Santa Cruz & The Irvine Experience

8/16/04- The Irvine Experience

Spent the last week beginning to gear up for my departure on Sunday while also managing to take in some of the best Orange County has to offer. Here are the highlights: Last week I went with my parents and bunch of my dad’s friends to the Fashion Island Summer Concert Series (AKA Where Old Musicians Go To Die). Dave Mason was playing. Yeah, I didn’t really know who he was either, but apparently he was quite popular back in the day. Dave and his band put on a pretty good show, but the real entertainment of the night came from the crowd. Apparently, Newport Beach is where “The Awkward White Man Dance” was first popularized, and the citizens of Newport continue to be the frontrunners in this movement even today. So, without further ado, I’d like to present the awards for the First Annual Awkward White Man Dance Contest: Third Place: To the man in the Hawaiian shirt with the bleach blond hair and shades- For rockin’ out hard core, non-stop, all night long, despite an appalling lack of rhythm and no discernable style. You even rocked out to the pre-show elevator music. And for this, I salute you. Second Place: To the white t-shirt on white shorts dude with very little hair- Despite obviously still being in the research and development phase, your new variation on the twist (ultra-low with a little more bump-n’-grind then we prefer to see from a man your age) will surely be a winner with many awkward, white male dancers in this generation, as well as generations to come. First Prize: To the man standing directly in front of my mother with no unique physical characteristics worth mocking in this forum- Your lack of physical or wardrobe oddity makes your contribution to this year’s competition all the more spectacular. Clearly borrowed from “Charlie Brown’s Christmas Special,” your signature shrug-shoulders, bobble-head move would not, by itself have been enough to qualify you for finals round competition; however, the last minute addition of The World’s Most Robotic Version of the Monkey to your repertoire was more than enough to put your routine over the top. Honorable Mention: To the wife of the man standing directly in front of my mother- Because you yourself are not an awkward, white male, you are not eligible for our top prizes. However, when Dave Mason returned for his encore, you hopped on your chair and began to freak with your husband’s back (nicely complimenting his award-winning move, which I have termed “the Charlie Brown Robot Monkey”), while simultaneously gyrating your ass mere inches from my mother’s face. Mom endured this assault Stoically. I laughed so hard I almost puked. More highlights from the world of Irvine to come. Just you wait.

8/10/04- A salute to Santa Cruz

Moved out of the co-op yesterday and drove back down to Irvine. Can’t say that I was sad to leave, but I did have a good, funky time spending a few months in Santa Cruz outside of school, and living at the co-op definitely help to set the tone for the summer. Especially since I won’t be returning to Santa Cruz for over 4 months, I feel that I’m entitled to a little nostalgia. And with that, I feel it’s time for a Santa Cruz-related Top Five: Top 5 defining Santa Cruz Quotes “If anything ever happens on a tour that's odd, unusual, weird, ect. please let me know. i.e. A naked student somewhere along the tour,Things being thrown at the tour(eggs, water balloons, etc), Excessive mocking of the tour by current students, Students drinking or doing drug, Ect." -Dave, Campus Tour Coordinator “Eewwwww! It smells like banana snail out here!” – Six-year-old boy on a campus tour. “Oh, I keep a journal too. It helps me control my mood swings.” – Crazy lady who sat next to on a bench on Westcliff. “Sorry I didn’t have time to put on a shirt. You want a beer?” –Charlie, property manager of first house we applied for “My theory it, once you make it known that you refuse to pay for anything, the universe just starts giving you stuff for free.” – Anna, former co-oper So yeah, in Irvine. If you are also finding yourself in such southern locations, you should probably call me. It’s the thing to do. All the cool kids are doing it.

7/31/04- A coalition of the lanky and awkward

Watched a bit of the Democratic National Convention this week. Most of what I saw was either fluffy (fluffy- adj. Lacking depth in content) or boring or both. There were a few high points. I liked Clinton’s speech. I also liked John Kerry. Not so much his speech (which was pretty good, but nothing special), but rather, the man himself. Every time I see Kerry speak, or see pictures of him, or reading interviews with him, I like him more and more. And it’s not just because I think he’ll be a good president, which I do (although, I’d enthusiastically support anyone running against Bush). No, what I really enjoy about Kerry is how lanky and awkward he is. Really really lanky (lanky- adj. ungracefully tall and thin). I feel it’s high time this nation had a truly lanky president. Sure, we’ve had our share of tall, thin men (I think the taller guy almost always wins, right?), but it’s the lank I’m talking about. The sheer awkwardness of Kerry’s presence ensures honesty and integrity. This is because physically awkward people rarely lie or deceive for fear that their body will betray their ill-intentions by causing them to trip over their disproportionately long legs and fall on their lying face in some sort of Gerald Ford-like public spectacle of embarrassment (that sure stopped that lying Ford-just kidding, he wasn’t a bad guy, not lanky enough for me though). Also, I have decided that John Kerry reminds me of a basset hound. I really like basset hounds. So Kerry’s got my vote. (striking resemblance, eh?) I went for a really nice bike ride today. Out to Wilder Ranch and then along the cliffs by the coast. So beautiful. But very windy, so much so that it was pretty slow going on the way out- nice and fast on the way back in though. John says he wants to go for a ride tomorrow, so I might take him out there. I certainly wouldn’t mind doing it again. I gave a tour on Thursday morning and at the end, some kid’s mom gave me a tip. $5. I was pretty syked. Most people don’t think to tip their tour guides. I know I wouldn’t, and I am one. I hope others will follow this delightful woman’s lead in the future.

7/28/04- A case for caller ID

Normally, when John answers the phone, he says, “Twelve Tribes Co-op.” That’s the name of the Jewish co-op, when it is, in fact a co-op. But since it’s not a co-op during the summer while only dirty subletters are living here, I usually just say “Hello.” But John’s pretty careful about not offending the few remaining Jews, so he generally toes the co-op line. “Twelve Tribes Co-op.” But last night I was playing phone tag with both Allison and Jess (we’re trying to find a house to rent together for next year- more on that later), so when the phone rang around 9:00, John was absolutely certain that it was Allison calling me back. He answered the phone, “Barny’s Porn Emporium,” then shouted that the phone was for me, and followed that up with some vaguely obscene whipping sounds. I picked up the phone. And heard a disconcertingly middle-aged voice on the other end of the line ask if I was Leyna. It was Jess’s mom. I kind of didn’t know how to deal with that. My roommate had just told this woman that we were a porn emporium, and now she was trying to give me her bank account information so I could finish filling out her daughter’s rental application. It was really pretty awkward. But then once I hung up, it was really pretty funny. Needless to say, John’s a tad embarrassed. So yeah, looking for a house to rent for next year with Lauren, Allison, and Jess. The plan is to find a place (always a good start) and have Brandon live there while I’m in the Netherlands for fall, then when I come back in winter, Brandon leaves for Spain. I’m happy this arrangement has worked out this way, but it’s hard for me to be serious about finding a place to live when I know I’m not going to be living there for four months. But I did manage to get applications into a nice looking house that’s only a block from West Cliff, so maybe we’ll get lucky and that guy will give us the place. Allison has agreed to come down to Santa Cruz again next week with the intention of not leaving until we find someplace to live. Good luck to us, eh?

7/26/04- These blocks, they go in circles

I went for a long and rambling walk the other night and saw a house with a bicycle stuck in the front yard. It was an old and rusted bike and over half of the frame was submerged in the lawn. It had obviously been there forever. I liked it so much that I went out again yesterday with a camera to get a picture of this bike and its yard. But I couldn’t remember the name of the street I saw it on. All I could remember was the direction I felt like I was heading when I saw it, and that it had been on a pleasant-looking tree-lined street. But all of the streets in this neighborhood are pleasant and tree-lined. And many of them go in circles. Needless to say, I couldn’t find the house with the bike stuck in the yard again. I just succeeded in frustrating myself beyond reason. Almost makes me long for planned communities…but then, there’s never anything cool stuck in the front yard of homes in Irvine. The homeowner’s associations would never allow for that sort of thing. Went with John and his friend, Keith, to play poker at Diane and Nina’s house last night. Bet you didn’t even know I played poker, huh? Well, I don’t. I just went to be social. John and I also brought along one of our housemates from the co-op, an Israeli astrophysicist named Elad. He was interested in having the experience of an authentic American poker game (I think he’s been watching a lot of Celebrity Poker on Bravo- he seems to be conducting a very thorough survey of American culture through the wonder that is basic cable). I figured I’d go, learn a few of the basics, play a few hands, loose just enough money to seem like I was cool for playing, but not a complete idiot, and then just hang out. But there turned out to be about 15 of us there to play and some of the kids were really serious poker players, so much so that when it was my turn to deal and I announced that I didn’t know the rules, instead of showing me how, the kid next to me just grabbed the deck and proceeded to deal for me from my position. Dick. I did manage to win a few hands though, so despite my shockingly offensive ignorance, I don’t think I embarrassed myself too badly. But the pleasant surprise of the evening was Elad. I guess all those hours of watching the casts of West Wing and Law and Order play poker really paid off because he kicked some smarmy punk American ass. My trailer-dwelling writing student complained to me today that writing sucks. So I had him write an essay entitled “Why Writing Sucks”. He was so syked to get to use the word “sucks” in a writing assignment that he happily completed the essay, addressing all aspects of the prompt in a clear and concise manner.

7/20/04- Ill-will and the Bubonic Plague

My third grade student neglected to show up for his tutoring session this morning. Do you have any idea how depressing it is to be stood up by an eight-year-old? The kitchen and living room in this house are beginning to look like a serious health hazard. Especially with the recent appearance of a mouse. And not a pet mouse either. We have a cat. It’s supposed to take care of the mouse problem. But all the cat does is bring in fleas. So what‘s the final score? Unsanitary living conditions, unwanted vermin, and disease transmitting bloodsuckers. Does this sound like the perfect conditions for an outbreak of the Bubonic Plague to anyone else? John, our resident expert on all things plague-related, claims that you need rats, “maybe even a specific breed of rat,” to transmit the plague. Still, this seems unhealthy and the student health center doesn't offer inoculations against the Hantavirus, so I’ve enlisted John’s help and tonight we’re going to do some (semi-)serious cleaning. I went for a bike ride yesterday and when I stopped for a few minutes at Steamer’s Lane to watch the surfers, a woman who was passing by noticed the scrape on my arm (still raw and ugly looking) and asked, in a voice usually reserved only for very small children and the mentally handicapped, “Did you fall off your bicycle?” “No, it’s from a skateboarding accident a few days ago,” I told her. Then she said, “Oh, you’re a skateboarder,” in this really flat and kind of hostile tone and then walked away. I think she was disappointed that I wasn’t going to cry to her to take me home to my mommy (or the care giver of my institution, which ever the case may be). Or maybe the thought of someone riding a skateboard was just really distasteful to her. Maybe she was once mugged by a gang of roving skateboarders in a dark alley and has wished ill on all those who would dare to engage in board-like forms of transportation ever since. I can only speculate. Anyway, it was kind of a bizarre encounter and preyed on two of my many many fears regarding social interaction. 1. That, upon meeting me, someone will instantly assume that I am in someway cognitively impaired and spend the duration of our encounter speaking slowly to me and pitying me, and 2. That people will be unkind to me for no reason. T’was quite odd indeed. I’m going to give the Merit Academy my two weeks (plus a few days) notice on Friday. Like I’ve said before, I feel pretty bad about establishing relationships with a number of students only to abandon them so quickly. It seems especially bad since, in order to be hired I told the Merit Academy that I would be around until my graduation in the spring of 2006 (not true no matter how you slice it). They were under the impression that I would be loyally at their service for over two years. But after just two months, here I am, telling them “so long and farewell.” However, I have a plan to convince them that my leaving so quickly was not the premeditated intention of an irresponsible, child-hating deviant, but rather simply the product of a fortuitous turn of events. My plan is to lie. Here my lie: “I applied in fall to the education abroad program, but because the program was so popular I didn’t get in and was put on a waiting list. But at the last minute someone dropped out of the program and they offered the spot to me. Sorry to leave like this. Can’t pass up this once in a lifetime opportunity. So long and farewell.” Who’s going to argue with that? I think it’s a winner.

7/17/04- Throw caution to the wind, self to the asphalt

I went not-sailing again today with Patrick. This is the second time that we have gone to the harbor with the intention of going sailing and then been told by the harbor staff that, for one reason or another, we can’t actually take a boat out. I think Patrick is starting to feel kind of bad about this, especially since he’s been promising to take me sailing since fall. But no big deal, because there’s no shortage of chill things to do on a warm and sunny day in Santa Cruz. We grabbed a couple of skateboards (long boards) from Patrick’s house and skated down to a park to play Frisbee, then on to another park in near the harbor where we played around for a bit in what might just be the world’s smallest and cappiest skate park. Patrick is turning 21 next week and wants to scope out the local Santa Cruz bar scene, so we cruised back down to the harbor to take a look at the bar at The Crow’s Nest. But as we skated into the harbor parking lot there was this hill. I wasn’t going to go down it, but then I did. And then the board wobbled. And then I was lying in the Santa Cruz harbor parking lot with a bit less skin on my knees, my hands, my left elbow, and my left hip than I started with at the top of the hill. Now, I must say, Patrick is a pretty good person to be with it you’re going to hurt yourself because, not only is he a nice guy, but also has some sort of certification in wilderness first aide, so if I had been seriously injured he most likely would have done something more than stand in the in the parking lot poking me with a stick. But as it was, my injuries were minimal. We walked back to Patrick’s place and then I headed back to the co-op to take a long bath in an attempt to scrub as much of the asphalt out of my wounds as I could (more difficult than you might imagine- leads to me to wonder, if you use an entire bar of soap, does black still mean unclean?). But rifling through Tamar’s medicine cabinet, I found her to be severely lacking in the first aid department. She had a tube of Neosporin (which I made liberal use of), but beyond that, I was pretty much out of luck. So with blood dripping down my fingers on my left hand and spotting through my t-shirt, I wandered through Safeway in search of just one item: Band-Aids.

7/14/04- Ode to a red bicycle

Just got back from a tutoring session with New Student #1. Today I met with him at his dad’s house instead of his mom’s. Turns out his dad lives in a trailer park too. Also not a particularly nice trailer park…are there any really nice trailer parks? I guess trailer people marry other trailer people and have trailer children, prompting the birth of a whole new generation of trailer dwellers. Reed moved out for good. And took all of his stuff. Including his bike helmet. And, horror of horrors, the bike I had been riding. I was told that “my” bike belonged to someone named Alex who had moved either to LA or Chile and was never ever coming to take his bike back. But apparently this information was incorrect. You have no idea how sad it made me to see that that bike was gone. So I called Patrick because Patrick is defiantly the person you want to call when you are suffering from bike-related depression. He came over and fixed up one of the other unclaimed co-op bikes for me and now I have a bike to ride again! Then I went to the bike store yesterday and bought a helmet because only complete idiots and Europeans ride bikes without helmets. And according to my passport, I’m not European… I went to the Student Health Center yesterday to get Meningitis and Hepatitis A vaccines. The SHC had recommended that I get them before I go abroad. I wasn’t going to bother (especially since, according to the map on the SHC wall, you are more likely to get Hep A in California than in Europe), but then I started to think about how amazingly stupid it would be to get sick and die of something so preventable. One of my main goals in life is not to die the sort of death that will serve as a warning to others (ie, “and THAT, Billy, is why you should never pick your nose with a circular saw”). I just really don’t want my last words to be, “…if only I had gotten the vaccine.” But while I was sitting in the nurse’s office, I started to get pretty nervous, especially when the nurse took out this massive collection of needles and started comparing length and width, explaining the to me the benefits of each. Finally she found which one she was looking for and gave me the damn shot. But just as she pulled her carefully selected needle out of my arm, I stared to feel really dizzy and light headed. It was so bad I actually had to ask to lie down for a minute, which was kind of embarrassing. So yeah, I guess now I’m safe from Meningitis and Hepatitis A, but after this little escapade, I’ve probably developed a lifelong fear of needles. Had a good time this weekend with all the visitors and such. Saw Jeff, Allison, Jess, and Betsy (Allison’s Davis pal) on Friday night, then Joel came down to join the party (and by “party” I mean “general inactivity of Santa Cruz summer days”) on Saturday. Very nice to see folks one last time before I depart for more Dutch-speaking regions. Especially good to see Joel. Sometimes I miss having him around.

7/9/04- So when’s the impeachment?

I missed my bus to work today. I saw it go by as I was waiting for the light to change at Mission and Bay. I was so close, I could almost taste the exhaust. But did the driver wait for me? No. According to my watch, he was two minutes early. I rode my bike back to the co-op as fast as I could, ditched the bike and hopped in my car. But then, as I was driving up the hill, a bird flew into my driver’s side window. What is it with things flying into me? This wasn’t just a pigeon either. I think it was a scrub jay (you know, like a blue jay except not). Seems like the kind of bird that really should have known better. I just barely made it to work on time, stopping only momentarily in the campus visits parking lot to pray to the gods of free parking that I not be ticketed by TAPS. But after this unfortunate escapade things began to look up. As soon as I got on the tour bus, I could tell it was a good group and I was really on (surprisingly upbeat and coherent for someone who had so recently been the victim of a kamikaze bird attack). I’m fairly certain I gave the best tour ever in the history of UCSC tours (not to be a shameless self-promoter, or anything). One of the kids in the group came up to me afterwards and said, “That was a seriously kick-ass tour.” Another wrote “Rock on!” on my tour evaluation sheet. Even the shuttle driver told me that I should consider a career in public speaking . Yay for me. Although I am a little concerned about peeking so early in my career. Maybe I should just retire now and go out on a high note. Busy weekend coming up. Seems like everyone I know is coming to visit (well, maybe not EVERYONE I know, but still, it‘s a number of folks), which will be fun, but John and I are a little concerned about how we are going to house and feed all of these people. There are only so many skanky couches here at the co-op to go around. Not to worry, we’ll figure it. Besides, once people are drunk enough they tend not to care what they’re sleeping on. I was reading The New York Times online this afternoon, and happened to come across this little article…you may have seen it. Like in big bold letters on the front page? “In a Harsh Critique of U.S. Intelligence, Panel Says C.I.A. Overstated Iraq Threat” . The Senate Intelligence Committee has just completed a 511 pg document detailing its investigation into the intelligence used to make a case for war in Iraq (ie. Iraq has WMDs and will kill us all if we don’t act in the name of all that is good and free and bomb the fuck out of the place). Apparently the report is absolutely scathing. Here are a few of my favorite quotes from the article: “We in Congress would not have authorized that war — we would NOT have authorized that war — with 75 votes if we knew what we know now." -Senator John D. Rockefeller IV (the committee’s ranking Democrat) "Our credibility is diminished. Our standing in the world has never been lower. We have fostered a deep hatred of Americans in the Muslim world, and that will grow. As a direct consequence, our nation is more vulnerable today than ever before." - Senator John D. Rockefeller IV "This was a global intelligence failure." -Senator Pat Roberts (the committee’s ranking Republican) Good. It’s a relief to see that the shocking injustice of this war is beginning to come to light. I am also very please just to know that these kinds of investigations are being conducted. I see it as a reassurance that democracy continues to thrive in this country despite a somewhat crooked and inept executive branch. We must, as a nation, continue to be critical of ourselves and our actions. Admitting that we made a mistake is not an indication of weakness, but rather a sign of integrity and good faith and hopefully will help to restore our relationship with the rest of the international community. Ok, that’s enough time on the soap box for today.

7/6/04- So much to say, so much time to say it.

Six days since the last time I updated. Hope you didn’t think I died. I’d like to offer the excuse that I’ve been busy, but that would really be a horrendous lie, so let’s just accept that I’m lazy and move on. Here are the highlights from the last week: “Celebrate your country’s independence by blowing up a small part of it.” Here’s the deal: fireworks are illegal in the City of Santa Cruz, but since the city doesn’t hold it’s own official 4th of July show, the citizens of Santa Cruz feel compelled to compensate. Went down to Seabright Beach with John, Tyler, and their pal Brian to watch what I though would be just a bunch of kids messing around with fire crackers for an hour or so. Not even close. Apparently everyone within a fifty-mile radius of Seabright who was sober enough to operate a cigarette lighter had brought their own personal arsenal of bottle-rockets, sparkles, cherry-bombs, and even an alarming number of professional-grade fireworks out to the beach. The result: at least an hour and half of the most amazing and chaotic firework’s display I have ever seen. We hunkered down in a sand dune and watched as two home-grown shows were shot off directly over head of us, with the back drop of many many more going on all up and down the beach and the harbor. Truly an amazing sight. To add to the entertainment of the evening, my three companions were all extraordinarily drunk. John made drunken phone calls to everyone he knew, including his grandparents (although I did take his cell phone away from him when he tried to call his mom). Then, after the fireworks died down, we wandered down the beach, where Tyler and Brian had made friends with a camp of Lebanese folks. Brian ranted to them about the greatness of the good ole’ USA, while simultaneously apologizing for American actions in the Middle East, all to the tune of the Lebanese beer that he had been pilfering from their ice chest. I do believe a good time was had by all. Cuisin’ with Pops On Saturday my dad came to visit. He was in San Jose for business, so while he was in the neighborhood he stopped by to hang out with me. We drove up Hwy1 and spent the day in San Francisco. Took our time going up the coast and stopped in Half Moon Bay for lunch, then came back by way of Redwood City (a surprisingly unsurprising place) to catch a movie (Spiderman 2- kind of fun, but too long). A fun day and nice to get a chance to spend some time with my dad since, if you’ll recall, he took off on his motorcycle trip almost as soon as I got home from school. My teacher-of-the-year award must have gotten lost in the mail I started working with two of my new students this week. Yesterday morning I drove out to meet with new student #1- a 9th grade boy with thick glasses who admits freely to being an underachiever. Turns out he lives in a trailer park And not a particularly nice trailer park either. As I drove though the park looking for his address, my only thought was, “Please, let it be a double-wide,” just to give you some idea of the situation. But, much to my relief, when the kid’s mom let me in, I saw that, not only was the trailer fairly large, it was also really new and nicely furnished….Maybe even a little too nicely furnished. I was struck by how everything in the trailer seemed to be just to right piece in just the right place. Then, as I gazed absentmindedly as a bowel of fake fruit on the window sill of the dining room while my student struggled through a worksheet on verb-pronoun agreement, I realized what it was that was so strange out this home. Everything was in exactly the spot it belonged! The family had bought a fully furnished model-home (model-trailer?) and kept each and every one of the pre-fab furnishings. Including fake fruit and decorative jars of peppers in oil. Kinda creeped me out. New Student #2, who I met with today, is a 3rd grader. I’m supposed to tutor him in math, science, reading, and social studies. Please note that none of the subjects listed above are writing. So why the good folks at The Merit Academy gave him to me is beyond me (but hey, I need the hours, so I‘m not complaining- at least to my boss). All I can say is, it’s a good thing he’s only in the third grade because I don’t think I could even do math at any higher grade-level, much less teach it. Anyway, I’m not really that good with little kids and an hour and a half is way too long for this little guy to sit still and do school work, so I’m a little concerned about what I’m going to do with him. I guess I’ll just have to see how it goes. The prodigal dirty hippy returns The infamously absent Reed wandered back into the co-op a few days ago. He was pretty stoned at the time, but he seemed to get the jist of what had happened- mainly that his room had been rented out and all of his stuff (that hadn’t been annexed by other co-opers) had been shoved into the garage. He seemed kinda bummed, dude. But I guess that’s what happens when you hit the road without paying rent. He spent one night on the back porch one of the co-op’s many skanky couches and then departed once again.

6/30/04- It all balances out alright

Yesterday my boss at UCSC Admissions (Dave) sent out an email saying that the fascists at TAPS (transportation and parking services) are cracking down on people parking in the visitor’s lot behind the cook house…because it’s supposed to be for visitors only, so even if you work in the building you aren’t allowed to park there. So out of fear of having to pay for a parking ticket, I am now bike/busing it to work. I ride my bike (there’s that “my” word again) to Mission and Bay and then catch the #16 from there. Kind of a hassle, but I guess it will save me a few bucks on gas, so maybe I should be thanking the TAPS folks after all…no wait, upon reflection, they still suck. Ok, bike, bus, save gas, don’t get ticketed, fine. But wait, isn’t it almost as expensive to buy a Santa Cruz bus pass (as I’m not a student right now, I can’t ride free)? You’d think so, but thanks to the unrelenting corruption of a certain employee in the UCSC summer session office, John and I (and probably numerous others as well) managed to obtain a summer sticker for free. Nice, eh? The only problem is, I can’t figure out if it’s the university or the Santa Cruz metro system that I’m stealing from…oh well, I guess, like so many other misdeed, I just don’t care that much. When I got home from work this afternoon , I checked my email to find that Dave had sent out the tour schedule from July. And, horror of horrors, my hours have been drastically reduced. I have no idea why, but for the next month I will only be giving 3 tours a week, max. Although, Dave did offer me a few hours of office work, I would still be drastically underemployed. But then, just as I was contemplating the prospect of living exclusively off of top ramen for the next 6 weeks for lack of cash to pay for real food (and I do mean top ramen, not “instant lunch” - fuck paying 30 cents extra for dehydrated vegetables), an email from the office assistant at The Merit Academy popped up in my box. She said that she had a new student for me and that I should call her ASAP. With the grim specter of unbearable poverty breathing its ramenny breath down my neck, I called. Turns out she has not one, but two new students for me, both of which I will start working with at the beginning of next week. She also mentioned the possibility of a third if she can make the schedule work out. So it all balances out. What I lose in the convenience of parking on campus, I gain in a free bus pass and not having to spend money on gas. What I lose in tour-giving hours, I gain in tutoring hours, which are actually preferable since I make about one and a half times the $/hr tutoring than I do giving tours. And now I don’t have to move into a refrigerator box behind the bus station or whore myself out on Ocean St. to the lonely and ugly to make up the difference.

6/27/04- Liberal Guilt

I saw Michael Moore’s new documentary, Fahrenheit 9/11, with John and Jacob last night. It’s really good- I highly recommend it. Yeah, it is essentially a propaganda piece, but it still raises a number of valid points and there was quite a bit of info in it that I hadn’t heard before (i.e. Just how much of a financial investment the Bush family has in Saudi Arabian oil, and vise versa). Although, while the film does have a few moments of levity, for the most part it is unrelentingly intense in its criticism of the Bush administration, particularly in their response to 9/11 and resulting military actions (Afghanistan and Iraq). And, unlike Bowling for Columbine, I did not walk away with the sense of having my liberal political stance vindicated and the smug satisfaction of believing that the way I think is the right way to think. Rather, Fahrenheit 9/11 left me with the overwhelming guilt of implication in the misdeeds of Bush and Co. simply for being an American. Watching the film revived in me a vague sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that I haven’t felt since the war began last March (I’m sure my parents remember the joy of having to listen to me rant and rave about the amorality of war the entire time I was home for Spring break, 4 days backpacking in Big Basin having done little to pacify my anger), which I think, is good. Hopefully this film will stir people up again, remind them how angry they should be about loss of thousands of American and Iraqi lives for an unjust war (can war ever be “just”? Maybe I should amend that to “unjustified”). The lines have been around the block all day everyday since the movie opened on Friday at the Del Mar here in Santa Cruz. And I know that the Democrats and the Socialists (and probably Greens too- they’re always around) have been doing voter registration outside the theater. So yeah, Santa Cruz is into it. But I’m sure no one’s surprised by that (how do I love my seaside community of the likeminded? Let me count the ways…). Links of entertaiment to massage your liberal symaphies: Dubbya does Stand-Up Comedy Video Billionaires for Bush Get Your War On

6/25/04- My sarcasm sense is tingling...

Ummm…swarm of flying ants? Yeah, I really wasn’t expecting it either, but as I was innocently peddling my bike (how quickly I’ve come to call it “my” bike) past the Long Marine Lab, I was hit, head on, by a swarm of flying ants. How weird is that? Sometimes nature sucks. Especially when it attacks in the form of a winged armada. I just hope they aren't an endangered species becasue I think I killed most of the ones that hit me...and I'm still feeling kind of guilty about stepping on all those endangered beetles durning their critical mating period last spring. Aside from that singular, unsettling incident, it was a thoroughly enjoyable ride. Spent the afternoon cruising the lower Westside and hanging out at Natural Bridges (definitely my favorite beach in Santa Cruz). I got my first paycheck from the Merit Academy today. A whopping $18! Honestly, I’m embarrassed to go into a bank and deposit only a check for $18...maybe if I brought in a few rolls of quarters to trade in for cash along with my check, my transaction might seem more dignified. I think I’ll scrounge around under the couch and see what I can find.

6/24/04- I told you there'd be porn.

When I came home from work yesterday, everyone in the house was sitting around the living room reading back issues of “Play Boy.” This is not an uncommon sight here at the Rankin St. Jewish Co-op/Porn Emporium. We have a cardboard box full of about three years worth of Play Boys (also a donation from the dearly departed Reed) on permanent display in the living room, also usually a few scattered across the coffee table and various couches. I’ve read a few, and I have to say, I’m not particularly impressed. Jess’s friend, Christian, described Play Boy as Roman Catholic pornography, meaning that, while it is porn, it adheres to a very traditional standard of porn and in no way deviates from this set standard. All of the women look essentially the same, only slight differences being in enormity of breast, and hair color, and all of the articles reinforce the American hegemonic ideals about sex, relationships, and patriarchal society. One out of every five issues has a good short story in it though, but that’s about all they have going for them. Tried out Heather’s long board last night. While the long board is much better equipped for Santa Cruz’s ill repaired streets (no unplanned stops this time), it has all the maneuverability of a four foot long piece of wood on wheels (surprise surprise). I think my car has a better turning radius. It does go fast though, so that’s fun…it’s really amazing that I didn’t hurt myself. (Longboard: this isn't me, but you get the idea) On Tuesday my student complained that he doesn’t like writing essays. Who does? I tried to explain to him why it’s important to be able to write well, but I’m not sure he bought it. I’m trying to think of more creative writing activities for him to do…although today I’m going to have him do grammar worksheets and outline practice, which seems even less creative than the essays.

6/21/04- Skateboarding is not a crime.

What’s the best thing about living in a co-op? Communal means of transportation. I found out yesterday (with the help of Patrick, who, I’m pleased to say, has just moved back into town) that there are multiple co-op bicycles as well as co-op skateboards and co-op roller blades. Here’s how it works: people move out of the co-op, but leave their stuff. Why? I don’t know. Presumably some of these folks are only gone for the summer and will be back next year, but I really can’t say that with any certainty. Anyway, having a bike is a real asset, and makes my evening jaunts to the beach a lot more fun. Last night I hopped on a red ten-speed that used to belong to someone named Alex, donned Reed’s helmet, and headed out to Natural Bridges. Then, this afternoon after work I decided to try out Reed’s skateboard. I hadn’t skateboarded since the 6th grade, but it came back to me pretty quickly (just like riding a bike…only it’s a skateboard). There were only a few instances where the board came to a sudden stop, but I kept going. I blame shoddy Santa Cruz road maintenance and Newton’s 1st law. After some preliminary road practice, I pointed my wheels in the direction of Farrell’s donuts in honor of having just finished reading Youth in Revolt by C.D. Payne. No, I’m not usually in the habit of rewarding myself with deep fried dough for finishing a book, but if I really enjoy a piece of literature, I am occasionally inclined to pay homage to a favorite character (after reading Catcher in the Rye I came very close to purchasing a duck hunting hat). So in honor of Nick Twisp, and his donut addiction, I sampled a maple bar (Nick’s favorite). Pretty tasty, I highly recommend them. Tomorrow I’m planning to take a ride on Heather’s long board, and I think John’s already expressed an interest in taking Reed’s bong out for a spin (Reed’s the big winner for the “Most Things Left Behind” contest). God bless you Jewish Co-opers and your general lack of interest in your personal property.

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