This is the longest I have ever gone without writing an entry, and now I hardly know what to do with myself. Do I show you pictures of the motel? Do I talk about meeting Mar and finally finding out what her domain name means? Do I talk about watching Eleanor have simulated lesbian sex before I had even met her? Do I show off the cute nicknames I have for some of my classmates? 

Wow, this isn't as easy as it used to be. I'm on a strange keyboard and a strange computer, and my mind is strangely altered from its former state. The upheaval is largely over, but there are tremors. And not moving into my permanent home yet is a problem, too. I can't fully settle in, and I keep fearing they're going to change their minds. And so I'm still waving my roots around wildly, waiting for a place to plant them.

The atmosphere: San Francisco is filled with smart, engaged people.

In Los Angeles, it seems like everyone spends their time talking on cell phones and checking out their reflections in windows as they pass, shopping their way down Melrose. Everyone has tunnel vision, narrowed in on themselves and their own superficial interests. There are a thousand carbon copy wannabe starlets, each wondering if she looks fat in these jeans, or if that guy was really a producer like he claimed to be right before she blew him. I mean sure, it's not everyone, but a whole lot of people in L.A. don't give a shit about what's going on in the world, or the next state over, or in their own towns.  It's a culture of supreme self involvement.

I knew all this before, of course. But I've never really understood until now that it doesn't have to be this way. Walking from the BART station to my school, I pass the Ralph Nader campaign headquarters, leaflets for the frequent protests against gentrification in the area, ads for poetry slams and fundraisers, and people who actually look the homeless in the eye and give them a smile. 

[Mar told this story to her list, but I'll tell it again, in case you aren't on her list. We were hanging out, waiting for E's show to start, and some homeless guy asked for a cigarette. She gave it to him. Then he asked for change. We had no change. He wanted a dollar. No dice. Then he launched into a diatribe about how we were white fucking bitches, and of course we'd "give a nigger a cigarette" and no money because we wanted to kill him (apparently very passive-aggressively, by giving him lung cancer).  Mar just stood up and said coolly, "I don't have to take this from you, sir." It was deeply funny and impressive.]

It's wonderful to be in an atmosphere like this, where people are actually passionate about the world. The activism, the involvement, the community... it's inspiring, really. And I am right in the middle of it. My school has a giant poster up on the street that says, "Critical Thinkers - Conscious beings - Creative Hearts". The people I go to school with are varying degrees of weird, but most of them fit that description, with huge, caring hearts and a real desire to connect with the community. It's one of the things I was hoping I would find here, and unbelievably, I have. 

And I haven't yet seen anyone with that glazed Los Angeles look of apathy on his face. Much as I love L.A., that's one thing I'm probably not going to miss.

Taking the BART: Those of you that live in NYC or Boston, or anywhere else with a decent transportation system, probably have the urge to pat me on the head and give me a cookie. But I really love taking the BART. 

I love swiping my card expertly, and walking through the turnstile without crashing into it (like I did the first time I rode BART).  I love knowing what train to take, and waiting behind the black squares for the doors to slide open. I love taking my comfy seat, and feeling the rush of the train as it pulls away, and following our progress on the map as we stop at station after station. I'm getting so spoiled with all this free time to gaze out the window and think. It's glorious.

Not working: Quitting my job was inextricably linked to a whole lot of shit going on in my life at the time. Stressing out about finding somewhere to live, and running out of money, and my relationship ending, and Grandma and everything. You remember, I'm sure. So I wasn't excited about leaving, I was nervous and apprehensive about the future.

I finally talked to Joan a few nights ago, and she told me all the latest stuff going on at work. I realized how insignificant that stupid job was, and how unimportant the company is, and how, in the grand scheme of things, the office politics and report deadlines are meaningless and stupid. Then I realized that I never, ever had to go back there again. Man, I grinned when I realized that. No more dress code, and no more dictation.  Free at last, thank god almighty. And I'm finally enjoying it!

Living in a great city: I've been seeing bits and pieces of San Francisco over the past few days. My parents were here, and we took a boat around the bay, complete with an extremely interesting and informative audio tour. For instance, did you know they are continually painting the Golden Gate bridge? And did you know the paint color is called international orange?

Then yesterday, we drove through the adorable Castro and (Noe? Nob?) Hill, and visited the theater district, and went to this French place and had yummy yummy food.

[You know, Mar and I joked a while back about having a threesome with Eleanor. Little did you know, we really did. For dessert, we split this banana and Nutella crepe. Oh, my god. It was so good. We were all eating it and licking whipped cream off our lips and making these obscene moaning noises.  Then Mar said, "Get in the middle; I'm going to eat you." She was supposedly talking to the crepe, but I think the moaning was getting to her. I think we were naked in her head.]

There's also the fog rolling over the hills, and KFOG, one of the radio stations up here, and theater and poetry readings and tons of bookstores.  I've only seen a tiny bit of what this city has to offer, but I'm already falling in love with it. 

Making friends: I'm living with Aimee, and I've met Mar and Eleanor, and at school there's Joey and Laurie and Deb, and a ton of other people. 

[Here's a good place to introduce some of my classmates. In order to minimize the confusion, I'm giving them strange nicknames. Well, most of them. After all, I already named Joey and Deb and Laurie.

Joey: My closest school friend so far. She's in three of my four classes. She dresses exactly like my sister. She grew up Catholic and is from Jersey (the "Smells Like Ass" State). We seem to have a lot in common. I named her after Joey on Dawson's Creek, because she's a little tomboyish and has long brown hair.

Laurie: Long, blonde hair, from somewhere in the south, I think. In three or four of my classes. Joey, Laurie and Deb are all first year students getting their MFAs. So we sort of hang out together, although Joey and I are kind of a pair, as are Laurie and Deb.

Deb: She has a boyfriend, but she looks like a lesbian. Seriously, she does. She's skinny and has a shaved head, and wears baggy men's jeans and chains. She has a morbid streak in her, and I can't wait to read her writing. I named her after Deb in Empire Records, because of the shaved head thing.

Checkers: A second year student. His hair is shaved into a checkers pattern. He dressed all in white on the first day of school. He kept coming up with these non-sequiturs that allowed him to name drop from a vast expanse of knowledge. ("Yes, and this poem reminds me of Rousseau's words, 'Blah blah blah.' Let me tell you more about this...") He annoys me so far.

Granola Girl: A second year student. She's freckled and cute, and very friendly. Every first year student was assigned a second year "buddy". She is Joey's buddy.

That's enough for now. It's a small program. I'm sure I'll introduce you to everyone before long.]

I'm going to be meeting more journal type people soon, and most of my classmates are friendly and wonderful. I can't tell you how much this means to me. The fact that I've been welcomed and befriended to this degree is beyond my expectations.  I am so, so grateful. 

Stay tuned for part two; I've got so much more to talk about! Before I go, I'm also going to give you a batch of pictures. 

(You can also see some of Mar's pictures here. And I have to say that I look like I have jaundice of the eyes in that top picture. In actuality, I don't look jaundiced. I hope not, anyway.)

tel doesn't look so bad from the outside, does it?

Notice the stains. These are only the big stains. For every stain you can see, there are seven million smaller, equally revolting stains.

The gross bathroom.

A close up of the door to the bathroom.

The paint on the walls and ceiling looked like this.

My new black hair.

Me at my party, deeply drunk.

Mar's sexy eyeballs.

Maybe I

be a photo major.

Such cuteness in the world! Little did you know.

Matt and I each grabbed sections of snake and began pulling. Silly us. Bob, being a 6½ foot boa constrictor, is stronger than both of us combined.