I catch a glimpse of myself smiling in the passing store window on my way to the bus.
"I just wrote a blog post about how I identify with Blair from Gossip Girl. Now, I am planning a post about how I resonate with Katniss from Hunger Games? Robyn, those characters are complete opposites. One is a prissy privileged dress wearing young woman who meddles in other people's lives and the other is a tough, non-approachable, pants wearing young woman who finds a way to stick it to those in power while fighting for her life."
This time I laugh out loud, startling the older gentleman walking the opposite direction.
"Of course. How fitting that I identify with both the feminine and the badass motif. I am both of those. Maybe someday I will star in a movie about a dress wearing super-hero. Damn, there goes my bus."
Monday, April 16, 2012
Monday, April 2, 2012
One year car[e] free
In 2011, we ditched the '95 Honda Civic hatchback and began the great car-free experiment. One year later, Robyn and I both feel it has been an overwhelming success. The bus is slower, but it creates windows into the soul of the city. I get to exercise for 30 minutes each way on my 5 mile bike commute. And a lack of wheels inspires creativity in planning our unique urban backpacking trips.
But have we actually saved any money?
According to AAA, if we had owned a medium sized sedan and only drove 10,000 miles a year (both conservative estimates), our true cost of ownership (factoring in depreciation, mileage, maintenance, insurance, etc) for one year would run around $7,391.
7.4k per year for a car seems steeper than I would have expected. But upon closer inspection, even that figure might be light. Gas is figured at $2.880 per gallon (hahahahaha!). Also, even with the assumption we would not rent a parking space at $200+ per month, we still would have to pay public transit for one of us to get to school or work.
Compare that figure to $6,000, our total cost for one year of transportation in the post-car era.
The costs roughly fell into the following categories:
~ $1680 for monthly transit passes within SF.
~ $500 for public transit outside SF, such as Robyn's commute to Oakland.
~ $300 for taxi rides on that occasional rainy day or late night at the bars.
~ $2150 to use car-sharing services such as ZipCar or Relay Ride by the hour or day.
~ $750 for rental cars and gas on multi-day trips like Thanksgiving vacation.
~ $620 for airline flights (and you could argue that would be a cost with a car anyway).
What I love about being car-free:
1) Flexibility to choose different car models. Whether it was the Mini Cooper Convertible for a wedding in Santa Cruz, the SUV for tailgating with the parents at the Stanford game, or the Tacoma to load up the bed for a camping trip in the redwoods, we have the flexibility to choose whatever type of car we want.
2) No oil changes, no car washes, no maintenance worries, period.
3) Riding my bike or reading on my commute. No wasted time driving, and no stress.
4) The extra $1400 in my pocket.
Yes, there are some major drawbacks to not having a car, but for us, it was the right decision. I know someday we may have to go back to a car lifestyle, but until then, we will hold out as long as we can.
But have we actually saved any money?
According to AAA, if we had owned a medium sized sedan and only drove 10,000 miles a year (both conservative estimates), our true cost of ownership (factoring in depreciation, mileage, maintenance, insurance, etc) for one year would run around $7,391.
7.4k per year for a car seems steeper than I would have expected. But upon closer inspection, even that figure might be light. Gas is figured at $2.880 per gallon (hahahahaha!). Also, even with the assumption we would not rent a parking space at $200+ per month, we still would have to pay public transit for one of us to get to school or work.
Compare that figure to $6,000, our total cost for one year of transportation in the post-car era.
The costs roughly fell into the following categories:
~ $1680 for monthly transit passes within SF.
~ $500 for public transit outside SF, such as Robyn's commute to Oakland.
~ $300 for taxi rides on that occasional rainy day or late night at the bars.
~ $2150 to use car-sharing services such as ZipCar or Relay Ride by the hour or day.
~ $750 for rental cars and gas on multi-day trips like Thanksgiving vacation.
~ $620 for airline flights (and you could argue that would be a cost with a car anyway).
What I love about being car-free:
1) Flexibility to choose different car models. Whether it was the Mini Cooper Convertible for a wedding in Santa Cruz, the SUV for tailgating with the parents at the Stanford game, or the Tacoma to load up the bed for a camping trip in the redwoods, we have the flexibility to choose whatever type of car we want.
2) No oil changes, no car washes, no maintenance worries, period.
3) Riding my bike or reading on my commute. No wasted time driving, and no stress.
4) The extra $1400 in my pocket.
Yes, there are some major drawbacks to not having a car, but for us, it was the right decision. I know someday we may have to go back to a car lifestyle, but until then, we will hold out as long as we can.
Friday, March 30, 2012
...You know you love me xoxo
 |
| The Cast of Gossip Girl |
Guilty pleasure confession time: I love Gossip Girl. There is something about it that makes me feel warm and fuzzy. I love the feminine fashion, the irrelevant parties and galas, the glamorous New York, and of course the never ending drama.
 |
| Blair Waldorf |
There are many reasons why I am drawn to Blair and I could write a complex, introspective blog on why I laugh and cry with her. But I'm not going going to. I just wanted to share so that next time you sit down to watch your guilty pleasure television show you will know you are not alone.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Pregnancy
No, not with a baby. You freaked out, didn't you?
Rather, I have been contemplating how writing my thesis is like being pregnant. Never having been pregnant, I can not say for sure if it is an exact comparison. I rely on my friends who have been pregnant to determine if these thoughts relate at all to pregnancy.
Carrying from conception to birth only applies to a thesis for now. But I have a new appreciation for those mothers out there. I can still have a glass of wine after a particularly grueling "pregnancy" day.
Rather, I have been contemplating how writing my thesis is like being pregnant. Never having been pregnant, I can not say for sure if it is an exact comparison. I rely on my friends who have been pregnant to determine if these thoughts relate at all to pregnancy.
- I was thrilled and a bit giddy when I first found out what it entailed.
- Now, being so close to the end, I just want it to "push" it out and be done.
- I am ready for my bundle of joy that everyone will ooh and aah over.
- The weight gain...I am heavier now than when I started.
- Lot of friends asks me about it every time I see them and I don't really have much new to report. Only I can sense the minuscule changes that happen on a daily basis.
- I'm worried about the "delivery". I'm worried that I am going to mess it up. I'm worried that something will go wrong. I'm worried that it will be painful.
- Some nights I can't sleep.
- I have done quite a bit of reading in preparation for this big day.
- Danny has picked up the slack around the house. He is supportive and understanding, while doing his best to sympathize, but really he can not fully understand. (Thankfully, maybe one day, he can experience a thesis even though he can't ever experience a pregnancy.)
- I am trying to restructure my life in order to see that this "baby" of mine has the best chance at being the best it can be.
Carrying from conception to birth only applies to a thesis for now. But I have a new appreciation for those mothers out there. I can still have a glass of wine after a particularly grueling "pregnancy" day.
Friday, March 2, 2012
What does it have in its pocketses, Precious?
After picking up a copy at City Lights Bookstore, Robyn and I have taken turns reading through The Hobbit aloud before the non-reader inevitably drifts off to a sleep filled with dreams of dwarves, trolls, and one barefooted Mr. Bilbo.
While I absolutely cannot wait for the movie to come out, it has been an unparalleled joy to sit with Robyn by my side as we slow down our eyes, absorb with our mind, and let our imaginations run wild.
Because, as spoken word artist Taylor Mali puts it:
While I absolutely cannot wait for the movie to come out, it has been an unparalleled joy to sit with Robyn by my side as we slow down our eyes, absorb with our mind, and let our imaginations run wild.
Because, as spoken word artist Taylor Mali puts it:
Once upon a time, we grew up on stories,
and the voices in which they were told.
and the voices in which they were told.
We need words to hold us,
for the world to behold us,
for us to truly know our own souls.
for the world to behold us,
for us to truly know our own souls.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Le[n]t It Be
When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, le[n]t it be
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, le[n]t it be
Le[n]t it be, le[n]t it be, le[n]t it be, le[n]t it be
Whisper words of wisdom, le[n]t it be
Last week signified the beginning of
Lent , the 40 day window before Resurrection Sunday which Christians often observe by fasting or giving up an item of luxury. Although in years past I have either ignored Lent or treated it as a social challenge rather than a spiritual discipline, this year is different.
At SF Lighthouse, we are corporately journeying through the seven sayings of Jesus on the cross, through the Sunday gatherings and the daily blog devotionals. Yesterday was also freedom Sunday, where we talked about our Slavery Footprint (I own 34 slaves) and gave a portion of tithes to Because Justice Matters.
I agree with one of my favorite authors here when he says "In a world of instant gratification, [Lent] is a chance to practice delayed gratification - to fast - so that we can truly appreciate the blessings we have."
Personally, I have decided to give up all meat (except for fish). This sadly means I won't be eating from that delicious magical animal that produces bacon, sausage, and pork chops.
I feel this Lenten season will be an important time for me, both spiritually and practically. I expect it to be a time of repentance, of appreciating blessings, and of refocusing for the very big future questions that loom ahead.
Take it away Paul...
And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree
There will be an answer, le[n]t it be
For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, le[n]t it be
Le[n]t it be, le[n]t it be, le[n]t it be, le[n]t it be
There will be an answer, le[n]t it be
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Shuffle
A few years back, my brother Andy gave me a book titled The White Boy Shuffle. It is an incredibly poetic, imaginative, and perceptive work that makes me both laugh and cry. Now upon my second read, I realize this may be one of my favorite novels of all time.
Thought I would share one of the more lighthearted and fun excerpts from chapter four:
That first day Nick [Scoby] and I went to the park, about fifty players were standing in the hot sun, waiting their turn to play. When the game in progress ended, Scoby walked onto the court, touched his toes, alternately lifted his feet by the insteps until his heels touched his butt, and waited for whoever had winners to tell him who else was on his team. There was some unspoken protocol at work, and Nicholas apparently had diplomatic status. Soon a huge crowd gathered around the sidelines. Right from the start there was an intensity on the court that hadn't been present in the previous game. Players who usually spent most of their precious court time arguing and disputing every call were silent and stealing glances at Scoby whenever they made a shot or did something particularly impressive. Scoby's pregame announcement - "Niggers who come here for the attention best to leave now" - seemed to have had some effect.
I watched Nicholas play a few games and tried to figure what the big deal was. His team always won, but it wasn't like he was out there performing superhuman feats. He didn't sprout wings and fly, he didn't seem to have eyes in the back of his head. There was always someone who jumped higher than he could, handled the ball better. Nick would make five or six baskets and that was it.
...
We played until nightfall. During what was shaping up to be the last game of the evening, it became impossible to see the basket farthest away from the streetlight. It was as if we were playing at the lunar surface during the half-moon. One side of the court was in complete darkness and the other fairly well lit. The score was tied at ten-ten and someone suggested we call the game a draw on account of darkness before someone got hurt. Scoby said, "Next basket wins." My team had the ball and we were shooting at the visible basket. The high schooler in the gray shirt took a short shot that circled around the rim and fell out, right into Nick's hands. Scoby took two spped dribbles, losing the man who was guarding him, and headed upcourt. When he crossed half-court he disappeared into the darkness, then quickly reappeared in the light without the ball. A second later you heard the crashing of the chain net as the ball arced through it.
"Game"
Skipping the ball through my legs, imitating the moves I'd seen during the course of the day, I rounded the corner onto Sherbourne Drive and realized what Scoby's rep was for: he never missed. I mean never.
Thought I would share one of the more lighthearted and fun excerpts from chapter four:
That first day Nick [Scoby] and I went to the park, about fifty players were standing in the hot sun, waiting their turn to play. When the game in progress ended, Scoby walked onto the court, touched his toes, alternately lifted his feet by the insteps until his heels touched his butt, and waited for whoever had winners to tell him who else was on his team. There was some unspoken protocol at work, and Nicholas apparently had diplomatic status. Soon a huge crowd gathered around the sidelines. Right from the start there was an intensity on the court that hadn't been present in the previous game. Players who usually spent most of their precious court time arguing and disputing every call were silent and stealing glances at Scoby whenever they made a shot or did something particularly impressive. Scoby's pregame announcement - "Niggers who come here for the attention best to leave now" - seemed to have had some effect.
I watched Nicholas play a few games and tried to figure what the big deal was. His team always won, but it wasn't like he was out there performing superhuman feats. He didn't sprout wings and fly, he didn't seem to have eyes in the back of his head. There was always someone who jumped higher than he could, handled the ball better. Nick would make five or six baskets and that was it.
...
We played until nightfall. During what was shaping up to be the last game of the evening, it became impossible to see the basket farthest away from the streetlight. It was as if we were playing at the lunar surface during the half-moon. One side of the court was in complete darkness and the other fairly well lit. The score was tied at ten-ten and someone suggested we call the game a draw on account of darkness before someone got hurt. Scoby said, "Next basket wins." My team had the ball and we were shooting at the visible basket. The high schooler in the gray shirt took a short shot that circled around the rim and fell out, right into Nick's hands. Scoby took two spped dribbles, losing the man who was guarding him, and headed upcourt. When he crossed half-court he disappeared into the darkness, then quickly reappeared in the light without the ball. A second later you heard the crashing of the chain net as the ball arced through it.
"Game"
Skipping the ball through my legs, imitating the moves I'd seen during the course of the day, I rounded the corner onto Sherbourne Drive and realized what Scoby's rep was for: he never missed. I mean never.
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