Back in Davis and things are going pretty well. Having fun hanging out with my little (bigger than me) brother, going to be running a game with an old friend, and oh yes, I just got hired at the local comic books store. Which, by some accounts, every geek in town has tried for, but no one ever gets. It has been several years since the last time they were hiring. I just happened to waltz in at exactly the right time. It is so freaking easier to find a job here than in Chicago. It remains to be seen whether I can hack the work, but still, soon I will be sourrounded by comic books on a daily basis. My cup runneth over.

In other news, made it to cearalaith and craymore's wedding. It was very sweet, and kind of nice to see all the folks together across old fued lines, even if just for one day. To me, kind of an illustration of what matters and what doesn't.

mood: bouncy

Welp, today's the day. At 10pm tonight I'm getting on a train bound for Albany NY, en route to visiting my lil' (bigger than me) brother in Vermont. Then a cousin Boston, a bunch of Aunts and Uncles in Connecticut, a day trip to visit a friend of my mom's in New York City, and on the 28th I fly back to the good 'ol Vast Metropolis of Davis (or VMD. Pronounced 'vimmed', ryhmes with 'rimmed'. Everyone there calls it that. I swear. I am totally not pulling random stuff out of my ass.)

*****
Oh Halle-freaking-lujah, we found a subletter! YES!! We are not utterly screwed after all! WOOOOOO!
Ahem.
Ok, that's a relief. It's not a perfect deal, we'll be covering a piece of the rent and a piece of the parking fee monthly, and we're paying for AC installation. But that's still about 2200 we're not going to have to pay over the next three months, and that's a hell of a difference. There is the small temptation to hold out till next week and see if one of the other inquiries yields a better deal, but with two weeks left for J and me almost out the door, we can't afford to gamble on the chance of ending up with nothing. It'll do.
Now I just hope to god the dude's reliable. The building will be running a credit check, that'll have to do.

*****
I'm pretty stressed out at the moment. I think once I'm on the train I'll be all excited again. But last night when I finally started packing all my stuff up (so Joaquin doesn't have to do it all) It finally hit me. Leaving him behind wouldn't be such a big deal since it's just for two weeks, except it keeps getting tangled up in my head with leaving the apartment and leaving the city, and all the dramatic changes in the shapes of our lives as of today. I'm pretty positive it's all for the better, I'm just having flashes of that deer in the headlights feeling.
Bah, stupid packing.

mood: stressed

You know what I hate?

I hate it when you're in communication with someone about a potential transaction, like a job, or, in this case, subletting our apartment. And things look promising, but then for whatever reason this person decides to back out. AND THEN, instead of taking five seconds to drop a two line email, 'I found a place, thanks anyway,' they, like a jr. high kid breaking up with his first girlfriend, simply stop calling. I mean JEEZ! The last thing you wrote to me was confirming a time to see the place and asking for my address. And then from a two day email silence I'm supposed to deduce that you've changed your mind? Would it have killed you to say something before we were up all goddamn night cleaning the place? Did it occur to you that I might have better things to do than sitting around waiting for your chipper ass not to show?

BAH!

I need some chocolate ice cream and a good chick flick.

mood: irritated

So I'm on a new job assignment, and I have very mixed feelings about it. On the up side, the schedule is cushy if odd, 1pm-7pm weds-fri, and 9am-3pm sat and sun. And there is free soda, and by wild coincidence it's the same place Joaquin is working (placed by a different temp agency) so I can have lunch with him a couple days a week. On the down side it represents a cut both in hours (ok, that's both a down and an up) and salary, and it involves staring at a computer constantly, which has tended to give me a headache and an icky feeling by the end of the day. I was seriously planning on asking to be reassigned. BUT then I found the ping pong table in the break room, and this girl from my same agency has been very friendly, and wants to play poing pong with me everyday. And I love ping pong, and I have no friends in Chicago that I didn't inherent from my parents, and darn few of those. So now I'm strongly tempted to see if I can stick it out. On various advice I've been drinking constantly (drinking water that is. My dad's response when I neglected to clarify that was 'yeah, computer work's easier if your drunk') and getting up on one excuse or another every fifteen minutes or so. I think it's helping, some. It would help if I'd been sleeping better, which I haven't, thank you ever so much PMS old buddy old pal.

In other news, we need to find a subletter for July and August, possible part of June. Does anyone have any advice on how to go about doing that?

mood: groggy

~Daily Advice for the pedestrian~
How to cross the street without getting run the fuck over part one: The stare down.

Now it is quite possible to accomplish safe street crossing by timing alone, as becomes necessary in places like Costa Rica, where driver's training involves a complex system of bribery and Pavlovian brainwashing such that normally sweet natured individuals lose all regard for human life once behind the wheel. But in places like the US where a certain amount of murder-by-auto based guilt remains in the cultural psyche, the timing method just takes too damn long. Sometimes you have right of way, and you just don't feel like waiting for the street to clear half a mile in both directions. So you cast your life to the mercy of the oncoming driver. They should slow down. They should stop. But will they? It's a difficult thing to trust to. It would seem like furtively darting across (thus minimizing your time in the 'splat zone') would be a solid strategy, but I have found this not to be the case. It ends up functioning as enabling behavior, letting the driver think they can get away without slowing down. It triggers their draconian predatory instincts. Somewhere in the back of their head a maniacal laugh is swelling at the sight of your cringing flight.

No, the most effective method I've found is a measured, confident walk, coupled with staring the punk down. For that part, it's important to remember that you're staring down the driver, not the car. Look through the wind shield, meet the drivers eyes, and mentally ask them: so leadfoot, how much mental trauma and subsequent legal entanglements do you feel like taking on today? Uh huh, I thought so. Slow it the fuck down, bucko. This tends to work. Why? Well, maybe it's the same reason as with tigers, who prefer to attack from behind. In India folks sometimes wear protective anti-tiger-attack hats with eyes on the back of them. Awesome as that is, I don't think it would work on drivers. Maybe it's because humans are better at spotting the difference between an eye-like splotch of paint and the real thing. But I tend to think it's because the real reason looking the driver in the eye works is because it reminds them that they are not actually the organic brain of a complex car/human hybrid, but merely a fleshy hairless-ape type individual themself, who will eventually have to unbuckle, step out, and face the wrath of your friends and relations via lawsuits and/or back alley duels.


    So my full time scanning gig ended. It's not really getting fired, in that it was a temp position to begin with. And though the powers that be gave no prior warning, the writing was on the wall. This will no doubt make my future financial situation a trifle more precarious, but it was well timed. I had just decided that the schedule (up every day at 5:45 to make it there by 7) was un-acclimate-able. And the mind-numbingness of it all was starting to seriously harsh my mellow. There is word that a new assignment may be forthcoming, so it all ends up acting as a surprise two day vacation, and impractical as it may be, I'm feeling mildly euphoric. This fits in nicely with my new decision to be more self indulgent, in defiance of the part of me that irrationally equates self-denial with virtuousness. (and if anyone detects a trace of Catholic influence in that, your not wrong). Today I slept in, dropped by the art center to work on my ceramic stuff a little, and then went to downtown to the main branch of the library. Which is this freaking huge warren of marble corridors and overlapping escalators. You have to be on the second or third floor before you even see books. I found it all very exciting. I picked up several books on drawing comics/manga, for the a project of my own I've been working on on and off.

One of them makes interesting reference to the controversy anime/manga inspired comics from the Americas. Such as whether they can 'authentically' be called manga, and whether they are all inherently worthless on account of being derivative/cultural piracy. First off, as an artist I've come to appreciate that everything is derivative, either in emulation or rebellion. Derivative only matters if it the work isn't good. And if it is good then by nature it will have more to it then a carbon copy. The cultural appropriation thing is more complicated. On the one hand, I am fully in support of art being inspired and influenced by other art, and drawing cultural barriers to that doesn't make sense, nor would it be possible to enforce. I think the danger is of a dominant culture imitating the art of another without appreciating or respecting it's nuances and significance in context, and then the mainstream embracing the copy and ignoring/forgetting the original. This seems to happen cyclically in American music, and the way the US mainstream understands yoga is another example. I don't think this is what's happening with Anime and manga. If anything serious fans seem apt to get too enamored of the original context, leading to an unrealistically idealized understanding of Japan and Japanese culture no more aware or ultimately respectful of the real people involved than an unrealistically negative conception would be. But I digress. Anyways the part I find fascinating is that the guy credited as the biggest founding influence on modern anime and manga, Osamu Tezuka, was highly influenced by early Disney cartoons. And now a few generations later when Japanese comics and animation have developed a completely different set of visual and narrative conventions than American comics and animation, the influence is starting to go the other direction. I kind of like that. Maybe I'm reading into it too optimistically, but it seems like a refreshing break in US global cultural hegemony.

mood: bouncy

So as my alone-on-Easter present to myself I've been doing some exploration into monetary self indulgence. Nothing too crazy, mostly movies and junk food. I resisted the allure of this uber-fancy latin cuisine place peddling 23$ and up lunch entrees and single servings of ceviche for nothing less then 12$. (and ok, part of that was that they were closed today. But I prefer to think of it as a triumph of self control.)

In actuality the fact that I haven't gone for a fancy meal is probably because of the current state of my stomach. I haven't been eating much the last few days. I've fallen into this particular state of appetite where when I do get hungry half the time I end up ignoring it because the thought of food (with a few unpredictable exceptions) is so unappealing. This is not a particularly good sign. I blame the kettle corn. See, the elderly gentleman I've taken to chatting with over lunch at work tends to share his kettle corn with me. I'm well aware that this is not a great move on my part, but the stuff is so good...also, it acts as a sort of social bribe, ingratiating myself with the friendly one. He seems to really want to share, and no one else will take it. So I cavelierly decided that a handful at a time couldn't do too much harm. But apparently five times a week it adds up. This does not come as a great surprise. I should be switching into ultra-virtuous eating mode now, but given that one of the few things that appeals food wise is chocolate...meh. I'm turning into my father.

Anyhoo, speaking of the strategically questionable, on my way back I stopped as this stupidly fancy grocery store near Navy Pier. The place has valet parking for god's sake. At a grocery store. They also have an array of truly strange chocolates (at 2.50 a pop). Now my own little cross to bear involves a combination of sugar sensitivity and an irresistible fascination with strange and exotic desserts. Seriously, a long standing dream of mine is to get someone I am eating with to order an avacado milkshake just so I can taste it. In keeping with the theme of self indulgence, I got two bonbons: a milk chocolate flavored with olive oil and basil, and a dark chocolate flavored with ginger and wasabi. I took only nibbles of them, working off the pipe dream that if I only have a little at a time I won't pay for it later. They're both really good, believe it or not.

I think the difficulty of living in the big city is it triggers my materialistic fantasies. Not like a lust for big screen tv's and heated toilet seats, but for serious luxury, gourmet food, giant bath tubs, a limosine to the theater and fancy clothes. Mostly the food. Seriously, if I was obscenely wealthy, my bribe of choice would be for folks to comission the mad geniuses who come up with these crazy chocolates to make them sugarless. The five star grocery store also had cappaccino truffles shaped like little coffee cups with molded white chocolate foam. I lust after this stuff like it was a heartthrob in a half-removed tux. My idea of heaven would be one of each type of chocolate they sell, to sample at leisure.

My own life style has recently involved less luxury and more copious boredom. A new kind of paperwork with a different scanning procedure counts as excitement. And nothing sucks like finding out the book on tape du jour is a stinker, leaving with the choice of gritting my teeth through it or no distraction at all. Y'know, there's a certain kind of really bad book that everyone seems to like. I just don't get it. I'm not saying I don't have my one favorite flavor of trash, but when the characterization hits a certain level of two-dimensional predictability, and the internal logic stretches just a little too thin, I just can't get into it. Like this one book, a murder mystery I picked up my first round at the library. The first warning sign was when the third person limited narrator, operating as the female leads thought process casually mentions that both she and her boyfriend are so attractive that they are subject to constant advances from the opposite sex, and thus are usually above petty jealousy. Right. I feel more associated with these people already. God knows it's a constant pain in my ass the way the guys are constantly flinging themselves to lie down in my delectable wake. I mean, really, don't you just hate that? It's not that their attractive. It's just that as a human reaction that seems so...I don't know, false. It's exactly what a person who's barely thought about it would assume an attractive, sympathetic person would think. Real people are more messy and unpredictable. A real person in this situation might enjoy the attention, or resent it, or stop noticing it, or some combination. Anyways, I tried to hold out, and then it turned out the main source of tension in the relationship was that back when he was an FBI agent he was forced into a witness protection program that consisted of faking his death including to his loved ones, which evidently "ruined her life". Narg. And yet I bet you a quarter this bullshit made some form of best seller list. What is the appeal here that I seem to be missing?

It makes me think of Dan Brown. Now, to be fair, I've never read his work. I just saw the movie of Da Vinci code. Which was crap, by the way. I don't mean this as an invective against people who liked it, just an expression of puzzlement. And before anyone asks, it's nothing to do with religion. I'm an agnostic with a fondness for what-if style speculative fiction. I liked the movie Dogma. My problem with Da Vinci Code is that as a work of fiction it's weak. The characters are cliched and poorly developed. The logic is shaky, and the plot is contrived. The female lead is supposedly some sort of puzzle genius, trained since childhood, but her role is strictly second fiddle, standing around being impressed while all puzzles involved are solved by the male lead. The only thing she brings to the table are basic escape skills. The male lead's super clever escape plan when they are captured is to take the single bullet he has acquired and tuck it in the way of the back door of the van they've been kidnapped in, so that, before executing both of them, the kiddnapper cold cocks himself by trying to slam the door and having it bounce. How many times in a million would that actually work? What if he decided to shoot them first and then close the door? What if mr. kidnapper happened not to be a careless dumbass, and actually looked to see what was blocking it? Why does everyone love this? I just don't get it.

mood: tired

Working full time now, 5:45 every day, fun ceramics class, too tired for Aikido, still no social life to speak of, blah blah blah.

Now on to the interesting bit. I am now officially engaged. That's right, he 'popped the question'. The fact that there was nothing much in the way of suspense as to the answer (we've been talking about this since before the move, plus it came right after he fixed me this awesome steak dinner for our anniversary, and hey, what can I say. I'm a sucker for good food.)and that both of us promptly cracked up laughing did nothing to impair the sweetness of the moment. He hid the ring he got me for christmas some eight years ago in the bottom of a dessert bowl full of spiced peaches and fresh blackberries. Then he had to eat one of the peaches himself while I was in the bathroom so I'd find it cuz I was too full to eat much. Given the nature of our relationship, I would call it pretty much perfect. It's funny, it hardly comes as a surprise, and it doesn't materially change much, but it's still exciting.

Now if only our current work schedules didn't prevent us from seeing each other more then a coupe hours three nights a week...

mood: excited

Alright, things seem to be leaning towards the upswing. The last of the temp agencies I signed up with has finally come through, and I've got one assignment on weekends till late February, and assorted other one shot stuff. Still isn't up to the kind of hours I'd like, and the weekend thing involves getting up at five both days. but the pay rate is pretty good, and the work is easy, and inside (it's snowing again. very fluffy). Also I seem to have a decent knack for office work, because after my first little assignment I was put in a position of mild responsibility with the group that goes in on weekends. Which is gratifying. Yesterday I finally made it back to aikido, my first gesture towards trying to pull a social life together. If the money stabilizes a bit I'm thinking about taking a class at the art center down the block as well. It gets discouraging because there's no easy avenue, and I struggle with making new friends with all the awkwardness and angst that most people reserve for romance, but when I get my head out of the sulk zone it all looks fairly hopeful.

mood: hopeful

It snowed today, a little less than an inch, all feathery and sparkly. There was a stage where it looked like the ground was covered in a layer of dandelion fluff.

In other news, I got canned. This was my third night canvassing, and I got nothing. Like, literally, no donations at all. So the guy said it wasn't working out, and let me go. The frustrating thing is I don't know why I did so well my first night, and then so much worse the other two.

I don't feel terrible about it, cuz it basically amounts to I don't have the right money-pheremones to be a sales person, which wasn't something I ever really aspired to anyway. Nor is it that common a talent, it seems like the way these folks operate is by hiring practically anyone, and then ruthlessly weeding for people with whatever magic touch it takes to bring in the bucks. I will miss the people I was working with, a lot of them were neat. But se la vie. Tomorrow it's back to the job hunting.

mood: disappointed

Ok, so the deal is thusly:
I have a job as a canvasser for The Fund for Public Interest Research. The Fund is an organization that does fund raising and campaigning for other non profits, like state PIRGs, environmental stuff, human rights, etc. Currently we're doing an anti global warming campaign for the Sierra Club. So yeah, I go out at night and knock on people's doors and ask them for money. For which I am paid basically minimum wage.

This all is not actually as awful as it sounds. At first I was worried that I would freeze, that wandering around alone in the dark carrying money would be dangerous, and that everyone would be mad at me for interrupting their dinner. But between tons of walking and the adrenaline of being 'on stage' I haven't gotten cold yet (even yesterday, when it was raining. And by the way thanks a million to the thoughtful family member who gave me that plastic raincoat for Christmas. I was the only one on my team not soaking by the end of the night.) And we only hit up affluent neighborhoods, and don't really stay out past 8:30ish, so it hasn't been scary. And people as a whole are surprisingly nice, and more often then not sympathetic.

I partially credit this to careful selection of the neighborhoods we canvas, and partially because the way the job works, I don't actually have to harass anyone. It was carefully explained to me that my job is not to convert people, just to find people who already agree with us, and try to get money out of them. So the minute someone says they're not interested, I'm out of there. That aspect is what makes it tolerable to me, really. So I've had a number of doors closed in my face, but not really been yelled at. And it's all good because those people wouldn't have given me money anyways.

It also sort of seems like I might be good at this, in that on my first night I did really well. The acting (and, yes, the role playing) experience helps, I think, because it's mostly a combination of memorizing and delivering lines, and making a good impression. (also doesn't hurt that I'm so non threatening in appearance)I suppose I could have tried to go into sales, but I never had the stomach for it. But doing this I feel a little like the good vampire or noble assassin, since basically I'm a mercenary door-to-door sales person...for good! Also the people I work with are sort of quirky and fun.

That being said, there are downsides. I'm home today because last night my legs cramped up horribly, and I woke up at 6ish from the pain and couldn't get back to sleep until the apartment warmed up. As my director said, I could probably have worked through it. But as I mentioned, canvassing is all about a positive impression. (one old hand was telling me that once you get one donation, you get more, because your happy and sparkly. But the opposite is also true. It's like people can sense the money in your aura) I may have potential, but I'm not experienced enough to pull off being appropriately shiny when I'm exhausted and in pain. And I do not need a bad night.

Which brings us to the central flaw in the job: there are quotas. You have to earn so much in donations every night. If you earn more, you get a cut as a bonus. If you don't meet the quota on average for two weeks running, they fire you. It's startlingly hard assed for such a liberal organization. My first night I topped the quota by $85. Unfortunately it didn't really count, because that was just my training night. My second night, when it actually counted, I fell short by $35. So we'll see. Everyone keeps telling me I have the potential. It's just a matter of whether I can actually make the grade.

It's something I'm still concerned about. On my second night I kept telling myself it was the rain, or cuz rich people are stingy. (you haven't lived until you've slipped through a wrought iron gate an walked across a broad, manicured lawn only to have the owner stand in the doorway of their mini mansion and tell you their so strapped for cash they can't make even a weeny little donation(and I've accepted fivers with a smile). I have more respect for the people who just say no.) But on reflection I think a big part of the discrepency between the two nights was the quota. The first night I was only required to get one donation. So once I had that I got really relaxed, and the cash just flowed. The second night even after three donations I was getting more and more worried as the night progressed because I knew I wasn't making it. I think the damn things counter productive, but what'cha gonna do? I just have to figure out some way of becoming very happy and confident by monday. There's always drugs...

mood: sleepy

I got a job! Finally!
Details will be forth coming, when I am less incredibly lazy.

mood: accomplished

Yeah, so you know how I told everyone I was going to be keeping a running log on this of my Chicago adventures? I really want to say that's still going to happen, once we get wireless and I can stop competing with necrovore for the internet, or once things calm down a little, or once I find a job. I'm just worried that I'll end up not coming through again. So for now I'll just say I still want it to happen.

Anyways, I don't know that I have the gumption for an extended narrative, but the short version is: still no job. The one I mentioned turned out to be particularly frustrating in that the guy never gave me an answer. He still hasn't. At the time I finally gave up on harassing him he was actively avoiding my calls. There've been a handful more interviews, and I signed up at three different personnel agencies, but so far nothing. It is not a warm fuzzy feeling. Somewhere in there I had this weird experience with a con guy, said he was a real estate CEO starting a magazine and offered to make me creative editor. Then it turned out the only sign of his company actually existing was his myspace page, of which most of the friend links were strippers. Fortunately I figured it out and exited stage left before anything happened.

It's snowy here, which is still a shock to the old Californian system. It's kind of neat though I haven't had the chance to really play in it yet. In more interesting news, barring any sudden, breathtaking job offers I will be back in Davis from the 16th to the 30th. I'll hope to catch up with people then.

mood: sleepy

I finally have a lead on a job, and a good paying one too. Interview on Thursday. Everyone clap your hands and believe in fairies real hard...

mood: anxious

So my Spanish has gotten sadly rusty since leaving Costa Rica. I know, I know, find someone to practice with. But it's not so simple. I'm painfully shy about speaking Spanish to native speakers, and I've more than once had the experience of being shut down by someone who would rather speak English (perhaps getting their own practice in) than deal with my fumbling. But I have recently discovered something awesome: Spanish speaking telemarketers here are not bilingual. Seriously. The only English they seem to know is 'Do you speak Spanish?' And they [i]really[/i] want to communicate. It's great practice, particularly since comprehension by phone is inherently more challenging than face to face. True they are very brief conversations and somewhat limited, mostly just however long it takes to exchange pleasantries, find out what their selling and say I'm not interested, but they're pretty frequent. It may have something to do with the phone line being under "Chavez" (though "Pinto" works just as well for that). Crumbs, maybe, but sweet, chocolaty ones. It always does my confidence good when I can actually communicate.

As to life, Chicago and what not...meh. I'll get to it. It's hard to make time for things when job hunting. It's one of those tasks where no matter how much I do I always feel like I should be doing more, until I collapse in a brain dead stupor to watch bad eighties cartoons on youtube.

mood: working

So, um, hi. I write now because I'm too tired to keep submitting online job applications without messing something up. Y'know what kind of sucks? Job hunting. Sure the internet is big and sparkly, and has millions of possible jobs, but I would trade all that for just one that I could actually [i]have[/i]. Plus it's depressing that all the art/design jobs call for skills I wish I had but don't. Mrph. It's been a long day. But anyways...

So I figure I'll start with the present and work my way back as I get around to it. Unless I ramble. We'll see. So here I am in sunny Chicago. And yeah, it has been sunny. Muggy, in fact. And despite ominous musings that the snow could hit any week now, there has been no sign of it. According to Yahoo some guy died trying to run a marathon here, which is pretty intense considering I don't think it's been much over 90. They say it's not the heat, it's the humidity. For me it's neither, it's when the temperature doesn't change all night long. Now that is a problem. But it hasn't been unremittingly sticky, and there is always, as promised, the wind.

Our apartment is nice, surprisingly so for a building that looks like nothing much. The kitchen is painfully dinky, but it makes up for it with lavish amounts of living and bedroom space, and a full wall spread of windows across both. The windows, in a happy turn of chance, look out exactly on the tops of the trees outside, giving us limitless oppurtunities to spy on our neighbors of the squirrel and bird persuasion. It just about makes up for the fact that the apartment is consistantly ten degrees hotter than it is outside (it'll be nice if that lasts through the winter, but we'll see...)

We seem to be stuck in a stage of two thirds unpacked, now that Joaquin is neck deep in Latin (his professor is an ex monk, how's that for medieval?) and I am lost in the rapture of the job hunt. None the less, it's rather comfy (perhaps more so than when Joaquin gets around to busting out his poster collection, which will be confined to the bedroom against the eventuality of respectable house guests). We're three blocks from the public library (which resembles a capitol building in miniature and, in a stroke of awesome, checks out free passes to the local museums and the zoo) six blocks from the grocery store, and one block from both a bus stop and the Metra train (like the L, but more anti-social). The neighborhood is a little noisy but supposedly fairly safe, on account of the U of C having a private police force, which is it's own kind of creepy. I suppose I shouldn't complain, UCSC had one. But we were off on a hill, it was a matter of courtesy not to gank the city's police.

Man, there's like a million other things to talk about, the lake and the Aikido club I found and just the city. But it's late and this is getting ponderously long already. Much love y'all, I'll be with you when I can.

mood: stressed

I'm sitting on a bench in a hallway outside the entrance to the main library of Joaquin's new university. I can't actually get in, they have plexiglass subway turnstiles that operate by student id. I'm using the campus wifi by sneaking in with Joaquin's password. In two days I will have internet of my very own. In other news, the building across from the library has gargoyles. It is not the only one. while I may have exaggerated to some people (hi Mom!) about 'every building on campus' looking like a castle, it is still well over half. Still job hunting, in my frantic, addlepated way. And yes, if you were wonderinging, it is, in fact, windy. Next time I get to the meat of things, promise.

mood: restless

Gah. Sorry about the false start, my computer decided that this time in my life wouldn't be challenging enough if it just worked like normal. God willing things should come together in the comming week.

Blah
So it looks like I won't have internet of my own for another two weeks, meaning I won't be much available on yon interweb until then. Oh the deprivation. Y'all will just have to carry on stoicly for a bit. Best wishes from City Place of Cornland.

mood: hungry

OMFG!!!!!!
Ahem. Pardon my internet speak. As I mentioned to some folks, I anticipate using this journal more now that I've moved to Chicago. That's right, Chicago. Holy shit. Ahem. Anyways, we don't have our own internet yet, so I'll keep this brief. First off, my apologies to everyone I didn't exactly say good bye to. I took pains to see as many people as I could over the summer, but that last little bit got crazy. I will be in touch. Expect the first installment of the moving saga the next time I get my hands on a connection. Pura vida.

mood: excited

So I haven't been keeping up with my livejournal at all, and that probably won't change for at least another week (GRADUATING!!!!) ahem. But I had to post something about this:
I found out earlier this year that Alette Kendrick, a student activist on my campus who I sorta knew a year or so ago when I was being more politically active, had been arested. What happened was there was a major rally when the UC regents came to our school, protesting ridiculously low wages for custodial workers, the UC involvement in developing nuclear weapons, and a movement particular to UCSC to have an ethnic studies program. At the rally several of the organizers were arested. What was particular about Alette's case is that she was aparently roughed up a bit in the process, and, while fellow organizers arrested for the same things were faced with school punishments to the tune of academic probation, the campus administrators wanted to suspend Alette for three years. Which is apparently the longest suspension anyone at my school has ever heard of. Alette is black. This is not generally considered to ba a coincidence. I haven't been much involved since I've been so swamped with wrapping up for graduation, but I caught little hints of major organizing in support of her. Then a few weeks back I happened on a rally presenting six different petitions to the acting chancellor to drop the charges. It was impressive, including several student organizations, grad students, a handful of proffesors, and reps from campus unions. At the end of it (after the chancellor refused to say anything definitive) the word was put out that she would have a hearing on the 6th, one at which she was being denied legal representation, and required to cross examine her arresting officers herself. Dispite my incredible business, I decided to try and be there. But when the day came I couldn't find anything happening. I shrugged, a little disappointed, and went on with my day. I found out today why nothing happened: we won. Less than a week after the rally I attended the administration caved, Alette will be suspended for one quarter, and the hearing never occured. This kind of thing just fills me with warm gooey hope. Injustice is not inevitable.
(PS apparently the custodial workers also won a major raise this year, totally necessary as previously their wages were lower at UCSC than their counterparts at jr. colleges.)

mood: excited