The World at Large

Hollerin' atcha from Nirvana Lane

2012-01-26T11:13:00.000-08:00

Welcome to North Key Largo. Land of white people (save for the Hatians that clean up after them), golf carts, rock lawns, and foie gras. Where the price tag for a night's stay ranges from $380 to $2,910. Where residents pay $250,000 a year just for their address in this yuppie dream land. Of course that does not include the mortgage on the mansion, the lawn maintenance, the $63 glass of whiskey with the $38 prime rib, the 19% gratuity (ahem), the $12 movie tickets... oh and let's not forget the yacht parking space. But of course it's all worth it. After all, "Everyone enjoys the community's atmosphere of ease, and the sense of being among friends in the place where they truly belong."

But to get to the point I was trying to make, I've been doing some thinking. Of course upon first getting here I had my typical Christina, cynical, judgmental reaction. I can't believe these people waste their money and lives in this imaginary society where everything is taken care of for them and they never even have to think about "the other side", the real world and real issues, or even people who don't truly belong. There are people starving, and dying, and struggling every day. And these people are throwing parties in their mansions where they literally throw $100 bills around (reliable source).

So on my bike ride through the concrete jungle today, I'm thinking, "Okay, be impartial here for a minute, what do you have an abundance of that you are wasting, Christina?" Well, swagger, for one. Talent. Beauty. Undying wit. Mad grammar skillz. Obvs. But really, it's hard to compare any non-monetary proficiency to, well, money. Honestly, the closest thing I've got is time. I've got a lot of time on my hands. Mostly always, but especially at this point in my life. Some might say I waste a lot of that. They might be right. My days down here are mostly spent lolling about in the sun and complaining about rich people. I'm not completely convinced, but there are probably more productive things I could be doing. The point is, I think we're all probably wasting something. But judging others for their choices isn't going to make me any less guilty.

Festivus for the rest of us

2011-12-24T21:37:00.000-08:00

Spending Christmas Eve watching Sunny in Philadelphia reruns and taking advantage of a fully stocked refrigerator. Life is swell.

Went to the porch to have a thought, got to the door and again I couldn't stop

2011-12-16T20:07:00.001-08:00

The days get shorter and the nights get cold

I like the autumn but this place is getting old

I pack up my belongings and I head for the coast

It might not be a lot but I feel like I'm making the most

I like songs about drifters - books about the same

They both seem to make me feel a little less insane

I know that startin' over's not what life's about

But my thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth

Yep, it's cliche to quote song lyrics. But hey, if I could write poetry this good, I would. But I can't. So get off it.

Hey, it's only the next four years of your life, so f***ing choose...

2011-11-22T21:13:00.000-08:00

Thanks to findmeafuckingcollege.com, I am again forced to ponder this option for the infinitely-pronged fork of a road that is my life. It seems to me like this is as good as any way to make this decision.

Results coming soon.

Why Turning 20 Isn't Cool At All

2011-11-19T11:00:00.000-08:00

Top two reasons why turning 20 is lame:

#1 You're not 19 anymore. Which means you've lost all chances of fulfilling your dreams of becoming another teenage statistic. And believe me, I have plenty of those. Did you know that [spoiler alert] "In general, teenage mothers do not fare as well as their peers who wait to have children"? Or that 1 in 3 teenagers will be pregnant by the age of 19? Damn. Guess I missed the boat on that one. ...or not?

#2 You're still not 21. Which means you've got another year of waiting before you can do all those 21 year old things. Now, don't get me wrong. If I wanted to get hammered right now, I absolutely could. Ask any 18-20 year old in the country if they knew where they could get alcohol at that moment, at least 90% would say yes. It's not about that. I'm not a big fan of the alc' the majority of the time. It's about being 21 and having a 21 year old ID. Do you understand that at this moment I can't even legally go watch a stand up comedy show without another year of life under my belt? It will forever elude me why I am not allowed to go listen to some good ass music in a place where they serve fermented beverages to idiots just because I've been doing my thing for 20 years, and not 21.

I know, somebody call the whambulance, right? There are worse problems in the world than Christina having to wait another year until she can go to a bar. But seriously America, take your eyes off yourself for a moment and consider how the rest of the world handles this issue -- maturely and responsibly. Duh.

Things No One Ever Tells You - Vol. 1

2011-11-09T20:58:00.000-08:00

As I approach the end of my second decade and am well on my way to my quarter life crisis (see especially definition #2 "you feel lost and confused 23.5 hours of the day"), I figure it is my duty as a seasoned "adult" to pass on some of the wisdom I have acquired from my galavanting.

#1 Thing No One Ever Tells You: Being poor in a fun city is just as shitty as being poor in a boring city. So poor that if walking the 3 miles there and 3 miles back in the rain saves me the $4 dollars for public transit, I'll do it. So poor that if eating a breakfast souffle three hours past its expiration date means not having to pay for lunch that day, I'll do it. So poor that if stealing from The Salvation Army because it doesn't even disturb my moral compass anymore will get me a new polo for work, I'll do it. So poor that if taking the industrial sized toilet paper from work that won't even fit on a standard sized roll so we have to keep it on the back of the toilet means not having to buy toilet paper, I'll do it. So poor that no, man, I really honestly can't spare any change.

Bear in mind, these are not complaints. I know these circumstances were chosen, they are not out of real necessity. It's not that I couldn't have help if I wanted it, especially if I needed it. I do not thrash about in the depths of the truly desolate. I do not know what it means to go hungry a few days before every pay day. I do not know what it means to be sincerely grateful for that 25 cent raise. I do not know what it means to really have no roof under which to sleep. But I have seen glimpses of all of these. And I do finally understand how these conditions manifest themselves and how adults find themselves in lifestyles like these, where every move forward just puts you two steps back. It's by doing what we are doing for too long and expecting different results. Expecting it, expecting something, to actually pay off in the end. Rookie mistake. Hard times are getting the best of us, and you just can't get ahead in this race wearing thrift store shoes.

Occupy the World

2011-11-08T20:24:00.000-08:00

An impromptu day off with the shoe-less boyfriend of course led to taking the train into San Francisco. But of course the weather was not having any of that. We went anyway, taking our bikes even, to see what we could see. Unbeknownst to us, Occupy San Francisco was having a march through town that very afternoon. After literally running into them, we threw up our hands and joined them. Now I have to admit, I've been slightly skeptical, indifferent, and even a little embarrassed every time I ride by Occupy San Jose in the mornings. But being right in the middle of it in SF, I felt empowered. Maybe it was just the megaphones and cardboard signs in the air, but this really did give me the feeling that we were changing something, actually making a difference. Now don't take me for one who is all that knowledgeable or even interested in becoming knowledgeable in politics in general (as if you did). It's not even because I want to stay passive or take a stand or feel that I can't keep up. It's just not one of my interests at this point in my life. However, I have gathered enough to know that this is something powerful, not just a gasping breath, and not something that will fizzle out in a week or so. This is something that is making me, for the first time in my life, proud to be part of my generation. Maybe the times, they are a-changin'.

addendum

Keep Santa Cruz Weird

2011-11-04T19:28:00.000-07:00

What did you do for Halloween? Because I'm pretty sure I was at the craziest party in the world. Or at least in Northern California. To the most dismay, I did not collect any photos. Again, I vow to always have my camera with me forever and always.

Thankfully, Jesse is infinitely thinking ahead more than me and was able to record a couple snippets of the festivities.

and,

And in case those don't give you enough of an idea, here's the newspaper article:
http://www.mercurynews.com/breaking-news/ci_19235048

Two Scenarios

2011-10-28T21:52:00.000-07:00

Here I will compare my walk down Santa Clara Street at dark to my walk back up from Santa Clara Street at dark.

First walk down: Walking by myself around 7:30 with just a jacket and backpack. Within 9 blocks I was the victim of 2 "hey mami"s, 1 "hey you need a ride?", 3 honks, and I'm pretty sure at least 1 "Hey excu' me!"

Second walk back up: I made it to the Happy Thrift Store half an hour before closing time to pick up a lamp. Naturally, I was 1 mile+ away from the house and had to find an inventive method of transporting an awkward and bulky object back. The Asian thrift store owner has become quite the acquaintance after these past couple days of thrift store hunting and gathering and so he let me borrow his dolly for the second time for the small deposit of $5.00. So, here I am. Dolly and lamp in hands, rolling down 9 blocks up and 5 blocks over, making the most noise in all the neighborhood, and not receiving a single whistle or perverted stare. (And yes, they all look exactly like that.) It's the most amazing thing, really. I'm starting to figure out how to survive in this big city, one step at a time. The key is to act like you're crazy from the start. What kind of crazy mother effer is going to mess with a girl pushing a 7 foot tall heavy lamp on a dolly through the streets of San Jose at night? No one, that's who. New goal: get crazy before the crazies get you.

Cars, Glamour, Fame, Money

2011-10-25T16:49:00.000-07:00

Okay, so even though I undoubtedly meant to reference this song in the title of this post, it is utterly misleading. We were not able to attain any of the aforementioned grandiosities. We did, however, obtain a mansion. In the loosest interpretation of the word "obtain", of course. We are now the proud renters of one room and one bathroom (with kitchen, porch, and living room privileges) of a millionaire's (possibly billionaire's?) mansion. Our roommate is a middle-aged Asian doctor named Jimmy. You can't make this stuff up.

Hotels, Motels, and Holiday Inns

2011-10-12T17:46:00.000-07:00

By the end of week four, we realized we may have reached the end of our welcome at our gracious hosts' home. We had succeeded in job acquiring and now faced the - what would prove to be equally, if not more, difficult - task of obtaining a place to reside. While Val and Josh were very reassuring that we could stay as long as we needed, we were all longing for some change of scenery. So we decided the big move to San Jose was imminent.

While we never quite made it to Holiday Inn Status, we did at least upgrade to the Motel 6 from the Caravelle Inn. From here we enjoyed a weekly rate, a 3 mile commute on foot back and forth to Panera daily, as well as the luxury of a Chipotle just minutes down the road. Life is good.

On drug testing...

2011-10-05T18:29:00.000-07:00

After a few days at Panera, I received a call from Target asking me to come in for an interview. I thought, what the hell, an extra job couldn't hurt. Might as well give it a shot. Surprisingly, Target had THE most intensive interviewing process I had endured thus far. For the seemingly manageable job of "Cart Attendant", I faced four rounds of interviews. The first being a personality test that I'm fairly sure was promptly put in the trash can, the second being a series of oddly specific interrogations of times I had demonstrated leadership in my life, and the third mostly concentrating on whether or not I had any felonies on my record. You'd think the order would be slightly different, but hey. Somehow I was able to pass whatever method of scoring they used for these interviews and was given a conditional offer of employment. The condition being of course that I pass the fourth and final test, a drug test. I'm assuming this is where they weed out the majority of candidates. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all for denying employment to drug addicts. The thing that gets me is the drugs which are considered the most harmful (cocaine, heroin, meth, PCP) are not detectable by a urine test after a maximum of seven days (and usually more in the 2-3 day region). Whereas the drug in question, the most popular, believed to be least harmful, drug with the shortest lasting effects takes a minimum of 15 days and a maximum of 30 days to disappear from one's urine.

Not that any of this is pertinent to my situation. I already had a full time, better paying job across the street and I probably wouldn't have ever worked for you, Target, even if you hadn't required a drug test. But, I'm just sayin'.

JORBS!!!

2011-10-04T17:53:00.000-07:00

So, considering how weeks three and four were dishearteningly similar to week two, we will just go ahead and move right along. Hopefully this will also save the reader and the writer from unnecessary heartache-filled reminiscing.

But, alas...

We finally did it! Can you believe it? We went and got ourselves jaerbs! It only took a month or so. Well, technically, Jesse did most of the hard work by sacrificing four years of his life in the good ole' FLA to Panera. Turns out they can't really say no to experience like that. And when you have great looking friends like us, they can't say no to that either. So there you go, we are officially Panerists.

Week Two

2011-09-21T17:12:00.000-07:00

So clearly, Santa Cruz just can't handle our talents. We're much too much for this town, it's time to expand our horizons. And that expansion is realized in the form of the Highway 17 Express which will take us to the promised land: San Jose, CA. Five dollars to get to downtown San Jose, not too bad. Oh wait but that's ten dollars a day... Alright. Well, we'll only have to do this a few times. No big deal. We'll be living there soon anyway. Oh yeah, this is where we needed to be. We're gonna get jobs in no time. We're gonna be offered too many jobs, we're gonna have to turn jobs DOWN! Jobs for days. Bring it on. Pizza place, coffee place, sushi place, beer place, burger place, five star place, two star place, bagel place, Italian place, Mexican place, Asian place, Asian place, Asian place, Indian Pace, Moroccan place. Moroccan place....? What? Oh, you want to hire all of us? Niiiiiiice. In the bag. Yeah, that was almost too easy. You want us to memorize this? Yeah, of course, let me see it. ...Three pages? This seems a little excessive but it's cool, we all have jobs. So you're saying you want this absolutely verbatim, not just as a general outline? Doesn't that make it sound just a little... rehearsed? Skeptical. But you're the boss... Okay, got the script down. Start with bussing? No problemO. You want me to buss for a month before I can move on it training? Are you sure it takes that long to learn how to pick up plates? So, about tips when I DO get the privilege of moving on to server... Tips go to the "house"? What does that even mean?

*1 shift later* This is not going to fucking work out.

Week One

2011-09-12T17:09:00.000-07:00

California is the shit. We love it, that's decided. Any doubts have been thoroughly quelled. We want to live here, we want to make it work, it's got everything we were hoping for and more. So allow the quest to begin. It is a tall order, find a job and a place to live in two weeks. But we can do it. We're smart, we're tactful, we're generally qualified, we've got a little money... Well, more than that guy on the sidewalk over there at least. So let's fuckin' do it! One two three go. Alright, so. Here's the thing. All the enthusiasm in the world is not enough for California standards. We assumed being really, really, really ridiculously good looking would at least get us somewhere. But, alas, maybe there is more to life. Anyway. So we have to look for a real job. Easy enough. We've all had jobs before, we know how this works. Application here, application there... Oh, they're definitely gonna call me, that manager really liked me, they said they needed someone right away! Um, why haven't they called me yet? I'll just call them, just to see what's up, when I can come in for orientation. WHAT!? They fuckin' filled the position!! Motherfuckers. They essentially guaranteed me the job. Fuck. Alright, time to keep truckin'. This won't be so bad, we'll all have jobs by the end of the week.

*Repeat previous scenario approximately 30 times for each person and fast forward to the weekend.*

This may be slightly more difficult than anticipated.