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2003-10-01, 5:22 p.m.
As I'm running along Golden Gate Park on Fulton, I look to my right at 20th and see a beautiful view of the Golden Gate Bridge peeping through the tops of trees. I make a right and double back on Cabrillo...the only sound I hear is the cadence of my own steps. Who says there's no peace in the city? Time to make some French Toast.
For every ten resumes I send out, one company will call me. I wonder how my numbers compare to others? I know I apply for a lot of jobs I'm not qualified for, but I figure it can't hurt to try.
It was beautifully sunny yesterday, even as far out as the Sunset. It has been a long time since I've had the chance to sit on a sunny stoop, just me and my book. I had some time to kill before the shoe repair placed reopened, so I parked it on someone's stairs and read a few chapters. For lunch, it was me, the book, and a glass of Chimay on the sunny back patio at Frjtz. After a week hindered by terrible side cramps, my running slump seems to be over. I conquered The Hill again on Sunday. Hurt my knee taking a downhill turn too fast, but it seems healed up by now. Ran The Hill again yesterday with some ease. It is starting to get dark early. When I get a job, working out my be a problem. I don't plan on running through the park by myself in the dark. I'll figure it out when the time comes, I guess. I hate treadmills.
Just finished another scarf! This one I am keeping.
Wake up naturally; loll around in bed for a while; wash my face; walk to the coffee shop on the corner; $1 for some black coffee; $0.25 for the paper (although I prefer the SJ Mercury for content); walk home (past reform school students) in my pajamas; cut open a perfectly ripe cantaloupe; spread out the paper...ahhhhh the life of leisure. Lunch with my friend later, maybe to the MOMA to catch the Chagall exhibit (free Tuesdays!), and then a free screening of Kill Bill. I need to find a mailbox.
I finally finished knitting and blocking the cabled scarf I started a while ago. I'm simultaneously working on two other scarves right now: the randomly striped one (a Christmas gift) and a red cabled scarf using rowan big wool. I also updated my projects page. I had some time to kill between appointments on the peninsula today, so I stopped at my parents' house to relax and hang out. Strangely, nobody was home when I got there, so I felt a lot like Goldilocks. There was some food sitting on the stove so I ate it. I found some fruit on the table, so I ate that too. And since I couldn't get my dad's computer to recognize its modem, I'd already read the paper, and my parents don't have cable, I began the daunting task of cleaning out my room...something I haven't done since I moved out over seven years ago. Over the past seven years, my room has become a storage/dumping ground, accumulating more junk every time I move. And I move...a lot. Of course, after putting a few old readers in the recycling bin, I got distracted. I found a stack of old essays...some from AP US History junior year in high school, my UC admissions essay, and a bunch of essays from some of my favorite classes in college. Wow. I used to be a really good writer. My UC admissions essay was a stroke of brilliance. Rereading it, I'm still proud of it. Carefully crafted sentences, meticulous word choices, and clear, concise arguments. I don't think I've written anything of that caliber since I graduated. Then again, I've spent the last four years writing about library automation software. There's nothing inspiring about that...but at least I have an answer to the standard interview question: "What did you like least about your last job?".
Another interview tomorrow morning with a company in Menlo Park. Friday's interview went well although I don't know if it is a smart decision for me to step into the arts. The commute would be nice though...a 10-minute busride. I'll need to consult my small stable of advisors. I'm glad I have all these smart knowledgeable people who support me...I'd be even more lost without them. Interviews don't really make me nervous, minus the first set of Google interviews (seven interviews and rejected--thrice! ha!) a few weeks ago. It is after every interview that hurts--it always feels like my head is about to explode. It is tiring to be on my best behavior for so long. And then there is all the swirling dialogue in my head...how to interpret the interviewer's pauses to scrawl notes (about ME!)...how I could have answered that question differently or better...oops, shouldn't have said that... Casualty #1 of moving to SF: someone kicked in my car's hood last night. They also tried to kick my trunk, as there's a telltale boot print on it as well. But I guess the Honda trunk is harder to dent. I figure it is a drunk kid. But now there is a dent in my car's hood...the car I paid for myself. Ah well...it could always be worse. And I probably never would have noticed had J not pointed it out to me. I did a pretty good job scraping up my hubs parking last week, too. Lots of exciting plans this week...
Today I couldn't remember what day it was...that hasn't happened to me since summer vacation over four years ago! Here are a few places I would like to (re)visit very soon:- NYC (I want to experience real autumn!)
- Cuba
- Dominican Republic (the setting of one of my favorite books)
- Thailand
- Tuscany
- Provence
- Greece
- Prague (i want to see the church made of human bones)
I love talking and thinking about travel with other people. It is relaxing. I hope I can go somewhere soon.
No sleeping in this week as I've been dogsitting. My days have been remarkably busy yet I remain relaxed. I went to the zoo today as promised... I hadn't been in seven years...the zoo is a little depressing. Half of the exhibits were closed, the chimpanzees were old and unplayful, and it was very cold and dreary. The lemurs were huddled under a heat lamp and the lion had a hemorrhoid. Gotta work on my portfolio. Interview tomorrow and another one on Monday. Wish me luck.
Words have always been a comfort to me. Writing, reading, hearing...everything but saying. I am rereading Jean-Dominique Bauby's The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Former editor-in-chief of French Elle, Bauby had a massive stroke which left him with only the use of his brain and left eye. His prose, written by the blink of his left eye, is beautiful...each word carefully crafted and beautifully translated from French. As I read this six years later, his words have new relevance. It makes me hurt for my grandma, who has been trapped in her body for five years. The wardens--her own children. I suffer from massive bouts of wanderlust that few understand. |
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