any reason I can find. I've also had some very intense experiences listening to music. Yet, there was never a moment when I was as crushingly sad as I remember from my last breakup. I've felt bizarrely unfazed. I even feel a little guilty for it. A friend of mine was enough of an asshole to suggest maybe I didn't love Sarah as much. I don't think so. I do think this may be an easier breakup; because it's not my first, because our relationship lacked the self-conscious co-dependency of Jill and I's, and because I'm more mature.
So the week has pretty much been an even split between intense music listening experiences, hating everything and positively ecstatic social experiences. Like I said, it has been a strange week. Today is the first day I've really been alone, which is probably good.
I still take the N line to work every day and every time I pass the apartment I crane my neck to look for Sarah, or even Mary smoking or the crazy dancing chinese hat man-- anything to prove it wasn't all just a dream. I keep seeing girls who bear resemblance to Sarah. I had this thought that maybe Sarah had just split into shards of people and dissolved into the tapestry of San Francisco. I keep rating girls' attractiveness and keep being disgusted by how many are ugly. I look at couples with envy. I haven't had any really terrible dreams. This week has taken so long to pass. It's a sort of purgatory. I don't know if I want this all to be over with or if there's anything to be over with or if I like it this way. Maybe this is life, now. It will be for awhile, anyways.
A few people texted me in the middle of the week, "How are you holding up?" I figured they could wait until this blog post. My mom gets the award for calling me the day we'd broken up and taking the opportunity to suggest I become a patent attorney or at least think about my financial future. After being confused by my hostility, she promised to never bring up finances again. I tried to explain to her, "No, Mom, by all means talk to me about my career future occasionally, but please think about your timing. You're kicking me when I'm down." The thing is, Mom specifically broached the subject because she thought it was an ideal time since I'm now unattached. You're a gem, Mom.
I have Bri visiting to look forward to. And I've decided I'm going to make absinthe. Not with European ingredients or according to a recipe, but with my own invented recipe using native Californian coastal sagebrush (a close relative of wormwood), other native or naturalized herbs, and green cardamom and Thai basil, which I plan to pick up tomorrow in Little Saigon. I'll tell you how it turns out.
It's hard to aggressively make friends when you have someone amazing to come home to, so I am approaching my new singledom as an opportunity to make friends here in San Francisco and strengthen existing friendships. Judging by my first week, I am off to a good start.
I've done something extremely social every day since saying goodbye. I played ultimate frisbee Sunday night and chatted afterwards until late. I visited my coworker Matt in Oakland to watch Breaking Bad and had a great time talking with him and his people. On Tuesday, I had a proper "roommate dinner" with my new roommate Carolyn and we talked for much of the evening. On Wednesday, Cory Logan picked me up in his motorcycle to hang out. I ended up making a new friend, spending the night and being late/hungover for the next morning's staff meeting at work. We played another game of ultimate on Thursday night. Friday, my whole workplace bussed off to go-cart as a team building exercise. I'm still sore from the go-carting, which was incredibly fun and instigated me to talk with many different people at work.
I've spent a decent part of each day in a plain rotten mood, angry at the world for any reason I can find. I've also had some very intense experiences listening to music. Yet, there was never a moment when I was as crushingly sad as I remember from my last breakup. I've felt bizarrely unfazed. I even feel a little guilty for it. A friend of mine was enough of an asshole to suggest maybe I didn't love Sarah as much. I don't think so. I do think this may be an easier breakup; because it's not my first, because our relationship lacked the self-conscious co-dependency of Jill and I's, and because I'm more mature.
So the week has pretty much been an even split between intense music listening experiences, hating everything and positively ecstatic social experiences. Like I said, it has been a strange week. Today is the first day I've really been alone, which is probably good.
I still take the N line to work every day and every time I pass the apartment I crane my neck to look for Sarah, or even Mary smoking or the crazy dancing chinese hat man-- anything to prove it wasn't all just a dream. I keep seeing girls who bear resemblance to Sarah. I had this thought that maybe Sarah had just split into shards of people and dissolved into the tapestry of San Francisco. I keep rating girls' attractiveness and keep being disgusted by how many are ugly. I look at couples with envy. I haven't had any really terrible dreams. This week has taken so long to pass. It's a sort of purgatory. I don't know if I want this all to be over with or if there's anything to be over with or if I like it this way. Maybe this is life, now. It will be for awhile, anyways.
A few people texted me in the middle of the week, "How are you holding up?" I figured they could wait until this blog post. My mom gets the award for calling me the day we'd broken up and taking the opportunity to suggest I become a patent attorney or at least think about my financial future. After being confused by my hostility, she promised to never bring up finances again. I tried to explain to her, "No, Mom, by all means talk to me about my career future occasionally, but please think about your timing. You're kicking me when I'm down." The thing is, Mom specifically broached the subject because she thought it was an ideal time since I'm now unattached. You're a gem, Mom.
I have Bri visiting to look forward to. And I've decided I'm going to make absinthe. Not with European ingredients or according to a recipe, but with my own invented recipe using native Californian coastal sagebrush (a close relative of wormwood), other native or naturalized herbs, and green cardamom and Thai basil, which I plan to pick up tomorrow in Little Saigon. I'll tell you how it turns out.
It's hard to aggressively make friends when you have someone amazing to come home to, so I am approaching my new singledom as an opportunity to make friends here in San Francisco and strengthen existing friendships. Judging by my first week, I am off to a good start.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
One Week Before
In one week I will be moving. I've really enjoyed living here in Church/Duboce Triangle/Lower Haight; baby, TV, crazy people and all. Unfortunately, it is time to move.
I am moving because the lease is up and, more pertinently, because I am breaking up with Sarah. After loving the hell out of her for over a year and a half and some time living with her, we are parting mutually, amiably, plannedly and on the conclusion of a lease. I am moving into a room in a place I found on Craigslist with a roommate I just met and my closest friend in the city is moving away. Those of you who've been reading for a couple years may be wondering if this is deja vu. Unfortunately, it is not.
Brandon asked if it was awkward living with someone you know you're breaking up with. I said to him that once you're living with someone, a mutual, planned breakup is about the most graceful way to go out. Of course, the direct answer to his question is yes, though "weird" is a more accurate descriptor. The last few weeks have been emotionally all-over-the-map and I don't expect that to abate any time soon.
That said, I'm glad I moved in with Sarah last year. It made it a lot easier to leave Davis and move to a major city, something I really needed to do. I've had a great time sharing a room with her, exploring the city together and having someone to support and be supported by.
For many reasons, I really wanted to marry her. She's intelligent, beautiful, self-assured, fascinating, shares my values, has excellent taste, takes turns wearing the pants and makes me feel beautiful, both physically and mentally. She will bear beautiful, intelligent children and she will raise them well. I'm already envious of the guy who will have the privilege of fathering those children. Obviously, I've offered my services if she ends up marrying a girl.
I'm not going to get into why all those wonderful things weren't enough for either of us. Suffice it to say that we did our best.
I will be moving in a week to a room in *Upper* Haight, just a few blocks from the famous intersection of Haight and Ashbury. I will have a whole room to myself in a decidedly uncrowded two bedroom apartment. The apartment has plenty of natural light and a view of trees. On the other side, the building opens up onto the panhandle of Golden Gate Park. It is remarkably quiet inside and so far I really like my roommate-to-be. For the first time since I moved to San Francisco, I don't think I'll feel like I'm living as a temporary guest of the primary leaseholder. My commute will be a little longer and I will pay a little more in rent, but Upper Haight is a beautiful and fascinating part of the city.
So wish me well. Send me your love. Call me. There's a good chance I'll be calling you. Bri is coming up to visit me in a couple of weeks. I've been through this before, so I think I'll be okay. I'm putting my tray table up and my seat back in the full upright position.
I am moving because the lease is up and, more pertinently, because I am breaking up with Sarah. After loving the hell out of her for over a year and a half and some time living with her, we are parting mutually, amiably, plannedly and on the conclusion of a lease. I am moving into a room in a place I found on Craigslist with a roommate I just met and my closest friend in the city is moving away. Those of you who've been reading for a couple years may be wondering if this is deja vu. Unfortunately, it is not.
Brandon asked if it was awkward living with someone you know you're breaking up with. I said to him that once you're living with someone, a mutual, planned breakup is about the most graceful way to go out. Of course, the direct answer to his question is yes, though "weird" is a more accurate descriptor. The last few weeks have been emotionally all-over-the-map and I don't expect that to abate any time soon.
That said, I'm glad I moved in with Sarah last year. It made it a lot easier to leave Davis and move to a major city, something I really needed to do. I've had a great time sharing a room with her, exploring the city together and having someone to support and be supported by.
For many reasons, I really wanted to marry her. She's intelligent, beautiful, self-assured, fascinating, shares my values, has excellent taste, takes turns wearing the pants and makes me feel beautiful, both physically and mentally. She will bear beautiful, intelligent children and she will raise them well. I'm already envious of the guy who will have the privilege of fathering those children. Obviously, I've offered my services if she ends up marrying a girl.
I'm not going to get into why all those wonderful things weren't enough for either of us. Suffice it to say that we did our best.
I will be moving in a week to a room in *Upper* Haight, just a few blocks from the famous intersection of Haight and Ashbury. I will have a whole room to myself in a decidedly uncrowded two bedroom apartment. The apartment has plenty of natural light and a view of trees. On the other side, the building opens up onto the panhandle of Golden Gate Park. It is remarkably quiet inside and so far I really like my roommate-to-be. For the first time since I moved to San Francisco, I don't think I'll feel like I'm living as a temporary guest of the primary leaseholder. My commute will be a little longer and I will pay a little more in rent, but Upper Haight is a beautiful and fascinating part of the city.
So wish me well. Send me your love. Call me. There's a good chance I'll be calling you. Bri is coming up to visit me in a couple of weeks. I've been through this before, so I think I'll be okay. I'm putting my tray table up and my seat back in the full upright position.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Living in San Francisco for Real
It's nice to now have a job (and an income). I've moved from Excelsior (the outer reaches of San Francisco) to a place in Lower Haight. We've got a smaller room in a tiny two-bedroom apartment in a
more dangerous neighborhood with a dog, a girl, her newborn baby and her
mom and for that I'm paying substantially more in rent. The room Sarah
and I had in Excelsior was 1100/month and this one is 1400. My apartment
building is on top of a light rail stop, which, because
it's loud and draws crazies, keeps housing prices... within reach. Of
course, my commute takes half the time and I live right in the middle of
a lot of SF's most famous neighborhoods.
I live a block off of Market Street (the source of the neighborhood's seedyness) and on the edge of the Castro District, so there're HIV medication billboards in my metro station (actually, one that explained why Uncle Jacques and a handful of middle aged men I see walking on the street look so skinny), couples of every gender combination holding hands (m-f couples being only marginally more common than m-m), crazy homeless people out my window yelling at nobody in particular and/or panhandling. Also, smoking pot in broad daylight, while walking down the street, while eating on a cafe patio, whatever, is normal and completely unremarkable (public smoking is maybe 4:1 tobacco:pot and attended with equally mild scorn). I saw a guy leaning over to light up a bowl as he walked down the street, in fact, with nary the raised eyebrow among passerbys.
A block or two the other direction from my house, closer to Haight Street proper, the Victorian paint jobs get really nice and people wear NorthFace and drive Priuses, Audis and multi-thousand-dollar bicycles, which I find a little obnoxious, though it does provide a nice counterbalance to Market Street.
People here tend to be smart and interesting, as pointed out by my flatmate Mary (the mother, who's from Kansas-via-Vegas). Unfortunately there's also a distinctly Northern Californian niceness here that has a passive aggressive side to it. Ask for directions, and you will have no trouble getting help. In spite of that sometimes-extreme niceness, because of the Chinese cultural influence people are more likely to push their way past you without a "pardon me". That bothers Mary, but not me. This is generally true of all San Franciscans but old Chinese ladies, of course, are the worst and will bowl you over at the drop of a hat with about twice as much force as their tiny 80lb frames should seem to be capable of.
Sarah and I, with our five figure incomes, can now afford to try out local restaurants. Restaurants here, it turns out, aren't any more expensive than anywhere else. They aren't necessarily any better, either, but the incredible selection means that with some skill and research you can do pretty well for your typical restaurant price.
Classically "cheap food" is not actually cheap in San Francisco. Burritos, burgers etc, are always a couple bucks more here than elsewhere, both starting around $8 (though the burgers are worth it). Food trucks, known elsewhere in California for providing ridiculously cheap and delicious tacos, are their own bizarre art form here. Sarah and I went to an "Off the Grid", which is the weekly SF food truck festival, held in a remote parking lot. Japanese, American gourmet, Filipino, Indian, Malaysian, Yucatan, you-name-it cuisine has representation and all errs towards imaginative fusion. Good luck finding lunch for under $9, but it will be fascinating and delicious.
There *is* cheap food in San Francisco, just in unexpected or elsewhere-obscure genres and select neighborhoods. In Excelsior, which has a big Salvadorean population, there was an awesome Salvadorean bakery on the way to the bus stop that was super cheap (breakfast for $1.50!). Dim Sum and Chinese bakery are similarly super cheap and super delicious, where they can be found, which is pretty much anywhere in the city not riddled with nice Victorian paint jobs and multi-thousand-dollar bicycles. Oh, also, Vietnamese is perennially under-priced (also lunch diners in nontouristy China town). Don't look for a ton of meat, but an entree in a decent-looking Vietnamese restaurant may run you $7 and an excellent meal for two with tip $20.
The extreme niceness, the crazy people panhandling and the extreme affluence/environmental consciousnes may irritate me, but somewhere in living here is also the soul of what makes California great. A lot of it is people not caring what other people do or what other people think of them (even the niceness is not out of social obligation, but some bizzare internal compulsion).
It's kind of surreal to visit the suburbs now, with all their trimmed grass, cleanliness and trees. It comes across as shocking that there should ever be more than a hand's breadth between buildings.
I live a block off of Market Street (the source of the neighborhood's seedyness) and on the edge of the Castro District, so there're HIV medication billboards in my metro station (actually, one that explained why Uncle Jacques and a handful of middle aged men I see walking on the street look so skinny), couples of every gender combination holding hands (m-f couples being only marginally more common than m-m), crazy homeless people out my window yelling at nobody in particular and/or panhandling. Also, smoking pot in broad daylight, while walking down the street, while eating on a cafe patio, whatever, is normal and completely unremarkable (public smoking is maybe 4:1 tobacco:pot and attended with equally mild scorn). I saw a guy leaning over to light up a bowl as he walked down the street, in fact, with nary the raised eyebrow among passerbys.
A block or two the other direction from my house, closer to Haight Street proper, the Victorian paint jobs get really nice and people wear NorthFace and drive Priuses, Audis and multi-thousand-dollar bicycles, which I find a little obnoxious, though it does provide a nice counterbalance to Market Street.
People here tend to be smart and interesting, as pointed out by my flatmate Mary (the mother, who's from Kansas-via-Vegas). Unfortunately there's also a distinctly Northern Californian niceness here that has a passive aggressive side to it. Ask for directions, and you will have no trouble getting help. In spite of that sometimes-extreme niceness, because of the Chinese cultural influence people are more likely to push their way past you without a "pardon me". That bothers Mary, but not me. This is generally true of all San Franciscans but old Chinese ladies, of course, are the worst and will bowl you over at the drop of a hat with about twice as much force as their tiny 80lb frames should seem to be capable of.
Sarah and I, with our five figure incomes, can now afford to try out local restaurants. Restaurants here, it turns out, aren't any more expensive than anywhere else. They aren't necessarily any better, either, but the incredible selection means that with some skill and research you can do pretty well for your typical restaurant price.
Classically "cheap food" is not actually cheap in San Francisco. Burritos, burgers etc, are always a couple bucks more here than elsewhere, both starting around $8 (though the burgers are worth it). Food trucks, known elsewhere in California for providing ridiculously cheap and delicious tacos, are their own bizarre art form here. Sarah and I went to an "Off the Grid", which is the weekly SF food truck festival, held in a remote parking lot. Japanese, American gourmet, Filipino, Indian, Malaysian, Yucatan, you-name-it cuisine has representation and all errs towards imaginative fusion. Good luck finding lunch for under $9, but it will be fascinating and delicious.
There *is* cheap food in San Francisco, just in unexpected or elsewhere-obscure genres and select neighborhoods. In Excelsior, which has a big Salvadorean population, there was an awesome Salvadorean bakery on the way to the bus stop that was super cheap (breakfast for $1.50!). Dim Sum and Chinese bakery are similarly super cheap and super delicious, where they can be found, which is pretty much anywhere in the city not riddled with nice Victorian paint jobs and multi-thousand-dollar bicycles. Oh, also, Vietnamese is perennially under-priced (also lunch diners in nontouristy China town). Don't look for a ton of meat, but an entree in a decent-looking Vietnamese restaurant may run you $7 and an excellent meal for two with tip $20.
The extreme niceness, the crazy people panhandling and the extreme affluence/environmental consciousnes may irritate me, but somewhere in living here is also the soul of what makes California great. A lot of it is people not caring what other people do or what other people think of them (even the niceness is not out of social obligation, but some bizzare internal compulsion).
It's kind of surreal to visit the suburbs now, with all their trimmed grass, cleanliness and trees. It comes across as shocking that there should ever be more than a hand's breadth between buildings.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
The Red Fox
I received a ridiculously thoughtful gift this year for Valentine's day.
Sarah had remembered me talking wistfully about Italian liqueurs and
bought me a bottle of Campari. Add to that Sarah's new favorite soda called Sarsi (a Filipino sarsaparilla) and it was actually a pretty obvious highball:
1/2 shot Campari
1 shot Gin
Top with Sarsaparilla
This is a very dry, herbal drink considering that it's mostly soda. Other sarsaparillas should be just as good as Sarsi, but I'm not so sure root beer is going to work for this. The dryness that distinguishes sarsaparilla from root beer is essential to complement the bitter and oh-so-dry Campari. The name came pretty naturally. It's not totally clear whether Sarah or I invented this one since we both found the combination so obvious, but I'm going to credit her since using gin in a rich, sweet drink would definitely have not occurred to me before meeting her.
Sarah calls the gin-less version of this drink a "Camparsi".
1/2 shot Campari
1 shot Gin
Top with Sarsaparilla
This is a very dry, herbal drink considering that it's mostly soda. Other sarsaparillas should be just as good as Sarsi, but I'm not so sure root beer is going to work for this. The dryness that distinguishes sarsaparilla from root beer is essential to complement the bitter and oh-so-dry Campari. The name came pretty naturally. It's not totally clear whether Sarah or I invented this one since we both found the combination so obvious, but I'm going to credit her since using gin in a rich, sweet drink would definitely have not occurred to me before meeting her.
Sarah calls the gin-less version of this drink a "Camparsi".
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Calamari Punch
Sarah and I checked out a Filipino food festival called Kulinarya where, among other things, we discovered a delicious limeade made from the Filipino calamansi lime, whose unique taste can be described as a cross between a lime and a kumquat. This is probably what goaded us into finally visiting Manila Oriental Market down the street. We loaded up on exotic ramens (they had an entire aisle devoted to ramen) and various beverages including a ton of calamansi-ade. The following highball is named after the combination of calamansi and Kraken rum upon which it is based. Kraken has been my go-to spiced black rum since Matt Wingert introduced it to me, and makes a great dark and stormy, though Sarah will insist that a true "Dark 'n' Stormy" is only made with Gosling's.
1 shot Kraken (or other black spiced rum)
2 dashes Angostura bitters
3+ parts Calamansi-ade
There's not a whole lot to be said about this drink. It's just good punch, with warm spices and featuring a neat Filipino beverage. Anyone who wants to try to recreate this without an insanely hard-to-find specialty ingredient should substitute limeade with a splash of orange juice (or, if you have it, kumquat juice). Like any good punch, this scales up. My thanks to the Excelsior House Tasting Team (aka Sarah).
1 shot Kraken (or other black spiced rum)
2 dashes Angostura bitters
3+ parts Calamansi-ade
There's not a whole lot to be said about this drink. It's just good punch, with warm spices and featuring a neat Filipino beverage. Anyone who wants to try to recreate this without an insanely hard-to-find specialty ingredient should substitute limeade with a splash of orange juice (or, if you have it, kumquat juice). Like any good punch, this scales up. My thanks to the Excelsior House Tasting Team (aka Sarah).
Monday, February 20, 2012
The Cherry Excelsior
This is the first cocktail developed at the Excelsior House and invention credit goes overwhelmingly to Sarah. Around Christmas we bought a two-liter of Schweppes Black Cherry Flavored Ginger Ale to try out. The soda itself is overly sweet and kind of weird, but we came up with an excellent use for it that burned through an impressive amount of Tanqueray in the process. My apologies for how obscure the soda is. Find it, however, and you're in for a treat.
1 shot Gin
2 parts Black Cherry Ginger Ale
juice squeezed from half a lime
garnish with a maraschino cherry
Serve over ice. In the absence of said rather specific soda, you could improvise with regular black cherry soda and a small piece of fresh ginger muddled into the gin.
The punch of the alcohol and acidity of the lime balances out the soda's cloying sweetness. The combination of juniper, ginger and citrus play out a deft support role underneath the prominent black cherry flavor. The drink is balanced and complex without being overstated. Truth be told, it's kind of addictive.
1 shot Gin
2 parts Black Cherry Ginger Ale
juice squeezed from half a lime
garnish with a maraschino cherry
Serve over ice. In the absence of said rather specific soda, you could improvise with regular black cherry soda and a small piece of fresh ginger muddled into the gin.
The punch of the alcohol and acidity of the lime balances out the soda's cloying sweetness. The combination of juniper, ginger and citrus play out a deft support role underneath the prominent black cherry flavor. The drink is balanced and complex without being overstated. Truth be told, it's kind of addictive.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Back to Work
After basically nine months of unemployment, I start a new job on Wednesday with a nonprofit, open-access scientific publishing company. My job as a "publishing assistant" will be to coordinate between different experts to get scientific papers ready for
publishing on our online journals.
The company works on a different business model than traditional scientific publishers. Instead of recouping the costs of publishing by selling journals to universities, we charge a flat fee that the researcher pays for us to publish their work and make it available to absolutely everyone. For reasons that are explained here, this is a very exciting development in scientific publishing and I'm proud to be working for a successful company that is leading the open-access charge.
I'm also stoked to be making a paycheck and have insurance coverage again, as well as to be doing something constructive in terms of a career. This is an industry that I can see myself prospering in for a long time, because while it makes use of my scientific background, I will not be doing any tedious, intricate bench research that I've found I am particularly unsuited to.
I've bought new shoes and pants so that I'll look presentable for work. Now I've just got to make a list of all the health problems I've been holding off on fixing since I last had insurance, two years ago.
The company works on a different business model than traditional scientific publishers. Instead of recouping the costs of publishing by selling journals to universities, we charge a flat fee that the researcher pays for us to publish their work and make it available to absolutely everyone. For reasons that are explained here, this is a very exciting development in scientific publishing and I'm proud to be working for a successful company that is leading the open-access charge.
I'm also stoked to be making a paycheck and have insurance coverage again, as well as to be doing something constructive in terms of a career. This is an industry that I can see myself prospering in for a long time, because while it makes use of my scientific background, I will not be doing any tedious, intricate bench research that I've found I am particularly unsuited to.
I've bought new shoes and pants so that I'll look presentable for work. Now I've just got to make a list of all the health problems I've been holding off on fixing since I last had insurance, two years ago.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Blackout for SOPA and PIPA
Well, I can't figure out how to blackout this blog, but I will have you know that I stand in solidarity with Wikipedia, Google, Facebook, Reddit, Yahoo, Twitter, Ebay, AOL, LinkedIn, Mozilla, a whole host of other websites and a legion of regular citizens against SOPA and PIPA. If you don't know, these are bills in Congress that go up for a vote in the coming days. They are nothing less than an all-out assault against a free and open Internet. I encourage all of you to contact your representatives today about this bill. Wikipedia will help you.
Here is what Wikipedia looked like at the time this post was published.
For a thorough but readable analysis of these two bills, see Reddit's blog.
It wasn't until I tried to contact my Representative that I discovered who my Representative is. Can you guess? It's fucking Nancy Pelosi!UPDATE: SOPA was shelved after the overwhelming response elicited by the blackout protest. PIPA is undergoing revision. A new version of anti-piracy legislation is expected to return to the floor sometime in February. As Wikipedia states in its banner, "we're not done yet".
Here is what Wikipedia looked like at the time this post was published.
For a thorough but readable analysis of these two bills, see Reddit's blog.
It wasn't until I tried to contact my Representative that I discovered who my Representative is. Can you guess? It's fucking Nancy Pelosi!UPDATE: SOPA was shelved after the overwhelming response elicited by the blackout protest. PIPA is undergoing revision. A new version of anti-piracy legislation is expected to return to the floor sometime in February. As Wikipedia states in its banner, "we're not done yet".
Monday, January 2, 2012
Maturity
It started maybe a year ago, after I'd just finished my first real relationship and gotten my first real job. People started commenting about how I much had matured. They talked about how I let stupid arguments go unargued or how my writing on this blog had become more sophisticated.
I am twenty-four years old. People rely on me. I do genuinely "uncle" things like teach my niece and nephews how to build a fire, paddle a canoe and drive a vehicle. When I went to Louisiana for the summer I picked up social obligations without comment or awkwardness. I care about how much money I make. I complain about aches and pains. I'm not afraid to touch any bodily fluid. I enjoy talking about relationship issues with my friends, including the increasingly prominent topic of marriage. I drink freely at family events without embarrassment. These, I've found, are hallmarks of maturity.
The realization that I am becoming mature contains, of course, an element of terror. Embarrassing health problems, declining energy levels, the nine-to-five workday and the alarming acceleration of time's passage all weigh heavily on my soul, not to mention the loss of the peculiar brand of frenetic magic I brandished in this blog's earliest prose. The person I was in high school, the radical, has given way to the moderate and that sense of ceaseless, inspired warfare has gone with it. Or rather, it sputters rather than roars. My cutting word and desire to change the world has not diminished, but it is wielded casually now, without pretense or fervor. These are sad things on their own, but make no mistake: I am proud of the person I've become and I am happy to have become it. It took time and concerted effort to arrive where I am now and that arrival is not without its rewards.
The most important rewards, of course, are trust and respect. I've realized that prestige in adulthood is far more dependent upon being a person of character than I'd imagined in childhood. For someone without particularly stellar career prospects, this is very good news.
More intangibly than trust and respect is an increasingly persistent sense of grace. There is an ease that comes from knowing the world and what I'm capable of. I still haven't found my occupational place in the world, but I have found my personal place. I am a good friend, an affectionate lover, a critic, a thinker and a dilettante.
I know that there are much more interesting and intelligent people in this world, but I am comfortable that my talents are worthy enough to merit raising my voice. I am not satisfied by boring people or interesting people holding themselves to low standards. I am an asshole, particularly in that regard. I try not to be a hypocrite.
I will have children. They will consume much of my life and drive me crazy. They will also be awesome. I will get old and feeble and, if possible, more curmudgeony. People will silently laugh at me for things I am not aware of and audibly laugh at me for things I cannot control. I will not grow taller. I will continue to grow more hairy.
I am at peace with all of these things. That may be the most telling part of all of this. What happened to going down kicking and screaming? When did I become so irritatingly pragmatic? Clearly, I am getting old.
I am twenty-four years old. People rely on me. I do genuinely "uncle" things like teach my niece and nephews how to build a fire, paddle a canoe and drive a vehicle. When I went to Louisiana for the summer I picked up social obligations without comment or awkwardness. I care about how much money I make. I complain about aches and pains. I'm not afraid to touch any bodily fluid. I enjoy talking about relationship issues with my friends, including the increasingly prominent topic of marriage. I drink freely at family events without embarrassment. These, I've found, are hallmarks of maturity.
The realization that I am becoming mature contains, of course, an element of terror. Embarrassing health problems, declining energy levels, the nine-to-five workday and the alarming acceleration of time's passage all weigh heavily on my soul, not to mention the loss of the peculiar brand of frenetic magic I brandished in this blog's earliest prose. The person I was in high school, the radical, has given way to the moderate and that sense of ceaseless, inspired warfare has gone with it. Or rather, it sputters rather than roars. My cutting word and desire to change the world has not diminished, but it is wielded casually now, without pretense or fervor. These are sad things on their own, but make no mistake: I am proud of the person I've become and I am happy to have become it. It took time and concerted effort to arrive where I am now and that arrival is not without its rewards.
The most important rewards, of course, are trust and respect. I've realized that prestige in adulthood is far more dependent upon being a person of character than I'd imagined in childhood. For someone without particularly stellar career prospects, this is very good news.
More intangibly than trust and respect is an increasingly persistent sense of grace. There is an ease that comes from knowing the world and what I'm capable of. I still haven't found my occupational place in the world, but I have found my personal place. I am a good friend, an affectionate lover, a critic, a thinker and a dilettante.
I know that there are much more interesting and intelligent people in this world, but I am comfortable that my talents are worthy enough to merit raising my voice. I am not satisfied by boring people or interesting people holding themselves to low standards. I am an asshole, particularly in that regard. I try not to be a hypocrite.
I will have children. They will consume much of my life and drive me crazy. They will also be awesome. I will get old and feeble and, if possible, more curmudgeony. People will silently laugh at me for things I am not aware of and audibly laugh at me for things I cannot control. I will not grow taller. I will continue to grow more hairy.
I am at peace with all of these things. That may be the most telling part of all of this. What happened to going down kicking and screaming? When did I become so irritatingly pragmatic? Clearly, I am getting old.
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