One of the most difficult parts about moving, and something that I've been experiencing lately, is the loneliness. We came up here with a sprinkling of friends and family, most of whom are farther away than I'd realized. That doesn't make them nonexistent. One local friend has already reached out (I was still recovering from the never ending flu), and I have a girl's night on the books with a very dear friend.
But is that enough?
Of course not. After a childhood of dorkiness, I have become a very social person. I like having people to laugh with, girls who are just as strange as I am. So today I did something awesome, something that I'm not ashamed to admit kind of freaked me out.
I went to a speed friending event.
I know, really Maile, what are you even talking about?
Remember that book I devoured this week, MWF Seeking BFF? The author had a signing today in San Francisco! I knew there was a reason that the book was screaming at me on Wednesday. And following the signing, there was a speed friending event. You know, like speed dating, but for friendship. Which is awesome because I've always wanted to do speed dating, but sadly I'm quite happy with Leonard.
And it was nice. I chatted, other women chatted, and in the end I walked away with three phone numbers & email addresses. Will these be my new Bay Area Buddies?
How do we ever know? Eleven years ago could I have foreseen that Claire would one day write a sappy ode to me on her blog? When we were cast in the same show, could I have anticipated that Julie would become the Joey to my Chandler? (Try to fight it Jewels, everyone knows that if anyone is Chandler, it's me). Did I know that Jess would become my penpal, that Marika would become my work bestie, that Traci would be my go-to book buddy?
Of course not.
But all I can do is go in with an open heart, an open mind, and take the steps to making my home in San Francisco a happy one.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Saturday, February 4, 2012
An apology of sorts
I hope that you'll forgive last night's melancholy. I had this dream this morning, that we hadn't moved yet. We were packing the U-haul, and doing such a poor job of it. And I when I woke up in the apartment I was so happy to be here. So happy that we have moved, and that we're here.
It's just overwhelming. For years this is all I wanted. To live in the city. To live in San Francisco. But nothing is quite as I imagined.
Really I should have figured that out after thirty years. Things are never as you plan.
I imagined us closer to the heart of the city, instead we're out of the way. I imagined excitement, instead it's quiet and peaceful. Quieter than Orange County. I imagined to be within a stones throw of all these hip local places, instead we can walk to the mall.
None of these things are bad. There's a lot to be said about each of these developments.
I am so thrilled to be here. I just wish I had more stories to share. I wish that every time people asked, I had a new exciting tale to tell.
But that's all on me, isn't it?
It's just overwhelming. For years this is all I wanted. To live in the city. To live in San Francisco. But nothing is quite as I imagined.
Really I should have figured that out after thirty years. Things are never as you plan.
I imagined us closer to the heart of the city, instead we're out of the way. I imagined excitement, instead it's quiet and peaceful. Quieter than Orange County. I imagined to be within a stones throw of all these hip local places, instead we can walk to the mall.
None of these things are bad. There's a lot to be said about each of these developments.
I am so thrilled to be here. I just wish I had more stories to share. I wish that every time people asked, I had a new exciting tale to tell.
But that's all on me, isn't it?
Friday, February 3, 2012
A not humorous confession
I expected to have it all figured out by now. I expected three weeks in to be a regular Carrie Bradshaw of San Francisco, with my own hot spots already chosen. To have a new and exciting life that made up for the past thirty years of mediocrity.
That hasn't happened yet.
Today I had a thought. A thought that I only share here because I'm a writer at heart, and really only feel confident expressing myself through written words. I don't even know how to say this.
We were in the car, and I was looking out at everything my new home has to offer. And one thing kept racing through my mind.
I want to go home.
I wanted to be back in Orange County. Where everything is safe. Where I have friends, where I had a life.
Instead I'm here. Alone, save for Leonard and the cats. Crazy cat lady, party of one. All we've explored are the local malls, which are certainly nothing to write home about. And dear friends, I feel so, so lost.
I read a book today, MWF Seeking BFF. A woman in a new city looking for friends. Ir cried out to me, begging to be read. I devoured it, of course.
After I finished, I went to the website so that I could write the author. I don't know what I'd say. Help me? But then I saw, she'll be in San Francisco this Sunday.
Maybe I'll try to make a new friend or two this weekend. Maybe I'll have something real to blog about soon.
I wanted this blog to be all about my new adventures, and instead I find myself chronicling the many reasons why moving is so difficult. I always considered myself to be a strong woman, but this move continues to strike me down.
That hasn't happened yet.
Today I had a thought. A thought that I only share here because I'm a writer at heart, and really only feel confident expressing myself through written words. I don't even know how to say this.
We were in the car, and I was looking out at everything my new home has to offer. And one thing kept racing through my mind.
I want to go home.
I wanted to be back in Orange County. Where everything is safe. Where I have friends, where I had a life.
Instead I'm here. Alone, save for Leonard and the cats. Crazy cat lady, party of one. All we've explored are the local malls, which are certainly nothing to write home about. And dear friends, I feel so, so lost.
I read a book today, MWF Seeking BFF. A woman in a new city looking for friends. Ir cried out to me, begging to be read. I devoured it, of course.
After I finished, I went to the website so that I could write the author. I don't know what I'd say. Help me? But then I saw, she'll be in San Francisco this Sunday.
Maybe I'll try to make a new friend or two this weekend. Maybe I'll have something real to blog about soon.
I wanted this blog to be all about my new adventures, and instead I find myself chronicling the many reasons why moving is so difficult. I always considered myself to be a strong woman, but this move continues to strike me down.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Feels Like Home
I've had my next posting mentally written for over a week now. Maile vs Muni. It was going to be brilliant. And then the past few months took their toll on me. I got sick. I know. Perfect timing, right? Well, I'd kind of been fighting it since early December, so I guess I was due.
Anyhow, today we went exploring. Today we discovered how close we were to the coast. On a clear day, looking past the lake, we thought we could see the waves.
We were right.
The smell of salt water revitalizes me. It makes me feel alive. I feel whole. Complete. Like all is right with the world.
It's been that way as long as I can remember. I was born on an island. A birthplace that I only remember from family folklore. A place I can only recall deep within me. I grew up in a coastal town, spent my childhood and adolescence at the beach. At Big Corona. I would swim so far out in the ocean that people would worry. Lifeguards would swim out to check on me. I spent summers in Hawaii, tumbling with the waves as they crashed over me.
And I wonder, aside from my birthplace, have I ever lived this close to the ocean?
When I think of San Francisco, I don't think of the coast. Sure, I think of the water. The bridges, the wharf, the sea lions. But I don't picture the waves crashing on the sand. I didn't expect to be this close to home.
The Pacific Ocean is home. It connects my birthplace to my childhood. Connects Oahu to Newport. And now it connects those to my adult life, to who I am today. This is my home.
Smelling that salt water, I suddenly feel more at home than I have for over ten years.
2012 is going to be an amazing year.
Anyhow, today we went exploring. Today we discovered how close we were to the coast. On a clear day, looking past the lake, we thought we could see the waves.
We were right.
The smell of salt water revitalizes me. It makes me feel alive. I feel whole. Complete. Like all is right with the world.
It's been that way as long as I can remember. I was born on an island. A birthplace that I only remember from family folklore. A place I can only recall deep within me. I grew up in a coastal town, spent my childhood and adolescence at the beach. At Big Corona. I would swim so far out in the ocean that people would worry. Lifeguards would swim out to check on me. I spent summers in Hawaii, tumbling with the waves as they crashed over me.
And I wonder, aside from my birthplace, have I ever lived this close to the ocean?
When I think of San Francisco, I don't think of the coast. Sure, I think of the water. The bridges, the wharf, the sea lions. But I don't picture the waves crashing on the sand. I didn't expect to be this close to home.
The Pacific Ocean is home. It connects my birthplace to my childhood. Connects Oahu to Newport. And now it connects those to my adult life, to who I am today. This is my home.
Smelling that salt water, I suddenly feel more at home than I have for over ten years.
2012 is going to be an amazing year.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Moving Sucks, part two
Where was I?
Right, Saturday. The day to unload all our junk into the new apartment. The U-haul that if you recall couldn’t hold all of our possessions. And while the new apartment is a good size, it certainly isn’t as large as our two bedroom (with garage).
But we were in good shape. We had a moving assistant, a good friend who made the drive with us. We had an elevator, and we had a handcart.
We were set. The boys went to drive the U-haul up to the apartment, while I took a call from the cable company about setting up our service. Conveniently, our apartment included basic cable, and our apartment manager gave us our rep’s card the night before. Inconveniently while I was taking that call someone STOLE OUR HANDCART.
Yes, someone decided to take a handcart from the lobby. Welcome to the SF, Bitch!
We were in a panic. We could certainly do this without a handcart, but it would take about five times as long. (We could fit about five boxes on the handcart, not to mention how it would help the boys with the heavy stuff). The good news sat in the back of the U-haul, behind boxes and boxes of crap. Attached to the fridge was a second handcart, an industrial strength model.
New plan, unload everything into the lobby, then use that one. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only way we could return the U-haul that night.*
We unloaded everything into the lobby. Said goodbye to a few more items. We really didn’t need a broken chair. We got it all to the lobby. The boys moved the truck. They took a few of the heavier items upstairs (the fridge, the couch), and then THE FREAKING HANDCART RETURNED!
It was just sitting in the elevator, waiting for us like a person.
What. The. Bloody. Hell.
Long story less long, we got everything in, returned the U-haul, and calmed the cats back down.
We did it. We’re here.
It’s a fustercluck, but we’re here. And I am so grateful for the friends and family who supported us through this process. The people who helped us pack, who saw us out, who called to check in. The people who kept me sane…well, tried to. I wish you were all here now.
Not in my apartment; that’d get crowded. But in our complex? That’d be pretty cool.
So why does moving suck? It’s hard work. It costs much more than you’re expecting. A week before the move you can be well within budget and have funds to spare, then BAM! you’re broke and struggling to stay afloat (send us Trader Joes gift cards please!) The things you’ve known your entire life are suddenly different. My channels, I can’t make heads or tails of them! My entire life channel 2 was CBS, and now it’s FOX?!?! ? And learning where everything is? We needed a drugstore after 10pm one night, and Leonard drove around and around and around. Turns out, it was about five minutes away. And my friends and family. Did I mention that I miss you guys?
We’re here, and I’m thrilled, but damn, I’m ready for the moving process to be finished.
*It was due by 9am Sunday morning, but because I was working Fancy Foods, it was easier to return it on Saturday night.
Right, Saturday. The day to unload all our junk into the new apartment. The U-haul that if you recall couldn’t hold all of our possessions. And while the new apartment is a good size, it certainly isn’t as large as our two bedroom (with garage).
But we were in good shape. We had a moving assistant, a good friend who made the drive with us. We had an elevator, and we had a handcart.
We were set. The boys went to drive the U-haul up to the apartment, while I took a call from the cable company about setting up our service. Conveniently, our apartment included basic cable, and our apartment manager gave us our rep’s card the night before. Inconveniently while I was taking that call someone STOLE OUR HANDCART.
Yes, someone decided to take a handcart from the lobby. Welcome to the SF, Bitch!
We were in a panic. We could certainly do this without a handcart, but it would take about five times as long. (We could fit about five boxes on the handcart, not to mention how it would help the boys with the heavy stuff). The good news sat in the back of the U-haul, behind boxes and boxes of crap. Attached to the fridge was a second handcart, an industrial strength model.
New plan, unload everything into the lobby, then use that one. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only way we could return the U-haul that night.*
We unloaded everything into the lobby. Said goodbye to a few more items. We really didn’t need a broken chair. We got it all to the lobby. The boys moved the truck. They took a few of the heavier items upstairs (the fridge, the couch), and then THE FREAKING HANDCART RETURNED!
It was just sitting in the elevator, waiting for us like a person.
What. The. Bloody. Hell.
Long story less long, we got everything in, returned the U-haul, and calmed the cats back down.
We did it. We’re here.
It’s a fustercluck, but we’re here. And I am so grateful for the friends and family who supported us through this process. The people who helped us pack, who saw us out, who called to check in. The people who kept me sane…well, tried to. I wish you were all here now.
Not in my apartment; that’d get crowded. But in our complex? That’d be pretty cool.
So why does moving suck? It’s hard work. It costs much more than you’re expecting. A week before the move you can be well within budget and have funds to spare, then BAM! you’re broke and struggling to stay afloat (send us Trader Joes gift cards please!) The things you’ve known your entire life are suddenly different. My channels, I can’t make heads or tails of them! My entire life channel 2 was CBS, and now it’s FOX?!?! ? And learning where everything is? We needed a drugstore after 10pm one night, and Leonard drove around and around and around. Turns out, it was about five minutes away. And my friends and family. Did I mention that I miss you guys?
We’re here, and I’m thrilled, but damn, I’m ready for the moving process to be finished.
*It was due by 9am Sunday morning, but because I was working Fancy Foods, it was easier to return it on Saturday night.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Moving Sucks, part one
Okay, so I tried being clever. I had a whole list of why moving sucks. But this move has drained me. It has wiped me clear of creativity and wit. So instead you get some rambling thoughts about why moving sucks, thoughts that may or may not be connected to one another.
We didn’t have enough room in the U-haul. Yeah, we packed, and packed, and donated nonstop. Still we didn’t have room for everything. By the time we figured this out, the U-haul was 95% packed, and we still had 15% of our possessions to get in. With the help of some good friends, and some mad Tetris skils, we got about 10% in. But it was frantic and stressful and lame.
Little did I realize that it wasn’t going to get less stressful anytime soon. We spent the night at our friend’s house, and Mowgli was not a happy little kitty. He cried the entire drive there, and spent the night hiding under the guest bed. River, a social little kitten, came out to meet our hosts. She purred and cooed and slept at my feet that night. We drugged them in the morning, put them in their respective carriers, and I drove off about five minutes ahead of Leonard. Mowgli cried, and cried, and cried – AND RIPPED OPEN HIS CARRIER!
Yeah, the cat broke the carrier, popped his little head out, and escaped. I frantically pulled over, parked in a Fresh & Easy parking lot, and tried to figure out what to do next. Mowgli crawled under my feet, trying to find a safe place. I called Leonard – no answer. I called my mother – no answer. I called Leonard again – no answer. I called Claire – no answer. Then I did what all strong women do when the stress has taken over. I cried.
Long story short, Claire returned my message. She and her charming boyfriend drove to my rescue, and got us to a pet store. We got Mowgli a sturdier carrier, which he hated, and I went in my merry way. Leonard called me back (his phone had accidentally turned off), and we agreed to meet around Magic Mountain. I was an hour behind schedule, thanks to Mowgli.
Mowgli cried and cried and cried. He scratched his nose trying to escape, and tore up his claws. At Magic Mountain we gave him another pill, and I passed River onto Leonard. Mowgli and I would do the drive on our own. He cried through the grapevine, until finally calming down around Bakersfield. He’d sleep for maybe twenty minutes at a time, then wake up and pathetically start to cry.
And I started to wonder about all of you who said traveling with a cat was easy. Were you punking me? Was this an elaborate practical joke? Mowgli’s a good kitty. A little insecure, sure, but otherwise he’s good. How do those of you with poorly behaved cats do it?
He thought we were abandoning him. I’m sure of that. And abandonment issues? I get that. He truly is my cat.
We made it, half an hour later than we were supposed to. Luckily our apartment manager waited so that we could get into the apartment that night. If not we would have had to wait until Tuesday. F-ing Tuesday! We slept on the floor that night, curled up on whatever blankets we could find.
As for Saturday? Well friends, I guess you’ll have to stay tuned for “moving sucks, part 2.”
We didn’t have enough room in the U-haul. Yeah, we packed, and packed, and donated nonstop. Still we didn’t have room for everything. By the time we figured this out, the U-haul was 95% packed, and we still had 15% of our possessions to get in. With the help of some good friends, and some mad Tetris skils, we got about 10% in. But it was frantic and stressful and lame.
Little did I realize that it wasn’t going to get less stressful anytime soon. We spent the night at our friend’s house, and Mowgli was not a happy little kitty. He cried the entire drive there, and spent the night hiding under the guest bed. River, a social little kitten, came out to meet our hosts. She purred and cooed and slept at my feet that night. We drugged them in the morning, put them in their respective carriers, and I drove off about five minutes ahead of Leonard. Mowgli cried, and cried, and cried – AND RIPPED OPEN HIS CARRIER!
Yeah, the cat broke the carrier, popped his little head out, and escaped. I frantically pulled over, parked in a Fresh & Easy parking lot, and tried to figure out what to do next. Mowgli crawled under my feet, trying to find a safe place. I called Leonard – no answer. I called my mother – no answer. I called Leonard again – no answer. I called Claire – no answer. Then I did what all strong women do when the stress has taken over. I cried.
Long story short, Claire returned my message. She and her charming boyfriend drove to my rescue, and got us to a pet store. We got Mowgli a sturdier carrier, which he hated, and I went in my merry way. Leonard called me back (his phone had accidentally turned off), and we agreed to meet around Magic Mountain. I was an hour behind schedule, thanks to Mowgli.
Mowgli cried and cried and cried. He scratched his nose trying to escape, and tore up his claws. At Magic Mountain we gave him another pill, and I passed River onto Leonard. Mowgli and I would do the drive on our own. He cried through the grapevine, until finally calming down around Bakersfield. He’d sleep for maybe twenty minutes at a time, then wake up and pathetically start to cry.
And I started to wonder about all of you who said traveling with a cat was easy. Were you punking me? Was this an elaborate practical joke? Mowgli’s a good kitty. A little insecure, sure, but otherwise he’s good. How do those of you with poorly behaved cats do it?
He thought we were abandoning him. I’m sure of that. And abandonment issues? I get that. He truly is my cat.
We made it, half an hour later than we were supposed to. Luckily our apartment manager waited so that we could get into the apartment that night. If not we would have had to wait until Tuesday. F-ing Tuesday! We slept on the floor that night, curled up on whatever blankets we could find.
As for Saturday? Well friends, I guess you’ll have to stay tuned for “moving sucks, part 2.”
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Root, Root, Root for the Home Team.
I’m not what one would call a sports fan. My family raised me with a basic understanding of baseball, and a team to root for (Go Yankees!). But otherwise, not really my scene. I hate the rivalries that come with sports, and cringe at how many comments this heartfelt entry will receive that consist simply of “Yankees Suck!”
Okay, so I do regularly text one of my dearest friends whenever one of my teams beats her Red Sox, but that’s just comedy gold.
That said, there is one aspect of sports that I really enjoy. This is when it can bring people together. When people can bond of their mutual enjoyment of this event, and get invested in the stories of the teams. I like live games for this reason; the social aspect of sports appeals to me.
Earlier this year, when I had my day job, I would listen to a lot of morning radio. This was just at the beginning of football season, and I wanted to be able to follow the news reports. I put up a facebook message asking for who I should root for, and after quite a few suggestions I decided on the 49ers.* This was in large part due to my plans to move out here. For those of you who don’t follow sports, today was a big game.
This afternoon I was shopping at Trader Joes. In the middle of my shopping trip they made an announcement over the loudspeaker. The 49ers had won the game!
They made an announcement in the supermarket that the local football team had won a big game.
Forgive me for being glib, but that wouldn’t happen in Orange County.
And for that memory, that moment when I realized this is my home, this is my home team, this is my city’s victory, that memory has sealed my fate.
I am a fan of the San Francisco 49ers.
More than anything else in the past 24 hours, that stupid football game showed me that my life really has changed more than just an apartment with a spectacular view.
*I also decided to root for the Giants. Well, really I root for both Giants. NY Giants and SF Giants. But I already rooted for the baseball team; rooting for the football team is new.
Okay, so I do regularly text one of my dearest friends whenever one of my teams beats her Red Sox, but that’s just comedy gold.
That said, there is one aspect of sports that I really enjoy. This is when it can bring people together. When people can bond of their mutual enjoyment of this event, and get invested in the stories of the teams. I like live games for this reason; the social aspect of sports appeals to me.
Earlier this year, when I had my day job, I would listen to a lot of morning radio. This was just at the beginning of football season, and I wanted to be able to follow the news reports. I put up a facebook message asking for who I should root for, and after quite a few suggestions I decided on the 49ers.* This was in large part due to my plans to move out here. For those of you who don’t follow sports, today was a big game.
This afternoon I was shopping at Trader Joes. In the middle of my shopping trip they made an announcement over the loudspeaker. The 49ers had won the game!
They made an announcement in the supermarket that the local football team had won a big game.
Forgive me for being glib, but that wouldn’t happen in Orange County.
And for that memory, that moment when I realized this is my home, this is my home team, this is my city’s victory, that memory has sealed my fate.
I am a fan of the San Francisco 49ers.
More than anything else in the past 24 hours, that stupid football game showed me that my life really has changed more than just an apartment with a spectacular view.
*I also decided to root for the Giants. Well, really I root for both Giants. NY Giants and SF Giants. But I already rooted for the baseball team; rooting for the football team is new.
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