Friendship IS Magic

I love cartoons. They appeal to my optimistic self and the child within. But, like many adults, I talk about how the kids today don't know good stories. How the movies may be amazing, but animated television is lacking. I come from the era of Saturday morning cartoons. I'm a child of the 80's. For many years I have embraced this fact and love the culture of my youth. For example as we speak I'm wearing Care Bear pajamas.

This very image is on my chest

Another thing that many of my close friends know is that I loath remakes of my childhood. I curse at the new Care Bears, the aging of Strawberry Shortcake still annoys me, and don't get me started on the new Smurfs movie. 

I don't know who this guy is.
Seriously, who are you Fakey Smurf?

You can imagine my trepidation when the new My Little Pony series came out. They'd already tried and failed to remake the series years ago. And I love the original movie. The songs can run in my head at any moment. Even now I have vivid memories of discussing the ponies with my cousin and playing with the many different toys.

But the Internet at large became obsessed with the new series. They developed a term. Brony. And the entire series to date is on Netflix. The ponies didn't look quite right, but what the hay. I had some free time, and we needed a break from the Jem/Robotech marathon. 

Bring it on, little ponies!!

The theme song showed promise. It starts with classic My Little Pony music, then quickly shows a voice all its own. I watched the first few episodes. Then the next few. And somewhere along the line, I became hooked. I've since watched the entire series more than once. I've read the tvtropes on the series. I've watched fan made music videos (Enter Sandman was awesome!). I own a Fluttershy t-shirt. 

So I have to wonder, how did this happen? Why did My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic win me over?

First, let me get this out of the way, it is a quality program. The characters are well defined. Each member of the main six (or mane six as the fans call them) is a strong yet flawed character. They're relatable. I not only identify with our socially awkward bookworm heroine (the hilariously named Twilight Sparkle), but most of her new friends. These are well written characters that any girl can look up to, and perhaps more importantly, the female characters are not defined by the men in their lives. These little ponies show that girls can be caring, strong, and independent, quite like Merida from Brave. Even a casual fan can tell you the basic personalities of each pony. I can tell you more about these ponies than any of the ponies from my youth. 

But this show is more than well written characters and strong female ponies. It's also clever. There are the little gags, such as Twilight Sparkle literally standing on a soap box when giving a speech. There are the callbacks, throw away lines that reference previous episodes. The show has continuity! There are the pop culture references, like the Diamond Dogs or the Benny Hillesque chase scenes. Then there's the music. 

The season one finale features a song that is heavily inspired by Ever After from Into the Woods. An original song based on Stephen Sondheim. In a children's cartoon. Not a rewritten version of Ever After. Just inspired by. The song is all about how excited the little ponies are for their big night at the gala. A gala that was first mentioned in the third episode of the series. Continuity! Please note the 20 person choir singing in the chorus. 

It's heartwarming and sincere, with just enough cynicism for the adult viewers. It has an expanded universe involving the background characters. The writers listen to the fans, and show creator Lauren Faust answers questions regularly. (Her resume includes writing for Powerpuff Girls and the new DC short Super Best Friends Forever, very into girl power animation). The show pays tribute to the original series. Faust based the characters on the personalities that she gave to her own toys. The show is written for children while still appealing to adults. It does what some of the great cartoons of our time have done. 

This isn't like my generations My Little Pony. This is better.

It might not be your thing. That's cool. But all I can say is don't knock it till you try it. If you enjoy quality western animation, strong female characters, and smiling, then this series is for you. 

I've been quiet. Too quiet...

I know, where have I been. You've all been at the edge of your seats wondering how I'm really adjusting to The City. Damnit, my witty Facebook updates just aren't detailed enough.

It's been over six months since we made the big move. And, let's just get this out of the way, I freaking love it up here. I love that we can just make the decision to leave the house and BAM! adventure. I love our quiet corner of the city, and that our apartment has a view of the lush Lake Merced and the ocean. I love that it's so easy to find vegetarian items on menus. Oh the food. Vegetarian biscuits and gravy, grilled tofu burrito, sourdough grilled cheese, balsamic strawberry ice cream,  vegan donuts, gourmet cupcakes...

Best. Cupcakes. Ever.
So I'm happy. Still kind of lonely, but happy. Where does that leave my poor neglected blog? For months I've been flirting with starting a pop culture blog. As many of you know, I love tv. And some books.

I just spent the past month reading about the Wakefield twins as adults.  My taste is impeccable.
But Maile, what about the food? The vegetarian biscuits and gravy? The grilled tofu burrito? Maile, what about the cupcakes???

Well my friends, my indecision has lead to the best of both worlds. Kitty in the City is branching out! I'll write about the city. The food. The stores. I'll write about pop culture, torturing you all with my geeky thoughts. (LOST rewatch 2012, it's on!) And maybe I'll even share a bit of myself, continuing to let you know about my struggles, my insecurities, and my fears.

So friends, you in?

The reality of my new life

Living in San Francisco isn’t what I imagined. No, I’m not talking about my superficial belief that I’d have a thriving nightlife, or that new friends would be banging on my door. I’m talking about little things. The details that never fit with the image in my head.

I have a new job. I was supposed to work in Union Square, surrounded by tourists, shoppers, high buildings, and bright lights. I’d take Muni to and from work, and my car would sit forgotten at home. A big city restaurant for a big city girl. But I got here and things changed. I changed. I could list 101 reasons why I revised my previous stance about working in a restaurant, but none of those matter. In truth I don’t understand why people are so amazed that I left the restaurant industry. Did anyone truly believe that was my dream?

I regularly said "would you like fries with that?"

I’m getting side tracked. Sorry, pet peeve. Besides, I was always secretly hoping for something new.

I work for a company that challenges me constantly. A place where I am surrounded by creative and intelligent innovators. I have learned so much in my short time here, and my knowledge continues to grow. I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole, and have had to just let go and enjoy the ride. At times my inner stage manager tries to make sense of the chaos, but I’ve discovered how to embrace the insanity. How to thrive within the madness.

I don’t work in Union Square. I don’t work in a tall building, surrounded by bright lights. I work in The Haight, a district that I instantly grew to love. I’m surrounded by Victorian homes, hippies, and sunshine. I drive to work, parking next to Buena Vista Park, and spend my short walk to work reveling in my surroundings. Street musicians say hello, while other people lounge on the grass.

There’s something else that has surprised me though. Another detail of the city that I didn’t anticipate. The nature. It’s so green up here. Green and lush and beautiful. I knew that it was green up here; I’ve commented on it in the past. But it’s not just that it’s green, it’s that you can find nature everywhere. There’s Golden Gate Park. I drive past it almost daily, though I’ve yet to explore it at length. It’s about 1.5 square miles, and has everything from tea gardens, to windmills, to buffalo. There’s Buena Vista Park; I’m convinced that park is magical. Maybe it’s the energy of flower children past. All I know is that it compels me to explore further. To go within the tress, and find the fae folk living within.

And then there’s my backyard. Lake Merced. When I was a little girl, our house was next to Back Bay. I loved to wander the greenbelt, letting my imagination go wild. Walking around Lake Merced, I get that same feeling. Well, an adult version of it. A feeling of tranquility. A desire for adventure. The realization that I can conquer the world. The self-esteem of my youth, before it was destroyed by bullies, rejection, and self-doubt. This isn’t a place to walk with a purpose. It’s a place for me to get lost in myself, and remember my inner power.
My backyard!
In essence, that’s what San Francisco has become. I imagined a big city life. Instead what I found is a place where the grass grows green, people say hi on the street, and I can let go of expectations and just be me.

I found my new home.

Home again, home again.

When I was eighteen, I wrote a short story that focused on one simple theme. You can never go home again. At thirty, I found myself contemplating that story as I took BART to the airport.


I made friends on the flight!

Last weekend was my first trip back to Orange County. I spent the bulk of the time with family, normal moments that wouldn’t have been out of place five months ago. We ate matzo ball soup, laughed at corny jokes, and told embarrassing stories of years past.* I saw some of my dearest friends, and we chatted as though I still lived below the LA county line.

It was the little moments that were strange. My mom moved soon after I did, so I was staying in unfamiliar places. I was sitting in LAX, an airport I grew up at, and having the thought I’m going home. It was startling, the realization that Orange County isn’t my home, that lives moved on without me, and the void that I left was not irreplaceable. Sure my family cannot replace me with another daughter/niece/cousin. But I probably talk with then more now than I did then. Even in my crazy busy moments,** I’m always an email or a facebook message away.

There were two unexpected moments that were perfect for a surprise trip home. I told very few people outside of my family that I was heading down, because I simply knew that I wouldn’t have time to see everyone. But on Saturday morning, I made a pit stop at my old restaurant. I was there for about ten minutes, but I was able to see so many of my old friends. We exchanged hugs, and I remembered how close we all once were. I miss them, and I’m glad that I didn’t try to replicate them up here. I’m glad that my life is so different. Next time I’ll spend more time with them.

Next time. Who knows when that will be?


The other moment was on Sunday evening, Easter. I was meeting some friends, and, in typical Maile fashion, I was running early. Feeling nostalgic, I decided to stop at my old theatre bar for a drink. I went in, and it was virtually empty. Easter Sunday, and all. I grabbed a quick drink, and chatted with the bartender, sounding like one of those old crazy people. ”I moved out of the area, and I used to come here all the time when you were in your old location. I had to stop by.” She humored me, and cocktail finished, I left the bar, prepared to update my facebook with a snarky update about how the bar was empty. And as I’m getting in my car, BAM, I see someone I know. A handful of former theatre colleagues appeared, and I agreed to stay for another drink. We chatted about shows, and my new life. Like with the restaurant, I had this overwhelming sense of community. Of a world that once upon a time, I was an important part of.

My life has changed. I’m still getting to know my new coworkers. My local friends are scattered about, not close enough for an impromptu day at the park. My life is so hectic, I’m not sure if I’d be up for such unpredictability. But one day, I’d like to have that sense of community again.

Can you ever go home again? In my admittedly limited experience, I think it’s less about going home, and more about realizing that you have a new home. That the place with the memories is a part of you, but it’s not who you are anymore.

*No, I will not repeat said stories.
**I’ve been doing homework since I came home

Three updates in one

It's funny, when we made plans to move to the city, I imagined us all over the place. Hitting hotspot after hotspot, lunching by day and drinking cocktails by night. I blame Sex and the City.

I always fancied myself a Carrie, but Charlotte was my favorite.
What does that say about me?

Somehow it never occurred to me that it's been quite a few years since I went out every night. My bills have grown, my wallet has shrunk, and six hours of sleep just doesn't cut it anymore.*

That said, I do have three different adventures to share. The first involves the theatre. The second Saint Patrick's Day. And the third, a midnight showing.

Adventure One: The search for Midnight Pizza
Earlier this month Leonard and I went to a local production of True West. Those familiar with our theatrical background are probably aren't surprised to hear that this was a black box production. It was fantastic. It gave us both the acting bug, and we were thrilled to speak with the cast after.**

The show ended around 9:30, and we were both feeling a little hungry. In true black box form, the theatre wasn't quite near anything, and the cast could only recommend a local bar. We wandered the city for a little while, but alas all we found were liquor stores and fancy night clubs. My low blood sugar suggested that we go to West Portal, an area closer to home that's loaded with restaurants and shops. Certainly they'd have something for us.

We arrived at West Portal around eleven. On a Friday night, that's closing time. We walked by a pizza place that shut their door and laughed at us. They laughed!!

We got home close to midnight and at this point we were starving. I placed an order with a late night pizzeria and about an hour later, the food was in the apartment.

It was a-mazing.

I'm used to keeping strange hours, between working in restaurants and theatre I've always frequented late night dining establishments. It didn't occur to me that I'd have to track them down here. That places close in the big city.

Adventure Two: Saint Patrick's Day
This was it. The big one. We had the city at our disposal, a city that apparently has the best Saint Patrick's Day celebration West of the Mississippi. Ha! We may not have a social network, but damnit, we have the city.

Clad in green, we headed downtown around noon. We were thrilled to catch the parade, and wanted to check out the street fair at Civic Center. We followed the drunk college kids, and sure enough they lead us to the festivities. The parade was awesome, a variety of bands, dancers, dogs, decorated cable cars and buses. We had candy thrown our way.

This was Leonard's favorite.


But you know what the parade route didn't offer us? Food or beer. By the time we got to the street fair, we were famished.

I'm noticing a theme in these stories. Maile and Leonard go into the city for food, then can't find anything.

The street fair was small, a handful of booths with treats and Irish items. We wandered around for a bit, until we decided to call it an evening early. We returned to our local haunt, West Portal, and got shots of Jameson at the multiple Irish pubs there. It was a lovely, calm way to celebrate.

Turns out we've out grown drunk college kids. Who knew?

Adventure Three: The Midnight Showing
Ironically the only adventure that does not feature us searching for food

We were prepared. We left with more than enough time to spare. We looked up the late night bus to get us home at three in the morning. We had a Bay Area expert with us, to help us navigate the city.

We saw the 12:15 showing, and stayed through the credits. With the obligatory restroom stop before leaving, this made us the last non employees to leave the mall. With the exception of one other group of movie goers, the streets were empty by the time we got there.

Keep in mind that there were four showings that had gotten out over the past fifteen minutes, so people must have scampered away. We noticed a bus stop down the street, and headed that way to examine the map. Google claimed that our stop was about ten minutes away. Within seconds, this guy appeared out of nowhere asking for money to get home. We said no and continued walking. The F-er followed us. Harassing us, begging for money. Reprimanding us for not helping him. He only let us be when we moved ahead of the one other group

A few minutes later, we were a bit turned around. Our Bay Area Expert hadn't been in the city for about three years, and it was 3am. We turned down another empty street. We weren't lost lost, we all recognized the street names. Just none of them were the streets we needed. A well dressed man on a cell phone rushed past us. We continued on our journey.

"Excuse me, are you from around here?"

We turned around.

"Not really. We're new."

He then proceeded to tell us his tale of woe. He was driving up from Pasadena, trying to get to Eureka, and he was driving through Palo Alto and his family got held up with a gun, don't worry, everyone was okay, but they got to San Francisco, and spoke with the transit authority, and were staying at the Marriot, and their car was about to be towed but they needed money to get gas so they could drive their car away, and all he had was his cell phone and his watch, and the police were no help, and if we could spare $8.18 then he'd be able to be on his way.

Leonard shrugged, giving him a few dollars out of his pocket. The guy looked over at me expectantly. I wasn't born yesterday, there was no way I was opening my wallet. I shrugged and told him that I only had plastic. He glared at the few dollars Leonard had generously given him and stormed off.

Way to show your hand, flim flammer.

We found out bus stop about five minutes later, and waited another ten minutes for the late night bus. We were home before five.

Adventure Four: To be continued...
We may not be party animals, but we're both geeks at heart. Tonight we're going to the grand opening of a comic shop in West Portal. It may not be the hotspot we imagined, but we're finding our way in the city. And I may not be a Carrie Bradshaw fashionista, but I'm pleased with the shirt I've picked out.

I'll be the belle of the ball

And now, we're off to the comic shop!



*Not to mention Grad school
**The two leads switched roles every night. I can't even imagine...

My evening in Oakland

This week I went to Oakland for the first time.* If pop culture is to be believed, I was going to a hell dimension where I'd be mugged the moment I stepped off of BART. Obviously pop culture was exaggerating. I was meeting a new friend for dinner at a mac and cheese restaurant (let me say that again, a MAC AND CHEESE RESTAURANT!) and I could certainly handle a 5-10 minute walk from BART to the restaurant in daylight.

After all, true hell demons don't come out until the evening.
I watch a lot of Buffy

My directions were simple. The restaurant is on the same street as BART. Certainly even I couldn't screw this up. I turned right, walked a block, then noticed everything was pretty much residential. Doh! I walked back to BART, and found a map of the area. Foolish me, I should have gone left. No harm done, I walked left, smiling at the restaurants that I could see in front of me.

I walked. And walked. And walked. Okay, I knew this was a 5-10 minute walk, but certainly it'd been fifteen minutes by now. Everything was residential, but I could see something ahead. A restaurant. I wasn't wearing my glasses (I need a glasses case to keep in my purse) so I couldn't see the name, but it kind of looked like the pictures I'd seen online. It was about five minutes away. I was near what I'd remembered the address to be. I'd get there before dark.

I got to the restaurant right at dark. It wasn't the right place. Not at all. I stood in the light of this new restaurant and texted for the address of the mac and cheese restaurant. It was 400. I was at 1000.

It was dark. I was alone. I was about twenty minutes from my destination, and wandering a strange street in a strange neighborhood. At least I didn't have to worry about vampires.
right?

I may have seen a prostitute, but I think she was just a girl who had poor taste in clothing. She didn't appear to be street walking, just walking. I walked past BART. Double doh! I was supposed to go right.

Long story short, I didn't get mugged, didn't meet any villains, and didn't find Oakland any scarier than some Orange County neighborhoods.**

As for the important part of the story, I did in fact get my mac and cheese.

With Goat Cheese!



*As I was writing this, I recalled that I've been to the Oakland airport, but immediately took a taxi to/from the city, so I don't really count that.

**Newport is scary in a completely different way.

It is time, woo

A favorite movie in my family is Heart and Souls. You know the one. Alfre Woodard, Kyra Sedgwick, Charles Grodin, and some other guy die in a bus crash and their souls get attached to a little boy who eventually grows up to become Robert Downey Jr. He forgets about them, then they reappear so he can help them put right what once went wrong, and they all sing Walk Like a Man.

And it's set in San Francisco.

It came on cable our first week here. It was kind of cool. I mean sure, we're from Orange County, but most things aren't filmed behind the Orange Curtain. Hell, The OC was filmed in Redondo and Long Beach.

Earlier this week I was walking along Haight and I heard this familiar noise. San Francisco natives will recognize it as the electrical wires screeching as the bus comes to a stop. But me? I recognized it as the sound that signifies the bus driver is coming to collect another lost soul.



And as I heard it, as I cognitively acknowledged it as the sound associated with the film, another feeling overwhelmed me. This sound that is deeply ingrained in my subconscience has become a part of my every day life.

It's such a little thing, just one snapshot into the day to day realization that this is my life now. This is my home.