September 2004 Archives
Song on my mind... "Feels Like Home" by Randy Newman, as sung by Chantal Kreviazuk.
Well, if you knew
How much this moment means to me
And how long I've waited for your touch
And if you knew
How happy you are making me
I never thought that I'd love anyone so much
It feels like home to me
The notion of home is a simple, but powerful one. Happiness and love associated with a place and then a person. The song moves me everytime I hear it.
I don't want Chicago to lose. I just want Cincinnati to win. As I type this, the teams are tied 1-1 in the top of the seventh. Adam Dunn put the Reds up by a run with his 45th homer of the season in the second inning. That allowed me to relax a little. But in the bottom of the third, Chicago's starting pitcher, Glendon Rusch, homered to tie the game. Talk about helping your own cause. Now I'm tense again.
With Chicago and San Francisco in a tie for the National League Wild Card spot and Houston just half a game behind, every game is crucial. The Giants have two more against the dangerous Padres and finish the season with a three-game series against the division-leading Dodgers. Knowing the guys in orange and black, they'll win and lose in just the right sequence to maximize my stress level. It will all come down to the final game on Sunday and the final at-bat with men in scoring position and the slumping A.J. Pierzynski at the plate. The pessimist in me has this feeling.
The seventh inning just ended. Chicago managed to produce a run out of a bases loaded, nobody out situation and took the lead. Now I have to hold my breath and hope Cincinnati can muster a comeback.
Tonight, San Francisco sends young Noah Lowry up against San Diego's veteran, David Wells. It's going to be a nail-biter. I barely survived listening to all of last night's game, so I might tune in to an inning or two before getting lost in another episode of Lost. So, go Reds! But more importantly, go Giants!
; "my desk")
- a Pixar-esque lamp
- an Oakland A's visor
- a cheap lei
- a mouseless mousepad
- Lisa Loeb CDs
- The Sims 2 Special DVD Edition
- a big honkin' monitor with The Sims 2 wallpaper and a corner bookmark with the Chinese character for "happiness"
- a Weezer CD
- game manuals
- assorted pens, papers and photos
- assorted music CDs
- a travel clock
- assorted games (The Sims, SimCity and a few other titles)
- a Mickey Mouse bookmark
- a red VW Bug pencil holder
- a framed letter from Charles Schulz
- a framed photo collage from college
- an old Snoopy wind-up toy
- the dog from the movie Babe
- a Snoopy music box (don't remember which song)
- a sleeping dog paperweight
- more assorted music CDs
Slow down, you move too fast,
You got to make the mornin' last,
Just kickin' down the cobblestones,
Lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy.
"The 59th Street Bridge Song" by Simon and Garfunkel was on my mind all weekend. If every day was a road, then weekends should have a lower speed limit than weekdays. In between all of the places to go, people to see and things to do, there's hardly a chance to stop and reflect. By the time the chance appears, so much else has occurred that the desire to record the details disappears. That's not going to happen to this weekend.
On Friday, I saw Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. It seems strange for a new movie to use today's technology to simulate the look and feel of a movie made seventy years ago. It's like producing a 2005 version of King Kong and making the CGI gorilla look like a man in a monkey suit instead of hiring a man in a monkey suit. Yet, I liked the film. It reminded me of movies like Indiana Jones, The Mummy and The Rocketeer. The visual effects were snazzy and well done. Other appropriate adjectives include spiffy and neat. The music was heroic and the banter between Joe (Jude Law) and Polly (Gwyneth Paltrow) cracked me up. During a this-may-be-our-last-moment-on-Earth scene, Joe says to Polly in exasperation, "Just once, can we die without all this bickering?"
After the movie, I tried North Beach Pizza in San Mateo. I understand it has delicious pizza. Too bad I was in the mood for lettuce. Instead of trying the Golden Gate Special, I opted for the North Beach Chicken Salad. It was decent as far as lettuce is concerned.
On Saturday, I checked out the Half Moon Bay Wine Walk, a charity event to raise money for local schools. Sponsoring wineries set up booths along Main Street and sold glasses of wine. The name of the benefiting school hung above each booth. I don't know, but it seemed weird to say, "Hey, go check out John Doe Elementary! They have a great Cabernet." Because of Sunday's run, I only browsed the wine selection. Afterwards, I had dinner at Two Fools Cafe & Market and tried the salmon special with orange jalapeno sauce. The sauce made the dish.
After Sunday's run, I went to the Pacific Coast Fog Fest in Pacifica. It started out foggy, but eventually the sun won out. Vendors lined the length of Palmetto Avenue. I didn't acquire any ooga booga sticks, dawgkerchiefs or other everyday items, but it was pleasant to simply slow down and "window shop". On a sad note, it bummed me out to see the surf shop I photographed during last year's festival had gone out of business. That just seems wrong in a coastal town.
On Sunday, I returned to Crissy Field to run the 14th Annual Komen San Francisco Race for the Cure. Although the course was the same as last year, the whole area felt different. Last year, the morning was cool and sunny and there was a view of the Golden Gate Bridge. This year, it was cold and so thick with fog that a newcomer would never know a bridge existed. It took most of the morning for the sun to burn through and reveal the tower tops of the bridge.
Quilted Northern Ultra, a bath tissue company, was one of this year's major sponsors. "Bath tissue" is a euphemism for "toilet paper". At the race, they had people dressed up as the Quilters roaming the crowd and had deluxe portable restrooms set up for race participants to use. I didn't bother to try the spruced up facilities, but now I regret not being curious enough to see what was so deluxe about them.
Pink was the color of the day. It wasn't unusual to see people sporting pink pajamas, scarves, ribbons or wigs. Survivors wore special pink t-shirts and visors. Participants were invited to pin pink cards to their clothing, with the name of their loved one affected by breast cancer, to help celebrate or remember them.
At one end of the venue, large tribute quilts were on display. Each quilt had perhaps sixteen panels; each made by different families in memory of the ones they had lost. Their love and sadness, sewn into the quilted fabric, served to remind us why we were running.
I ran the five-kilometer course in a time of 25:38, a minute slower than what I ran last year, but a minute faster than my last 5K. The next race I plan to attend is two months away. My goal is to run a personal best and yesterday's event gives me hope that I can achieve it. My legs felt good throughout the race and they aren't sore today. That's always a good sign.
During yesterday's noontime coffee run, I discovered a new cafe (well, new to me) at the corner of Julian and Almaden in downtown San Jose. It's part of the River Street Historic District near the HP Pavilion, where the Sharks play when there aren't labor disputes. Anyway, the place is Lowry's Irish Coffee House and it's quite good. They serve everything you'd expect at a deli (breakfast, sandwiches, salads, espresso and, uh, beer), but it's all done with Ireland in mind. I tried the Limerick-style Ham and Cheese sandwich and it was tasty. If I hadn't eaten so fast, I would have taken a picture (a la Aiyah). Maybe I will next time, when I try another dish and don't feel so self-conscious about photographing my food.
Yesterday, I ended up using the time I dedicate to this journal to edit a writing assignment. It's true. I recently signed up for a creative writing class through my town's community center. It's an eight-session course that meets two hours a week. We had our second session last night.
Our first assignment was to write three double-spaced pages of dialogue involving a conflict between two people. Because I was in a baseball state of mind, I decided to write a conversation between two guys, a Dodgers fan and a Giants fan, watching a game at the local bar. Fascinating, I know.
The writing and editing portion of the exercise was the easy part. Reading what I wrote to the group for critique was the difficult part. It was a small group, but I was still nervous. I rushed and stammered through the sentences, missing inflections and tripping over punch lines. Somehow I survived and received some pretty constructive comments.
Going in, I had these one-dimensional characters, voices with names, but no physical descriptions or personal histories. Nothing. Now I have some insight into how I can go beyond a simple baseball sketch and flesh out these two guys.
Our next assignment is to take the same characters, if possible, and write them into an action scene (think a fight or pursuit). I'll probably use two completely different characters and avoid baseball this time around. Maybe I'll go with a high-speed pedal boat chase. Who knows?
Part of my motivation for taking the class is to get myself psyched and better equipped for NaNoWriMo. Last year, I blissfully flew through the whole thing by the seat of my pants. The plot and characters shifted with the wind, which was acceptable for a freshman effort, but this time, I want something more focused and consistent.
Another part of my motivation is to work on my writing. This isn't to say that anybody reading this journal will see a marked improvement in my grammar, vocabulary or overall brilliance creativity. Quite the contrary. Readers should expect the quality of writing to suffer. The skeptical side of me believes the classes will be more detrimental than helpful, but we'll see how it goes.
At noon, I went to one of my favorite cafes by Santa Clara University. I ordered a tuna salad and coffee for lunch. The place was rather crowded with business types from surrounding high tech firms. They were busy talking to one another or talking on their cell phones. Just above the din of conversation, I could hear guitar music and somebody singing.
There were a few empty tables scattered about and I eventually found one I liked. As I sat down, I looked up and saw two young men at a nearby table. One was singing and the other was playing a guitar. The guitarist and I made eye contact. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. He smiled lopsidedly and gave me a nod. I smiled, nodded and then buried my nose in a book.
The two weren't performing for anybody in particular. They were there to practice and write music. It was interesting overhearing some of their creative process. I continued to read, but in the back of my mind, it was bugging me that I couldn't remember where I had seen the guitarist before.
My salad finally arrived and I ate it while trying to think. It wasn't until I was sipping the last of my coffee when wisps of a memory drifted across my brain. He had performed at a cafe near San Jose State last year! I couldn't recall specifics like his name or the cafe's name for that matter, but I could remember writing about it in this journal.
As I left, I gave the mystery guitarist a parting nod and rushed back to the office to run a search. And wouldn't you know it? I wrote about Sonny playing at Cafecito nearly a year and a half ago. I was so overjoyed to find that speck of information. Who knew this journal could be such a nifty memory aid?
Another show that looks like it could be good for a laugh is the WB's Drew Carey's Green Screen Show, which features most of the cast from Whose Line is it Anyway? as well as some new improvisational blood. The concept sounds interesting, but I wonder how well the group can pull it off.
; "Yosemite Chapel")
; "Half Dome through trees")
The freeways for commuting look identical to those for escaping. My first fifteen miles to work are the same as the first fifteen to Yosemite. The paths diverge at a major highway interchange. Most weekdays, I take the northbound ramp, but Friday found us taking the southbound ramp through places like Oakdale, Groveland and Chinese Camp instead of downtown San Jose. Oakdale, the last "big" town before the valley, is good for two reasons: coffee and gas. They have a convenient Starbucks at the corner of Yosemite Ave and F Street and gas stations offering unleaded for $1.95 a gallon.
We reached Curry Village around one o'clock. Some of our group had already arrived and they started hiking while we dropped our bags off at the tent cabin. We were soon heading to the Four-Mile Trail, which leads up to popular Glacier Point. Along the way, we came upon Yosemite Chapel standing across the meadow. Beyond its spire, the mountain ridge rose heavenwards. According to my Lonely Planet guidebook, it was built in 1879 and moved to its current spot in 1901. On a side note, Lonely Planet contributing writer is now one of my top 5 dream jobs.
The ascent to Glacier Point wasn’t an easy one and we trudged up only a mile or two before encountering part of our party coming down. Considering the hour, we turned around and walked back with them. Every now and then, we would catch glimpses of Half Dome through the trees. The sky was so clear and blue. The day's highs had been in the upper seventies, but the temperature would rapidly drop over the weekend.
We returned to the village, grabbed some pizza, showered and retired early to our cabin, which was across from the bathrooms. The location was a mixed blessing: less distance, but more noise. Our cabin was also on unsteady footing. Whenever somebody rolled over in his or her cot, the entire structure shook. A midnight trip to the bathroom would register a 3.2 on the Richter scale. Despite the noise and tremors, we still managed to get some sleep. We needed it if we hoped to reach the top of El Capitan the next day.
; "Grand Californian lobby")
; "Storytellers Cafe")
; "Sunrise Plaza")
; "Tower of Terror")
I wanted to post at least a few family vacation photos before scooting out for a three-day weekend. A few of us are heading back to Yosemite. This will be my third trip this year. So far it has been all Half Dome. To change things up a bit, we'll be hiking to the top of El Capitan this time. For those keeping track at home, that makes it Half Dome, Half Dome, El Cap. It's a Yosemite twist on the whole Duck Duck Goose game.
While at the resort, we stayed at the Grand Californian Hotel. The grounds are adjacent to California Adventure and hotel guests have their own private entrance to the park. The hotel also has easy access to Downtown Disney, where there are a number of restaurants and shops.
While the entire hotel is beautiful, the atrium lobby is the most impressive part. The building stands about seven stories high and the lobby opens all the way up to the roof. During the day, sunlight filters through from high above. Off to one side, a magnificent fireplace provides a cozy spot for late night gatherings
One of my family's favorite restaurants was Storytellers Cafe. Because they loved it so much, we ended up having breakfast there three of the five days. The menu included omelettes, french toast and Mickey Mouse waffles. They also offered a buffet. I especially liked the interior decorating that paid tribute to the tales of California's ealry pioneers.
The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror (ToT), located in the Hollywood Pictures Backlot, seemed like the most popular ride in the new park. It also seemed to be the one most susceptible to breakdowns. I believe it opened this May, so the mechanics must be still working out the bugs. Better than a roller coaster, ToT seamlessly blends the story and feel of a Twilight Zone episode with the ride. I found myself so caught up in the story that the drop caught me by surprise twice. I think we took this ride six times.
Rereading this entry, I'm afraid all of my Disney-related posts are going to sound like commercials. I apologize if they do, but I'm only trying to relate how I felt. Apparently, I'm an exuberant fan.
A not-so-helpful hint: the title of this entry is pronounced exactly how it's spelled (or spelt). What does it mean? I have no idea. No, really, that's what it means. Actually, it was the first combination of sounds that popped into my head as I struggled to think up a title. Let's make it Wednesday's word of the day.
The Mickey logo belongs to the baseball cap I purchased down south. My last cap, which had the word "Tigger" embroidered on it, gave up about a year ago. I'm breaking in the new one by wearing it every chance I get. I like the surfing Mickey silhouette and the yin yang symbol in the waves. It's a nice combination.
Fling93 wondered if I had any insights on Jon's question: when furries characters such as mickey mouse and bugs bunny pose for pictures with kids and family at theme parks, do the people in the costume smile as a natural reaction to the situation at hand?
I didn't gain any new insights while down there, but my guess (and hope) is that they smile. It's difficult to picture them not instinctively smiling at the camera. I'm actually surprised I didn't hear more characters accidentally say, "Cheese!"
It's a little creepy to think about the person in the costume. When I saw characters (and I saw way too many), it was psychologically easier to think of them as Pluto, Stitch or Minnie Mouse versus thinking of teen-aged Johnny dressed up as Minnie. This was especially true when I happened to spot Minnie posing with a man in his forties, who had a beer belly and wore a tight, pink Mighty Mouse shirt. I have no idea (wekkelploppindinger!) how poor Johnny could be comfortable in that situation and still manage to smile.
; "a creative space")
A few weeks ago, as I traveled ever so slowly on the 101, I was listening to NPR's All Things Considered. They have a segment called Creative Spaces. It explores the places where artists, musicians, writers and actors go to escape, create, find inspiration, relax and rejuvenate. That particular day, Phylicia Rashad talked about finding sanctuary and solitude in the New York Botanical Garden. A few other folks have also discussed their creative places.
It's fascinating how some artists' havens sometimes become their prisons. They find or create this environment that starts out as a source of creativity, but over time becomes the only source. How does that happen?
I suppose some artists would consider the creation of art mysterious, magical or even sacred. For them, the place and time must be fixed and there must almost be a ritual, an established routine to start the process. For others, their approach must be more workmanlike in nature. Clock in and clock out. It doesn't matter where or when. All that matters is that the artist has the appropriate tools to create.
This got me wondering what bloggers, photobloggers or online journalists need to create. What tools? A laptop, a digital camera, a pen, a pad of paper, the margins of a newspaper? Where? Outdoors, indoors, in a cubicle, on a train, at home, in the shower?
I prefer a pad and pen or my Palm V (with keyboard) and someplace outside. My regular weekday creative spaces vary. One of my favorites is the table shown here. To reach it from the office requires a walk over the river and through the (manmade) woods.
The walk is part of the space. It's a warm up. The repetition of putting one foot in front of the other helps my brain shift gears. A walk to the train station, a walk to the park, a walk to the cafe. The form of transportation can affect the mindset.
When I sit with a pad of paper, my inner-editor takes a coffee break (which reminds me, a good cup of coffee can be a critical tool, too) and allows the writing or blogging to flow. The Palm V works like a pad. The small screen doesn't give my inner editor a chance to backtrack and censor thoughts or rework sentences.
The table is a cool creative space. Part of what tickles my mind is how close it is to "civilization", but how remote it feels. It's a secret spot out in the open. I imagine it would lose some if its magic were it to become popular and populated. There is the occasional jogger and cyclist, but they pass through quickly. They're part of the background, like the birds or squirrels (though dressed in tighter and brighter clothing than any bird or squirrel I've seen).
While at Disneyland, I sought out similar creative nooks, attempting to find a moment of solitude, a reprieve from the masses. The fifth floor hotel balcony. The table between the bookstore and magazine kiosk in Downtown Disney. The rocking chair by the rustic fireplace. The bench along the meandering trail behind the Grizzly River Run. The places were there if you looked for them.
And that's true wherever you go. It's only a matter of having the tools, the time and finding a space where you feel safe enough to let your creativity run wild.
For five days and four nights I was vacationing with the family at the Disneyland Resort. To say we were vacationing in Anaheim might give the false impression that we were wandering around town, amusing ourselves with other diversions and experiencing other entertainment outlets, but we never actually left the Disney property. Well, except when we shuttled to and from John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana and when we legged it to Hilo Hattie in Orange. Other than that, our experience was more like a Disney Immersion Program (DIP).
I'm not complaining. Really. I love most things Mickey. I love the imagination, creativity, magic and happiness the brand represents and projects. I dislike how the company has managed to transform those positive qualities into collectible pins, hoodies and mugs. This isn't to say I don't fall for such merchandising. I purchased a few mementos while I was there. I just hope my taste in souvenirs is slightly more refined than the average theme park patron's. It's probably not, but that's the Disney snob in me talking.
While five days might seem like overkill for most people, it's a decent amount of time for my parents. Disneyland is my dad's dream vacation spot. It has been for as long as I can remember. When we were younger, he and my mom would rush us from ride to ride, or more accurately, from line to line. Now, they take their time at the parks. They'll grab a FastPass for Indiana Jones or Soarin' Over California and then cruise through the shops while waiting. It's been just four years since our last visit. My dad's reason to my mom for returning so soon was to experience the new California Adventure. I suspect he would have gone even if there were no additions to the park.
As soon as I have access to a computer that can upload photos, I'll post some from our DIP. It's Monday again. Isn't that nice?
Yesterday, I was treated to lunch at Hukilau. I usually have the kalua cabbage, but opted for the loco moco, my second favorite dish, instead. I don't know how authentic it is, but if somebody wants to send me to the islands to compare, I wouldn't mind. The dish would make a good breakfast.
I heard Hukilau has opened a third location in Palo Alto. So, if you live in between San Jose and San Francisco, check it out. The address is 642 Ramona Street. All three locations have live music on Friday and Saturday nights. I can't wait to see what the new one is like.
I rarely post on Saturdays, but thought the randomly curious would like to know that on top of a long Labor Day weekend, I'll be on vacation next week. While away, I'll probably do some writing, reading and photographing. We'll see if I'm able to squeeze in a little fun as well.
Let's say your day at work has been crazy busy. You've been staring at the monitor unblinkingly, hammering away at your assignments, trying to ward off interruption after interruption and, being the good worker bee (or drone) you are, even skipping lunch. You glance at the clock and it tells you the day is far from over. What do you do to relieve the stress in fifteen minutes or less? I have a suggestion based on fresh-from-the-oven experience.
[Printing the following instructions is advisable.]
Slide your chair away from the desk. If you have a wireless phone, put it in a drawer. Any drawer. It doesn't matter. If you don't have a phone and feel left out, a banana (or any other handy fruit) makes a fine substitute.
Get up from your chair and walk out of the building. How stealthily you escape is up to you. The idea is to be nonchalant and, no, your Harry Potter invisibility cloak probably won't work. Unnoticed, you're now outside and making your way to your car.
If you don't have a car or didn't drive one today, then a bicycle or horse will do. Walking also works, but remember you only have thirteen minutes or so remaining, depending on how fast you read.
Before you start your car/bicycle/horse, I should tell you where you're going. You’re making a beeline for Starbucks or any suitable coffee equivalent. So insert the key in the ignition, raise the kickstand and give your steed a giddy up. Be sure to switch the radio to a relaxing classical station. Please don't try turning dials on the horse, you will only succeed in pissing it off.
[Stop here! Put this paper down, buckle up and pay attention to the road. When you've reached your destination and have gotten in line, please resume reading.]
Okay, you've reached your destination, politely waited in line and are ready to order with nine minutes left. Request a medium (grande to the Starbucks crowd) peppermint mocha, pay for it and while you wait, take a moment to enjoy the view. If there isn't a view, then appreciate the artwork. If there's no artwork, then admire the pretty people, but don't stare at them (or get caught staring), that's rude and a tad creepy.
Once you have your drink, thank the barista, but don't run off yet. Take your time and savor the first few sips. A peppermint mocha is like Christmas in a cup. So, focus on visions of sugarplums or other pleasant memories. Are you focusing? Good. Sit with them for a minute. Take another sip and let the stress slip away. Do you feel more relaxed? Nice. Now snap out of it! You only have four minutes to get back to work.
Don't worry. You can bring the mocha with you. After you park your trusty steed, calmly make your way back to your desk. If you want, check the messages on your banana before tackling the rest of the workday. Good luck, enjoy your mocha and be thankful that tomorrow is Friday.
I wouldn't be much of a baseball fan if I didn't mention New York's 22-0 loss to Cleveland last night. As the recap says, the Indians handed the boys in pinstripes "the largest loss in the 101-year history of the Yankees". Any team versus Steinbrenner's $180 million roster is an automatic underdog, but a victory on this scale by Cleveland, a team once synonymous with perennial losing and twice parodied in film, is extra sweet.
On a more local note, the A's are on an eight-game winning streak. Meanwhile, the Giants are tied for the wild card spot in the National League. I didn't realize it, but there's a special page dedicated to Barry's pursuit of No. 700. His career home run count currently sits at 696.
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