tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144310662011-09-25T23:28:11.967-07:00A Grab Bag Of Rants, Raves, And Me.Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.comBlogger1251100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-65044395600393592292010-09-28T17:54:00.000-07:002010-09-28T17:54:51.164-07:00

"The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax— Of cabbages—and kings— And why the sea is boiling hot— And whether pigs have wings." and... If I'm gonna be a writer, I might as well go public. Update your links, and follow me down the rabbit hole...

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1Riverside, CA, USA33.9533487 -117.396156433.8109572 -117.62961589999999 34.0957402 -117.1626969tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-11007511261398954802010-08-23T00:45:00.000-07:002010-08-23T00:45:35.891-07:00

I'd almost forgotten that we were back here again. It wasn't until I was biking home on Oxford and an SUV with a San Diego license plate frame and a Chargers lightning bolt sticker that dominated its rear window merged in front of me, its back seat and cargo area piled with high with belongings, that I remembered it was move-in weekend for most students in Berkeley. The Caltopia sign beckoned

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-86136335884528276702010-07-25T00:18:00.000-07:002010-08-23T01:00:18.055-07:00

This was the book that spoke to me in college. This was the book that tore me to shreds, that made me unbelieve everything I thought I knew about myself, that radicalized me, that encouraged me to find my voice. Last year, I took my used copy of the 2003 third edition to the Empowering Women of Color Conference and handed it across the table as I said to Cherríe, "This book has meant so much to

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-12428598776757020662010-07-13T09:37:00.000-07:002010-08-23T00:59:55.821-07:00

McLovin and I have rediscovered the joys of bubble baths. As an adult, you're always in a hurry. Showers are sandwiched between the third slap at the snooze button and sprinting out of the house 10 minutes late to work. We hardly give ourselves a chance to enjoy the wet warmth of water caressing our bodies. Showers become a nuisance, a necessary stop along the way of a day's routine. But then

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-51382182918300468282010-07-05T03:12:00.000-07:002010-08-23T00:59:35.075-07:00

I never went to summer camp as a kid. It was always too expensive, and there were way too many of us kids for our parents to consider even the low-budget day camps sponsored by the local Parks & Rec. The closest we got to camp was watching Camp Nowhere on a loop one idle summer about 15 years ago. Not going to camp meant missing out on new friendships and unique, life-changing experiences, so

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com4Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-37528810415278788222010-06-22T23:35:00.000-07:002010-08-23T00:59:13.239-07:00

"I live right near you, at the bottom of the hill," I said into the phone. "We'll be there in 15 to 20 minutes." McLovin threw on some shoes, I grabbed a few bags of clothes that were lurking around the light switch, and we both headed out the door. We dropped off a trunk full of donations at Out of the Closet, a feeling of lightness coming over me that I was getting rid of still more useless

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-19345643722809546572010-06-01T12:40:00.000-07:002010-06-01T12:40:42.897-07:00

So we left behind our previous bedroom window view... And traded it in for this one twenty feet away. Hello, Golden Gate. Nice to have you in the family. Still, McLovin was sad. "There's so much history between us in this room," he said as we readied to move our first boxes. "We've spent so much time together here, and I'd always see you this room on Skype while I was away." The comforting

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-75924619790042761512010-05-17T00:51:00.000-07:002010-05-17T00:52:33.568-07:00

I stepped up to the mic backstage. "Hello, everyone!" They started cheering. "Wow, I was not expecting that," I said, humbled. "Who's graduating today?" I asked as I smiled at throngs of mostly twentysomethings and a few thirty- and fortysomethings in black robes and caps. They cheered again. And so went Commencement Day at work. "This is a big day for me, too," I said to them. They were the

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-30586220855054170392010-04-29T13:06:00.000-07:002010-04-29T13:08:33.452-07:00

I handed my computer to Brina across the cafe table. She blushed as she settled upon a piece from her blog to read aloud. "Omigod, this is so embarassing." Brina, McLovin and I were at the first meeting of our newly formed writing group, party of three. We had no aim, no agenda, no structure. We didn't even know if we were workshopping or writing together. It was just three people and a lust

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-42975570934955599342010-04-17T02:14:00.000-07:002010-04-17T02:15:57.212-07:00

April 15 was barreling around the corner at high speed, yet I remained calm and unaffected. Everyone kept asking the question of the hour, but I remained uncommitted at a time when most folks know exactly what they're gonna do. Sometime in the eleventh hour (literally), McLovin and I were sitting down to watch a movie when I realized I hadn't given a reply. I bit my lip as I navigated to the

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-47151158775530124052010-03-25T01:17:00.000-07:002010-03-25T01:17:21.574-07:00

Ten hours. In ten hours, I will be running down this moving walkway, heart pounding, running towards life's next destination. I don't know how we got here, or how we made it, or if we'll make it in the future. All I know is that I'm going somewhere new, and it's scary, and it's exhilarating, and it's what this Astrid needs. McLovin returns from Singapore for good. Here begins new life. In ten

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-30276311835588481242010-03-09T23:07:00.000-08:002010-03-09T23:07:56.310-08:00

Brown peeps— Question #1 Taco seasoning: DOES or DOES NOT belong in tacos? Question #2 HARD or SOFT tacos?  Discuss.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-33648621783720115282010-03-08T22:32:00.000-08:002010-03-09T10:25:21.329-08:00

When I was young, around 5 or 6, my family would make sporadic trips to Corona to visit my great-grandmother's grave. She passed away when M was only six months old, right before we moved from Alhambra to OC. L, the first great-grandchild born after her death, was named after her. Sometimes, we'd go beyond Corona to Riverside, and that's where my bellyaching would enter the scene. "It's soooo

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-41324429066408539882010-02-12T16:46:00.000-08:002010-02-12T16:46:53.078-08:00

Look, I was single for nearly 27 years of my life. Flings? Yes. Relationships? Hells to the no. I had every reason to hate Valentine's Day, but it was cliché and expected when I wasn't getting ass and burping in front of my partner on a regular basis. But then, mere days after V-Day last year, a relationship magically fell into my lap and a long, sustained singlehood had unmistakingly come to

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-2469586664994034412010-02-05T18:52:00.000-08:002010-02-05T18:59:21.665-08:00

You know how when you're procrastinating you suddenly decide you need to rearrange your entire office space, inside and out, in order to tackle the task at hand? Well, welcome to the newer, sleeker, brighter Pues Nada of twenty-ten (I swear, the next person I hear who says two thousand and ten...)! I've been wanting something new for many months now, but it's taken me at least that long to find

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-65613158322378772462010-02-03T13:14:00.000-08:002010-02-03T13:15:10.205-08:00

This may come as no surprise to most of you, but McLovin and I first bonded over music. Shocking, eh? When we met, we were both on a soul kick, completely independent of each other. I'd been listening to Otis. He'd been listening to Sam Cooke. Oddly enough, there weren't too many more intersections than that. He loves free jazz, blues, and country. I tend more towards classic rock, indie rock,

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-33907362945890563482010-02-02T19:58:00.000-08:002010-02-02T20:01:56.941-08:00

I knew what I would wear that night the moment I made the reservation 30 days before. I actually dared to wear a skirt. And why not? It was a special occasion. It was an appropriate time to be a lady. We didn't expect to step out into a howling arctic wind when we opened the door, but that's what Mother Nature granted us. Poor McLovin. After four months in the exotic equatorial climate of

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-27005100604701897252010-02-02T13:04:00.000-08:002010-02-02T15:10:01.063-08:00

My parents gave me an acoustic guitar for Christmas in high school that M found in the Penny Saver. I loved it, but I could never afford lessons, so my shredding abilities were limited to what I could learn from the tab included in copies of guitar magazines and what little was available on the internets at the time. Sometime in college, likely while I was abroad, the neck broke and I never

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-47970867064185670342010-02-02T12:46:00.000-08:002010-02-02T12:46:49.735-08:00

I woke up some wet, gray morning in December and got dressed for work. As I threw my battered messenger bag over my shoulder, I could hear a swish swish swish, and I paused in front of the mirror before leaving my room. I giggled silently as I stared at myself. I looked ridiculous. Rainboots, fleece, rain shell, gloves, neck cowl, blue knit cap with ear flaps. A cold snap had seized the Bay

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-60145164054397763082010-01-22T00:41:00.000-08:002010-01-22T00:41:17.505-08:00

Fatty was about eight years old when he made an epic three trips to the emergency room in one summer month. At least one of the trips resulted in stitches. He'd been biking around the backyard when he fell off his green Ninja Turtles bike, a sharp rock kindly catching his knee on the way down. Knowing that he had something worse than your average playground scrape, and also knowing that he

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-68624212073584153152009-10-12T00:24:00.000-07:002009-10-12T00:26:34.217-07:00

Here it is, the GFam breakfast special: eggs with tortilla bits and a dash of Tabasco, fried potatoes (with Tapatio subbing for ketchup), and sausage. Whenever anyone in my family goes all out and decides to actually cook a breakfast (rather than pour a bowl of cereal), some variation of this meal is usually what results. Ever since I permanently moved out of home after college and was

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com5Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-786381574673492572009-10-04T13:05:00.000-07:002009-10-06T18:53:29.293-07:00

The first time I held a violin in my hands was a very special day in my life. I felt very powerful. I was in the fourth grade, the year that students at my school were first allowed to choose an instrument to play. Fourth graders were only allowed string instruments, while fifth and sixth graders were allowed to move on to woodwinds, brass, and percussion. For no particular reason, I opted for

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-74892207767811701532009-09-13T14:10:00.000-07:002009-09-13T19:35:36.425-07:00

In the sixth grade in 1994, we were asked to write predictions for the yearbook of what we thought we would be doing in 15 years at age 27. This is what I said I'd be doing this year: "I, [Astrid], will be a pediatrician who also plays violin in a movie orchestra and in animated films."That single statement pretty much sums up most of my life's experience. Obviously, I am neither one of those

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-17623637185502249682009-09-10T10:04:00.000-07:002009-09-10T10:04:17.018-07:00

McLovin's and My Top Five Albums (in no particular order) Sam Cooke - Live at the Harlem Square Club, 1963 Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea Liz Phair - Exile in Guyville Townes Van Zandt - Live at the Old Quarter, 1973 (Disc 2) The Velvet Underground - The Velvet Underground Believe everything they tell you, kids. Long distance relationships are HARD. McLovin and I just went

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-58954255331360040442009-08-25T07:59:00.000-07:002009-08-25T08:01:08.369-07:00

I don't like the recent cold snap. I don't like that I shivered myself to sleep last night in a light sweatshirt and long yoga pants, or that I've been forced to begrudgingly wear socks and shoes in a month that should normally beg for only sandals. I've come to enjoy summer in the Bay, but it still doesn't feel normal to me. More than that, I don't like that the cold intersects with the coming

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-14435539331114023152009-08-08T14:36:00.000-07:002009-08-08T14:36:28.025-07:00

I was stirred from my sleep at 2:30 yesterday morning by the ringing of my phone. Only bad calls come from Home at odd hours. "What's going on?" I mumbled. I could tell that the family was gathered with Dad and that my absent sisters were also on various siblings' cell phones. "Grandma passed away." She was 98, and boy, did she live a long life. Feisty, persistent, and always independent,

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com5Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-25980447360811121422009-08-04T09:11:00.001-07:002010-02-05T13:48:27.844-08:00

It's been all quiet on the Astrid front, I know. But I've been in Love Jail, and goddammit, I deserve it. The manfriend, McLovin, is not at all unlike this dude: Hence the nickname. But anyone who knows me knows that I have a thing for a) glasses, and b) nerds, so it's probably no surprise either. Anyway. By the end of the month he'll be whisked away to Singapore for a job, the only job in

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.8715926 -122.27274737.8038391 -122.3894765 37.9393461 -122.15601749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-73595953729456034632009-04-05T16:23:00.000-07:002009-04-05T16:26:11.284-07:00

My favorite time in Berkeley is the first few weeks of spring. Not the days that the calendar tells you are spring (post-March 20), but rather the first few days when the world around you starts coming back to life.It happened while I was in New York (a fabulous trip whose details will follow in a separate post). I came home and suddenly the trees were sprouting green, the flower bed in our

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-81758878572309252312009-03-21T20:55:00.000-07:002010-03-09T00:01:20.241-08:00

Good burritos are embarrassingly hard to come by in Berkeley. Embarrassingly so. I've searched high and low, and what are so often the dependable little greasy hole-in-the-wall joints back home in SoCal are merely mediocre at best here in the City of Berkeley. Yeah, yeah, I know I should be going to Fruitvale in Oakland or the Mission in SF if I want some quality Mexican food, but is it too

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-49918146760455897122009-03-21T20:13:00.000-07:002009-03-21T20:16:07.123-07:00

I have this thing for gnomes. Don't ask me where it came from or why it is. It just is. But for my 24th (or 25th?) birthday, my mom asked me what I wanted, and I told her a garden gnome ("No, seriously." "Yes, seriously") and it kinda grew from there.Big picked up on this and started gifting me gnome-themed items. My favorite was the tiny gnome statue that I kept on my desk at work. I loved the

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-78461320072512554072009-01-29T17:15:00.001-08:002009-01-30T00:36:06.113-08:00

The G in guacamole: SILENT OR NOT? There is only one correct answer to this question as far as I'm concerned. Image by hale_papoki via Flickr.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com6Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-33450827169447827432009-01-27T15:19:00.001-08:002009-01-27T15:31:36.101-08:00

  VIRGIN AMERICA WILL SOON FLY SFO TO OC!!! Dudes, have you flown Virgin America? If you have, then you know what I'm talking about. It's like a gay lounge in the sky, which means it's a million times better than just about any other budget airline you've flown. The only way it could be gayer is if it featured naked go-go dancers and bitch drinks. But I digress. I'm pretty stoked about having

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-59665438628512240432009-01-27T00:48:00.001-08:002009-01-27T01:00:43.204-08:00

It was one of those Friday nights where the music is shut down with one fell swoop, the crowded basement goes hush, and housemates dash from door to door to find out who called the cops. Where tiny little chapbooks provide hours upon hours of amusement while you sit in a time vacuum. Where you hang out in the only quiet place in the house because the world outside is too much to comprehend

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-62951078203767325942009-01-21T09:55:00.000-08:002009-01-21T10:33:23.660-08:00

President Obama, left, dances with Army Sgt. Margaret Herrera and First Lady Michelle Obama dances with Marine Corps Sgt. Elidio Guillén during the Commander-in-Chief Ball in Washington.HOLLA. WHAT UP, MA BROWN PEEPS. Image by Haraz N. Ghanbari, Associated Press

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-84695583917990975502009-01-21T07:58:00.001-08:002009-01-21T08:44:00.348-08:00

OMG IS IT REAL?? What can I say? It was fucking amazing. It is amazing. Rev. Lowery put it best in the benediction: "REV LOWERY: Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get back, when brown can stick around -- (laughter) -- when yellow will be mellow -

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-17985793050790325872009-01-20T01:23:00.000-08:002010-03-09T00:01:40.283-08:00

"And the thing that gets me is that this will be my little brother's reality. This is what he is going to grow up with." "That's not fair!" Danger said. We laughed. We wished we'd grown up with Obama as president. I talked to Dad the following day and told him about that conversation. "And The Baby's going to take it for granted," he said. He explained to me how they were watching clips of

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-71473140162264997572009-01-14T10:29:00.001-08:002009-01-14T10:29:30.239-08:00

This is how I pass the time at work. M: lame cmputerAstrid: you're lameM: your face is lameAstrid: your mom is lameM: your mom is lameAstrid: god, i remember being in 5th or 6th and doing yo' momma jokes for most of the bus ride home from schoolM: hahlosersAstrid: we were the most awesome kids EVARM: right. LO-SERS.Astrid: don't be jealousM: oh. i assure you i am notyou rode the short

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-9212759843434915372009-01-06T02:15:00.000-08:002009-01-06T08:34:53.393-08:00

Ahh, Christmas. It was every bit my own personal hell (like, literally personal hell—I was entirely alone in that sentiment), right up until New Year's. I couldn't have helped it if my life depended on it. Alas, I made it through alive and am at peace (mostly). But I digress. Photos! 1. There was still snow in the Grapevine on the drive down. Gorgeous! 2. I whisked myself away to the Gypsy Den

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-11570982062756120472008-12-21T08:37:00.000-08:002008-12-21T08:41:47.751-08:00

Going home for Christmas now. I'll try not to be a miser. Oddly, I look forward to traipsing about LA and, dare I say it, OC with ma peeps. Let las Navidades commence. Image by me: The palm tree is "my" ornament on our house Christmas tree since I'm the only one who's actually from California.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-78000288509203967362008-12-21T08:29:00.000-08:002008-12-21T08:35:40.716-08:00

Triple Rock currently has a magnificent seasonal ale on tap called Truth Serum. It's a wheat ale served in a 10.5 ounce goblet that weighs in at a whopping 8.3% ABV. I went there for lunch on Friday and it was delicious. If you're ever in Berkeley and are a beer lover, just know that this city's pretty much got you covered. Image by me.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA, USA37.872222 -122.26840337.8044685 -122.38513250000001 37.9399755 -122.1516735tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-83006318481162580412008-12-19T00:43:00.000-08:002008-12-19T00:49:37.354-08:00

NO. I know you're in Berkeley and all, but this? EPIC FAIL.Image by me.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-20134828001708357082008-12-19T00:41:00.000-08:002008-12-19T08:35:09.062-08:00

Of my mother's four daughters, I seem to be the only one who really, truly, without reservation and slathered in total glee (and nerdiness) not only learned crafts at a young age, but who also continues them to this day. Case in point: every winter, I crochet like a madwoman. Sure, I know there's this whole culture of women out there who compete with each other for who has the most skeins of

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-19525342480229015572008-12-17T15:39:00.000-08:002008-12-17T15:39:57.524-08:00

I fully expect to wallow in stupid bitterness right up until 11:59pm on December 31, but that doesn't mean that 2009 is going to suck so hard as this year did. I've been elected and selected to two—count 'em!—two committees in two separate campus entities, starting in January. One for a group of brown folks on campus (holla at ma peeps), another to help organize a yearly event for staff in my

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-2202661234880866042008-12-16T14:51:00.000-08:002008-12-16T14:58:27.067-08:00

Dear Berkeley, STOP BEING COLD. I don't mind rain, but I do mind a fuh-reezing bedroom and workplace. Or perhaps this should be a diatribe against Drafty Mothafucking California Houses? Harumph. No love, Me Image by Thomas Hawk via Flickr.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-58826459219860500582008-12-14T10:45:00.000-08:002008-12-14T11:03:52.940-08:00

I came back from Europe five years ago with one nasty Euro habit: I only wear black socks.Though, to be fair, I have little white ankle socks for workouts, but that's the only exception to what has otherwise become a rule. It started with my days working for The Mouse (it's pretty much an OC rite of passage—everyone works there or somewhere in the resort area at some point) and continued when I

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-73212371681520107552008-12-12T00:19:00.000-08:002008-12-12T00:29:41.412-08:00

I work with undergrads all the live long day. I've been doing so in different respects for the last two years, and the truth is that with this position in Berkeley, I've finally found something I really love. I enjoy mentoring students. I love seeing them grow and, in a sense, growing with them. Sure, there are the annoyingly entitled kids who grate on your nerves and your heart sinks every time

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-5372283271969371382008-11-17T17:36:00.000-08:002008-11-17T18:13:48.968-08:00

Moving on to matters that aren't nearly so embarrassing...MAZEL TOV to the happy newlyweds! Each table was named after a city the couple has visited or lived in together. We, the Berkeley people, were at the Berkeley table, and true to Berkeley form, were the loudest, most obnoxious people in the place.Good times.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-61566699903519337342008-11-05T10:20:00.000-08:002008-11-05T10:21:17.507-08:00

In junior high, I was one of four students who were consistently battling it out as the top scholars of the class. One was a white guy, one white girl, a Chinese/Vietnamese-American girl, and me, the Latina. That list by itself tells you a lot about the neighborhood I grew up in. In those days, it was completely mixed and the only shit I got was from other brown kids who gave me cause to hate the

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-84418509912688794702008-11-05T01:14:00.000-08:002008-11-05T01:16:43.131-08:00

Tonight, Berkeley and Oakland were alive. We were all alive.It's a celebration, bitches.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-77278140329319922442008-11-04T20:05:00.000-08:002008-11-04T20:05:51.351-08:00

Wow. Just, wow. As much as all the hero worship has grated on my nerves, I admit to being completely in awe of this moment in history.We're here.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-74845683856377621132008-11-04T19:06:00.000-08:002008-11-04T19:06:39.968-08:00

The only thing my sisters and I cared about when we turned 18 was registering to vote. We didn't care about clubbing or buying lottery tickets or reaching the age of consent. Submitting our first voter registrations was top of the list.We can credit Dad with singlehandedly instilling a sense of civic duty in us from an early age. When I was about 10, Dad started working the polls at major

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-62519721766802046172008-10-20T23:54:00.000-07:002008-10-21T10:23:03.867-07:00

I'm supposed to be memorizing lines right now for my interactive theater class, but instead I'm writing. I'm determined to get caught up just a tiny bit only because I leave for a much needed week-long vacation to New York on Wednesday where I'll gallivant with the Gypsies aka Kidses (i.e. the Swede, Dot, their offspring Thumper, and Dr D) in addition to various folk I've met along the way, and I

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-70364094880253458632008-09-26T07:57:00.000-07:002010-07-28T10:58:59.297-07:00

My car and I have seen central California three times in one week already. Dad's surgery is today at City of Hope, and I'm Home in SoCal until Tuesday. Everyone around here is a bundle of nerves, and Dad's feeling pretty down. I'm feeling very protective of and responsible for everyone, and not very attentive to myself. Warm thoughts, good vibes, and anything else that gets you through the day

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1Garden Grove, CA, USA33.7739053 -117.941447733.7025598 -118.0581772 33.8452508 -117.82471819999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-36071494155042388832008-09-19T00:49:00.000-07:002008-09-19T10:15:26.702-07:00

There are certain truths in my life that will always remain true, no matter where I go.I will always be a Bruin fan, and the 8-clap will always move me. So what if I live in Berkeley? So what if I never attended a UC school? My Bruins break my heart every football season, but I still love them to pieces. I love all their teams, not just football. You say a Bruin's in the Olympics? I'm rooting for

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-11762120501231412132008-09-17T19:00:00.000-07:002008-12-01T08:39:25.306-08:00

I've been absent, I know. So sue me. The only thing worth writing about in the last coupla months I haven't quite wanted to expose on such a public scale as the internets. But now that the dust has settled a tiny little bit (though far from ideal), I shall move forward.***My car is a fucker. At 225k miles, it is far from new. I call her Oma sometimes, because Nana gave her to me and boy, is it a

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-91571946930616637822008-08-21T19:53:00.000-07:002008-08-22T14:06:25.449-07:00

You'd be hard-pressed to find a softball player who doesn't list A League of Their Own among their favorite films. On the surface it's a story about sisters and teamwork and proving your self-worth simply because you're a woman doing something rather unladylike. At its core, it's a story of survival.There's a scene near the end where the Rockford Peaches and Racine Belles are in the final game of

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-64652313245624401002008-08-20T23:39:00.000-07:002008-08-21T08:19:00.596-07:00

I just fired off this email to NBC. I couldn't handle it anymore.Let me start off by asserting that there is no love lost between you and me, NBC. To steal a line from one of my favorite films, "We turn the sound down [...] and say rude things." About you, not the athletes. Just wanted to make that clear.Lest I come off too caustic, I'd first like to commend you on your efforts—however meager—on

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-10364006980251472122008-08-11T23:54:00.000-07:002008-08-21T20:03:57.477-07:00

Aww shit. All of my old injuries are inflamed. My right ankle, my left ankle, my right shoulder, and now a bruised chest and scraped knee. I got a little cocky with my recent in-shape-ness and resulting ability to run on a treadmill without my ankles turning to spaghetti. I decided to join a pickup game of softball yesterday.It's my own damn fault. I went out there without cleats or ankle braces

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-5906411889685457842008-07-15T09:18:00.000-07:002008-07-15T09:33:12.119-07:00

A recent article in the LA Times has no doubt riled up some renewed interest in the fabled tunnel network at UCLA. I am here to tell you that I have seen these tunnels, friends and boy, do they truly exist.It was sometime early last year that a former co-worker of mine found a way into the tunnels. He didn't even have to be sneaky about it. He'd seen a maintenance guy come out of a door in his

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-11769708258336422942008-07-11T20:52:00.000-07:002008-07-11T20:52:36.164-07:00

I recently bought Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott. She's one of those authors that people rave about as a memoirist, and since I more than dabble in the memoir genre, I found it particular fitting that I picked it up when I did at Analog Books and started reading it over the last 10 days or so.I'm only a few chapters in and it's pretty clear to me that Anne

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-3569224066205107642008-06-04T13:12:00.000-07:002008-06-04T13:20:40.606-07:00

This kinda makes me totally love them more.Ganked from Karnythia.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-90641157551925413062008-05-28T01:11:00.000-07:002008-05-28T01:12:58.034-07:00

For those of us with an affiliation to the University of California system, it's an especially dark time in the Golden State.I.This is where I give up a tiny bit of anonymity, a bit that wasn't particularly well hidden in the first place: I've been a full-time employee of the UC system for almost two years now. This obviously means that I've experienced life on two different (SO VERY DIFFERENT)

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-79502863464416476502008-05-15T20:02:00.000-07:002008-06-04T13:21:52.851-07:00

Unless you've been living under a rock today, you've heard the heartwrenchingly wonderful news that the California Supreme Court has overturned the state ban on gay marriage, striking it down as unconstitutional and paving the way for legal same-sex marriages in the Golden State in 30 days time.Oh, what a glorious day to be a Californian. I remember March 2000 and my agony of being mere weeks

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-79751911825824031892008-05-03T21:41:00.000-07:002008-05-03T21:45:51.651-07:00

This Post Secret was particularly lovely.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-13054921910028178652008-04-24T14:15:00.000-07:002008-04-24T14:40:58.786-07:00

I'd forgotten just how much the Donnie Darko soundtrack kicks ass.ETA: Just because it features Dad's alma mater...

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-75963951323641751472008-04-23T09:04:00.000-07:002008-04-23T09:10:19.018-07:00

When I tell people that I moved to Berkeley from LA six months ago (six months!), what do you think one of their first questions is? You guessed it: they want to know how I'm adjusting to the weather."Why do white people always talk about the weather?" JDawg once asked half-jokingly, half-serious one idle day in college. I can't help but think she's sniggering now, even though she damn well knows

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-13604906240695746422008-04-11T16:52:00.000-07:002008-12-06T23:30:20.452-08:00

I have a special affinity for Bill Richardson. He's got at least five awesome things going for him.He's brown.He was born at the same hospital as me (Huntington Memorial in Pasadena).He's the governor of New Mexico, the GFam homeland, where our paternal grandparents ventured from and some cousins still live. Red or green, anyone?He kinda reminds me of Dad.He pissed off the Clintons by endorsing

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-66593855412465842922008-04-06T18:12:00.000-07:002008-04-06T18:16:58.801-07:00

You ever hear a piece of music that so electric, so on-fire that you're compelled to throw up your hands and go, "That's it, I'm done. Nothing I ever do can possibly come close to that," and then you check out completely?That's what this piece made me contemplate doing today.First of all, Mexican composer Arturo Márquez is totally badass. Danzones should be regular part of all contemporary

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-44028341630464016332008-03-20T22:02:00.000-07:002008-03-20T22:02:42.243-07:00

It's been awhile since I shared the songs I'm currently obsessed with. Let's take a trip, my friends."This Time Tomorrow" by the KinksWhy, oh why have I not been a Kinks fan all my life? I think I somehow always had them very inexcusably mixed up with the Byrds in my head, who really never interested me past "Eight Miles High" or "Mr Tambourine Man" which could never compare to Dylan anyway. So

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-91070864215713860552008-03-17T20:53:00.000-07:002008-03-17T20:54:58.841-07:00

Another year has come around. Tomorrow I will have completed my twenty-sixth year of Life. One year more than a quarter of a century? Now that really makes a girl think.I've been in a funk these last coupla weeks. It happens, as I knew it would. It was only a matter of time. I miss the fam and my closest friends who are mostly scattered about the country, but two of whom (the pillars, JThang and

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-13569809421454425502008-02-23T16:56:00.000-08:002008-02-23T16:58:38.146-08:00

On this day in 1911, Mariana Silva was born in San Marcial, NM, less than one year before New Mexico would become the 47th state in the Union. In 1920, she and her family moved to Albuquerque in a covered wagon. As a teen, she would change her first name to Mary Ann at the disdainful suggestion of a white woman whose dishes she washed: "You'll never get anywhere in life with a name like that."

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-8626913139851273762008-02-17T23:02:00.000-08:002008-02-17T23:05:39.842-08:00

I'm trying to read a lot more lately, mainly to fuel my writing because it's gotten pretty weak. I've been chipping away at A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius for a long time now, having barely picked it up again just last month after a year and a half hiatus. And what appropriate timing it was, seeing as most of the book takes place in Berkeley and—lo and behold!—I now live in Berkeley,

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-38339341017567059652008-02-10T11:23:00.000-08:002008-02-10T14:21:40.539-08:00

Part of my Three Month Rule is that once those 90 days are up, I thereby give up the right to bitch and complain that I have nothing to do or that I haven't made new friends. At the very least, I must actively seek new outlets for fun.Which is exactly what I've been up to for the last few weeks. I finally managed to join a writing group, which scares the bejeesus out of me because they all seem

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-27415279125956457282008-02-05T00:14:00.000-08:002008-06-04T13:21:52.855-07:00

After the kick in the nuts that was the 2004 Presidential Election, I haven't been able to muster any interest in the primary season, the issues, or the candidates. Most of my friends have been equally apathetic in contrast to our previous gusto in 2000 and 2004.Until now. Barack, I'm on your side.¡Si se puede!

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-183579328675904552008-02-03T12:22:00.000-08:002008-02-03T12:52:17.624-08:00

Some days, I wake up with a song in my head, and usually that song can make or break my day. One day I awoke with a Jesca Hoop song in my head, and I spent the day on an emotional roller coaster, not unlike the entirety her of beautiful album Kismet. Another time I awoke with Feist's So Sorry playing over and over, and I spent the day melancholy and sullen.But the one who always brings a smile to

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-19566477188837899552008-02-03T01:00:00.000-08:002008-02-03T12:59:37.539-08:00

I talked to Balls on the phone for three hours tonight. Throughout the call, I kept thinking about how my life changed nine months ago, and how it led to me being able to admit to myself who the important people in my life are, and how vital those three hours of shooting the shit and discussing our lives and our pasts and our futures were to my existence."Of all my friends, even those much

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-25414865423638134032008-01-26T19:33:00.000-08:002008-01-27T00:46:04.231-08:00

I woke up this morning and lazed about in jammies til noon. Right around the time I was starting to considering thinking about taking a shower, I heard a knock knock knock and a sing-songy "Helloooo!" echo in the foyer. It was one of the roomies."I was thinking of going to the farmers market. Interested in coming along?" I wasn't really feeling the spend-all-day-in-the-City vibe like I’d

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-29355478388210510662008-01-07T13:19:00.000-08:002008-01-07T01:23:30.708-08:00

I am a writer.Or rather, I like to call myself one in the absolute loosest, most amateur, juvenile, emo sense of the word. I've kept a paper journal for the last, ohhhhh, 16 years of my life starting way back with my first garishly decorated Lisa Frank diary with a flimsy plastic butterfly-shaped lock, stretching all the way up to now with my unruled Clairefontaine journal that I picked up in

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-33253949082822668862007-12-27T18:40:00.000-08:002007-12-27T18:44:41.151-08:00

I chopped off all my hair.Well, got it chopped off is more like it. It wasn't a spur-of-the-moment move, nor did I quite plan its final length as displayed above, but it's something I've been mulling over for a few months.I loved my old hair as much as the next person. The final length was around my lower back and it did this beautiful wavy thing starting below my shoulders. In the last year, I

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-34451639338591761102007-12-24T12:31:00.000-08:002007-12-26T13:00:58.860-08:00

Part IM and I got into LA around 7:30 last night. We had plans to meet the family at Grandma's place in Alhambra, but wasted a bit of time waiting for them by heading down the 710 to East LA and grabbing a coupla bags of cuernos (the best pan dulce of life) from El Gallo Bakery on César Chavez. You know you're comfortably among brown peeps when you see a huge homemade sign just off the freeway

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-27418574948657501432007-12-22T01:54:00.000-08:002007-12-28T13:55:28.238-08:00

I've quoted it before, but it bears repeating...When you first arrive in a new city, nothing makes sense. Everything's unknown, virgin... After you've lived here, walked these streets, you'll know them inside out. You'll know these people. Once you've lived here, crossed this street 10, 20, 1000 times... it'll belong to you because you've lived there. That was about to happen to me, but I didn't

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-83579127377094113732007-12-19T12:22:00.000-08:002008-06-04T13:23:30.995-07:00

JDawg has often remarked that going to a women's college fucking spoiled us for life. I've always agreed wholeheartedly, especially when moments pop up in life that illustrate her point.If you're a woman who went to a coed institution of higher education for undergrad, I cannot adequately stress to you how very different your experience was from ours. This conclusion is not based upon hearsay or

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-68471520612390720642007-12-07T01:34:00.000-08:002007-12-07T01:35:22.428-08:00

My pace of life has slowed down immensely, and I'm loving it. My body is thanking me. I didn't realize how much on edge I was back home. I've cursed at a driver maybe twice in the six weeks that I've been here, down exponentially from an average of 3-5 times every day in LA. If I'm not going to Target or Trader Joe's, I walk just about everywhere.I love walking. We miss so much of a city while

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-65769036988903850842007-11-06T17:04:00.000-08:002007-11-06T17:06:29.467-08:00

Yes, I owe you some posts. As you can see in my profile blurb to the right over there, I am now a bona fide Berkeley resident.Everyday, I wake up expecting the dream to end, that I'll be back in my tiny room in K-Town, that I'll be trudging my way through soul-sucking rush hour traffic to a job I despise, that I'll still be yearning for something more. But no, this is it. This is the dream, and

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-54251160929600748002007-10-16T12:05:00.000-07:002007-10-16T12:20:06.896-07:00

I posted an ad on Craigslist last week hoping to sell my dresser. A typical modern Ikea design made of particle board, my dresser was one of the first pieces of furniture I bought and assembled when I moved out of home nearly three years ago. Oh, the pride and excitement surrounding this purchase (along with my bed and a desk I long ago abandoned) were so real, so pure. There was nothing but

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-80064219250853408052007-10-13T09:55:00.000-07:002008-01-27T19:53:49.429-08:00

I had a fitful senior year of college. I returned to school a mere 10 days after stepping off the plane from Germany. Life was already eventful in that time frame, and then suddenly I found myself back in the bubble of a suburban college town. This fish traded her small pond for a big pond and was thrown back into the small pond against her will. As far as I was concerned, it was a lose-lose

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-25854380810827571472007-10-04T09:56:00.000-07:002007-10-04T09:56:42.112-07:00

It's been a little while since I last had anything substantial to say, but life's gotten just a bit more interesting recently.I'm moving to Berkeley by the end of the month.There was a flurry of interviews in September, which included a last minute whirlwind road trip with M and L where we arrived in town minutes before my first appointment. By last week, I had one offer and possibly another on

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-79455794072746970152007-09-14T00:03:00.000-07:002010-03-08T23:59:07.924-08:00

You know what I can't stop repeating to myself? Sundubu-jjigae. Danger's in town from Berkeley and we're going to BCD tonight. Yessss.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-8261911576180694432007-09-13T01:48:00.001-07:002010-07-28T11:22:49.279-07:00

Cindy at Lotería Chicana posed an intriguing question: "What kind of weird ideas or theories did you have as a kid?" I started commenting on her entry when I realized that it was getting a tad long and it was better suited to this forum. I thought everyone was Catholic. I mean, didn't we all have to spend one afternoon a week at CCD? I even had dreams of being at Catechism with my schoolmates.

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-38953412646463704712007-09-08T14:25:00.000-07:002007-09-08T14:26:13.382-07:00

"I mean, I don't think I was meant to be a dentist. This is not how I imagined myself. But this is what I'm doing now." Jthang sipped on her Lambrusco and paused. It was the first night back with my student dentist roommate after nearly a month of our respective vacations, and we shared a bottle of wine and chatted. No TV, no music."So what did you see yourself doing?" I was still in a haze from

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-9187635967778949002007-08-24T13:21:00.001-07:002007-08-25T10:16:40.901-07:00

Okay, I owe a post or two about vacation. I've gone to Flagstaff and back and M and I are headed to Santa Barbara overnight and onto the Bay in the morning. I'll get to it soon, as well as my camera progress, I promise, but first... MUSIC!Dr D moved away for a one-year contract professoring job in Montana this week and I made him a fantastic mix CD of songs about or referring to California and

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-1067137286147927022007-08-17T19:36:00.000-07:002007-08-17T19:48:44.159-07:00

I'm about to head off for two weeks of blissful vacation. Five days in Arizona with toda la familia (not my choice of location, but Mom will never let me hear the end of it if I'm not there) followed by five days or more with M in the Bay.Last weekend was so bizarre in so many ways that it's nice to have some distractions. May I introduce you to...After a year of scrimping and saving, my life has

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-64190983563911362672007-07-28T13:01:00.000-07:002007-08-25T10:45:17.772-07:00

A little known fact about Astrid: she loves to dance. It's true. Put me on a dance floor with a beer and a good beat and I'm shaking my ass 'til dawn. So as this week began and I was feeling particularly restless, I decided to put together a new club-worthy playlist, the kinds of songs I'd play if I were a DJ.I took a lot of cues from Django, my favorite DJ in Heidelberg who spins a lot of '60s

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-80839973147873806002007-07-25T01:01:00.000-07:002007-07-25T01:06:27.424-07:00

I never had a better English teacher than Potts in the tenth grade. She was ten years older than us, looked five years younger than that, and oftentimes felt like our older sister, albeit one who still worked your ass. Those of us smarties on the fringe loved her to pieces, a teacher who finally understood our yearning for intellectual stimulation. Most importantly, she was the only teacher who

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-25920742618165646922007-07-20T08:43:00.000-07:002007-07-20T20:45:13.422-07:00

"I was just admiring your collection of foreign language Harry Potter books," Dr D said as I returned to the living room to find him hovering over one of my bookcases. Perched on its middle shelf were three books from afar: Harry Potter und der Stein der Weisen, Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal, and Harry Potter à l'école des sorciers. Admittedly, I've only ever read a chapter of Stein der

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-3392629195158514782007-07-15T19:29:00.000-07:002007-07-15T19:29:46.166-07:00

I had no firm intentions of heading down to San Diego on Sunday night, but when a friend of mine loosely acquainted with the Squirrel Nut Zippers (and Andrew Bird and so many other artists...) offered to put me on the guestlist for their show at the Belly Up Tavern in Solana Beach if I let him ride with me, I grabbed M and Balls and loaded up the car quicker than you can spell DAMNATION.Talk

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-57717493741324915432007-07-15T14:18:00.000-07:002007-07-15T14:19:06.624-07:00

I rolled into work Monday morning still sporting the fluorescent yellow wristband from the night before. Wrinkled and sticky, declaring Sunday's date and "After Show" access, I consciously opted not to remove it to keep me from falling too far down in the doldrums as I served my 40 hours in a nondescript, lifeless office cubicle.Last weekend was my best weekend in LA in a long time, full of music

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-38914835338311968952007-06-19T00:41:00.000-07:002010-03-08T23:59:49.951-08:00

In Fever Pitch, Nick Hornby steadfastly insists that one does not pick their Teams; their Teams pick them. He became an Arsenal fan not because of any particular connection to the team, but rather because they were the first local team he saw in a live match at Highbury as a boy. Likewise, I will always favor the Dodgers over the Angels because, despite growing up within spitting distance of

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-19987403164342254812007-06-18T22:19:00.000-07:002010-03-09T00:00:19.486-08:00

The doorknob jangles and JThang comes into the room. "Hey girl." I don't even have to look at her to know that she had been crying. I stare straight ahead at the TV, clutching my third glass of wine, biting my lip, and suppressing tears that had been flowing freely only a few hours before. "I've been crying all day," she says, as she circles around the couch where I'm seated, her eyes and nose

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14431066.post-63137906404933969722007-06-11T00:12:00.000-07:002007-06-11T03:16:35.225-07:00

My favorite teacher of all time was Ms W in the sixth grade. She was near 60, taught us old civil war songs, used old spelling books from the 70s to simultaneously teach us Greek mythology, taught us the first verse of a Lewis Carroll poem that I still quote to this day, and was instrumental in piquing my interest in languages. She often shouted "Achtung!" at us to get our attention when we were

Astridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12377730213189983049noreply@blogger.com0