Linkstew

It's really sad that most of my initial observations about San Francisco are about driving. But given that I had to drive to get here, I guess that's kind of understandable. Let's get them out of the way quick:

• San Francisco needs some pretty serious traffic sign infrastructure to get people where they need to go. And yet, there are still several classes of information that I'm having a really hard time finding when I need it:
  • All way stops lack the "All Way" placard at the bottom of the stop sign, making me nervous about pretty much every stop sign I stop at. I'm gradually learning to look at the street for that information, though.
  • Street names can be awfully hard to find, because they seem to vary in size, color, placement, and redundancy.
• As if the idea of parallel parking on 19th street weren't daunting enough, let's throw in the added complication of needing to pop the right side of your car up onto the sidewalk unless you want your car to get smeared.
• Parking in my neighborhood turns out to not be as impossible as I feared, but it can be still frustratingly difficult at times. Easily the most irritating thing is the spots between two driveways that are ever-so-slightly too small for my slightly longer than average car that I park in only to find I'm sticking over on both sides. Those're the worst, and only make me want a Mini that much more.

Every room I've lived in has had a westward facing window with the exception of my dorm room my freshman year (north) and the one that didn't have a window. There are two classes of problems here: afternoon sun makes the apartment hot and causes glare, and lack of morning sun makes it hard for me to wake up.

In the Stormy house, the westward facing windows made my room so hot that I kept 3 of the 4 lights in my ceiling fan unscrewed to keep the temperature down. It actually turned into a little war with my mom, because she'd constantly screw those bulbs back in, and I'd constantly unscrew them. But in addition to the temperature, the only reason I got up every morning was because my dad woke me up.

In Deutsch, I explicitly chose a westward facing window, thinking that the bay view with awesome sunsets would actually be desirable. Instead, I did everything I could to keep that afternoon sun (and the accompanying glare) out of the room, because that concrete cell retained more heat than a baked potato.

At Haste, the afternoon sun wasn't really a problem, because there was another tall building about 10 feet from my window. What was a problem in the three years I lived there was the waking up. My room was a dark cave until around two in the afternoon, when some light finally crept into the window.

I think it was Stormy + Haste that made me decide I wasn't a morning person because I found it hard to wake up. I think the westward facing windows actually just made the room so pleasantly cool and comfortable in the morning that when I woke up, I was in such a nice place that the only reasonable reaction was to want to go back to sleep.

And at Harmon, I actually have a southern facing window in addition to the westward facing window, so the mornings aren't too bad. Having a more regular schedule than college offered also makes the daily ordeal of waking up a little easier. The real problem here is the afternoon sun from the westward facing window makes this place heat up like an oven. Of course, it doesn't help that I also live in the attic.

With the approach of what promises to be a blistering summer after a too hot and too sudden spring, the lack of a westward facing window is high on my list of requirements for my new apartment. And ideally I'll have an eastward facing window, to make the mornings a little easier.

(And actually, my last couple of jobs both ended up with me sitting by a westward facing window, so again with the glare and heat problems. The west work windows are actually what reinforced my awareness of this problem and made me vow to avoid them in the future.)

I just carried 10 cups, 6 bottles, and 2 soda cans out of my room and to the kitchen. It took me 3 trips. This is nearly a weekly ritual for me.

Why did I end up with so much stuff in my room? Because my room is on a different floor than the kitchen. What usually happens is I'll go downstairs to go to the bathroom or something, realize I want more water or something, and get another cup and take it back upstairs, because I didn't think to bring the cup I was using downstairs when I got up for my other errand.

When I was a kid, I always thought stairs were awesome, and I really liked visiting my friends who had stairs. I thought those kids were so lucky... But clearly I was wrong. If I have my way, I'll never live anyway that has stairs between my bedroom and the bathroom and kitchen again.

As much as I might claim I could never deal with it, maybe I want to move to San Francisco after all?

Honestly, I'm still kind of intimidated by San Francisco. It took me a little while to get comfortable with the urban-ness of Berkeley, and I think it's going to take even longer to get comfortable with San Francisco. Going to San Francisco is like planning an expedition into the unknown -- I feel like I should pack extra food in my car in case something goes wrong.

Driving home last night after looking at apartments in San Francisco all day, I accidentally got on 101 South instead of 80 East, which quickly took me into the aforementioned unknown. I got off at the very next exit (Caesar Chavez), but got lost trying to find an entrance to 101 North. After wandering around someplace dark and smelly for about 15 minutes, I saw an "East Bay Paratransit" shuttle, which I decided to follow and which took me straight to the Bay Bridge. Saved!

I think I just need to go drive around San Francisco for awhile at 2 am to figure out how the pieces of my in progress mental map of the city fit together. Apartment hunting yesterday certainly made a big difference, but I still have big gaps.

Yesterday, I woke up at 8 am, picked up a uhaul, helped one of my roommates move a load and a half of furniture, then fit almost all of my stuff into two uhaul trips, and then helped Trisha move her furniture in one more load. We finished that last load at nearly 1 am. And I did all of that on three hours of sleep, because I was up until 5 am the night before packing. Needless to say, I'm exhausted.

While the worst is more or less over, there's still so much left to do. I have a carload or so left at the old apartment, and I have to throw away everything else that's left there by Saturday at 2:30. I have a ton of boxes to move from the second floor of the new house to my third floor room. And then I have to sort out my stuff and start selling everything. The worst is over, but the work has only just begun.

And now, back to the house, where there's no 'net.

The power in my building was insane last night. At around 9 o'clock, I noticed that the courtyard lights were out completely. My phone was powerless but my microwave was fine. My cable modem had power but my net still wasn't working (which is what got me investigating things in the first place). My TiVo was thankfully operational to record the season finale of Angel. The light in my living room acted like there was a brownout but the lights in the other rooms were unaffected.

So I just went in my room, turned off my light, and was merrily listening to music and playing games and writing on my laptop. But when I got ready to set my alarm and go to bed, I realized that the power had gone out completely at some point. My laptop's battery was at 80%, so I'd been without power for at least 30 minutes and had been completely oblivious to it. Gosh I love having a computer with an independent power supply.

4.0 at 10:47 am? How much more of a backup alarm clock could I possibly ask for?

Seriously, parties shake the building more. The garbage truck shakes the building more. This was just one little jolt, and for some reason, it woke me up. I didn't even think it was an earthquake until I went back and checked the site.

And I didn't even feel the 3.5 aftershock.

Yesterday I got finally an email from my former roommate after months of silence, but unfortunately he didn't have anything to say about my missing Gamecube controller. Also unfortunately, he said that he didn't have the apartment keys, and that he just had the garage door opener. So I mailed him back, somewhat concerned, asking him if he was sure he didn't have the keys, because I knew he hadn't given them back to me. I also asked him about my Gamecube controller for the fifth time.

His reply proves what dorks he and I are:

"I did a search around my room pushing on blocks, walking into suspicious places on the walls, killing all the bugs I could find, and eventually I heard 'doododuhduhduum' and suddenly a tiny treasure chest appeared in a puff of smoke on my futon mattress. Anyway, needless to say I found the key (too bad the boss's chamber is ninety miles away). Assuming it doesn't disappear when I use it, I'll bring it back on Thursday."

So he has the key, and I finally have an explanation for the random courtyard in my building: It's a chamber for a boss fight!

Of course, he still didn't have anything to say about my freaking Gamecube controller.

And speaking of Zelda, the upcoming Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker just got the fourth perfect score that Famitsu has ever given in Japan. Who's excited? I'm excited.

So someone is getting some action somewhere in my apartment building tonight -- perhaps in the apartment above me, or maybe next door -- I don't know. Wherever it is, I know what that sort of intermittently rhythmic bumping and thumping means.

"Is someone jumping up and down upstairs?" my roommate asked.

"Ha, no." I figured I should let him in on the secret. "No, someone's having SEX." I whispered.

"It's a bit early for sex, don't you think?" he asked.

"It's a school night!" I reminded him.

It's a good thing I already live here, because if I had just seen the For Rent sign and wanted to live here, I'm not really sure how I'd interpret it them.

Have I mentioned how much I love the management of my apartment building lately?

Would you like a quick recipe for making me paranoid? Here you go:

1. Be my roommate.
2. Talk on the phone with your friends a lot.
3. Then, have one of your friends call me some evening when you know you won't be home.
4. After I say "No, she's not here," have him ask "Oh... is this Benjy?"
5. Laugh when Benjy gets very nervous and starts wondering exactly what his roommate has been telling her friends about him on the phone.

note: The roommate in question wasn't female, and I'm not trying to say anything about said roommate by using feminine pronouns for him. I just used feminine pronouns to hopefully avoid the potential referential ambiguity in step 5.

My roommate finally saw Episode II this weekend, and he offered up this follow-up quote:

"Not even muting could save this."
-- my roommate, on Episode II's love scenes.

On a related note, I'd like to point out that Lucas is at least consistently ridiculous in his scripting of Anakin:

In Episode I, Anakin asked Padme "Are you an angel. I've heard the deep space pilots talk about them. They live on the moons of Iego, I think. They're the most beautiful creatures in the universe."

Meanwhile, in Episode II, Anakin says to Padme "I don’t like sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere. Not like here. Here everything is soft. And smooth."