Growing Older But Not Up

My younger brother, Kevin, has purchased his first house. No kidding. Granted, it is in Minnesota... quite a bit cheaper than your average home in the Bay Area, which averages $500,000... but still, I am ever so proud.

It does, however, bring back unpleasant memories of when we were younger. For instance, Kevin accompanied me to the eye doctor once when I was 17. Kevin would have been 12 years old. Kev sat in the room with me, amusing himself by covering one eye and staring at things. At the end of the exam, the doctor handed my keys, which had been sitting on the countertop, to Kevin and told him to drive safely! When I protested (loudly), the doctor apologized and said he had just assumed Kev was my older brother.

He always did look older than his age. He practically had facial hair when he was 8. And I was always the babyface. Now that I'm 30, that fact has taken on a rather positive spin. I'm youthful. Good thing... since I don't own a house.

Misplaced Employment

I wonder why they call it losing your job. I know where I left mine, but I seem to have misplaced it anyway. I'm generally very organized, but it turns out, I can't keep track of my job.

I have been laid off. Another funny term. Sounds like I'm just minding my own business in my chair at my desk, and they just sort of lay me on my side on one of those things with wheels that the FedEx guy has... and roll me away.

We'll see if that's really how it happens. I have a lay off meeting later this afternoon. I'm very curious.

Note: Turns out, not so much. They just handed me some paperwork to fill out and return to them. Less than interesting. And I still have to show up for a whole month. PPPBBBBLLLTTTT!

Zzzz...oooom!

Often in the morning, just as I'm rolling over to make that contented little sigh of half-sleep and fall blissfully back into LaLa Land, it's as if someone flips a switch in my brain... and suddenly, I'm making lists of things to do, remembering and reconsidering things I said a week ago, and that lovely fuzzy-headed doziness is all gone.

I fight to keep my eyes closed. I don't care what time the clock says. It's freakin' Saturday for pete's sake... I wonder what time it is. If it's really early, I hope I can go back to sleep. I should get up and do laundry. No, but I have all day for that. Go back to sleep. Did I mail that Visa bill on Wednesday like I was supposed to? If not, where would it be? My backpack? I wonder what time it is.

This is compounded by the fact that when I do open my eyes... it's usually about 7:30am. The body is an amazing instrument that can be trained to do simply ridiculous and masochistic things without any intention to do so in the first place.

If I went to bed earlier, this could all be avoided... in theory. However, when I go to bed early, I do the same thing, but in reverse order. Did I pick up my water bottle before I left the gym? If not, I wonder where it is. In the trunk of my car? Oh lordie, I hope I didn't leave it on the roof and drive away. Tomorrow, I should write myself a note to get a new toothbrush; mine's too old, and I don't see the dentist again until April. Did I already make that appointment, or was I supposed to call to do that?

I wonder what time it is...

New Bertmobile!

I managed to purchase a great little car from a sweet, old lady who has a vacation residence in San Rafael. She only drove it once in a while, so it has really low miles. It's a 1993 Honda del Sol. It goes really fast! And... the top comes off! To see photos, click here.

Five Years and Counting

January 17, 2005, was my fifth anniversary of living in San Francisco! Due to recent life events (stupid car wreck and ensuing insurance debacles), I wasn't able to properly recognize and celebrate this joyous occasion.

In June 1999, having just returned from the Peace Corps, I was living at my parents' house temporarily and teaching in an elementary school in St. Paul, Minnesota. In November, my college boyfriend (whom I hadn't dated in several years) decided he couldn't live without me, and proposed in a big ordeal at my parents' house. I said yes. A bad decision? Well, it really depends on how you look at it.

You see, reverse culture shock is a strange thing. The entire time I was in the Dominican Republic, I longed for the familiarity of home... gender equality, air conditioning, and ice cream. I would sit in my stone hut with the corrugated tin roof and wooden slat windows and dream of the many days I spent studying at the Memorial Union in Madison, Wisconsin, enjoying the refreshing breeze from the lake. Each time I passed the motoconcho tigueres and had to listen to their catcalls, I ached for the days when I could walk down the street, virtually unnoticed in my Scandinavian sameness. And just try to get a good ice cream in country where electricity is a commodity strictly monitored and doled out sparingly by the corrupt government officials. It's impossible. Believe me. I searched until my feet practically bled.

Anyway, the point is, when I returned to this idyllic place I had held in my mind for close to two and a half years, I realized it wasn't as familiar as I thought. People were rude, the government was full of jerks, and the ice cream... well, okay... the ice cream was as delightful as I remembered. Even so, I felt totally alienated and confused for about a year after I returned.

It was during this time that my college boyfriend proposed to me at my parents house. There were violins and chalk drawings. To be fair, it was very sweet. In my all-encompassing bewilderment, I said yes and the whirlwind of quitting my job, packing my things, and driving to the west coast sun began! (Thanks, Dad, for following me and my Volkswagon out here in the moving van over all of those windy mountain roads.)

(Side note: I threw out all of my turtleneck shirts when I decided to move to San Francisco. After all, it's California, right? I had been here only once before, during a heat spell in August. I soon purchased more turtlenecks.)

Not surprisingly, the relationship soon failed miserably... though I did manage to beat it to death with a big, pointy, barbarian club for about a year after I realized it just wouldn't work.

Then... I moved out. (big sigh of relief) And that's when I truly began to appreciate the city to which I had come. I currently live near Golden Gate Park, I shop in my adorable neighborhood, and I am within walking distance of amazing ice cream at almost all times. To add to this fantastic-ness, at the age of 30 years and 9 months, I also now own a cute, little convertible.

Aaaawww yeaahh!

Wishes

My car has officially been determined a 'total loss'. It sounds so final. Total Loss!

When my dad was taking me to the airport after Christmas, we were discussing my little volkswagon. I said it would be good if someone would just run into it and total the thing... therefore giving me the opportunity to be free of its constant aches and pains of old age. The next day, I had my first accident ever and my car was totaled... and not on purpose, mind you. This makes me wonder something...

At that moment, in the car with my dad, I could have wished for anything. I could have wished for world peace or to win the lottery or true love. I wonder, did I waste a guaranteed wish? Was that a defining moment in time when the stars were aligned and the universe was listening? And if so... how could I have known it was listening to me?

Keep your ears open for the sound of those stars all lining up, getting ready for your wish.

note: After writing this, I went to go clean my personal belongings out of my little bertmobile in the horrible, cold garage where it's currently living. I said goodbye to it and took its license plates. *big sigh* Then, like a dumb girl, I cried. Poor lonely bertmobile. We've been through a lot together. Heck, it outlasted five boyfriends. Five.

Ford Focus Rental to the Rescue

So... still no word on my car. Well, I mean technically, there have been plenty of words, but none of them with any answers behind them. My insurance company (which will remain unnamed because I generally really like them) has had some serious issues with getting an estimate to me. First, they forgot the appointment, necessitating that I call to find out what was going on when I hadn't heard from them. They had to do it three days later. Then, they transposed the previous-related damage and the actual accident estimates (as if I were driving around with a smashed headlight and airbags deployed for months before I rear-ended someone and scratched my bumper ever so slightly). So, now they have to go estimate again! Normally, it's 24 hours, but will likely be 48 due to all of the rain-induced accidents. Apparently, just because I stupidly smashed my car before those people stupidly smashed theirs doesn't give me dibs.

I still have no idea whether or not they will total my car, and it's almost 2 weeks after the accident. My bruises have faded, and the thrill of driving a car that isn't mine has worn off (it's a little Ford Focus rental with a really high butt and weirdly unfamiliar blind spots). I just want to know if they'll fix my car, if I have to claim it as salvaged (if they total it and give me very little money), or if I can get a shiny new-used car (if they total it and give me not-so-little money). As much as it would be fun to get a newish car... I'm still rooting for them fixing it. Although, that is looking rather unlikely, at this point. I'm taking suggestions on what kind of a new-used car under $5000 that I should consider, just in case...

And the real question is... how long will it take the DMV to screw up my paperwork, so that I have to go stand in line three different times just to figure it all out?

Crazy Funtime Snot

I have a terrible cold. But, it has given me a good idea for a new toy. Crazy Funtime Snot (TM)... it could be marketed in the same aisle as Silly Putty. It's also extremely sticky and good for household chores, such as dusting the livingroom shelves. Just blow some onto a tissue and wipe that pesky dust away!

SBC (Superlatively Bumbling Communications)

Our satellite dish went all wacky last week. All we get on the television screen now is an error message. So, after fiddling with it for some time, trying to get to The Daily Show and failing miserably, I called SBC. The following is a report of how the conversation went...

CS = Customer Service person (this is a euphemism for Totally Incompetent Jackoff)

Call #1
CS: Thank you for calling SBC. How can I help you?
me: Our satellite dish doesn't seem to be working, and we've had some wind and rain recently. I wonder if the dish blew over or something.
CS: (runs me through a battery of tests, twice for each, which I just did before calling, with the same results... all tests failed) Do you have bad weather there now?
me: Um... yes. We have we've had some wind and rain recently, and I was wondering if the dish blew over or something.
CS: It's likely the clouds. See what happens in a few hours. If it's not better, call us back.
me: I'm sorry... What good will that do?
CS: To see if the weather clears up.
me: Um... okay. (hang up, exhausted from all of the repeatedly-failed tests)

Call #2
CS: Thank you for calling SBC. How can I help you?
me: Our satellite dish doesn't seem to be working, and we've had some wind and rain. I think the dish might have blown over. I talked to someone about three hours ago, and he said to call back if it was still broken by now.
CS: (runs me through the same battery of tests, again twice each, with the same failing results)
me: Maybe the dish blew over.
CS: Can you see the dish?
me: Hold on. Let me see. (exit to back porch in rain, climb slippery stairs, climb rickety ladder, peek up at severely sloped roof) No, not from here, but I see the cable.
CS: The dish isn't dangling or anything?
me: I can't see if from here, but the roof is really sloped. It's likely up higher.
CS: Well, we generally don't send a tech out unless you can see the dish hanging.
me: I can't see it from here. It might be hanging, but higher up where I can't see. The guy who installed it took 5 hours and did a crappy job inside. I wouldn't be surprised if he did a crappy job outside, too.
CS: Let's do the tests again, just to make sure.
me: *sigh* (do all tests twice again, fail and fail)
CS: We can send out a dish tech, but it'll be $99.
me: That seems excessive!
CS: Well, you could go try to fix it yourself.
me: So, I can pay you $99 to come fix something I pay you for monthly, or I can go climb on my wet, slippery roof and fix it myself?
CS: Yes, ma'am.
me: I want to talk to the person in charge.
CS: The manager has the same rules, ma'am.
me: Maybe so, but this is ridiculous and you can't help me, so give me to the manager.
CS: Hold on, ma'am.
me: (holding)
CS: Welcome to SBC, how can I help you?
me: *sigh* (recap whole story, so far)
CS: Let me see what's going on. Okay, let's run some tests.
me: You have got to be kidding me.
CS: We need to rule out any software issues.
me: I think we've ruled that out. I want a dish tech to come fix my broken satellite dish.
CS: I can't schedule it until we do the tests.
me: (run the tests... surprise... fail)
CS: Okay, so it'll be $99 for a tech to come check that out.
me: I have to pay you $99 or go climb on my roof in the rain to fix it myself? I won't pay $99. I thinks that excessive and inane when I pay you for this service.
CS: I'll tell you what I'll do. I can give you $50 off.
me: So, I have to pay you $50 or go climb around on my roof?!
CS: No, you pay $30.
me: How's that?
CS: Oh... wait. 100 minus 50 is 50. That's right. $50!
me: Please transfer me to someone higher up.
CS: Wait, I'm getting a message from my supervisor. She said we can give you a $99 credit this one time.
me: So, the tech is free?
CS: Yes. I'll pass you to the scheduling people. (he disconnects us and I get a dial tone)

Call #3
CS: Thank you for calling SBC. How can I help you?
me: (trying to breathe deeply and hold it together) I was scheduling a dish tech and got disconnected.
CS: Let's do some tests to make sure it's not the software.
me: NO! I want a tech to come out! I've done the damn tests 34,000 times! (so much for holding it together)
CS: Okay, ma'am. In what city are you located?
me: San Francisco, California
CS: Okay (long pause)... Is that considered northern or southern California.
me: (big cartoon question marks actually appear above my head) That would be northern California...

The appointment was set up for tomorrow, eventually. There was more debacle to be had around the scheduling, but it's just not worth going into. SBC... Corporate America in action!

note added 1/11/05: A dish tech did come out on Satuday. According to Claudine, who was here when he came, he said the dish was installed impromperly the first time and had some loose parts. A-HA! I did the 'I Was Right' dance.

Happy 2005!

I never truly understood all of the hoopla around the new year. It really is rather arbitrary, but I guess it's human nature to mark the passing of time. Peoples of just about every culture do it in their own way.

I know I'm marking mine... 25 more weeks until I graduate! I actually have it marked on my calendar... the weekly countdown. Then comes the daunting task of finding a job. At least that might allow me to buy a functional car.