17 November 2009
zippedy doo dah
So my birthday came and went, and now I'm 22. Seriously, I feel an age about six months before I'm there because I'm the youngest of my friends, so by the time November 4th comes it's more of a formality than anything else. But I love the day regardless, and its nice to be thought of. This year it happened smack dab in the middle of getting a new job and moving into an apartment so it really did sneak up on me.
The last week of October/the first week of November Eva and I moved into our new two-bedroom apartment perched on a hill in Echo Park. We are equidistance from the hipster mecca of Silverlake and the glittering high-rises of downtown LA with Chinatown squeezed in next to us, which is perfect for me being half dark roast coffee and boots and half public transit and tall buildings. My room is small and cozy and perfect, with a blue wall, my white gauzy linen curtains and my huge, wonderful, cozy futon bed from home. Seriously, that bed is bliss. And apart from not having a few things like a chair for the living room or gallon size ziploc bags (nor the ability to get them -- my car is in Phoenix getting its engine repaired) the apartment is mostly done being put together.
My job is going well, this is my fifth week (how did that happen?) and while the general pace of business is slow due to the economy and the domino effect (cancelled accounts, fewer orders, less money, lower wages), I still have things to do. I like my co-workers, I don't have to wear office clothes and I have a paid lunch. I've got my public transit route from Echo Park to Mid-Wilshire down pat - when I get my car back next week I don't know whether I'll want to drive to work or metro it, as I've been doing for three weeks. I guess I'll alternate depending on whether I work out in the morning. I'm planning on joining a gym nearby when I have a car and can drive once again, and because my workday doesn't begin until 10am, so there is a nice window to exercise in the morning but after the crazy rush. I'm finding that even things you think will easily click into place just don't, not that quickly at least. But the journey is all that matters. Everything takes time.
I'm sure I mentioned at some point that I got two UTIs in June and September and because they insanely suck a huge amount I researched ways to prevent getting them, and found that drinking 100% pure cranberry juice every day is a good preventative measure (also confirmed by dear Maria!); something in the skins of cranberries stops bacteria from sticking to the cells that line the bladder. It hasn't been long enough to say, and the circumstances haven't been duplicated exactly, but my urinary tract seems to be fantastic! After you've had one you a) are like 50% more likely to get another one than someone who hasn't had one before and b) you can totally tell when another one is setting in because the associated feeling is something you never, ever want to feel again. So this is a long way of saying I've been drinking pure cranberry juice every day, and until I had a kitchen I was buying bottles of juice from Trader Joes, which is yummy stuff but expensive at $5 a bottle (20 oz, or basically 3 days of juice). So now that I have a stove, I've been making it! Remember when I made almond milk from scratch a few years ago, using whole almonds and blanching them and straining them through cheesecloth and all that? This is like making almond milk, but a lot easier. You just boil fresh or frozen whole cranberries in water and simmer until they burst open, and strain through a fine strainer. The pulp is nutritious and good for cranberry breads (although I didn't have much success with my first attempt to make cranberry walnut bread... too moist and not sweet enough), and the juice is ready to go into bottles and into the fridge. It's also thicker than the stuff in the store, and it feels so good to know that I made this juice!. And it's quite a bit cheaper to make it, and hardly a hassle. Maybe an hour total of time stirring, watching, and pouring... and now I have five bottles of juice in my fridge door. Being domestic after eating $2.50 quesadilla on a paper plate after quesadilla on a paper plate... it's quite satisfying. Tonight I made pesto spaghetti with chicken sausage, and roasted brussel sprouts. Yum!
It is Thanksgiving next week, and because the office will be quiet with the holiday I am taking off Tuesday and Wednesday, and flying home Tuesday evening. So more days to relax at home! The one thing I just realized, though, is that I took basically everything from my bedroom and brought it out here with my parents the other weekend, so my room at home (which -- is it even my room anymore?) has nothing in it. There were rumors circulating that my parents are going to put the ancient bunk beds that me and my siblings all slept on in turn as kids in my room side-by-side for guests... and a few other furniture pieces that my mother didn't want in her twentysomething daughter's first apartment -- something about family heirlooms? Oh, Taureans... so into earthly possessions. Anyway, home for Thanksgiving without the usual room to go back to will be strange... this whole time is strange, actually. Living in essentially what looks like my college dorm room senior year but in a grown-up apartment in Los Angeles that I live in when I am not working for someone at their business, and then going back to the place I know so well and not having what I always had... there are lots of metaphors here, I think. All I know is I am excited to pause my life and rest and sleep at home without another huge life event looming. It's just home, for a holiday. I also will get my car back with shiny new pistons in its engine, ending a car saga that has been going on since late October. Taking public transit to work is fine, and I actually enjoy it, but its a bit of a hassle to get to a grocery store or the bank or gym or other places that one must go on a regular basis. And as our lives tumble forward, the earth sheds leaves and tides roll back and forth and the sun moves away from us. It's helpful to remember the bigger picture.
03 November 2009
maps
As a user of public transit in LA (even more so now that my car has an iffy engine problem that needs to be looked at in depth in Phoenix), I love the metro (subway). Yes, it is minimal and you still have to take a bus from wherever you exit to get anywhere, but the subway that exists is clean, elegant and punctual. Unlike buses you always know exactly when a train leaves and arrives, and you know if you're going to make it or not. I forget how I stumbled upon this map (and no, it was not on 'stumble upon') but the first word that came to mind? Stunning.
This is the Los Angeles County Metropolitan Transit Authority's vision for the future of metro rail, assuming the money and politics (they are planning a line going through Beverly Hills?) work out. The lines in bold (red, purple, blue, green) are existing routes until they become dotted or dashed, which means they are planned, and other colors are proposed new lines. My relationship with the current metro system when living temporarily in Claremont consisted of taking the Purple Line from Union Station to Wilshire/Western, the last stop. I work at Wilshire/La Brea (luckily, if I worked on any other major east-west street the subway would hardly work for my commute), which is only two major lights west of the end of the metro, but it's too far to walk. So I catch a rapid bus, the 720, at the metro exit, which drops me off across the street from my building. If you put together enough pieces any commute is possible, but it would be nice for the system to be streamlined. And if I could live in a Los Angeles with this kind of subway system, even if I'm a grandmother by the time it happens, I would be so proud.
01 November 2009
it's alright
For the record, this entry has nothing to do with my job or general state of affairs in life. I have a great job and wonderful friends, not to mention a car, good health, and an amazing family.
But it is amazing how easily life can bog you down. It can quite easily become 9-5 at work, paper bag lunches every day, budgeting every dollar, putting off things, and angrily driving around the city feeling like you're not paid enough, respected enough, and not provided with enough resources to make ends meet. It's easy to feel insignificant in this world.
That being said, it doesn't take much to make me happy.