What's so special about Santa Barbara?

This post is part of the #OpenBook Blog Hop where readers get the chance to learn a little more about authors. This week's theme is what is special about where you live. Enjoy!

A Santa Barbara sunset #nofilter

I live in a magical place. Mythical. Wondrous. Exceptional. These are all words that describe Santa Barbara County (and it is why I reference it in the Khloe Alwell series). I couldn't pick just one thing that makes Santa Barbara County unique or special, so I made a list:

1. Santa Barbara is one place in the world where the coastline runs from east to west. The mountains are to the north, while the ocean is to the south. This means both sunsets and sunrises are over water.
2. You know you're in Santa Barbara because of the flowers. Even amid the worst drought ever, flowers continue to blossom. Not just Yucca or mustard, but ice plant, trumpet flowers, jasmine, poppies, and bougainvillea are common sights.
3. Celebrities are common citizens. As in, everyone who lives in SB County has a "celebrity story." Maybe Jeff Bridges served you soup at a charity event, or you got a shot poured by Michael Jordan on State Street. Maybe Kenny Loggins sang the national anthem at your kid's little league game.
4. To be perfectly politically incorrect and blunt, an SB 10 is like a 20 on everyone else's scale. Hanging out with an SB 7 is like hanging out with a Phoenix 10+. As a rule the scenery is, ahem, spectacular.
5. I can walk to several wine-tasting rooms from my house. And they are all drinkable, with several that are exceptional. There are hundreds of wine-tasting rooms in SB County. If you like old-world high-tannin style, you can get that. If you like new-world fruit-forward, that is here in abundance. And just like they say in Sideways, the pinots are, well, get some pinot!
6. Cowboys, hippies, and Hollywood types all live in peace here, and often attend the same events. Somehow. Miraculously.
7. Produce here is amazing. Despite the drought. Organic fruit and veggies fresh from the farm down the road are available at different farmers' markets throughout the county. My personal favs are all the berries, white peaches, and avocados.
8. Even though pretty much everything here is more expensive (it is one of the top real estate markets in the country), you can still get delicious $1.00 tacos every Tuesday at most neighborhood Mexican restaurants.
9. The courthouse is worth sitting in with a latte. Seriously. It is beautiful, complete with sunken gardens, Spanish tiles, and spectacular murals.
10. The mission is gorgeous, no matter how you feel about the Catholic church - you have to give it to them. They know decor. Santa Barbara's is called the "Queen of the Missions" for a reason.

Have you had a Santa Barbara experience? Something you would add to the list? Leave a comment below!

Also, if you want a good beach read involving romance and motorcycles (of course!) check out P.J. Fiala's book Dog Days of Summer!
  

Home Sweet Home? Bakersfield!?

I am moving to Bakersfield. It's true. When we compared the shop and the cost of living to other places, the offer they made to us was just so much better, we couldn't turn it down.

So here I find myself on the brink of an adventure I didn't expect I'd be having - Bakersfield. Bakersfield. Bakersfield.

For someone coming from Santa Barbara, East Bay, or even Scottsdale, Bakersfield doesn't seem very attractive.  And the reality is, it isn't. I mean, let's be honest.  The economy hit it hard. It's in the middle of corporate farms, and it's a shipping center for the central valley of California. When you go into mall bathrooms, it smells like the lovely burnt Barbie hair smell of recently enjoyed Meth.

All these things ARE true. BUT, Bakersfield is a city of over 300,000 people. There are all kinds of things to do there. I will be able to not only be financially solvent, but close to family, and find people I can be friends with.  It will happen. Definitely. It just won't be like East Bay where I walked into a pub and felt at home instantly. This is mostly because I don't wear Stetsons or embossed riding boots.  I don't listen to Country music. I didn't even know who Buck Owens was until we started looking at living in Bakersfield.


So, Monday I'll go there again, look at apartments and get ready to learn a lot more about Country music. Because it's going to happen. I don't think I could stop it, not in home sweet home Bako.

All Things Are Not Equal - Cost of Living

So because we're in the throws of planning our next geography, Christian and I have been researching how much we would need to live in various locations.  This led to some tangential searches, in particular, a comparison of Santa Barbara to Bakersfield.

First I should mention, Bakersfield is still on the table.  I know I knocked it, and my view of it certainly warranted it at the time. However, I did go with Christian to check it out, and we saw some reasonable areas of the city, and their BMW shop is pretty awesome.  Plus there is the added benefit of being close to family, the Sequoias, and the Pacific.

Now, Santa Barbara is often compared to paradise, whereas Bako (as I have deemed Bakersfield) is compared to an armpit. Keep in mind that minimum wage is around $7 - 8 in California. That said, California is a large state with a wide variety of climates and topographies, as well as demographics. If someone is making minimum wage in Bakersfield, when we account of cost of living, it is the same as living on $36,000 in Santa Barbara. Now, if someone is living on minimum wage in Santa Barbara, it works out to be the equivalent of living on a little over $7000 a year in Bakersfield. That is roughly $3 an hour. Put this in perspective - people picking strawberries, working illegally in Bakersfield, making $5 an hour, are living better than someone on minimum wage in Santa Barbara.

I say this to put things into perspective for those who think that the poorest people in the country are trying to take advantage of a system and they should pay the same percentage taxes as the richest one percent. Clearly, someone who works toward taxing the working poor as much as the richest 1%, is evil.

We don't want to pay more for our McDonald's hamburger, which means that some people will always make around minimum wage. There will always be poor people. To that end, we need to make sure these people are cared for. Even the aristocracy cared for their serfs (granted, it may have been a bit more heavy handed, but still...). Even the dogs get scraps from the table.  Having health care, education, transportation, and food for these people is not too much to ask. If they aren't cared for, who will do these jobs? What will happen when they won't accept being stepped on over and over again? I know what I would do...

The Roadkill Cafe - You Kill It, They Grill It

Being in rural Pennsylvania is like being in a foreign country and all that entails. This is especially true when going to restaurants like the Roadkill Cafe.

The Roadkill Cafe is in an isolated village on a road by the name of Crooked Run Road. It looks kind of like a seedy country bar and gas station from the outside. Inside is a country store and a simple restaurant that boasts hunting gear on every wall. You got a free knife with every gun purchase!

The other customers had facial hair, gray shirts, jeans, and hunting hats. My grandmother, mother, and I were the only women customers in the place. We got some stares.

The service was friendly and prompt, the food cheap and reasonable - if predominantly fried. Think $2.50 for a sandwich - a comparable sandwich in Santa Barbara would go for at least $8.

Would I go back? Maybe to take someone for the experience, because frankly it is difficult to find for the type of food that is available. Is it worth going to if I was around for hunting season? Absolutely. They even have cabins - but this year is already booked, so you'll have to wait until next year!

Still, it's fun. Their shirts and aprons with pretend menu items are worth the trip, just to scare your friends, with "chunk of skunk" and "smear of deer." You get the picture - you kill it, they grill it!

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Life's Full of Surprises - Update 1

Since I've been traveling around Pennsylvania it's been difficult to blog. This has largely been because of a lack of wi-fi and an unwillingness to tendonitis in my thumbs. However, I think I've been hiding too long and it's time to bring everyone up to speed.

I've been convinced, finally and absolutely to publish electronically. I am almost finished editing. With any luck the book will be available this week, but don't be mad if there is a delay because of travel issues, conversion time, etc.

I FINALLY picked up Christian. It's definitely nice to have my husband back. Now I'm ready for everything else to get on track to the point that I am anxious to get back to California in order to get things ready.

This leads me to my final update. I'm 99.9% sure we're moving to New Hampshire in the next three weeks. This is scary, for many reasons, and incredibly thrilling for just as many others. I have missed seasons, bluntness, good schools, sarcasm, pizza, pie, apples, cross-country skiing, and folk music, just to name a few... I am excited for Christian to experience New England and understand where I come from a bit better. It will be an adventure with many things to blog about and stories to tell.

Now it's just getting the details worked out and final touches, like getting my mom's recipe for hot apple cider. Yum!!

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The Armpit of California - Bakersfield

When people told me Bakersfield was the worst place in California, I didn't believe them.  I thought they were lying to me, or it was a matter of perspective.  It still might be a matter of perspective, but I'm more inclined to side with the people who gave fair warning.

My parents, being the good parents they are as well as withholding judgment until they experience something for themselves, decided we would take a drive to check it out.  Bakersfield was one of the shops that was looking for a master-tech, and it's better to get as much information as possible. Man, am I glad I actually checked the place out because wow - I'm convinced.

Anyone who knows me knows I hate flat.  I also hate dry.  Driving to Bakersfield along the 166 was beautiful, until we hit the farm land.  Rows and rows of artificially organized citrus lined the slender line of asphalt.  We turned on to the 99 and made our way into town.  We had already gone through several whistle stops that made my mother groan and say "God this is sooo depressing!".  I figured, Bakersfield is a big city.  It will have something worth seeing.  Something will be interesting about it.

Thing was, there just wasn't. 

Going into town, there was a large community of large houses that were priced in the mid 100s. That should have been our first clue.  We found one of the malls - it was all average stores - forget designer.  There was, of course, only one major university there to service a city of over 300,000 people. In addition to the lovely culture, education, and shopping available, I was disturbed by the apparent lack of zoning in a large metropolitan area.  Houses were next to businesses and industrial areas.  Classic "American Lawn Art" was everywhere in the middle of the city.  One of the malls actually had boarded up windows!  An entire shopping mall had become empty!  It just looked trashy and rundown - the entire city looked like it had taken on the full brunt of our economic troubles. 

I thought Phoenix was hellish, and that is all I can say about it.  It is at least hellish.  Bakersfield might actually be hell.  I'm not sure.  I guess it depends on how you think about it.  If Hell is meant to have some beauty about it, something insidious about it, then Phoenix is Hell.  You have some art nights, some cool clubs, Tempe, and Scottsdale.  If, however, Hell should just be the most depressing place you've ever been in your life, then Bakersfield takes the cake.

All I know is, even though the closest Nordstrom to Troy NY is in Connecticut, I'd rather have the mountains and the Hudson River than dusty flat uber-farms and Frito Lay factories of Bakersfield.

Long Distance - Thank GOD for Cell Phones

The dust has settled leaving three thousand miles between Christian in New Jersey and me in Santa Barbara.  Yesterday, my mother-in-law drove us down to LAX to depart California for 2.5 months.  The drive back was riddled with shopping excursions, brunch, and a visit to Christian's grandma's place.  It was fun and kept my mind off what had just happened.  Not like it was real or anything.  After all, he had only been gone a couple of hours.

But even today I find myself feeling differently than I expected.  I don't mean to say that I don't miss him, but rather, I'm not worried about losing him.

The last time we were apart we were still dating.  When you're dating there is always the feeling like the person you're with might cheat on you, leave you, or just let the relationship peter out. Marriage CAN be like that, but only if you're not doing what you're supposed to be doing.  A healthy marriage doesn't have those problems - plus you're legally bound together. You can't just walk away.  There are quite a few hoops to jump through as opposed to when you're dating.  Dating doesn't require any formal process.  You could break it off at any time.

So while we're apart, I just don't feel the impending doom I used to feel when we were apart before.  Granted, it hasn't been very long yet. It also doesn't hurt that Christian and I are best friends and can't help but talk to each other daily which maintains our relationship over the distance.

It gets me thinking about how spoiled we are.  Not only do we have this awesome marriage, but we live in a time and place where communication is instantaneous.  I can email, call, text, or chat with Christian the second I feel so inclined. We can talk several times a day if we like. I can't imagine living when my grandmother was young and having to suffer the speed of hand written letters.  The idea is frightening to me now - waiting to hear from Christian for a week?! What if something should have happened to him? I wouldn't know it for so long!  Yes, there were telegraphs and phones weren't unheard of, but a letter was much more likely. Less than a hundred years later, personal communication devices make it possible to watch and hear a person thousands of miles away.  Weird... and... thank GOD! Think I'm going to go chat with Christian now.

Moving, Distance, & Writing - Trifecta of Anxiety

I've been having trouble writing for the last couple days.  I think this is for several reasons.  First and foremost, my in-laws are coming today and they're taking all our stuff.  We will literally be sleeping on an air mattress for a week.  I'm not even sure how many chairs we'll have.  That, ironically, will put an additional damper on my writing because let's face it.  A netbook isn't very ergonomic during the best of times, let alone when you're slumped against a wall with it on your lap.

Secondly, I'm excited and anxious.  I'm going to be in Santa Barbara for two months while Christian will be across the country in New Jersey doing his BMW STEP program.  I'm excited because I'm glad I'll be able to spend time with my family.  I'm anxious because I want to be able to do  something while I'm there.  I hate being bored and I'm worried about being able to find a summer job.  More than wondering what I'll do while I'm there, I'm concerned about being away from Christian for two months. 

It's true that we lived across the world from one another while I was in India for six months.  But it nearly broke us apart and it was one of the most emotionally turbulent times in both of our lives.  Literally, the death of one of Christian's friends is what saved our relationship (sounds weird and twisted, but it's true). 

Needless to say, two months with cell phones and a three hour time difference is nothing like being across the world without an easy way to call one another. Still, it will be the longest we've been apart since we have been married, and we are a couple that is glued to the hip.

I am one of those lucky people who married their best friend.  We hang out everyday and we love it.  We dance in the grocery store and decide at the drop of a hat to go on hiking adventures.  We mock bad movies, experiment with new recipes, and share in household responsibilities. I calm him down when he's freaked out and he does the same for me.  We've definitely had our ups and downs, but over all, I couldn't have been more blessed than I am with our relationship. 

Many people might welcome the chance to be away from their spouse for several months straight.  It gives them a break from the bad choices they made.  On the other hand, I know I'm going to have to be busy all the time so I don't think about the distance between us.  From the times when we've been apart, even for a short time, I know everything that happens, I will have to tell Christian.  There will be something that will happen on a given day when I will wish I could share a knowing look with Christian because only he would understand why I'm laughing.

It makes sense then, that I'm having difficulty focusing on writing when I'm about to be relegated to sleeping on an air mattress (followed in quick succession by the hardest futon on which I've ever been unlucky enough to sleep), and then be away from my other half for two months.  Writing is probably number 3 on my mind.

I'm still thinking about it.  I pick up the story every now and then, write a thousand words, and then frantically play speed solitaire to get my mind off things.  Hopefully Santa Barbara will bring a slight calming effect and I can settle into a bit more of a writing routine. Cross your fingers!

FYI: I'm hoping by the end of May to have The Brothers available in an ebook form on all the major sites.  For those of you with e-readers, please spread the word and set aside a few bucks for it! Cover summary is coming soon! :-)

Little Things Are Big - Pre-move Stress

I hate all the little things.  It's not big things that stress you out.  It's little things.  It's a combination of improper filing, new ownership of your apartment complex, a lack of boxes, pollen in the air causing you to space out, along with a lack of money.

Thank GOD I haven't had someone close to me die recently (knock on wood), gotten pregnant, or had a major illness.  If I had, I would have gotten the prize for collecting all the stress badges in a single year. 

Moving is stressful.  Not knowing exactly where we're going is stressful.  Not being able to complete any of my writing projects for months is stressful.  I could go on, but the list just keeps getting longer.  Now more than ever, I want to be settled.  I want everything to be taken care of for me.  I'm so exhausted by the process that I want to curl up into my shell and stop dealing with everything.  Even though I was lucky enough to get the numbers for our settlement with the property management company today (changing ownership had caused a bunch of issues), I don't feel better.  In fact, I feel worse.  Maybe it's because its more real now.  Maybe its because my head is all loopy because my body is reacting to the pollen in the air.  I'm not sure.  All I know, is despite the sunny disposition outside, I'm worn down.  Even though I worked out this morning (which normally gives me tons of energy) I'm exhausted. 

Think I'll go hide in a hole for a little while until the feeling passes.  Then it's back to somehow making things work for the best.  With any luck, the job in North Bay will work out for Christian after the summer's end.  I'm hoping it does, because I'd like to explore the Bay Area more and review some more interesting places and events.  Cross your fingers, pray, meditate - whatever you do - just send us positive vibes that everything works out the best way it possibly can.  Hey, if it does, maybe I'll win that poetry contest I entered.  That would be quite the cherry on top of the mess!

The Anticlimax - Preparing for Phase 2 New Jersey & Santa Barbara

Anticlimactic - that's where we are.  It's amazing when you wait and wait and wait for something to happen, once it does, you are less interested in it and possibly put out by the situation it creates.  That's kind of how I feel now.  In all honesty, there's no kinda about it.  I am actually more anxious, more concerned, about all the little details for this summer than I was before I knew that Christian got into the program. 

Don't get me wrong.  I want him to do this.  I want everything that it means for him.  It's a great opportunity and he was one of the top two candidates the executives selected.  I love my husband and I'm excited for him.  I'm worried about entirely unrelated things.

For example, our lease isn't up until after he would be finished with this new program.  So I have to figure out what the best course of action is, or if we only have one course of action.  Ideally we would sublease the place for the final 2 months and then the new tenant could take over the lease as they chose.  Depending on our lease agreement, we may be forced to just break it which is an expensive endeavor.

Then of course, there's managing all of our regular bills that follow us regardless of geography - like student loans and cell phones.  Christian won't be working at that time, and I need to find a short-term position. 

That doesn't account for storing all of our furniture.  We could of course sell it, but when comparing how much we could get for the furniture with how much it would cost to replace it later, it's better to store it.  So then the question is where and how much for 1600 sq ft worth of stuff.

It's alot to think about.  Add the question of the financial solvency of our renters in Phoenix, and it's enough to make me overly snappy.  Literally all I'm thinking about is planning, piece by piece.  We made a list and divided it between the two of us in order to tackle things more efficiently.  Still it feels daunting. 

I feel like I should pare down my clothing.  I still have quite a lot of clothes that are too small in one or two ways that I'm clinging to in order to prevent replacement as I continue through my work out regime.  Do I get rid of it all? Do I keep it? Do I just keep the things I think I am most likely to wear in the next 6 months? Considering my wardrobe, that in itself occupies a special place in my worrying mind.  If only my closet was my biggest concern.

Short Stories and Odd Jobs

Maybe you didn't know this, but Borders isn't even hiring.  Unless you live in Palo Alto or Lyndhurst NJ.  There isn't even seasonal work.  This is an all time low.  I'm about ready to start art modeling, and I really would rather not.  It's gotten to the point where we may have to relocate if I can't find a position or some random way to make money.  So far prostitution and assasination are off the list.  So is wiping adult butts.  Possibly cleaning fryers.  And watching severely disturbed children.

I know other people are in similar situations.  It's a countrywide epidemic of joblessness.  Christmas is going to be rough this year.  So, I sigh.  Maybe I can get some of these short stories written and published.  Maybe I can win a couple writing contests.  I am... different.  That should help, right?  I can win something based on my bizarre view of the world.  That's what people want to read, right? Something strange and kooky and plain odd? At least, that's what it seems like when I read anything these days.  The world has gone to the nerds. This should work out for me.  I have those kinds of dorktastic inclinations when it comes to subject matter.  Unfortunately, it's not just about ideas.  It's about follow through.

I'm finding writing short stories is a little more difficult than writing a novel.  Is that weird? It's weird, right? Maybe it has to do with the fact that at the heart, a novel is just creative masturbation, and that is all it really is.  It's easy.  Maybe I just don't think in short story arcs, it's too short a span to get my thoughts out that I expect are needed. No.  I think in two modes.  Flash fiction - 1000 words or less, and novel - 120,000 or more.  Possibly series of novels which could extend to 500,000 words or more.  Something must be seriously wrong with me. 

One of my friends recently called me to order with a helpful reminder.  Most people are successful at things because they do them.  I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking, of course, they did them.  How else could they become successful?!  Don't misunderstand me.  Let me reiterate - most people are successful at things because they do them.  When I say do, I mean all the time.  How else could you make it big at anything? You simply wake up every day and do whatever it is you do over and over again.  And again.  Oh, and again.  By the way, it just keeps on going.

How does that work in practice? Painfully, at first.  In the beginning (I'm feeling Biblical) it is just scratching the surface.  Trying to make something from nothing.  Once the surface is broached, and the thoughts flow, it is a matter of committing them to paper, or disk space on your hard drive.  From there, the careful dissection of phrasing and rearrangement of thoughts begins.  At some point, perhaps several, others may review the thing and make some kind of judgment of its worth.  Finishing touches are made, and TADA! Something resembling a story is born!  Then the most basic and important of questions is raised - will anyone like it?  Will anyone worth impressing like it? You can't know until you try.  I just need to keep getting up and doing it over and over again.  I have a feeling.  It's a good one, despite the fact that becoming a bounty hunter was a serious thought for gainful employment.
 

Samhain - The Real All Hallows

Since I've been doing all this odd-ball research I figured I would share some of my findings with you. 

I grew up in Albany NY.  Albany used to be the second stop of Sinn Fein right after Boston.  I remember the free concert series in parks in Saratoga Springs, Schenectady, Troy, Albany, and the surrounding area as primarily consisting of fiddles, accordions, harps, and bodhrans. Even to the south of Albany, when I attended Bard College, we visited a Celtic Mountain Festival where there were traditional Celtic games.

In 9th grade my family visited Britain for a month.  One week was entirely devoted to Scotland where we learned about my father's clan.  I have to say, it was the first place I actually felt at home in my soul.  Keep in mind, Celts are one of the last groups of white people to still have something like tribal affiliation.  Anyone in the US who has Celtic pride will likely also have a tattoo somewhere on their body depicting their clan coat of arms.

Why do I tell you all this? Because unlike some pre-Christian holidays, the Celtic New Year is alive and well.  I would go so far as to say it is thriving. The only problem is, most people don't know what they're celebrating.

Samhain, the Celtic New Year, marked the end of the harvest season and the beginning of the dark part of the year.  Villages would start the celebration by lighting a great bonfire (which incidentally, is a part of all Celtic festivals).  All the families in the village would symbolically take a bit of the fire back to their homes to light their way through the darker days of the year. Villages would cull their herds to ensure the health of their livestock through the dark months.   The festival itself could last anywhere from three days to a week.  During that time, a lot of effort was spent on lighter pursuits because the work for the land was over.  This meant young people would spend their time courting.  A good bit of divination went on in order for young people to discover the name of their future partner.  They would peel and apple completely, throwing the peel over their shoulder to see what letter it would form - this was to be the first letter of their spouse's first name.  They would put nuts in the fire and attempt to divine letters and names that way.  Even cracking eggs and pouring the contents into a cup was supposed to help guide you to your husband or wife.

Because Samhain marks a transition time of year, the veil between the spirit world and the world of the living is very thin.  It is important to note, that any place where there is transition in Celtic myth and customs is a time where connections between the Otherworld are more likely.  The other holiday of similar transition is Beltane, or May Day.  Being that Samhain is marking the transition to the darker portion of the year, there is greater emphasis on spirits (dressing in costumes) and keeping them at bay (carving turnips into lanterns).

My guess is these two holidays are the most important because Celtic traditions originally derived from the Gauls.  In Gaulish, there are only two seasons, winter and summer.  These are delineated by Samhain and Beltane. 

The conception of Halloween now involves candy, wild costumes, and a whole lot of commercialism.  While I'm glad that one of the old holidays is still alive and well, I'm sad it has turned into what it has when its history is rich and beautiful, about community and family. Maybe someday it will come back around closer to what it used to be.

Since we're still within a week after the date, let me just wish you a happy Samhain.

6 Degrees to Alexis Donkin

It's happened.  I knew it would eventually, but I didn't expect it to happen so soon.  Friends and acquaintances of mine know each other, at least enough to be "friends" on social media sites.  The world is officially small.

Do you remember the six degrees of Kevin Bacon game people would play.  You had to get from one person to Kevin Bacon in six degrees of separation.  The challenge was to pick a person too removed from Kevin Bacon that your friend couldn't possibly make the connection.  There were of course, several people from high school that I remember could always make it to Mr. Bacon.  I feel like now the game is a mute point.  It would be better to use someone you know, like yourself, to replace Kevin Bacon.  So, six degrees of separation to Alexis Donkin, let's start with the King of Sweden... oh wait, that won't work because of the Nobel prize... You see.  I'm trying to rack my brain for someone who can't be done in six degrees for myself, and I'm no where near the high profile of Kevin Bacon.  And I'm not even thinking of social media sites... I was just thinking of schools.

It was the logical result of social media, especially if you have a limited type or realm of social circles.  Let's say for example you're into drama.  Drama is a small world anyway, especially if you are anyone.  Everyone seems to know everyone else.  Music is the same.  Social media sites just make it even easier for those realms to interact, and suddenly the Appalachians, Mississippi, Great Plains, Rockies, and South Pacific no longer matter.  Everyone is equal on the internet.  Everyone is as accessible as they want to be.  So people from college are friends with my friends from high school, and maybe from my singing days.  WHAT?!

For some reason I thought of these worlds as separate, but now they are joined.  It isn't just the social media sites.  It's also just the way the world seems to work, or perhaps it's just the world closer to 30 and after.  It feels like places that have held importance in my life, of which there are many, have become pools for people from other eras during lives when I was someone else.  The best example is the Bay Area.  Literally there are people from all my schools here (and I have been in school for most of my life).  I think my cousin is going to move here shortly.  Musicians with whom we shared stages are here.  It just seems odd. 

Maybe I fell into a social black hole which has a magnetic pull that attracts certain kinds of people to its core.  Suddenly I'm overwhelmed by the convergence of forces and find myself wondering about this alternative universe in which I now reside.  My world is smaller and stranger than I knew.  The future is so marvelous and strange.  I guess I should explore it more.

Who's fighting now? Thoughts on Poverty

There's a war on poverty.  I'm not talking about the one that everyone claims to support, or grudgingly allows to exist, and pays lip service to those who hate what poverty does to people.  I'm talking about the one that actually goes on, and for some bizarre reason, people allow to continue without much fan fare or anger.  And you should be angry.  Everyone should be up in arms at the increasing wealth disparity in our country.  Let me give you a few examples that you can see in your daily life.  Let's first look at general locations.

You'd think that libraries would be created equal.  You would think that urban planners would situate work, school, and essential services around the residents they claim to serve.  The problem is that all locations are not created equally from the get go.  All places are not thought through. There are a lot of reasons why this may be the case, and any potential solution would be complex in the best of times.  But it doesn't mean we shouldn't attempt to make changes to our world.

We do live in a capitalist society.  But that doesn't mean it has to be socially unconscious.  Hayward has an ugly post office which sits across from the okay exterior of the library.  The library inside is filled with overused books, a cramped ceiling, and the most awful yellow paint color one could pick for an already musty smelling building.  Even still,  I walk down B street in Hayward, and there are beautiful buildings.  I love them.  I want to fill them up with shops and services and companies.  I want to create festivals and holidays and opportunities.  I see all the potential in the place, because mostly, its empty.  Even the plaza in front of city hall, which could be amazing and full of life, is empty.  Poor people live here, as poor as you can be and live in the Bay Area, but still poverty is relative.  And here, these people are poor.  I'm poor.  Stupidly poor. For here.  No one wants to be here.  There isn't any money to support the businesses.  There isn't the demand because there isn't the supply....and around the cycle goes.  No one knows if it was the chicken or the egg, but this is the state of Hayward.

Meanwhile, if you go over the brown dusty hills to Pleasanton, the situation is radically different.  Trees line the roads.  Everything is beautiful and fits perfectly in some kind of clearly planned masterpiece of pseudo-suburban development.  Their library is gorgeous.  It has high vaulted ceilings, white clean painted walls, and beautiful wood buttressing that reminds me of architectural glories of the past.  And everyone in there was white.  Well, almost everyone.  There were a few South Asians there as well.  When you compare Pleasanton to Hayward, you can see something is profoundly wrong with this picture.

It's not just the libraries, which are free to those who want to use it and the best ones are in the rich areas. It's not just the fact that public transit is still expensive for what it is and only goes through certain areas of the bay.  It's not just the tax structure, or the fact that education and health care access is still scanty for a place that is supposed to be one of the world's superpowers.  I for one, would love to know why millions and billions of dollars are going into the pocket of the military industrial complex instead of providing low cost housing, health care, education, and transport to the poorest people in our country.

I'm sorry but we're not fighting for freedom from Iraq or Afghanistan.  We're fighting for freedom from the bonds of corporate greed and government incompetency.  Poor people are fighting for basic needs on a regular basis.  We have to make choices about what we can do without.  There are no options.  It is good food, or it is gas for the car. It's going to the dentist, or good food.  It's the nice apartment in the safe neighborhood, or its the internet and electricity.  Someone who has never been in this situation will not understand just how dire and extreme it can be, but this is the actual set of choices people have to make.  Health insurance and car insurance aren't even part of the equation.  How could people be concerned about self actualization when they're trying to figure out what they're going to eat that day?  It's impossible.  So we balance things.

I don't believe I'll be in this place forever, but it feels like I've been here for a long time.  And I'm getting scared.  I'm scared not just because of my own tenuous situation, but because of the situations of so many people around me.  They're stuck too.  They have no way out too.  I will be able to climb out of this eventually, but what about them? Capitalism is designed with masses of poor and unemployed as part of the system.  That just doesn't seem right.  Relative poverty I can deal with, but the kind where there are people who have to make choices between basic services is immoral.  What I don't understand is why people think that it is socialist to provide those services to the poorest of the poor and the working poor? It's not.  It's just good citizenship. 

Havens

There are certain places that make us feel more at home.  Certain cues give us hints that people in a location will fit into our world perspective nicely.  Likewise, the opposite is true.  We went to Berkeley the other day, and I love the part of Berkeley next to the UC between Telegraph and College.  It feels like a place I could spend a great deal of time. There is something about the mixture of quirky shops, professors, staff, students and working people that feels right to me.  Though no one said hello or smiled at me, I still felt welcome.

I was in love with the buildings both on and off campus.  So many red wood cabins and pseudo painted ladies.  Arbors coated in wisteria and jasmine while yards burst with yellow, red, orange and pink.  The gorgeous facades of the oldest of UC buildings made me jealous (think UCSB's sterile block like structures).  I wanted to touch them, and stare at them for hours taking in every last detail.  I couldn't of course, but I had such a strong desire to do so it was overwhelming.   All this felt incredibly right to me - like I belonged there.  Except I didn't.  This became profoundly clear to me when we attempted to find the Zareason store front (even though we hadn't called ahead).

Around Zareason are several store fronts.  Down the block and across the street were some locally owned places, all selling highfalutin goods.  People stared at me, through shop windows, full on stared at me.  It was clear to me that I wasn't expected in this part of Berkeley.  When we got our lunch in a cafe, I looked around at the people.  All the men had shaggy hair and full (though well kept) beards.  The women had limited amounts of product in their hair and nearly no makeup. Clothes came in several colors - black, gray, brown, dark blue, and dark green.  Glasses came in square and cat eye.  Everyone seemed to have a book or a laptop, even people who had come in with other people.  Most of them had gray strands in their hair.  I had never seen so many riding hats and so much corduroy in one place!  It was as though all these people were trying to cling to some image long gone of counter culture.  I felt like it would have done very well in upstate New York or Massachusetts, but here it felt contrived and a bit pompous. I felt put out.

Everywhere you go there are people who pretend.  Everywhere you go there will be people who can't handle difference.  One of the things I liked so much about the Dirty Bird Lounge was the breadth of people.  It was okay to be different and be there.  Yes, there was a common thread among the patrons, but of course, that would be expected.  Between Telegraph and College there was a breadth of people, even if the common thread was academia and to some extent, privilege.  Here in this tiny section of Berkeley, I felt like everything had been bleached out with some special kind of social bleaching that left a small group of people trying to recreate Northampton Massachusetts and failing because they missed a crucial part about the mixture of grit, drugs, new age, and snow.  Maybe I just needed to get over my expectation of what these types of havens should be like, or maybe I just realized what a haven is to me.

I kept thinking that I would find a place that I liked because it would have a predominance of one thing, but that isn't what I like.  In fact I hate that.  It's boring.  The best places are ones that are messy and have a billion different things going on with as many different types of people.  That part of a city is my favorite.  I guess greater Berkeley is for people who can't handle San Francisco? That's my working theory.  Don't get me wrong, there are parts of it I love, but I think I would prefer the dirty post-industrial building with converted lofts any time. 

Work It Out

I'm listening to Miche Fambro after working out this morning. It's kind chill, jazzy, generally good to listen to on a lazy holiday like Labor Day. *grin*

I was thinking this morning as I was doing my reverse crunches and lateral bends of how much work I really need to do.  Weight gain - it is one of those things women tend to do during certain specified periods of their lives.  Some girls get the Freshman 15.  I never did.  I lost weight when I went to college, mostly because I walked constantly, danced frequently, and was in charge of my food intake entirely.

Some women gain weight after college, once they start dating a guy and they're in a serious relationship.  I didn't.  I stayed the same as I dated different people and even through out my husband's courtship.  In fact, the few months leading up to our wedding I was the strongest I had been up until that point.


Some women gain weight after they're married.  That's where I am now.  I don't actually think it was the marriage part that caused me to gain weight.  I think it was the forced inactivity of Phoenix that caused the major problem.  I went from walking everywhere to staying anywhere that was air conditioned and working an office job (which of course didn't help).  At the tail end of our time in Phoenix I began working out again and forcing myself to do cardio exercise.  It did have some impact.  Granted it was a small one on the fat loss, but it was a big one on the strength.  My upper body is still the strongest it's been.  It just keeps on going... once upon a time push-ups were an impossibility truth be told.  Now they're a thing done in double digits. Strength training however, can only get you so far.

Thank GOD we moved back to California where everyone is outside all the time working on their fitness.  It's not actually them working on their fitness, Californians just live outside. Everything is done outside, the weather is nice, there's no excuse to be inside all day everyday. Of course there are the occasional pasty computer nerds allergic to sunlight who can be found predominantly in Silicon Valley, but for the most part, even people who would have hid inside in other climes, come outside to enjoy the water, mountains, and sunshine.

There are two places Christian and I like to go hiking/walking near our house.  One is Lake Chabot (5 minutes drive) and the other is the San Leandro Marina (about 8 minutes drive).  There isn't any excuse to get active while living here.  Again, thank GOD!  Needless to say the pounds are shedding and the muscles are denser.  All I have to say is, let there be bio-crack and we're good.