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For the past week or two, I have been alternately amused and surprised by the weather reports. Or the extremes and disparities. I mean, I remember those anomaly days in VA where it was so nice, I had a t-shirt on in December. Last year, the day I left Chicago for Christmas, it was so warm, I forgot my coat!
For the past week, the highs have been in the upper 70s. Total t-shirt weather. Or if you are a Santa Barbie, bikinis and teeny tiny terry "cover-ups." I have been totally enjoying it. Makes the laundry schlep oddly pleasant, the 8AM class pretty, and the apartment nice and fresh from all the open windows. Meanwhile, my east coast kids, or even worse, my Chicago peeps, are in the throes of deep freeze. Chicago spent the better part of this week below zero, even before windchill. East coast was well below freezing. I feel minorly evil as I bop around in shorts (and then brag about it). The funniest moment I had was reading the Trib, who wrote an article surveying why people choose to live in Chicago. And they actually called out Santa Barbara as the absolute opposite, the "perfect weather." This week, that was totally the truth. But the inner Chicagoan in me felt kinda dirty, sad, homesick. Then I went outside and took care of that. The article made me think. I love Chicago. I have survived a Chicago winter. Why would I go back, after living in "paradise"? Because the summers make the winters worth it. Because those crazy winters have made the Chicago personality more hardcore. It's harder to faze them; and when it gets that cold, it builds a weird sense of community. We're all hatin' it together. And paradise has lame architecture, overpriced ethnic food, and just not as much fun. But paradise doesn't require the dork coat.
Today it is lovely all over again. Unfortunately, I woke up at 3PM, which limits the daylight. And then I made the mistake of roasting a chicken, which has trapped me inside. Oh well, it's not like I can't bike along the beach in my t-shirt tomorrow.
on the toob: Step into Liquid - a surfing documentary
I finally decided that it was time to change my residency to California. The election has passed (I wanted to vote in Virginia); tax time is coming up; and I have to renew my VA license if I don't replace it first. To say nothing of in-state/out-of-state tuition considerations for next year.
Now that I have my brain and time back after the end of quarter, I decided to just get that done. SuperK warned me about taking the written test, so I picked up the booklet. And today, I got up damn early to spend 2.5 hours and close to $200 not really accomplishing anything. It's extremely frustrating.
In an attempt to head off some of the inevitable DMV-BS, I came prepared with my completed paperwork, passport and ready to take the test. And it started just fine, but quickly went downhill. The woman at the first window was super-pleasant and helpful, gave me my number and checked my paperwork. Second window then asked where my titling paperwork was for my car (why get a CA license if you don't have a car to drive?). I tried to explain that I wasn't ready to move my car into CA yet, since my title still has the lienholder (the Civic is all paid off, thank you very much), and I am waiting for my student loan to come through so I can fix her so she can pass the Smog test. But the chyck insisted on pre-registering the car. Which translates to me giving her lots of money with nothing but a 60-day sticker and promise to come back to the DMV. Grr. She also charged me fees for not registering the car in CA within 20 days of crossing state lines, even though technically, I was not a resident until today (no lease, no job, etc).
Fine. It's not like I needed that cash or anything. To say nothing of the lovely fact I get to come back AGAIN!
At Window #3 I had another personable woman who was nice right up until she refused to believe that I was born in 1979. Like she checked both my VA license and my passport, then made her supervisor check. *sigh* While I appreciate looking young, I don't appreciate getting hassled by people about it (DMV, carded for EVERYTHING, including the occasional Rated-R movie). Extra burn - I was wearing my grown-up clothes that day. In the end, they accepted it, mostly because I was just about growling.
Next, they slide me over to take my picture. I briefly thought I had escaped the written test, but no such luck. That said, I totally aced it (even if people looked at me funny as I used my hands to visualize which direction to turn your wheels on an incline without a curb).
The ultimate insult came next. I had jumped through hoops, passed tests, paid money. But instead of a shiny new California license, I get a wad of half-sheets to carry around until my REAL license arrives in 2-8 weeks. WHAT?! And those papers that now take up half my wallet are my legal license. And to make that point, they punched a freakin' hole in my VA license!! Thanks guys. In case I don't have enough trouble convincing people it's not a fake because a) it's out of state and b) I apparently look 12, now I have to explain why I have a hole in my license. Ugh.
I hate that after all of that, nothing really got done. And after that experience, I probably have a really surly license pic.
In the past week, I have seen some really odd, if entertaining girl behavior. But this is what you get when you visit an all-women's college and I.V. any weekend-night.The CORD conference last week was hosted by Hollins University, which is a lovely, if tiny space in the hills of Roanoke. A great size for the conference, as it was scenic, but manageable, without the sterility of a hotel. (The building with the dance studio looks like it is wearing a hat.) And I had nearly forgotten that at least at the undergraduate level, it is all-women.Nothing like walking out of the Parlour with my coffee at 8.30AM to see a girl in the middle of the quad, dressed like GRAPES, dancing and handing out brownies. Later that day, there was a girl singing "Barbie Girl" loudly and acapella on the steps of Cocke Hall. Like all schools, Hollins has its own set of unique traditions, which were only explained to me after the fact. Apparently, this is the annual Ring Night, where the senior girls give class rings to junior girls, but only after a dose of hazing.
Last night, on my way to the Co-op, I saw the ultimate sight. It was a girl with her hair in loose, but nonetheless "done" curls, a sparkly strapless dress, and (mercifully) matching flipflops, pushing a keg on a dolly down the bike lane. I tried to take a picture, but I was so busy laughing my ass off and trying not to fall off my bike or hit her, that I was not able. I mean, I admire her total blase ownership of the absurdity and willingness to move the keg herself instead of getting some meathead to do it, but still funny. It made the gaggle of girls in short black dresses and silver pumps just pale in comparison.
I'm not sure which was more disturbing/funny, but I sure don't want Jeannette to punch me in the uterus for not attending the Hollins game.
(apparently Odes and Top 10 Lists are big at Hollins)
on Hold: BN.com customer service
- SuperK astutely observed that Halloween tends to be a super-insane affair at schools with the quarter system. It nicely coincides with the middle of the quarter, when we DON'T get a Fall Break.
- Additionally, he said that the whole thing was ALMOST worth it when he saw some kid run outside to puke, only to turn around and slip on it.
- Who knew that Halloween is a long-weekend event with all day parties? I know I didn't.
- Halloween at IV this year was nearly twice as populated this year, but students complained that they were "under surveillance" with the proportionately doubled police presence.
- I found a Rainbow Brite costume that is damn awesome, and if it gets marked down any further, I will require people to be my Sprites next year.
- It makes me miss the clever costumes of Chicago (breathalyzer anyone?), as well as its attendant snark.
Sometimes living in Santa Barbara isn't the dream that it looks like. More hours spent holed up reading theory than basking on the beach.
But sometimes it really is that cool. Like when SuperK and I have event meals along the water.
Sunday, we celebrated the fact that both of us had the same day off. SuperK wanted to go back to this one place on Las Positas, and it was pretty awesome. Brunch at the Boathouse on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, tucked into a cliff along the dog beach, with lovely wait-staff scenery (both SuperK and I left our numbers - choose your own adventure!). And the food wasn't bad either! Vanilla bean french toast with strawberry butter and applewood bacon.
Today, I took SuperK out to Sushi Go-Go for his birthday, which overlooks the Harbor. The menu had some cool offerings, plus we got to watch them sling a tugboat over water. It was a tasty lunch, in perfect weather - a great diversion for a Wednesday!
Sadly, not every day is a picnic. In the meantime, I have to get my scenic snacks by smuggling cinnamon almonds and dried cranberries onto the 8th floor of the library.on the tube: House on the DVR.
Halloween is only fun when you have a group to prowl with and a quiet place to go home to. Otherwise, Halloween is a world-class pain in the ass.
SuperK and I spent this evening trying to run away from the dorm and its attendant bullshit. We wanted to time going out for food so as to optimize the escape. He had a party to wear his Citizen V costume to, looking so damn creepy, like he walked straight out of my nightmares. Although it was damn special when he was trying pieces on, after we gave the wig a trim.
(because even Citizen V has to text too)
Then SuperK and I got stopped trying to park in our lot. I was happy they were checking, and thus keeping out the random kids who didn't belong there. But it was a little weird that they started in on the "no overnight-visitors allowed". The only thing weirder was when they assumed that I was SuperK's out-of-town girlfriend. I pretty much just leaned over and assured him that 1. we were grad students and 2. he's gay. Besides, if he was gonna bring home some random girl, why would he bring home a nerd in a muppets t-shirt, 2nd hand pants and a rainbow sweater, when he could have Hoochy *insert occupation here*?
In retrospect, the noise levels could have been much worse, and they did put the contientious RC on call, instead of the slack-ass mooch getting free rent to answer the phone and tell me to deal with it my own damn self, even if it meant calling the police.
on iTunes: "A Man Called Sun" - the Verve
Quick local geography lesson:
University of California Santa Barbara is actually located in Goleta. Within Goleta, there is a non-incorporated neighborhood on the edge of the beach, called Isla Vista. Mostly, this is a concentration of undergrad party people. (This is where all the frats are, along with the only places around that are open 24/7). El Colegio marks the north end of IV, and I live on the other side.
On one hand, I love being able to walk to the student slacker mass, and other emergency needs. And they have an impressive beer distributor. It's the only strip of bars within walking distance. Makes is really to know where NOT to live.
On the other - what a trainwreck. Halloween is reported to be totally off-the-hook here. Not just drunken Court Street in Athens. Emails from the university suggest this event is not just crazy, but potentially dangerous. The central park in IV will host an emergency first-aid tent, which doesn't just dole out band-aids and ice packs, but also provides for victims of alcohol poisoning AND sexual assault! Yikes. This wasn't just the "know your resources" kind of thing. But the emails also suggest that the university is more interested in collecting fines for possession than protecting students. Charming.
That said, part of me would love to live on the bluffs. But not enough to deal with rampant drunkenness, or paying a shitload of money to SHARE a bedroom. And there are some pretty parks, and prettier street names (Sueno, Abrego, Sabado Tarde), all of which confirm its emphasis on leisure.
Next week, I am so doing the sunset yoga though!
UCSB is definitely a bike community. Trails run all over the place. Isla Vista has largely been abandoned by cars because it is overrun with bikes. And the fact that it is always acceptable bike weather (mild temps, not alot of rain) adds to the appeal.
Originally, I had planned on buying a bike when I got here, but SuperK already had a bike that he didn't use much. But it turned on me. Bad Bike and I had a couple of run-ins before, but I was willing to dismiss them as me being out of practice, and the bike being a boy-bike (thus a bit out of size for me). However, these were mini-skids or loss of balance. Not the full-on attack of Friday.Friday, I jumped on the bike to head over to Santa Ynez offices to research (transl: raise hell) about San Clemente housing. En route, the bike decided to take out its aggressions on me. In a quick instant, I felt like I couldn't steer. Next moment - I am sprawled most inelegantly across the parking lot. This would also be the one day I wore a skirt. And there was one person, (boy of course) to witness my wipeout and whatever color undies I wore that day. Now I am covered in bruises in weird places where either I landed or the bike landed on me, and a bunch of charming scrapes. After I picked myself up, I saw that one brake seized, and the chain came of all 21 gears. I was able to make it operable again. But it finally made up my mind to break down and buy my own bike. Ideally one that liked me.
Now, I am the proud owner of a matte periwinkle beach cruiser, complete with basket and comfy seat. The tires have a matching periwinkle rims under their fenders. Leather grips. I'm still trying to adapt to this totally different bike. It doesn't have gears or handbrakes. The handlebar is curved and wide. And these coaster brakes are totally weird to me. But it's so cute, and I'm so cute pedaling it.
As soon as I posted my last entry, I had a little realisation. I have always lived near water. I'm not sure if this is a function of settlement patterns, or something more subconscious at work. I remember what a thrill it was to drive to the VA Beach after ER parties at William and Mary to avoid more work. It took about an hour to drive there in Spamber's Taurus, then the appropriate bumming on the sand before the guilt kicked back in. Charlottesville had trails running along the Rivanna River.
Living in Chicago, I lived right along the Lake. It was a one mile walk from my place to North Ave beach. Spent many quality hours walking along the lake downtown, or driving along the lovely Lake Shore Drive.
And my apartment in Athens was less than a mile from the Hocking River. Which wasn't terribly scenic, but it was still a body of water, and way more interesting to read/run along.
Now, I live half a mile from an honest-to-goodness beach. With sand and ocean! Extra bonus - the weather tends to be gorgeous, and beach-conducive. I am excited at the proximity, as well as the fact that I am in a lifestyle/schedule that allows me to visit it. As the Domestic God put it - if you are going to spend 5 years in hell, it might as well be in paradise!
For the past month, I have been trying to make time to go to the beach. I have managed a quick walk coming back from campus errands, but no quality time. I was thwarted by scheduling, weather and my own vampire hours. Like this weekend was sunny, but super windy, kicking up large particles.
Today, I woke up a bit early, did my morning routine, then put on my bikini and biked down to the beach. The first access was all clogged up with seaweed, which is not uncommon in Santa Barbara. Last night's full moon seems to have churned up extra yuckies. Also, since I arrived during high tide, there wasn't alot of sand to bask on. But Isla Vista has a nice little park with some cliff overhangs. They also have a great place to hang a hammock, but that space was taken. (well, that I and I don't have a hammock)
It was really gorgeous to sit up on the cliff in the sun. My time at the beach wasn't all play, though. In my bag, along with my water bottle and towel, I had a pile of plays and articles to read for my class tomorrow. Strangely, I found my focus really good. Blame the white noise of waves, or the perfect low-80s temperature.
Go go multitasking!
A little detail they don't put in the brochure - UC Santa Barbara is actually situated in Goleta. This is a great source of confusion for mail delivery, since the mail is sorted at the UCSB location in SBA, but all non USPS deliveries are addressed to Goleta. For the most part, this is more an oddity than problem. But the more I try to do things around the area, the more glaring it becomes. For one, most of the bars are in Santa Barbara, which is actually like 10 miles down 101. I have been spoiled, since I have almost always been able to walk to/from the bar. And while I know California is Car-Culture, I thought the college-town-ness might have exempted us.
This evening, I decided to run some errands in Ventura. Because SBA/Goleta don't believe in Big Box stores (or drive-thrus apparently). Unfortunately, to get to Ventura, you must drive thru Santa Barbara, and its associated traffic. It's amazing. As soon as you cross the city line, the cars back up. Of course this errand took twice as long as I anticipated. Also a pisser - the Brita I bought doesn't work with our faucet which will require another trek to return it. And as pretty as it was to watch the moon rise over brake lights, I think I will try the drive at a different hour.
Goleta is north of SBA, which was great driving back from the wedding in San Francisco, but since I will be generally heading in the opposite direction, it's rather a hassle. Also a hassle - the fact that it takes 10 minutes just to walk to my car, which really cuts down on the spontaneous trips. But it's good, because between the walk to the car and the lack of drive-thrus, I am way less likely to succumb to the fast food crave. And since the elevator doesn't work in the parking garage, I get to hike the 4 flights to my car. By Christmas, my butt should be GORGEOUS.
on Pandora: "Sweet Lemonade" - Monster Movie
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