Saturday Morning

I don't mean to wake up early on the weekends but it always seems to happen anyways. Today however, instead of bringing a blanket out to the living room and reading or, more likely, playing video games, I was forced to shower and go out in search of breakfast elsewhere. We had a house guest in our living room and very few people have the same problem I do of sleeping in.

So I am at Starbucks. I set up my computer in a corner and have been sitting, stunned by the amount of people passing through. At any given point this morning every chair is filled, there are ten to fifteen people in line and a similar number standing at the bar, waiting for drinks. Granted, it is the morning of Westmont's graduation, it is still impressive the volume of customers.

The Adventures of Evan and John: Part II

Saturday:

The first thing we (mom, dad, Evan, and I) did on Saturday was drive out to Alpine for breakfast at Janet's cafe. I had a fruit, yogurt, and granola bowl that 10% yogurt, 7% granola, 80% fruit and 3% lettuce.

The second thing we did was search for nylon strapping to attach the new pool cover to the roller. We went to two hardware stores in Alpine and finally to Leslie's Pool Supply.

By this time it was around noon and we had nothing planned until dinner. Evan and I decided to go on an adventure downtown to the Museum of Contemporary Art (MCASD). We arrived at the downtown location, there is another branch in La Jolla, we discovered that there were only three exhibits open. Undeterred, we threw on our visitor stickers, a white, circular sticker with an obese orange 'x' in the middle, and made our way into the galleries.

Exhibit A - Video artist. Subject: North American southwest, post-pre-colonialism.
Walking into a darkened gallery, the first video a visitor is presented with depicts the artist, walking on all fours, wearing a coyote mask on the top of her head. Subsequent displays: artist in a field, artist in a rocking chair with a dog. All video footage of the artist is done against a changing backdrop, representative I guess, of the milieu of contemporary contradictions in the southwest.

Exhibit B - Mixed media sculptor. Subject: Itself.

Exhibit C - Video artist. Subject: Nuclear reactions and Madame Curie.

The whole experience took about twenty minutes. However, we still had time on our parking meter so we decided to walk around for a bit. A few blocks to the north and we stumbled upon an urban farmer's market running through little Italy. We strolled through and still had enough time to get back before the meter was up.

The afternoon was filled with poolside languor and the kind of movies that are only fit to watch in the afternoon. We concluded the night with burgers at Station Tavern in my new favorite part of San Diego, South Park.

The Adventures of Evan and John Part 1

I just returned from a wonderful weekend in San Diego.

It went something like this:

Friday:

Matt no.1 (Roommate), Matt no.2 (Marine, high school friend of Matt no.1), Evan and I all pile into Matt no.1's little Toyota Matrix. Three and a half hours later we roll into Carlsbad and drop Matt no.2 off. It is about one o'clock and we are hungry, not to mention exhausted from approximately two hundred and ten minutes of hardcore underground rap. Matt no.1 (just Matt from now on), Evan and I grab some "real" Mexican food, because "Santa Barbara has crappy Mexican food," from hole-in-the-wall Filiberto's in Encinitas. We roll from there, down the coast to Matt's house. There we discover photo albums of thug-life, high-schooler MattyG. He has a neck the size of my thigh and shoulders set about as wide as a Voltswagon beetle. He was a star lineman on Torrey Pine's high school football team.

Around three my Dad makes the trek to Solana Beach to retrieve Evan and I. We return to Rancho San Diego for just long enough to say hi to Mom before heading out again. Our next destination is Halcyon Tea in South Park. Friday nights they do a free tea tasting from five to seven p.m. Like wine tasting, they start with the lighter teas first. Beginning with a white tea they move towards the darker, more oxidized teas as the night goes on and the sun goes down. Evan and I arrived shortly after five and sat down with two other customers at the far end of the bar. One, a late-twenties Asian guy wearing a baseball cap and Cal t-shirt. The other, a forty-to-fifty year old woman who had recently been laid off. The former felt the need to constantly remind us he had just come from Hamilton's, a local dive bar. The later felt the need to constantly remind us how pitiable her life is; no, you should not make your tea in the microwave and yes you have mentioned that you are just making tea just for one.

The first half an hour went relatively smoothly. Evan and I were cracking jokes, making everyone laugh. The inebriated asian guy (IAG) was providing adequate entertainment as well:

IAG: I love that poo air.

Me: (snorts tea, chokes) What was that?

IAG: The poo air.

Me: You'll really have to excuse me. What?

IAG: I love the way the poo air smells. It just tickles my nostricles.

Me: ...

All tea is made from the same tea plant. The tea leaf becomes a white, green or black tea based on how it is processed after harvesting. A Pu-erh is a type of Chinese tea that is aged and fermented after it is initially processed. Pu-erh teas can be made from green or black teas and are aged anywhere from one to forty years. In IAG's defense, they smell amazing.

By six o'clock we were joined by a small balding man who had died his thinning hair a jet black, possibly to match his younger, Asian girlfriend. By sixty thirty our crowd had grown to include a weekly "regular," probably another poo-air expert, and a small cohort of Korean grandmothers.

All together, a very enjoyable experience.

Worst 13.1 Miles of My Life

mile1.
It is a bit cold outside but life is good, I can do this.

mile2.
Kari and I running together, talking, joking, and generally having a good time.

mile3.
I leave Kari behind, picking up the pace a bit. My right knee starts to hurt but every person I pass is a place I move up.

mile4.
Right knee really sore and tight, I start experimenting with different gaits

mile5.
Right knee really hurts but there are winner and losers and I am a winner

mile6.
I am actually loser, can't run downhill at all and slow to a walk.

mile7.
I can't run at all by this point. Every person I passed is now passing me, probably laughing.

mile8.
Kari catches up to me, checks in, runs on.

mile9.
I have to walk how many more miles!? This is going to take forever.

mile10.
There are still people passing me. A few concerned racers ask if I am OK. A few more offer words of encouragement.

mile11.
It is now painful just to walk. I am going really, really slow. Three old Asian men pass me.

mile12.
I can see all the way down to mile thirteen. I can also see Kari walking my way. If I was

mile13.
With Kari's help I've almost made it.

mile13.1.
I limp across the finish line in 511th place. I eat an orange slice and find a place to sit while Kari goes for the car. I am not exhausted, just relieved that the pain has stopped. I thought that I would have been embarrassed by my performance but it was such a long trek and as I finish I realize this is not the case.

Freedom, a Novel by Jonathan Franzen

Whoa.

A lot just happened. I was accepted to University of California, Irvine and almost died from shock. I also ran-walked a half-marathon and almost died from physical pain. Ok. Maybe that is not a lot. Maybe it is just two things. Still, those were significant events and two near-death experiences for one week is a lot!

So,

Irvine it is!

I am really, really to excited to say this. Irvine, was my first choice and, as many of you know, my last chance. I had all but let go of the possibility of graduate school a week ago when I got the email. This all sounds a bit dramatic but it was surprisingly was quite the opposite. I really had a peace about my future before I found that out. It was just slightly more peaceful to find a plan for next year. It is not that the rejections made this acceptance sweeter. It is just good to go through the process of self-doubt and come out again the other side.

Let us go then you and I

It is wrong to title this post with a Elliot quote and then go about the actual writing Kerouac-style but that is just what I am going to do. These last few weeks have been hard. I found out I had been waitlisted at the University of California in San Diego and denied from the University of California in Los Angeles. No matter the cause, there is a definite hit, a smashing, a pummeling of the ego involved in news of this sort. That is being dramatic but its true. I only share it because I have restricted the readership of this journal to friends and family, people who would find this out eventually. I have been reeling from this defeat and in general, spewing imprecations and stewing in the new questions, Why and what Now. Now holds new possibilities, which is nice, as in, Now that is a nice thing. Why was a bit more troublesome, pernicious and meddlesome. Why prompted me to ask it to the Universities. Los Angeles was very kind in its reply. The reason for the denial decision on your application is inadequate preparation for the major.  Though you have a competitive GPA, you have a BS in Engineering Physics and M.A. in Architecture and you are required to complete the following remedial courses prior to starting the program CEE 108,130,135A,135B, 141 or 142. San Diego was the same but slightly better. Your application is excellent the only portion that is of concern is your degrees not being in civil engineering. I will bring your file up to the committee again. Which is great, I have two open paths. Only. Only I am feeling kind of foolish to think that I could have applied with such gargantuan gaps in my preparation. Only I am feeling very foolish for troubling these Universities when I really only want another. No, I still have not heard from Irvine and no, it is not unreasonable to think that it will be a No. But I can see it is wrong to think that No can't become something else. In the very least it can become an incorrect utilization of proper nouns and poor appropriation of beatnik writing. 

The Spring When Everyone Left

 A few more pictures for posterity:

 Drew's going away party

 Christy, Nate and I go to the Goleta Bluffs

Alice (Matt's fiance) comes to visit

Artsy photo, artisan water, proof that I am urbane

Our Disconsolate and Dying Italian Parsley

Two weeks ago Evan bought a small Rosemary plant for our kitchen. I really liked the idea and a week later bought two ceramic pots and an Italian Parsley plant. It did fine for the first few days, until we actually tried to supplant the Parsley from the plastic pot it came in to the white ceramic one.

I've never seen something with less will to live.

New Roommate

I look forward to breakfast. When I lay down at night, I get excited about it. Breakfast is one of the few consistently good motivators for waking up early. When I have a box of Quaker Oat Squares or even better, granola + fruit + yogurt, I go to sleep like it is Christmas Eve. Of course the corollary to this is that when I am out of milk, cereal or yogurt, I dread the new day.

I had such a night a few days ago.

That is why I was ecstatic to walk out and find three Starbucks paper bags, filled with pastries. There were croissants, blueberry scones and petite vanilla scones. There was a whole bag of coffee cake and cinnamon crumble cake. There were three different types of bagels.

Reed, our new roommate, works at Starbucks and had closed the night before. Apparently they have to get rid of their pastries each day.

Pat and Sandy

The admissions office is located inside Westmont's Kerwood Hall. If one enters the main entrance, it is only a few more steps to the department's door. "It is the second door on the left" - we are constantly reminded by Lexi's instructions to visitors.

From the main hall one can look through the office, straight into the formal gardens. Well, almost. There is a six-something foot tall guy at a computer blocking the view. Lexi, the Campus Visit Coordinator is inside just to the left. The first right is where all the tour guides and students workers hang out. After that, the Admissions Counselors are in cubicles to the left and right. Jodi, the Associate Director of Admissions and my boss, has an office, made from steel framed opaque glass, in the far left corner. Joyce, the Dean of Admissions has a similar office mirrored on the right. Of all these people, I am the only one you can see from the hall proper.

Back where I sit is a large, shared workspace. The inhabitants of such, include myself and two women, Pat and Sandy.

Sandy is the admissions counselor for foreign students as well as Joyce's assistant. She is a Santa Barbara native, is about 5'2" tall, has long, black and wavy hair, and recently her daughter-in-law gave birth to Sandy's second grandchild. Her husband, Bruce, is a nanotechnology engineer (nano-engineer?), loves cookies and Los Agave's mexican food. When Sandy laughs, it is the best thing that happens in the office. When she laughs she maxes no noise, slumps in her chair, straightens her back, each of her limbs and holds onto the seat. If I can make her laugh, it has been a good day.

Pat, or Patricia, is a bit older than Sandy, of a similar height and has completely white hair. She works for the admission's office only nine months out of the year and returns to Salem, Oregon for the remaining three. Anytime a town, city or municipality in Oregon is mentioned, Pat's face lights up. "I know exactly where that is." Consequently, she loves Kari. Pat is also, possibly, the most caring woman in the world. She is sincerely interested in how I am doing and always willing to lend a hand when I am inundated with applications.

We spend a lot of time at our desks and a lot of time together. In the office, I feel more kinship with them than with my roommates, who are a part of different crew all together. They are always willing to answer my questions and sometimes do so with a wink (insider information, don't spread).

The other day Sandy came back to her desk, relieved that whatever task she had just completed was over. "I like working with you two back here."

OMG I DO TOO!