I've been thinking a lot about imperfection lately, and today is the right day for this thought to be posted.
Maybe this is where my low stress level comes from when planning wedding stuff. Someone asks about linens and I just don't care.
Really? I do not want a Perfect Day for my wedding. Perfect days get filed into the unknown.
The other day, Paul and I rode by the Cycle Gear in San Jose on our way back from something. Every time I go by, I think of the time Charles and I got stuck there. He lived in the neighborhood, and he'd help me work on my bike all the time, so we must have gone there a lot in those days. But I only remember one time, when we got whatever we came for, then returned to the Mighty Festiva, where Charles promptly broke the key off in the ignition. He was pretty unhappy with this. We had to wait for someone to come save us, and in the meantime, Charles was not happy. We went to the bizarro grocery store in the strip mall, and bought a small plastic motorcycle to play with while we waited. It must have cost a whole dollar.
One time, we rode to Los Angeles together. That was memorable, but what was really memorable was when we got to the Grapevine and realized there was no brake fluid in my bike. Well, none that could be seen. And the screws holding the reservoir shut were completely chewed. Charles was apparently slightly terrified. We did make it to the Motel 6 at just off of Hollywood Blvd (you could see Frederick's from the window) without catastrophe, but it was a good story later. You know what would have been a boring story? "One time, Charles and I rode over the Grapevine with perfectly functioning brakes." When we got the the Motel 6, there was an ambulance outside already-- it was a "colorful" neighborhood, and only the finest of hotels.
When Charles had cancer, I would come and visit during the time in his chemo cycle when he was most able to eat (comparatively, but still felt like shit) We'd go eat at the Mexican joint, then go back to the house so he could throw up. Then? Ice Cream! Always throw up so you can have ice cream too!
When you are with the right people, in the right place, perfection isn't necessary. You know everything will be OK, and this will all come out as a good memory someday. I'm sure that we've had plenty of perfectly passable times together, but I simply don't remember them all that well. What I remember most, what I recount to others the most, is all the insanely stoopid things we did and broke and crashed and muddled through. The time we paid the carnie $5 to let us ride the zipper over and over again even though we were completely blotto, all the times Charles rescued me when my ratbike was broken on the side of the road, or bumpstarted my reluctant DR350. When he and his bike slid backwards on a trail into me and my bike, wrapping the four of us into a tangled mess, gas burns and all! Hooray for disgusting burns!
At least the burns are memorable (if not scarring)
I have a vague notion that we must have ridden many perfect miles, but they aren't the miles I'll tell my grandchildren about.
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Bartender? I'll have a Googletini!
well, gentle readers, now it is official: I work for Google.
today.
There is NO WAY that I could have gotten a job at Google. We've all heard the stories about the hoops you have to jump through, and the creative criteria.
Six months ago, I was at a job I hated in a dead-end industry. I made a choice to jump ship, take a completely new direction, and, AND?????
more importantly?
found a friend who believed in me and helped me make the jump. A few friends, actually.
found a boss who was willing to take a gamble
somehow, found a company I love, with coworkers I'm totally inspired by.
Today, we are being eaten by Google. Here's a new chapter in the adventure. I hope to hang on as long as I can, and convince these people that I can be trained, despite my lack of experience with the matter at hand, and that I will be worth it.
Six months ago, to now, is a complete 360. I have so much to be thankful for. Today it's Clay, who helped me immensely with a small effort and gamble.
today.
There is NO WAY that I could have gotten a job at Google. We've all heard the stories about the hoops you have to jump through, and the creative criteria.
Six months ago, I was at a job I hated in a dead-end industry. I made a choice to jump ship, take a completely new direction, and, AND?????
more importantly?
found a friend who believed in me and helped me make the jump. A few friends, actually.
found a boss who was willing to take a gamble
somehow, found a company I love, with coworkers I'm totally inspired by.
Today, we are being eaten by Google. Here's a new chapter in the adventure. I hope to hang on as long as I can, and convince these people that I can be trained, despite my lack of experience with the matter at hand, and that I will be worth it.
Six months ago, to now, is a complete 360. I have so much to be thankful for. Today it's Clay, who helped me immensely with a small effort and gamble.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Birffday
A few weeks back (I am totally behind) I had a birthday! And, since I had not had birthday party goodness for a few years, I demanded a little party. It was also Amy's birthday, so we combined festivities and had a get-together at the Park Chalet. Park Chalet is pretty good, and it was a nice warm day, perfect to enjoy the indoor-outdoor park setting. Park Chalet is at the end of Golden Gate Park, near the windmill.
After nearly losing our table due to lateness, the waitress finally took pity on me and seated our half-party. By this time, I was a few beers in. I then drank some more. Beer! I even had the little taster menu, which was darn cute. The food was good, the company was grand, and, oh, did I mention BEER?
Things get a little blurry in the middle, but afterwards, Jennifer and Paul and I walked out to the beach. There were a lot of bonfires, and the weather was reasonably good. Then we hiked up to the Cliff House and down to the Sutro Baths side. That area has changed quite a bit in the past few years. We woke a hobo up in the cave, and then found that some park authority had "closed" off the opening of the cave on the other side. This is where you access what I deemed my favorite spot in all of San Francisco when I was in college. An excellent judge of my own inebriation, I hopped the new fence but did not attempt the climb to my old spot. Next time.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Babytown
Saturday we went down to San Joser to see friends who we have not seen in way, way too long. I am so sad I haven't spent more time with my friends lately, whatever the reasons are. However, I am a little scared of the fact that it seems like I blinked, and parties are now baby parties. There were like a million babies there. That is frightening. Charles took some time out to offer some career advice outside, and we were joined by all the other folks that were skeered of babytown. I guess I am of that age now? Where everyone else starts having babies? I do not know the first thing about the little creatures, so I hope this does not mean we'll drift apart.
Sunday I got to hang out with my sister, who is now happily back to her own last name and officially dee-vorced! Yay!
We went to the Dickens Fair, which was a lot of fun, and I ran into a few people I know.
I feel so overbusy these days, but I can't quite put my finger on the "why." My class is pretty unintrusive, and the hours flexible. I am tempted to do two classes next semester, and also tempted to do none at all. Chinese is so hard, especially with the semester I took off to forget everything... It would be nice to have time to sew, now that I have a new sewing machine. It would be even nicer to keep seeing people I mean to see. But when?
Sunday I got to hang out with my sister, who is now happily back to her own last name and officially dee-vorced! Yay!
We went to the Dickens Fair, which was a lot of fun, and I ran into a few people I know.
I feel so overbusy these days, but I can't quite put my finger on the "why." My class is pretty unintrusive, and the hours flexible. I am tempted to do two classes next semester, and also tempted to do none at all. Chinese is so hard, especially with the semester I took off to forget everything... It would be nice to have time to sew, now that I have a new sewing machine. It would be even nicer to keep seeing people I mean to see. But when?
Monday, December 04, 2006
Thanksgiving
I got hung up on posting because I got stuck at Thanksgiving. Normally, I have a lot of thanks at the ready, but frankly, this past year hasn't been the kind you would be readily thankful for. Should I be thankful for the disastrous ending to my dream of going to the Isle of Man? How about thankful for one of my best friends being in the hospital with a major head injury and no good prognosis (I still think he'll do well, just slowly)? Maybe about my grandfather passing quickly and too soon. And then sprinkle in the crappy work environment I suffered for months, the bleak occupational outlook and accompanying feelings of being trapped and being a failure, the speeding tickets, the weight gain and generally feeling like ass, the horrible luck we showered onto my brother's house, the inability to move into a new place, and, gee, while I'm feeling sorry for myself, we lost the good cats!
Well, OK, you know, all said and done, this has been a shit year. So the thanks didn't come readily, but where I can find them, they are meaningful.
I'm thankful for the late night conversation I had with James when he crashed at my house. I got to tell him exactly how much he meant to me, point blank. I'm thankful that I showed him how much I admired him. I'm thankful that sitting on the couch at the SFMC alone one evening, he said to me "that's the nicest compliment anyone's ever given me." Because I don't think we'll ever have those times again. But I made myself known. James was one of those presences that changed my life for the better. I'm glad I told him that when I had the chance.
I'm thankful for the home and family that my grandfather built for me. I'm thankful for the wisdom and meaning he passed on to me, for the time we got to spend basking in his character and frighteningly broad intellect. I'm thankful for all the love, and for the love I witnessed him giving to the world at large. I'm thankful for all the too-strong hugs and the courage he's given by example. Mostly, I'm thankful for the last time Paul and I made it up there to help with the garden and enjoy my grandparents without the rest of the noise when we had the chance. There's just not always another chance when you think there will be.
I'm thankful for the courage I've been given, to tell people what the mean to me, in the time that I have with them.
I can't find too much thanks for missing out on the Isle of Man, but I did learn this, and it's got to be worth it:
Paul and I have had a lot of good times, so many it seems unreal. But good times are easy, and it's easy to love someone when times are good.
I'm thankful for the knowledge that Paul and I can withstand extreme stress. I know what it looks like when we are angry at each other. I know how Paul will care for me when I overextend myself, when I have great loss, when I feel overwhelmed, or face failure.
Overwhelmingly, this has been a shit year. Next year, I hope to be thankful for much less heavy things, but for now, these will do.
Well, OK, you know, all said and done, this has been a shit year. So the thanks didn't come readily, but where I can find them, they are meaningful.
I'm thankful for the late night conversation I had with James when he crashed at my house. I got to tell him exactly how much he meant to me, point blank. I'm thankful that I showed him how much I admired him. I'm thankful that sitting on the couch at the SFMC alone one evening, he said to me "that's the nicest compliment anyone's ever given me." Because I don't think we'll ever have those times again. But I made myself known. James was one of those presences that changed my life for the better. I'm glad I told him that when I had the chance.
I'm thankful for the home and family that my grandfather built for me. I'm thankful for the wisdom and meaning he passed on to me, for the time we got to spend basking in his character and frighteningly broad intellect. I'm thankful for all the love, and for the love I witnessed him giving to the world at large. I'm thankful for all the too-strong hugs and the courage he's given by example. Mostly, I'm thankful for the last time Paul and I made it up there to help with the garden and enjoy my grandparents without the rest of the noise when we had the chance. There's just not always another chance when you think there will be.
I'm thankful for the courage I've been given, to tell people what the mean to me, in the time that I have with them.
I can't find too much thanks for missing out on the Isle of Man, but I did learn this, and it's got to be worth it:
Paul and I have had a lot of good times, so many it seems unreal. But good times are easy, and it's easy to love someone when times are good.
I'm thankful for the knowledge that Paul and I can withstand extreme stress. I know what it looks like when we are angry at each other. I know how Paul will care for me when I overextend myself, when I have great loss, when I feel overwhelmed, or face failure.
Overwhelmingly, this has been a shit year. Next year, I hope to be thankful for much less heavy things, but for now, these will do.
Monday, September 25, 2006
or maybe I was just reacting to something my boss said
This weekend was another baby shower. Everybody's having babies. I'm not really a baby person, but I do like Jesse and Amy's baby, Quinn, so maybe that's changing? I don't know. But I think it will be pretty neat to be an aunt. And I'm excited for my brother.
So we went to the Turner Compound Friday night. Ben and Megan were flying into Oakland, and would show up later, and we would stay up all Friday night drinking wine and eating chocolate.
Except that's not what happened. Instead, we got to the Turner Compound, looked at some old family photos, then I got sick and had food poisoning and spent Friday night puking every 30-40 minutes. Good times. I felt like shit the rest of the weekend too. Saturday night I wasn't puking but my stomach had a war of the worlds going on inside it, and it was so noisy and bubbly and gurgly, it sounded like we were camping next to a babbling brook.
Ugh.
Sadly, I did not enjoy much festivity with the family this weekend, but I did get to drink mai tais during a few hours of OK-feeling on Saturday evening.
I feel mostly better now. But I feel cheated out of a weekend.
So we went to the Turner Compound Friday night. Ben and Megan were flying into Oakland, and would show up later, and we would stay up all Friday night drinking wine and eating chocolate.
Except that's not what happened. Instead, we got to the Turner Compound, looked at some old family photos, then I got sick and had food poisoning and spent Friday night puking every 30-40 minutes. Good times. I felt like shit the rest of the weekend too. Saturday night I wasn't puking but my stomach had a war of the worlds going on inside it, and it was so noisy and bubbly and gurgly, it sounded like we were camping next to a babbling brook.
Ugh.
Sadly, I did not enjoy much festivity with the family this weekend, but I did get to drink mai tais during a few hours of OK-feeling on Saturday evening.
I feel mostly better now. But I feel cheated out of a weekend.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Critters!
Awesome weekend, in the middle of all this hectic-ness.
Thursday I went and purchased Adobe Illustrator finally. I'd been putting it off... but I really need it for my work and sanity. With the student discount, it was only $100. School has paid for itself!
Then I rushed over to Laguna Honda to visit James. Which was more crowded than I would have liked. I can't take the crowds, but am glad he is getting so much love.
Friday night we went to Lanesplitter and saw Daniel, who is doing well. Yay!
Saturday we went to a wedding in the afternoon, then an after-wedding party at the Rats clubhouse in the evening. Which is a rare appearance for us. It was nice to see folks, and I drank too much crappy beer, so Sunday morning, I had a hangover.
I felt worse than I expected, and begged Paul to get me hangover treats, which he did, despite the fact that he really wanted to sleep, and really should have been cleaning up around the house in preparation for visitors. He returned with my 7Up and Salt & Vinegar chips, which made me feel human very quickly.
My sister arrived and we had a wonderful visit. After gawking at the reptiles and amphibians at the Vivarium, we had ice cream at Sketch on 4th Street, and grazed the cheese at the Pasta Shop. We went for a hike and picnic at the Albany Bulb (feral cats and a pelican), then got some shitty screwtop wine and went to Aquatic Park to subject my sister to ducks and geese (and a few cranes). Dinner at Priya (yum) and then, damn the Templebar closed as we walked back. Feh.
Monday we went up to the UC campus and fed squirrels (which were very aggressive, and climbed all over Paul), then we went up to the tower for a view, and then out to Tilden Park looking for some brush-clearing goats Paul promised. We couldn't find them, so we went to the Little Farm and pet those goats and slapped the sheep a little. Also a few cows, more ducks and geese, some showy turkeys and roosters, and boring bunnies.
A quick walk to Jewel Lake revealed tons of tiny fish, a frog, which I petted with a piece of grass, and several turtles which were parked safely out of slapping range (presumably because they knew we were coming).
All told, this was our critter tally for the weekend:
various reptiles and amphibians
feral cats
a pelican
ducks
two big white geese
a bunch of grey (Canadian?) geese
cranes
squirrels
goats
sheep
roosters and hens
more ducks and geese
cows
pigs
bunnies
sheep
frog
fish
turtles
oh, and the livestock at the Paul homestead, minus the possums, which we earnestly tried to draw out with a jar of jam, but to no avail.
I think my sister had a nice time, and she seemed in very good spirits.
I spent Monday night trying to catch up on some of the stuff I "should" have been doing all weekend: my portfolio book, my homework. feh. I have not even started studying my Mandarin. Aiya!
Thursday I went and purchased Adobe Illustrator finally. I'd been putting it off... but I really need it for my work and sanity. With the student discount, it was only $100. School has paid for itself!
Then I rushed over to Laguna Honda to visit James. Which was more crowded than I would have liked. I can't take the crowds, but am glad he is getting so much love.
Friday night we went to Lanesplitter and saw Daniel, who is doing well. Yay!
Saturday we went to a wedding in the afternoon, then an after-wedding party at the Rats clubhouse in the evening. Which is a rare appearance for us. It was nice to see folks, and I drank too much crappy beer, so Sunday morning, I had a hangover.
I felt worse than I expected, and begged Paul to get me hangover treats, which he did, despite the fact that he really wanted to sleep, and really should have been cleaning up around the house in preparation for visitors. He returned with my 7Up and Salt & Vinegar chips, which made me feel human very quickly.
My sister arrived and we had a wonderful visit. After gawking at the reptiles and amphibians at the Vivarium, we had ice cream at Sketch on 4th Street, and grazed the cheese at the Pasta Shop. We went for a hike and picnic at the Albany Bulb (feral cats and a pelican), then got some shitty screwtop wine and went to Aquatic Park to subject my sister to ducks and geese (and a few cranes). Dinner at Priya (yum) and then, damn the Templebar closed as we walked back. Feh.
Monday we went up to the UC campus and fed squirrels (which were very aggressive, and climbed all over Paul), then we went up to the tower for a view, and then out to Tilden Park looking for some brush-clearing goats Paul promised. We couldn't find them, so we went to the Little Farm and pet those goats and slapped the sheep a little. Also a few cows, more ducks and geese, some showy turkeys and roosters, and boring bunnies.
A quick walk to Jewel Lake revealed tons of tiny fish, a frog, which I petted with a piece of grass, and several turtles which were parked safely out of slapping range (presumably because they knew we were coming).
All told, this was our critter tally for the weekend:
various reptiles and amphibians
feral cats
a pelican
ducks
two big white geese
a bunch of grey (Canadian?) geese
cranes
squirrels
goats
sheep
roosters and hens
more ducks and geese
cows
pigs
bunnies
sheep
frog
fish
turtles
oh, and the livestock at the Paul homestead, minus the possums, which we earnestly tried to draw out with a jar of jam, but to no avail.
I think my sister had a nice time, and she seemed in very good spirits.
I spent Monday night trying to catch up on some of the stuff I "should" have been doing all weekend: my portfolio book, my homework. feh. I have not even started studying my Mandarin. Aiya!
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Updates
Tuesday was Paul's birthday.
Daniel was (is) out of town all this week, so we decided to celebrate Paul's birthday on Friday.
So, Friday night, we had a lovely dinner with Daniel, Jesse, and Amy, at Sea Salt in Berkeley. Being a no-fish person, the dinner fare didn't do much for me, but the deserts were teh yummy. I drank a whole bunch, which led to...
me waking up Saturday with a mysterious headache and icky stomach. How does this keep happening to me?!?!
The mini-hangover wore off just in time for us to get a call from Jesse, to come visit him at his new digs on the Alameda Naval Base (or whatever it used to be).
After checking out their new place and watching Amy shove food into Quinn's mouth, we all took off for a wine and art fair thingy in Alameda. Which was fun. I mean, the people watching was pretty good, and Jesse knows people, people who have wine. We proceeded to get loaded, and then had a big-ass lunch. Their house at the Naval base is pretty cool because there's a lot of open space to walk the dog and throw things for her. Also, some wild geese and rabbits for her to chase. We had to get out of there to return to the City in time to get to bed early because...
Sunday we woke up at 5am to go down to our assigned corner in Golden Gate Park to direct traffic for the San Francisco Marathon. When we got there, we discovered that we'd somehow gotten the one station where there would be no action. The route didn't even come to the intersection we were on, and the roads were closed getting to where we were. A few cars got through and we turned them back, but other than that, we lay in the grass, watched the ducks in the pond, listened to birds singing, homeless people fighting... It was relaxing and nice, other than the 5am aspect.
After the free food and *Tecate* we got for volunteering, we returned for a quick nap, then started walking all over the City. Which is one of the very best ways to spend a nice sunny day like that. We saw awesome buildings in Pacific Heights, and even went to people-watch Marina Chicks. Yes, it's all true. Oversized sunglasses and flip-flops. Blech.
Last night we had more dinner for Paul's actual birthday. Eccolo on 4th Street, which we've wondered about on many occasions. The dinner was fine, service good, but the standout was the warm chocolate cake. OMG.
This week will be a blur while I get ready for this weekend's events and needs.
Paul is the best, by the way. That is all.
Daniel was (is) out of town all this week, so we decided to celebrate Paul's birthday on Friday.
So, Friday night, we had a lovely dinner with Daniel, Jesse, and Amy, at Sea Salt in Berkeley. Being a no-fish person, the dinner fare didn't do much for me, but the deserts were teh yummy. I drank a whole bunch, which led to...
me waking up Saturday with a mysterious headache and icky stomach. How does this keep happening to me?!?!
The mini-hangover wore off just in time for us to get a call from Jesse, to come visit him at his new digs on the Alameda Naval Base (or whatever it used to be).
After checking out their new place and watching Amy shove food into Quinn's mouth, we all took off for a wine and art fair thingy in Alameda. Which was fun. I mean, the people watching was pretty good, and Jesse knows people, people who have wine. We proceeded to get loaded, and then had a big-ass lunch. Their house at the Naval base is pretty cool because there's a lot of open space to walk the dog and throw things for her. Also, some wild geese and rabbits for her to chase. We had to get out of there to return to the City in time to get to bed early because...
Sunday we woke up at 5am to go down to our assigned corner in Golden Gate Park to direct traffic for the San Francisco Marathon. When we got there, we discovered that we'd somehow gotten the one station where there would be no action. The route didn't even come to the intersection we were on, and the roads were closed getting to where we were. A few cars got through and we turned them back, but other than that, we lay in the grass, watched the ducks in the pond, listened to birds singing, homeless people fighting... It was relaxing and nice, other than the 5am aspect.
After the free food and *Tecate* we got for volunteering, we returned for a quick nap, then started walking all over the City. Which is one of the very best ways to spend a nice sunny day like that. We saw awesome buildings in Pacific Heights, and even went to people-watch Marina Chicks. Yes, it's all true. Oversized sunglasses and flip-flops. Blech.
Last night we had more dinner for Paul's actual birthday. Eccolo on 4th Street, which we've wondered about on many occasions. The dinner was fine, service good, but the standout was the warm chocolate cake. OMG.
This week will be a blur while I get ready for this weekend's events and needs.
Paul is the best, by the way. That is all.
Monday, June 19, 2006
people
Weekend was nice. We saw people. Friday night, dinner at Paul's mom's house. Saturday, wine tasting in Livermore with my family (minus brother and his wife). Saturday night, dinner with Charles and Sara! Yay! Sunday, saw some folks in Oakland (or is that Berkeley?) and had dinner and ice cream with Daniel.
Aaahhhhh, so relaxing, and yet somewhat fruitful.
Now I'm focused on the organization for fundraising for James.
There are very few things I am willing to completely push my network for, and this is one of them. So, anyone I know, well or tangentially, will be worked over for this thing. Be forewarned.
Aaahhhhh, so relaxing, and yet somewhat fruitful.
Now I'm focused on the organization for fundraising for James.
There are very few things I am willing to completely push my network for, and this is one of them. So, anyone I know, well or tangentially, will be worked over for this thing. Be forewarned.
Monday, May 22, 2006
"Rebecca Does the Sheetiron, 2006" was made possible by a stunning array of supporting cast.
Friday
Being car-less folk, Paul and I were to head out on our dirtbikes around 5:30 Friday. Charles had our tent and sleeping bags already up at Stonyford. We would get there just about sundown, set up camp in the dark, sleep a bit, then get up early and RIDE.
5:40pm, we are gassed up and away, on our way on an ADVENTURE! Which lasts for precisely 1.5 miles when I realize that Paul has dropped out of my mirror. We limp back to his house on the streets as his bike (which he bought last Sunday since the XR blew up) is cutting out. Vapor lock? Or something worse? Ugh, and it is raining. Paul works like a genius and we are back on the road around 7:00, hoping for the best. It is a 2.5-3 hour ride to Stonyford, and it is raining, and it is all quite stressful.
But we go, Paul in front, as fast as we can on our little knobby tires, up to Dunnigan, which is just near 505 and I5, where we stop for gas. I have been stuck here before on the way back from Sheetiron. There is a weird restaurant. There is also a motel. I am getting the lazies. There's nothing quite as nice as riding through the rain with an open faced-helmet (which is essentially what a motocross helmet is) and feeling the painful repeated pinprick impact of rain on your face. And it is dark, and we will be either setting up a tent in dark and MUD in Stonyford, or sleeping in a warm bed NOW. It's a no brainer, we call Charles and tell him we will hotel, and meet them at Stonyford to ride out in the morning. He sounds skeptical. "we will re-evaluate in the morning," he emphasizes, implying they are thinking that it will rain, and they may just load the trucks and go hang out in Fort Bragg. After a couple of hours on a dirtbike in the rain on the freeway, that sounds fine too. I really, really want to do the Sheetiron, but feel pretty unprepared, and mud riding in torrential rain doesn't appeal to me.
Saturday
Saturday morning, we get into Stonyford around 6:15, and rush to get everything done, re-arranged, set-up, and packed in the right place in the right order. Order of operations is very, very important, as anyone with a riding gear fetish can tell you. We don't actually get out of camp until about 8, which is not ideal. Feh.
Paul and I decide to do easy splits. Saturday morning, there happen to be two easy splits, one not as easy as the other. We take this easy-moderate split since it promises creek crossings and pretty stuff. It takes me a bit to get my legs for riding on the tacky stuff, but it starts to make a little sense.
Here is what I know about riding on the dirt:
1.) Stay on the Gas, or Fall on Your Ass.
Unfortunately, I have lost any tiny bit of skill or knowledge I may have ever had about turning a dirtbike. Sure, I know what you're supposed to do. I have listened to advice and instructions, and can tell you how to do it. I *know* this, but my body does not do it. Well, fine, I run through some slippy and slightly rutty stuff and it's kind of fun and terrifying. I doubt anyone can see or hear this, but whenever I hit slippy stuff, I yell in my helmet at myself. What do I yell?
"GAS! GAS! ASS! UP, UP, UP! GAS!"
"Up" is just to remind me to keep my elbows up and loose, for all the good that will do me. Well, it sort of worked. I mean, I didn't bail.
Fortunately, a chunk of the San Francisco Motorcycle club ends up mixed in with us. I've been hanging out with the SFMC folks for a few years now, and they are the best. Really, I am delighted to be near them.
A little ways in, we get to a small creek crossing, which goes off without a hitch. I look at it with a little trepidation, but it is not a tough creek really, at least from appearances, and is much, much narrower than some I've crossed before. And the other side isn't as rutted as that nasty one we crossed last time. Lionel is standing on the other side and snaps a photo of me crossing. Cool! Can't wait to get his pictures.
Second river crossing is a bit trickier. Normally, I like to size up an obstacle, and hit it from a right angle. Specifically, for a creek, I'd like to have a little running start. No such luck here. Even the small space where I'm wishing I could get my bike to in order to get optimal entry speed and angle, cannot be used as it keeps getting filled up with other riders who came after us. I have to nudge in, or may never get a chance, as new riders keep showing up.
First I watch a few SFMC guys go through. One guy goes down on a DR650, boots in the air and all as he splashes in, then fishes his bike out and drags it to the river bank with friends. Casey enters in a very strange way, trying to turn in the creek, and falls as well. So, what the hell, I go for it, (what else can you do?) and don't quite make it. I know the line I want, but somehow veer right and into a hole that I had wished to avoid. GAS! GAS! GAS! But it isn't really enough, and my bike stalls out. BUT. I have not fallen. Casey runs out to help and so does Lionel. The bank on the other side is fairly steep, and there are people and bikes on the sides. My job? To get out of the creek and up the bank without crashing or hitting anyone. Once up there, crashing is fine, just don't do it in the water, or where you might slide back into the water (possibly taking other bikes and people on the way).
Glancing behind me, I realize that Casey has somehow fallen completely in the water behind me. I don't know what happened, but as he gets up, I gas it, and the guys help guide me and the bike out of the water. Up the bank I go, and it's all I can do to get up the side without hitting all the bikes that have parked at the top of the ridge there. I glide to a stop on the thankfully wide, flat road and wait for the rest of the guys. Woo! I don't know how this could have worked out without Casey and Lionel. So far I have yet to fish my bike out of a creek, and it's not something I look forward to.
Paul arrives effortlessly, and I enjoy my early morning wet sock prize. Creek crossing in the morning means wet squishy toes the rest of the day. Yay! I soaked in it!
SFMC guys go ahead to take some hard splits, and we do the rest of the ride to Lake Pillsbury at a snail's pace set by me and my crappy dirt riding.
Lake Pillsbury lunch stop is always a trip. This place is in the middle of nowhere, and once a year the lot fills up with dirtbikes and we sit on the porch and eat our sandwiches while chickens, ducks and geese wander among us. Greg and Cindy show up. Greg is begging around for bike parts. What bike parts? Brake pads! He forgot to check them in his pre-ride prep, and they are completely gone. No one is carrying spare brake pads (imagine that), so he rides on. He and Cindy are having a blast. I haven't seen them in a long time; I have heard Cindy is quite a good dirt rider, and Greg looks great, having lost a ton of weight and just seeming more healthy and energetic. After lunch, we latch onto SFMC for Casey's cutoff to get into Fort Bragg at a decent hour. Paul and I have ridden a lot and will have a long Sunday ahead of us: 150 miles of dirt riding (like everyone else) and then a 3 hour ride home (unlike everyone else)
CRAPPY dinner in Fort Bragg, notice a new oil leak on my bike (sniff, sniff) which we will have to carry oil for now, and then to bed at a very decent hour. Stagger the fifty feet to Perko's in the morning for breakfast (which takes WAY too long, since they are shortstaffed) and then we are on the road again.
Sunday
The Sunday morning segment of the Sheetiron is a bit of a legend. The Tanktrapper, we have called it. I met Wayne in a ditch three years ago, and, not even knowing he was from SFMC or knew anyone I knew, handed him my basically new DRZ with the keys in it and told him to take it away. I had crashed something like 5 times in a couple of miles, and the ruts were so deep and overwhelming, everyone was crashing around us and yelling, there were puddles 30 feet long the entire width of the road. The first year I did it, I think we spent a few hours just getting through those first few miles.
Then, the next year, it was gone. Totally flat. Lollipop hill, we thought of re-naming it.
So there had been a lot of guessing about conditions this year. Heavy rains pointed toward ruts, but a man we met in the bar in Willits said it had been closed all year to the 4x4 drivers who are the ones who tear it up like that.
Sunday morning leaving Fort Bragg, I am looking forward to it with trepidation and a little excitement and fear and a little adventure. I expect it to be bad, and take the wrong turnoff looking for bad conditions. Oops, no it is the easy road. We ride and ride, and finally I see the spot where I did my 6th and final get-off in front of all the parked bikes that first year. Lollipop Hill it is, again this year. Hmm. I don't know if it's good or bad. Somewhere in between would be good, a little challenging without being so totally horrible would be nice. Well, OK, at least we will make better time, which we need, at our pace. Stop for a quick vista and it starts to drizzle. Damn! Drizzle is fine, but just a little! Rain, I do not want. So we plug ahead, and finally find our selves down at the bottom with the "Road Not Maintained in Winter" sign. Yay! I love that sign! But we don't get to take a picture there; Paul is concerned about my front tire: it appears low. Indeed it IS low, so he puts some air in, and we will keep checking it to see what kind of leak it is. Incidentally, the oil leak seems to have let up a bit. Still, Paul is keeping his distance after I sprayed his bike on the way into Fort Bragg Saturday afternoon.
Next up, a gravel road which I remember "fondly" since:
a.) I have seen at least one guy stuffed into a fence on a surprise right hand hairpin
b.) this is where Eric broke all his toes the first time I went.
c.) Frank from SFMC stacked on a bridge here a few years back, which I think ended with broken bones or something.
(Later I found out Greg high-sided here on Sunday)
O-tay, on we go. Farther and farther down the road, and I am feeling worse and worse. I am supposed to be getting better and better as I ride ahead and get more confident, right? No, it is not working. Toward the end, I am fucking up all the corners and feeling horrible about it. I thought "I am steering this thing like a Goldwing in a parking lot! What the hell is wrong with me?" Deciding I had gotten myself into a bad headspace, I decided to pull out near the bottom for a breather, just before the highway. Into a nice little turnout, and as I pull the front brake lever and get wobbly feedback, I realize my head problem is really a flat tire problem, and I feel elated.
"My tire!"
"I know!"
"I thought it was ME!"
We decide it really must be changed, right now, and commit to it and begin de-gearing. This will take a while; we are not experienced trailside tire changers. But Paul can do anything, it just might take a bit in this case. We are about to plug ahead, when... who is the FIRST person to come down the road after we decide to do a tire change? Phil Douglas, hero, ISDE silver medalist, The Man, the Myth, the Legend. OK, I barely know Phil, but he is easily the coolest person I know. Well, one of the coolest anyway. And although I barely know him, he has been a hero to me several times.
He slows down to see what's up and I point at the culprit. We are about to change the tube. He offers to do it. We feel bad. He reminds us that he can do it in 4 minutes. I know this, I have heard the story somewhere before, but not from him. Phil is the kind of guy people talk about. He is so talented. As I recall, changing a tire in four minutes is part of qualifying for ISDE. "No really, I can do this really fast and save you a lot of time." Of course it is true; this will take us an hour. Phil can do it in 1/15th the time. And he does. It was fun to behold, and I was so very, very thankful. Phil is the best.
Other amazing and cool things Phil has done:
1.) Saved me from putting a seized chain through my case on the EX500 when I didn't know any better.
2.) Made my DRZ400 from a cool bike into The Perfect Bike For Me. People ask me what did he do to your bike? I say "Phil put his hands on it, and that is it." I have no idea; it is a black art, and Phil is a genius. The bike handles like a dream. (though at 36K, it really should go in for a check-up) Take your bike to Phil; it is worth every penny.
3.) Picked me up out of the dirt at Metcalf twice in about five minutes, and told me exactly how to ride out. I have a problem with falling the dirt.
4.) Raised two awesome daughters. This has nothing to do with me, but it is so cool to see.
5.) Oh, yeah. Silver medal in the ISDE. I mean, I GUESS that is pretty cool.
Anyway, we move forward, through a nice paved road (this I can handle) and into the gas stop. Unfortunately, everyone else is here at the same time. EVERYONE. We lose two hours here, but there is no gas between there and the finish, and Paul has a tiny stock tank.
Second half of the day is not so nice. Mendocino National Forest roads are usually quite beautiful, but this time around, the fog is too thick to see the views. In fact, it gets so thick that at times, I can't even see where the road is going. Snow on the side of the road is usual and nice, but this year, it is raining on top of this, and then hailing. It gets so cold, that at some point, I can't feel my fingers. My limbs are stiffening up as I shiver, and this is BAD. I want the bailout. I feel we've done our time, and we have a 2.5 hour ride home on top of this. But we plug ahead, unsure of the bailout directions, and it gets colder and foggier. I am miserable and FREEZING.
But onward we go, and finally to the gate for the last road. It takes a while, but we get through it. I warm up a little as we get near the bottom, where I know there will be one last water crossing, though it is not on the rollchart. It is not a difficult water crossing at all. Finally, we are at the bottom.
Back into camp, and we are wet and miserable. It is raining again, and muddy. The plan is to get our gear, and get on the road. I'm soaked and it's going to be miserable. As we fuss around with changing our clothes and bike-gearing in the mud, the SFMC guys stepped in with ANOTHER godsend: Wayne has room in his truck, and they insist on getting us back home in the truck. Really, we can ride home in the rain. There is nothing to prove here, but it will SUCK. REALLY suck. We are so lucky, and so grateful. Bikes loaded up, and we hit the road, and the rain goes from drizzle to torrential downpour. Holy crap, are we lucky. These guys have their shit together and take care of their friends. I am so lucky to be considered a friend.
Back to Berkeley around 9:30 or so, and I spread the wet gear all over the house to let it dry before we deal with it later. And we are totally wore out. And it was a blast.
I could not do all of this without my friends. And I'm sorry for all the troubles and inconveniences, but so very appreciative. I am just a girl with a lack of skills and a sense of adventure. I always say what I lack in skill, I make up for in enthusiasm. Well, that and a network of friends and acquaintances who are incredible, nice, and talented folk. Without them, all of my bad ideas would never come to fruition.
Thank you all!
-The Score-
Sheetiron 2006:
-The bikes have taken a beating: the XR never even got to go (blown motor) and my DRZ has finally shown some real wear, in the shape of an oil leak and odd squealing (wheel bearings maybe?). Feh!
-I did not crash at all, which leads me to believe I was being too cautious, and not challenging myself enough.
-Paul didn't crash either. He is a great rider.
-I need a lot more dirtbike practice, possibly school or something. I am tired of sucking so much.
-Our room at Super 8 smelled like biological waste. (I've stayed there several times before without problems though)
-It's just not the same without James there. We will be sure to complain about that when we see him next week at the ISLE OF MAN!!!!!
Being car-less folk, Paul and I were to head out on our dirtbikes around 5:30 Friday. Charles had our tent and sleeping bags already up at Stonyford. We would get there just about sundown, set up camp in the dark, sleep a bit, then get up early and RIDE.
5:40pm, we are gassed up and away, on our way on an ADVENTURE! Which lasts for precisely 1.5 miles when I realize that Paul has dropped out of my mirror. We limp back to his house on the streets as his bike (which he bought last Sunday since the XR blew up) is cutting out. Vapor lock? Or something worse? Ugh, and it is raining. Paul works like a genius and we are back on the road around 7:00, hoping for the best. It is a 2.5-3 hour ride to Stonyford, and it is raining, and it is all quite stressful.
But we go, Paul in front, as fast as we can on our little knobby tires, up to Dunnigan, which is just near 505 and I5, where we stop for gas. I have been stuck here before on the way back from Sheetiron. There is a weird restaurant. There is also a motel. I am getting the lazies. There's nothing quite as nice as riding through the rain with an open faced-helmet (which is essentially what a motocross helmet is) and feeling the painful repeated pinprick impact of rain on your face. And it is dark, and we will be either setting up a tent in dark and MUD in Stonyford, or sleeping in a warm bed NOW. It's a no brainer, we call Charles and tell him we will hotel, and meet them at Stonyford to ride out in the morning. He sounds skeptical. "we will re-evaluate in the morning," he emphasizes, implying they are thinking that it will rain, and they may just load the trucks and go hang out in Fort Bragg. After a couple of hours on a dirtbike in the rain on the freeway, that sounds fine too. I really, really want to do the Sheetiron, but feel pretty unprepared, and mud riding in torrential rain doesn't appeal to me.
Saturday
Saturday morning, we get into Stonyford around 6:15, and rush to get everything done, re-arranged, set-up, and packed in the right place in the right order. Order of operations is very, very important, as anyone with a riding gear fetish can tell you. We don't actually get out of camp until about 8, which is not ideal. Feh.
Paul and I decide to do easy splits. Saturday morning, there happen to be two easy splits, one not as easy as the other. We take this easy-moderate split since it promises creek crossings and pretty stuff. It takes me a bit to get my legs for riding on the tacky stuff, but it starts to make a little sense.
Here is what I know about riding on the dirt:
1.) Stay on the Gas, or Fall on Your Ass.
Unfortunately, I have lost any tiny bit of skill or knowledge I may have ever had about turning a dirtbike. Sure, I know what you're supposed to do. I have listened to advice and instructions, and can tell you how to do it. I *know* this, but my body does not do it. Well, fine, I run through some slippy and slightly rutty stuff and it's kind of fun and terrifying. I doubt anyone can see or hear this, but whenever I hit slippy stuff, I yell in my helmet at myself. What do I yell?
"GAS! GAS! ASS! UP, UP, UP! GAS!"
"Up" is just to remind me to keep my elbows up and loose, for all the good that will do me. Well, it sort of worked. I mean, I didn't bail.
Fortunately, a chunk of the San Francisco Motorcycle club ends up mixed in with us. I've been hanging out with the SFMC folks for a few years now, and they are the best. Really, I am delighted to be near them.
A little ways in, we get to a small creek crossing, which goes off without a hitch. I look at it with a little trepidation, but it is not a tough creek really, at least from appearances, and is much, much narrower than some I've crossed before. And the other side isn't as rutted as that nasty one we crossed last time. Lionel is standing on the other side and snaps a photo of me crossing. Cool! Can't wait to get his pictures.
Second river crossing is a bit trickier. Normally, I like to size up an obstacle, and hit it from a right angle. Specifically, for a creek, I'd like to have a little running start. No such luck here. Even the small space where I'm wishing I could get my bike to in order to get optimal entry speed and angle, cannot be used as it keeps getting filled up with other riders who came after us. I have to nudge in, or may never get a chance, as new riders keep showing up.
First I watch a few SFMC guys go through. One guy goes down on a DR650, boots in the air and all as he splashes in, then fishes his bike out and drags it to the river bank with friends. Casey enters in a very strange way, trying to turn in the creek, and falls as well. So, what the hell, I go for it, (what else can you do?) and don't quite make it. I know the line I want, but somehow veer right and into a hole that I had wished to avoid. GAS! GAS! GAS! But it isn't really enough, and my bike stalls out. BUT. I have not fallen. Casey runs out to help and so does Lionel. The bank on the other side is fairly steep, and there are people and bikes on the sides. My job? To get out of the creek and up the bank without crashing or hitting anyone. Once up there, crashing is fine, just don't do it in the water, or where you might slide back into the water (possibly taking other bikes and people on the way).
Glancing behind me, I realize that Casey has somehow fallen completely in the water behind me. I don't know what happened, but as he gets up, I gas it, and the guys help guide me and the bike out of the water. Up the bank I go, and it's all I can do to get up the side without hitting all the bikes that have parked at the top of the ridge there. I glide to a stop on the thankfully wide, flat road and wait for the rest of the guys. Woo! I don't know how this could have worked out without Casey and Lionel. So far I have yet to fish my bike out of a creek, and it's not something I look forward to.
Paul arrives effortlessly, and I enjoy my early morning wet sock prize. Creek crossing in the morning means wet squishy toes the rest of the day. Yay! I soaked in it!
SFMC guys go ahead to take some hard splits, and we do the rest of the ride to Lake Pillsbury at a snail's pace set by me and my crappy dirt riding.
Lake Pillsbury lunch stop is always a trip. This place is in the middle of nowhere, and once a year the lot fills up with dirtbikes and we sit on the porch and eat our sandwiches while chickens, ducks and geese wander among us. Greg and Cindy show up. Greg is begging around for bike parts. What bike parts? Brake pads! He forgot to check them in his pre-ride prep, and they are completely gone. No one is carrying spare brake pads (imagine that), so he rides on. He and Cindy are having a blast. I haven't seen them in a long time; I have heard Cindy is quite a good dirt rider, and Greg looks great, having lost a ton of weight and just seeming more healthy and energetic. After lunch, we latch onto SFMC for Casey's cutoff to get into Fort Bragg at a decent hour. Paul and I have ridden a lot and will have a long Sunday ahead of us: 150 miles of dirt riding (like everyone else) and then a 3 hour ride home (unlike everyone else)
CRAPPY dinner in Fort Bragg, notice a new oil leak on my bike (sniff, sniff) which we will have to carry oil for now, and then to bed at a very decent hour. Stagger the fifty feet to Perko's in the morning for breakfast (which takes WAY too long, since they are shortstaffed) and then we are on the road again.
Sunday
The Sunday morning segment of the Sheetiron is a bit of a legend. The Tanktrapper, we have called it. I met Wayne in a ditch three years ago, and, not even knowing he was from SFMC or knew anyone I knew, handed him my basically new DRZ with the keys in it and told him to take it away. I had crashed something like 5 times in a couple of miles, and the ruts were so deep and overwhelming, everyone was crashing around us and yelling, there were puddles 30 feet long the entire width of the road. The first year I did it, I think we spent a few hours just getting through those first few miles.
Then, the next year, it was gone. Totally flat. Lollipop hill, we thought of re-naming it.
So there had been a lot of guessing about conditions this year. Heavy rains pointed toward ruts, but a man we met in the bar in Willits said it had been closed all year to the 4x4 drivers who are the ones who tear it up like that.
Sunday morning leaving Fort Bragg, I am looking forward to it with trepidation and a little excitement and fear and a little adventure. I expect it to be bad, and take the wrong turnoff looking for bad conditions. Oops, no it is the easy road. We ride and ride, and finally I see the spot where I did my 6th and final get-off in front of all the parked bikes that first year. Lollipop Hill it is, again this year. Hmm. I don't know if it's good or bad. Somewhere in between would be good, a little challenging without being so totally horrible would be nice. Well, OK, at least we will make better time, which we need, at our pace. Stop for a quick vista and it starts to drizzle. Damn! Drizzle is fine, but just a little! Rain, I do not want. So we plug ahead, and finally find our selves down at the bottom with the "Road Not Maintained in Winter" sign. Yay! I love that sign! But we don't get to take a picture there; Paul is concerned about my front tire: it appears low. Indeed it IS low, so he puts some air in, and we will keep checking it to see what kind of leak it is. Incidentally, the oil leak seems to have let up a bit. Still, Paul is keeping his distance after I sprayed his bike on the way into Fort Bragg Saturday afternoon.
Next up, a gravel road which I remember "fondly" since:
a.) I have seen at least one guy stuffed into a fence on a surprise right hand hairpin
b.) this is where Eric broke all his toes the first time I went.
c.) Frank from SFMC stacked on a bridge here a few years back, which I think ended with broken bones or something.
(Later I found out Greg high-sided here on Sunday)
O-tay, on we go. Farther and farther down the road, and I am feeling worse and worse. I am supposed to be getting better and better as I ride ahead and get more confident, right? No, it is not working. Toward the end, I am fucking up all the corners and feeling horrible about it. I thought "I am steering this thing like a Goldwing in a parking lot! What the hell is wrong with me?" Deciding I had gotten myself into a bad headspace, I decided to pull out near the bottom for a breather, just before the highway. Into a nice little turnout, and as I pull the front brake lever and get wobbly feedback, I realize my head problem is really a flat tire problem, and I feel elated.
"My tire!"
"I know!"
"I thought it was ME!"
We decide it really must be changed, right now, and commit to it and begin de-gearing. This will take a while; we are not experienced trailside tire changers. But Paul can do anything, it just might take a bit in this case. We are about to plug ahead, when... who is the FIRST person to come down the road after we decide to do a tire change? Phil Douglas, hero, ISDE silver medalist, The Man, the Myth, the Legend. OK, I barely know Phil, but he is easily the coolest person I know. Well, one of the coolest anyway. And although I barely know him, he has been a hero to me several times.
He slows down to see what's up and I point at the culprit. We are about to change the tube. He offers to do it. We feel bad. He reminds us that he can do it in 4 minutes. I know this, I have heard the story somewhere before, but not from him. Phil is the kind of guy people talk about. He is so talented. As I recall, changing a tire in four minutes is part of qualifying for ISDE. "No really, I can do this really fast and save you a lot of time." Of course it is true; this will take us an hour. Phil can do it in 1/15th the time. And he does. It was fun to behold, and I was so very, very thankful. Phil is the best.
Other amazing and cool things Phil has done:
1.) Saved me from putting a seized chain through my case on the EX500 when I didn't know any better.
2.) Made my DRZ400 from a cool bike into The Perfect Bike For Me. People ask me what did he do to your bike? I say "Phil put his hands on it, and that is it." I have no idea; it is a black art, and Phil is a genius. The bike handles like a dream. (though at 36K, it really should go in for a check-up) Take your bike to Phil; it is worth every penny.
3.) Picked me up out of the dirt at Metcalf twice in about five minutes, and told me exactly how to ride out. I have a problem with falling the dirt.
4.) Raised two awesome daughters. This has nothing to do with me, but it is so cool to see.
5.) Oh, yeah. Silver medal in the ISDE. I mean, I GUESS that is pretty cool.
Anyway, we move forward, through a nice paved road (this I can handle) and into the gas stop. Unfortunately, everyone else is here at the same time. EVERYONE. We lose two hours here, but there is no gas between there and the finish, and Paul has a tiny stock tank.
Second half of the day is not so nice. Mendocino National Forest roads are usually quite beautiful, but this time around, the fog is too thick to see the views. In fact, it gets so thick that at times, I can't even see where the road is going. Snow on the side of the road is usual and nice, but this year, it is raining on top of this, and then hailing. It gets so cold, that at some point, I can't feel my fingers. My limbs are stiffening up as I shiver, and this is BAD. I want the bailout. I feel we've done our time, and we have a 2.5 hour ride home on top of this. But we plug ahead, unsure of the bailout directions, and it gets colder and foggier. I am miserable and FREEZING.
But onward we go, and finally to the gate for the last road. It takes a while, but we get through it. I warm up a little as we get near the bottom, where I know there will be one last water crossing, though it is not on the rollchart. It is not a difficult water crossing at all. Finally, we are at the bottom.
Back into camp, and we are wet and miserable. It is raining again, and muddy. The plan is to get our gear, and get on the road. I'm soaked and it's going to be miserable. As we fuss around with changing our clothes and bike-gearing in the mud, the SFMC guys stepped in with ANOTHER godsend: Wayne has room in his truck, and they insist on getting us back home in the truck. Really, we can ride home in the rain. There is nothing to prove here, but it will SUCK. REALLY suck. We are so lucky, and so grateful. Bikes loaded up, and we hit the road, and the rain goes from drizzle to torrential downpour. Holy crap, are we lucky. These guys have their shit together and take care of their friends. I am so lucky to be considered a friend.
Back to Berkeley around 9:30 or so, and I spread the wet gear all over the house to let it dry before we deal with it later. And we are totally wore out. And it was a blast.
I could not do all of this without my friends. And I'm sorry for all the troubles and inconveniences, but so very appreciative. I am just a girl with a lack of skills and a sense of adventure. I always say what I lack in skill, I make up for in enthusiasm. Well, that and a network of friends and acquaintances who are incredible, nice, and talented folk. Without them, all of my bad ideas would never come to fruition.
Thank you all!
-The Score-
Sheetiron 2006:
-The bikes have taken a beating: the XR never even got to go (blown motor) and my DRZ has finally shown some real wear, in the shape of an oil leak and odd squealing (wheel bearings maybe?). Feh!
-I did not crash at all, which leads me to believe I was being too cautious, and not challenging myself enough.
-Paul didn't crash either. He is a great rider.
-I need a lot more dirtbike practice, possibly school or something. I am tired of sucking so much.
-Our room at Super 8 smelled like biological waste. (I've stayed there several times before without problems though)
-It's just not the same without James there. We will be sure to complain about that when we see him next week at the ISLE OF MAN!!!!!
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
This past Saturday, Paul and I got up early-ish and scurried down to Market Street to catch the Earthquake Cottage on its last display day. The shack itself wasn't much to look at, but the photos and info were interesting, and the fact that you could see the old wood in most of it, stories and all. These shacks were built as a part of a permanent answer to an immediate emergency need. These shacks provided previous slum dwellers who'd lost everything with a permanent structure and the option to take their house out into the "country" (sunset district! See, it IS the suburbs!) and make a new life. What do we have for Katrina refugees? A couple bucks for a hotel, and then out on the street see-ya-later!
Some of these shacks have been cobbled into homes that are still lived in today.
Then.
My folks came to the city and picked us up and we all went to meet Paul's mom at the de Young Museum to see the Arts and Crafts exhibit. It was very cool. Everyone should go. Arts and crafts: very cool. Tower view, very cool. Getting stalked by the old Filipino security guard who kept telling me and the people around that I looked like the Mona Lisa? Not quite "cool," but it made for laughs later.
I worked Saturday night for New Wave city again. 550 Barneveld is a great space, but it's way too far from the rest of the city. It seemed slow. I got some reading done.
Sunday we went back to Berkeley and worked on getting the dirtbikes back into dirtbike trim. Paul had finished the SV tune-up (it idles so much smoother now) and installed the high-low horns Charles bought for my EX500 years ago. These are COOL. Loud. Fuck you mister cellphone driver!
Monday Paul did his part in the ongoing battle against highway litter and picked up a nail on his commute. Charles heroically arrived to save the day and feed him Mexican food. Or something. I don't know, but my boyfriend looks pretty hot in his fancy work outfit with a tiny jack under his Yamabego. All is well now, new tire has been installed.
So the XR can go back to dirtbike.
so we can *finally* go dirt riding this weekend.
*finally*
tonight?
Indian food... mmmmmm.... Priya
Some of these shacks have been cobbled into homes that are still lived in today.
Then.
My folks came to the city and picked us up and we all went to meet Paul's mom at the de Young Museum to see the Arts and Crafts exhibit. It was very cool. Everyone should go. Arts and crafts: very cool. Tower view, very cool. Getting stalked by the old Filipino security guard who kept telling me and the people around that I looked like the Mona Lisa? Not quite "cool," but it made for laughs later.
I worked Saturday night for New Wave city again. 550 Barneveld is a great space, but it's way too far from the rest of the city. It seemed slow. I got some reading done.
Sunday we went back to Berkeley and worked on getting the dirtbikes back into dirtbike trim. Paul had finished the SV tune-up (it idles so much smoother now) and installed the high-low horns Charles bought for my EX500 years ago. These are COOL. Loud. Fuck you mister cellphone driver!
Monday Paul did his part in the ongoing battle against highway litter and picked up a nail on his commute. Charles heroically arrived to save the day and feed him Mexican food. Or something. I don't know, but my boyfriend looks pretty hot in his fancy work outfit with a tiny jack under his Yamabego. All is well now, new tire has been installed.
So the XR can go back to dirtbike.
so we can *finally* go dirt riding this weekend.
*finally*
tonight?
Indian food... mmmmmm.... Priya
Monday, March 20, 2006
Granite countertops, nothing!
The weather smiled on us for the weekend. Gorgeous days! Too bad Saturday was mostly indoors.
We went to hang out with my parents and my sister and Jesse and Amy and the little creature they made. Who is really quite cute. I don't know a damn thing about gardening, except it is really not for me. I like the gardens where they put concrete over everything and then have a glass of wine. That's my style. And it was represented.
We flaked on a wedding (I know, classy, huh?) Saturday night, and stumbled around my neighborhood peeking into the various residences. There is a building I've been lusting after for a while; Saturday I noticed a light on upstairs and climbed up onto a little brick thing to look in. Granite walls! Beautiful building, I want it. We learned a little bit about its owner on the interweb. Ain't cyber-stalking grand?
Sunday was finally SV day.
It was also drinking beer on a parkbench day, incidentally.
I suspect that dirtbiking this weekend will be cancelled on account of raininess?
We went to hang out with my parents and my sister and Jesse and Amy and the little creature they made. Who is really quite cute. I don't know a damn thing about gardening, except it is really not for me. I like the gardens where they put concrete over everything and then have a glass of wine. That's my style. And it was represented.
We flaked on a wedding (I know, classy, huh?) Saturday night, and stumbled around my neighborhood peeking into the various residences. There is a building I've been lusting after for a while; Saturday I noticed a light on upstairs and climbed up onto a little brick thing to look in. Granite walls! Beautiful building, I want it. We learned a little bit about its owner on the interweb. Ain't cyber-stalking grand?
Sunday was finally SV day.
It was also drinking beer on a parkbench day, incidentally.
I suspect that dirtbiking this weekend will be cancelled on account of raininess?
Friday, March 17, 2006
I totally just almost died! (again)
This week has been very, very busy. All I want is to sit in my house for a few hours and stare at the wall or alphabetize my CD's or something...
Sunday we were supposed to work on the SV, but got a better offer when Jesse and Daniel showed up. We went into SF and had a grand time at Toranado and Lingba Lounge.
Monday night I had my midterm for Mandarin. It went OK, I think. I can now argue about prices in Mandarin. Sortof.
Tuesday night I went to Berkeley to help Paul with some stuff, and Wednesday night we went shopping in Union Square. Which was totally exhausting.
Last night I went and saw my folks at the Garden Show, and then I nearly died on the way to dinner afterwards when I was trying to merge onto 280 South at Geneva.
It was raining, and there was a car a ways back in the lane I was merging into, but tons of space, no problem. Then THUNK! *Loud,* over the rain and freeway noise, and I hit the bars. I thought I was going to go over them. I have never hit anything so hard as I FELL into that pothole. Fucking great. My rim is dented now. I was sure I was going down, but the bike took the impact. The SV would not have; I am very lucky. That hole could easily get someone killed, so uhhh, watch out at the Geneva onramp.
Tonight I am going to do -nothing-, and then tomorrow is ridiculously busy again.
Oh, by the way, my boyfriend is totally The Hotness. The future became a different place when I met him, a much closer and more important place. I get excited about things in near and distant futures... the Isle of Man trip is turning into a near future, and that's pretty cool. What's next? ... We've talked about Bhutan... Who knows? Whatever it is, it will be grand.
Sunday we were supposed to work on the SV, but got a better offer when Jesse and Daniel showed up. We went into SF and had a grand time at Toranado and Lingba Lounge.
Monday night I had my midterm for Mandarin. It went OK, I think. I can now argue about prices in Mandarin. Sortof.
Tuesday night I went to Berkeley to help Paul with some stuff, and Wednesday night we went shopping in Union Square. Which was totally exhausting.
Last night I went and saw my folks at the Garden Show, and then I nearly died on the way to dinner afterwards when I was trying to merge onto 280 South at Geneva.
It was raining, and there was a car a ways back in the lane I was merging into, but tons of space, no problem. Then THUNK! *Loud,* over the rain and freeway noise, and I hit the bars. I thought I was going to go over them. I have never hit anything so hard as I FELL into that pothole. Fucking great. My rim is dented now. I was sure I was going down, but the bike took the impact. The SV would not have; I am very lucky. That hole could easily get someone killed, so uhhh, watch out at the Geneva onramp.
Tonight I am going to do -nothing-, and then tomorrow is ridiculously busy again.
Oh, by the way, my boyfriend is totally The Hotness. The future became a different place when I met him, a much closer and more important place. I get excited about things in near and distant futures... the Isle of Man trip is turning into a near future, and that's pretty cool. What's next? ... We've talked about Bhutan... Who knows? Whatever it is, it will be grand.
Monday, March 06, 2006
And how I really feel
When did making a little effort for your friends turn into "herding cats?"
I went to Santa Cruz Thursday because my sister needed me.
I go to see her also when she doesn't need me.
I routinely call people to just have dinner or coffee. I've at many times made routine of riding an hour (regardless of weather) each way to do so.
A true friend isn't the person who is there when you need them. A true friend is there when you don't need them too. If it's all boiled down to emergency lines of friendship-credit, let's re-examine our need for these accounts.
If I have an emergency, I'll call a tow truck or something. I just want a friend.
Let's resurrect the small quiet times of making effort to be friends; BBQing, sharing chocolate and grappa, double-dates, and planning goat-theft.
If that's a pain, just drop the fucking thing. If you're unwilling to invest the time, take the risk of troubling yourself, or bother with the details, then maybe the payoffs aren't for you.
I went to Santa Cruz Thursday because my sister needed me.
I go to see her also when she doesn't need me.
I routinely call people to just have dinner or coffee. I've at many times made routine of riding an hour (regardless of weather) each way to do so.
A true friend isn't the person who is there when you need them. A true friend is there when you don't need them too. If it's all boiled down to emergency lines of friendship-credit, let's re-examine our need for these accounts.
If I have an emergency, I'll call a tow truck or something. I just want a friend.
Let's resurrect the small quiet times of making effort to be friends; BBQing, sharing chocolate and grappa, double-dates, and planning goat-theft.
If that's a pain, just drop the fucking thing. If you're unwilling to invest the time, take the risk of troubling yourself, or bother with the details, then maybe the payoffs aren't for you.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Monday, February 06, 2006
weekend
This weekend we went down to San Jose for a bit and loafed hardcore at my folks’ house. Not a lot else to do down there, I guess. I felt a little bad about letting such a nice Sunday get away from me, but if you’d ever sat around the Turner Compound in the afternoon, you’d understand how this could happen.
Paul put new brake pads on the DRZ Friday and then we spent Friday night playing Katamari Damacy. What? We had Thai food first, so it’s not like we never left the house or something!
Saturday we headed to San Jose to meet my parents and go to dinner, and then to see Bill Maher at the Flint Center. I don’t have cable, but he looked familiar to me. Usually, you have to be drunk to enjoy a comedian. Nope, this guy was funny, and right on the money most of the time. I caught my MOTHER laughing at jokes that included the word “pussy.” Paul claimed he was uncomfortable with sitting next to my mom laughing about jokes involving anal sex. (to be fair, here’s another, opposite-bias article about the same guy) Some of the political comment gave me a little food for thought, some of the man/woman stuff was junk, but it was mostly interesting.
Sunday we did finally make it home, just in time to get pizza and beer with Daniel before bedtime. Sometimes I drink beer and end up letting slip what I really think of people. Oops. It’s because my pizza didn’t get to me in time to shut me up.
Paul put new brake pads on the DRZ Friday and then we spent Friday night playing Katamari Damacy. What? We had Thai food first, so it’s not like we never left the house or something!
Saturday we headed to San Jose to meet my parents and go to dinner, and then to see Bill Maher at the Flint Center. I don’t have cable, but he looked familiar to me. Usually, you have to be drunk to enjoy a comedian. Nope, this guy was funny, and right on the money most of the time. I caught my MOTHER laughing at jokes that included the word “pussy.” Paul claimed he was uncomfortable with sitting next to my mom laughing about jokes involving anal sex. (to be fair, here’s another, opposite-bias article about the same guy) Some of the political comment gave me a little food for thought, some of the man/woman stuff was junk, but it was mostly interesting.
Sunday we did finally make it home, just in time to get pizza and beer with Daniel before bedtime. Sometimes I drink beer and end up letting slip what I really think of people. Oops. It’s because my pizza didn’t get to me in time to shut me up.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Whoa. I have become “that guy.”
The one that sits in front of video games all day and night. I hum the Katamari Damacy tune when I’m at work. I want to roll everything up. Make it bigger. What a nice Katamari! This one feels… snacks-ish.
So, considering the half-day we had at work Friday, I had a three and a half day weekend. What do I have to show for that? Not a lot. But my Katamari is so beautiful!
Saturday we went walking around SF with no plans, bumped into coolness, and followed it to a bar where some friends were spending the evening. Best part? None of that overpriced, long-line New Year’s Eve racket bullshit. I don’t care if it is December 31st, I refuse to pay a $30 cover for a club I normally wouldn’t even visit if it were free. And, fuck a lot of that fixed price (fixed-overprice is more like it), reservation-only crap. Your restaurant is empty. I’ve eaten there on several occasions for half that price, what’s the fucking problem?
We went to a tacqueria and that was just fine. The cashier was totally skimming the till. Hah.
So, yes, we went to a bar, it was free, drinks were had, there were home-made brownies there, and I got to see people I like, and at times it was even quiet enough that I could talk to them.
I’m all trying to be overly nice to people who created hang-ups about me out of nowhere. Women are weird, and their weirdness really just makes me think less of them, but I try to put on a little show. I can’t help your self-esteem issues. Not truly, but I’ll give it a whirl. How was that?
Sunday we slept a lot before venturing out into Union Square. Dinner was crap, cake and coffee were nice, we looked at crap in stores a little, and then headed home, where we proceeded to play We (heart) Katamari, like, way, way too much. Which continued on Monday, when we didn’t even leave the house until after 5pm, to go to the East Bay for Priya (yum) and watch some weird Chinese movie (Not One Less). I’m trying to watch Mandarin movies to just sort of pick out words here and there and pickup some culture or something. A lot of these movies are just weird and depressing. Mostly you just look at it and go “that’s fucked up!” I don’t know if this is making me more, or less, sympathetic. Fingers are firmly crossed. Class starts again in 2.5 weeks.
I read somewhere (maybe it’s a famous quote or something, I don’t know) that while men tend to fixate on being a woman’s first (see also: centuries of fetishizing virginity in women), women are smartly focused on being a man’s last. I’m not too hung up on who came before me. I mean, it’s part of a story, a story that I’m very interested in. I glean tidbits of history, glimpses of personality, and understanding of fears and hopes, needs and dislikes. But there’s a reason things are past tense. I am PRESENT TENSE. Oh, yeah! The past is full of suckers, as far as I’m concerned. Your loss!
I do not know what guys think about this, but here’s a glimpse into the way chicks think (I think. Then again, maybe I don’t really understand women)
Ending #1: he dumped the ex, so I am better than her. But that also means she desperately wants him back! Oh no! That bitch!
Ending #2: She dumped him, so she does not want him. But he is pining for her. That bitch!
As you can see, no matter what, the ex is a threat. That’s where the comparison to the ex comes in:
ex #1: She is so much less successful/smart/charming/whatever-I-think-my-boyfriend-values than I am. I am so much better. That is so cool.
ex #2: She is so much MORE successful/smart/charming/whatever-I-think-my-boyfriend-values than I am. I am so much less. I am so insecure. And I’m fat. And I have a shitty job. And I can’t ride my motorcycle for shit. I’m too tall, I’m too short. And I haven’t read as many books, and I can’t cook, And I don’t have a nice car, And and and... (well, it just gets worse and snowballs. Mostly having less to do with real differences, and more to do with the insecurities the girlfriend already has internally)
Ex #1 will still make insecurities, but it takes another step, wherein girlfriend realizes that since they are so different, the ex must have had something she does not. That bitch!
So, net-net, you are doomed.
Anyway, it’s sort of a pattern that my exes’ following girlfriends have ranged from not liking me, to breaking into screaming fits on street corners at the sight of me (hi sarah! Or whatever name you’re going by now). I am totally evil. Well, and yes, I’m still friends with most of these guys.
Boo. Lame. I have several female friends. Women I truly admire and enjoy. They don’t exhibit these traits, to my knowledge. Insecurities are human, but you gotta own them, and stop taking them out on other people. Somehow, women are usually poorly trained to do that.
Here’s a final clue: Anyone who can’t see that I am completely, utterly happy where I am now needs a head-check. I don’t want (whoever it is)! I am smitten on all levels, and completely out of the game. Your boyfriend likes you, and would probably like you even more if you weren’t full of hang-ups. (Shit, even if he was totally pining for me, it wouldn’t matter. Have you SEEN my boyfriend? He is The Hottness!) If I’m bothering you, just say so. Chances are, it’s a mis-understanding or a bunch of funny feelings manifesting themselves as such. Get on with your life.
Oh, and if you’re dealing with ex #2, whose fucking fault is that? Get your shit together.
So, considering the half-day we had at work Friday, I had a three and a half day weekend. What do I have to show for that? Not a lot. But my Katamari is so beautiful!
Saturday we went walking around SF with no plans, bumped into coolness, and followed it to a bar where some friends were spending the evening. Best part? None of that overpriced, long-line New Year’s Eve racket bullshit. I don’t care if it is December 31st, I refuse to pay a $30 cover for a club I normally wouldn’t even visit if it were free. And, fuck a lot of that fixed price (fixed-overprice is more like it), reservation-only crap. Your restaurant is empty. I’ve eaten there on several occasions for half that price, what’s the fucking problem?
We went to a tacqueria and that was just fine. The cashier was totally skimming the till. Hah.
So, yes, we went to a bar, it was free, drinks were had, there were home-made brownies there, and I got to see people I like, and at times it was even quiet enough that I could talk to them.
I’m all trying to be overly nice to people who created hang-ups about me out of nowhere. Women are weird, and their weirdness really just makes me think less of them, but I try to put on a little show. I can’t help your self-esteem issues. Not truly, but I’ll give it a whirl. How was that?
Sunday we slept a lot before venturing out into Union Square. Dinner was crap, cake and coffee were nice, we looked at crap in stores a little, and then headed home, where we proceeded to play We (heart) Katamari, like, way, way too much. Which continued on Monday, when we didn’t even leave the house until after 5pm, to go to the East Bay for Priya (yum) and watch some weird Chinese movie (Not One Less). I’m trying to watch Mandarin movies to just sort of pick out words here and there and pickup some culture or something. A lot of these movies are just weird and depressing. Mostly you just look at it and go “that’s fucked up!” I don’t know if this is making me more, or less, sympathetic. Fingers are firmly crossed. Class starts again in 2.5 weeks.
I read somewhere (maybe it’s a famous quote or something, I don’t know) that while men tend to fixate on being a woman’s first (see also: centuries of fetishizing virginity in women), women are smartly focused on being a man’s last. I’m not too hung up on who came before me. I mean, it’s part of a story, a story that I’m very interested in. I glean tidbits of history, glimpses of personality, and understanding of fears and hopes, needs and dislikes. But there’s a reason things are past tense. I am PRESENT TENSE. Oh, yeah! The past is full of suckers, as far as I’m concerned. Your loss!
I do not know what guys think about this, but here’s a glimpse into the way chicks think (I think. Then again, maybe I don’t really understand women)
Ending #1: he dumped the ex, so I am better than her. But that also means she desperately wants him back! Oh no! That bitch!
Ending #2: She dumped him, so she does not want him. But he is pining for her. That bitch!
As you can see, no matter what, the ex is a threat. That’s where the comparison to the ex comes in:
ex #1: She is so much less successful/smart/charming/whatever-I-think-my-boyfriend-values than I am. I am so much better. That is so cool.
ex #2: She is so much MORE successful/smart/charming/whatever-I-think-my-boyfriend-values than I am. I am so much less. I am so insecure. And I’m fat. And I have a shitty job. And I can’t ride my motorcycle for shit. I’m too tall, I’m too short. And I haven’t read as many books, and I can’t cook, And I don’t have a nice car, And and and... (well, it just gets worse and snowballs. Mostly having less to do with real differences, and more to do with the insecurities the girlfriend already has internally)
Ex #1 will still make insecurities, but it takes another step, wherein girlfriend realizes that since they are so different, the ex must have had something she does not. That bitch!
So, net-net, you are doomed.
Anyway, it’s sort of a pattern that my exes’ following girlfriends have ranged from not liking me, to breaking into screaming fits on street corners at the sight of me (hi sarah! Or whatever name you’re going by now). I am totally evil. Well, and yes, I’m still friends with most of these guys.
Boo. Lame. I have several female friends. Women I truly admire and enjoy. They don’t exhibit these traits, to my knowledge. Insecurities are human, but you gotta own them, and stop taking them out on other people. Somehow, women are usually poorly trained to do that.
Here’s a final clue: Anyone who can’t see that I am completely, utterly happy where I am now needs a head-check. I don’t want (whoever it is)! I am smitten on all levels, and completely out of the game. Your boyfriend likes you, and would probably like you even more if you weren’t full of hang-ups. (Shit, even if he was totally pining for me, it wouldn’t matter. Have you SEEN my boyfriend? He is The Hottness!) If I’m bothering you, just say so. Chances are, it’s a mis-understanding or a bunch of funny feelings manifesting themselves as such. Get on with your life.
Oh, and if you’re dealing with ex #2, whose fucking fault is that? Get your shit together.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
I’m still making efforts
So I invited people to go to the Supermoto races with us on Saturday, and some people wanted to go. OK, it turned out no one went, but there were people who said they wanted to. People are busy. My point being, I need to start making that effort again; it’s like I forgot there were other people, and that those people might actually be interested. I get a lot of “no” out of a handful of people and I forget there are other folks who might be “yes.” Mental note: try to make plans, and see people, and be social.
I know a lot of people, yet there aren’t many these days who would warrant a phone call for a chat or a ride or a trip to the movies. What happened? I know a lot of people, but they are people I run into places I go. Faces that pop up, but I can’t summon of my own accord. Or don’t. I can’t help but think I’ve wasted my time and heart chasing things that don’t payoff.
It’s time to reset the dial. Turn it a few clicks to the left, rotate out the old, try the new, or at least under-used.
Sunday we called Daniel up and asked him over for BBQ. It was nice, and low key. Paul had spent the morning breathing life into his old dirtbike that had been sitting for a few years. I had given my self a much-needed boredom day of loafing around his place with my laptop but no internet. It’s nice to see old friends, without having to be a big to-do. Beer and BBQ and a whole lot of sitting around. We painted the cat with food coloring.
Saturday we went to Stockton for Supermoto races. It was a lot of fun. I vaguely knew a couple of people racing, so it made it interesting. AND, and this is why you should wish you went, we got to see some guy race the new Aprilia twin supermotard. It was cool, and the guy gave up really racing after the third or fourth lap and just did wheelies and shenanigans for the rest of the race. He still didn’t finish all that badly. Were it a little bigger, say, a 600, it might make a wonderful streetbike. I think. Also, crashes, mullets, free red bull, and some incredibly stupid umbrella girls. (um, the umbrella is supposed to shade the racers. How hard IS your job?!?!?!) A great time.
Saturday night I worked at New Wave City at DNA, which was fun, busy, tiring. I like it when we are at DNA Lounge. I meant to get to Berkeley afterwards, but discovered that it is nearly impossible to get to the East Bay once the bridge closures start. Spent a lot of time trying to get there, then decided I didn’t want to spend any more time or gas with the drunk drivers, and went home. This bridge shit is going to be going on for a LONG time, and is really fucked up.
We have to do some wild cramming to try to get through our Mandarin mid-term, but after this, I mean to make a point to reconnect with old friends. There are plenty of people in my life that I just run into in clubs or on the road. I hardly even go to clubs these days, so I think I’m missing out with some of these folks. On the other hand, I’ve tried so hard with others who just don’t return the thought. Fuck a lot of that. But don’t give up. Just move elsewhere. Keep making the effort.
I am relatively free this coming weekend. I am thinking, perhaps some riding, perhaps some sort of get-together with friends… I don’t know. I hear rumor that MDC may be playing SF this weekend, but didn’t take the time to check that out yet. I may be too old? I also want to hit the deYoung opening for sure, despite the crowds. Am open to other ideas…
I know a lot of people, yet there aren’t many these days who would warrant a phone call for a chat or a ride or a trip to the movies. What happened? I know a lot of people, but they are people I run into places I go. Faces that pop up, but I can’t summon of my own accord. Or don’t. I can’t help but think I’ve wasted my time and heart chasing things that don’t payoff.
It’s time to reset the dial. Turn it a few clicks to the left, rotate out the old, try the new, or at least under-used.
Sunday we called Daniel up and asked him over for BBQ. It was nice, and low key. Paul had spent the morning breathing life into his old dirtbike that had been sitting for a few years. I had given my self a much-needed boredom day of loafing around his place with my laptop but no internet. It’s nice to see old friends, without having to be a big to-do. Beer and BBQ and a whole lot of sitting around. We painted the cat with food coloring.
Saturday we went to Stockton for Supermoto races. It was a lot of fun. I vaguely knew a couple of people racing, so it made it interesting. AND, and this is why you should wish you went, we got to see some guy race the new Aprilia twin supermotard. It was cool, and the guy gave up really racing after the third or fourth lap and just did wheelies and shenanigans for the rest of the race. He still didn’t finish all that badly. Were it a little bigger, say, a 600, it might make a wonderful streetbike. I think. Also, crashes, mullets, free red bull, and some incredibly stupid umbrella girls. (um, the umbrella is supposed to shade the racers. How hard IS your job?!?!?!) A great time.
Saturday night I worked at New Wave City at DNA, which was fun, busy, tiring. I like it when we are at DNA Lounge. I meant to get to Berkeley afterwards, but discovered that it is nearly impossible to get to the East Bay once the bridge closures start. Spent a lot of time trying to get there, then decided I didn’t want to spend any more time or gas with the drunk drivers, and went home. This bridge shit is going to be going on for a LONG time, and is really fucked up.
We have to do some wild cramming to try to get through our Mandarin mid-term, but after this, I mean to make a point to reconnect with old friends. There are plenty of people in my life that I just run into in clubs or on the road. I hardly even go to clubs these days, so I think I’m missing out with some of these folks. On the other hand, I’ve tried so hard with others who just don’t return the thought. Fuck a lot of that. But don’t give up. Just move elsewhere. Keep making the effort.
I am relatively free this coming weekend. I am thinking, perhaps some riding, perhaps some sort of get-together with friends… I don’t know. I hear rumor that MDC may be playing SF this weekend, but didn’t take the time to check that out yet. I may be too old? I also want to hit the deYoung opening for sure, despite the crowds. Am open to other ideas…
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