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.
Monday, September 3, 2012
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.
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