go fish

I'm caught in one crazy in between thing. I've had many conversations with myself at this point about what my priorities are. But I couldn't seem to figure out if I want another in-between job or if I should just wait for the right landscape architecture job to come along. I've been waiting since August. So I decided this morning that I needed a better paying in-between, one that is meaningful and pays a living wage (by living wage I mean minimally more than minimum wage). I was looking for the kind of job that puts a dent in my life-long to-do list. I'm looking for parks and rec jobs, wildlife research jobs, bike advocacy jobs.

So I spent the entire day applying for more in-between jobs. I re-wrote my resume, I wrote cover letters. I filled in silly government application forms. I called organizations. I felt good.

And just as I was calling it a day with a cold beer in hand, I got a phone call... from Sonoma County Bicycling Coalition... for a job I applied for this morning. A job coordinating Bike to Work day with the rest of the bay area. A job advocating for safe bike routes to school. For double what I make now. With great people. Within walking distance of our apartment. Can you come in this afternoon? Like say, in 20 minutes? She asked.

And so I rode my bike to their office in exactly what I had been wearing all day. And I interviewed with an amazing woman who pretty much runs the organization, who runs all things bike in Sonoma County. We got excited about travel and planning and curb cuts and conferences. We chatted about creek restoration and landscape architecture and graphic design. We talked bikes. But perhaps my conscience is too heavy to financially support me. I could not lie and say I wouldn't take a landscape architecture job in June should one miraculously appear. They couldn't promise full time work after June, though that is their hope. We couldn't prove to one another that I would be able to be a bike advocate and use my design education enough to satisfy my goals. If I left I would be shattering her goal as well: to find someone that would be willing to stay on as bike warrior indefinitely.

I reminded myself on my bike ride home of the reasoning behind nearly 4 years in graduate school. The reasoning behind making myself sick over teaching biology. The reasoning behind $40,000 of debt. I want to be a landscape architect.

in the meantime...

anti-vdayers unite

I have my reasons for the disgustI feel towards valentines day. Inevitably people feel obligated to buy shit. Pink shit. wasteful shit. hearts. Inevitably people feel a sense of expectation, curiosity, dissapointment. So we decided not to celebrate V-day. No expectation, no dissapointment, no WIERD, PINK, WASTEFUL shit.

My sister took another approach. She wore all black. [please note that we are both in very wonderful, secure, loving relationships]. She wore black with pride, with dark makeup. She went to work like this, and home and to the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner.

The woman at the checkout counter gave a cheery 'happy valentines day!' to the customer in front of her. My sister jeered. a black cloud moved over the checkout stand. The checker rang up the food. it totalled $6.66.

Oh! said the checkout lady. Her composure faltered. my sister paid. 'have a good evening' she told my sister.

As she walked out the door, my sister bellowed with laughter. It probably sounded evil, but that is not at all how she meant it.

Apple needs a seatbelt

Yesterday I went for an adventure to Sea Ranch. I flew around the curves on highway 1, looking out over the endless ocean, singing my lungs out to the Dixie Chicks. I was reminded of all the coast adventures with my partners in crime. To the ocean on a whim, curvy roads and loud music.

The apple in the seat next to me rolled forward, then back, to each side. It leapt off the seat twice. The second time I left it nestled between my water bottle and my backpack on the floor.

When I reached Sea Ranch I was immediately frustrated. There were signs on all the roads into the development: private roads, private property, no trespassing, roads are patrolled. I stopped by the lodge, where the receptionist suggested I visit the public access points to the coast for a small fee of $5. I thought I would just park on the side of the road, and take the public path to the walk on beach path. There was no parking on the sides of the road. So, after a fair amount of deliberation, I opted to pay the fee and go for a hike. TRAIL CLOSED, read the sign. After more frustration over the sea-ranch-monopoly on the coastline (no physical or visual access to the coast or sea ranch itself), I found a public access trail that lead me to the gorgeous coastline and behind much of the Seaburbian development.

salt spray and wind. waves and stone, sunset over the pacific ocean. swallowed by seaburbia.

Ravens in the wind

I haven't yet turned down a chance to play in the sun since the clouds have rolled to the east. So today I hiked to the top of Sonoma County's version of Mt. Hood, to a rock outcropping called Gunsight. The ravens soar on the warm currents near the blackened rocks. They swoop and drop and glide... In the distance you can see Valley of the Moon in its entirety, and if only for my own sanity, I'll imagine the romantic images that might be popping into your mind. Because what a great name, right? It must be an amazing place.

Frog chorus

We got a late start; breakfast and errands held us up until around noon. But we eventually hopped on our bikes and headed towards Sonoma, for some wine. We headed out as if we were just riding down the street to the winery, but really we were headed over a 25-mile mountain road to a winery for a few sips, a sandwich and a few minutes rest.

The sun began to set a few miles into our trip home. We navigated by twilight; the air was cooling down, the smell of grasses and mustards becoming more vibrant. By the time the sun had given us its last light, we were only halfway home. Up and down over the hills. We rode past vineyards we had only seen by day, through the oaks and the meadows. At the bottom of the valley the frog chorus grew louder and louder until we were surrounded by ribbits and croaks. It seemed like if you reached to either side, you could scoop up buckets of frogs. But we glided on by and their song soon faded into the distance.

Distillation.

As a kid I imagined that my friends and I were the only ones in the world that spent hours on end listing qualities of the perfect match. As I got older we would make lists of whom we'd kissed, and rate them on a scale of 1-10. Into my twenties we were still making lists, adding circles or stars around those that we'd made it past kissing with, adding descriptors.

The perfect man list was under constant construction. After seriously dating in college, I added to the list things like: knows how to work on cars, and knows how to use a saw, confident in himself, knows how to communicate, and appreciates southern rock. I also made mental notes, (and should have made physical lists) of my own qualities I would like not to get swallowed when I'm in a relationship. I was nothing less than militant about my own independence, but in practice I had given myself up.

A couple of years ago when Jenn presented me with the idea of having a list, but distilling it down to as few qualities as possible, I admired this approach, but wasn't sure how to recreate my list in this way. How would I get rid of things like knows how to use a saw? It made the list for practical reasons. I set this task aside, thinking it might be impossible.

Just last night this discussion came up again with a couple of good friends over dinner. She knows how to pee outside D said. I was a little shocked, and not because I thought this was a ridiculous thing to put on the list (I thought quite the opposite, actually). I was surprised that women didn't automatically know how to pee outside. I realized then that growing up in the woods meant peeing outside when you didn't want to go all the way back to the house. What was even more shocking was that my good friend B. explained that it took quite a bit of skill to execute the pants-on method of peeing outside.

There are people that take their pants all the way off to pee outside? That means taking your shoes off and then your pants, and then trying to figure out how to not get your socks muddyt... I thought, then B. quickly explained, apparently understanding my look of confusion: I think most women take the one pant leg off. I'm still picturing something like shoot the duck without the roller skates, and trying to pee at the same time...

And so, knows how to pee outside made it onto D's list describing the perfect girl. And though if you take it only for what it sounds like, very superficial, we might be missing the bigger idea. All the things that go along with knowing how to pee outside mean something. Something more than a superficial bullet point on a long list of qualities.

I've tried to come up with one or two words to describe what I'm looking for, but for whatever reason it hasn't worked. Am I confusing the details of what I appreciate in certain people with the more general qualities I would look for in a partner??

So, here I am, trying to create a new list, removing all the 'superficial' qualities and finding more appropriate words to describe and combine the ones that are left.

I suppose I might be confusing the things we appreciate about people, the little things, the details with what to look for in a person. If we look for the details, disappointment is inevitable. If we look for the bigger picture we can discover the details as we go.

But this doesn't solve my problem of narrowing the list to exclude the LITTLE things that are important to me for BIG reasons. Things like knowing how to use a saw. I suppose anyone can learn, but, as the saying goes: there's no substitute for experience.

I'm a little worried

The Tour of the Unknown Coast is coming up sooner than expected, and I'm getting a little worried. I've been madly training on my bike, hiking, strengthening those places I forgot last time.

But What I'm really worried about is this: my lucky aardvark has gone for an adventure and has not come back. I know that he has embarked on some great adventures since I last saw him, but I do miss his company.