Categories
Memoir

Stream of awkwardness

Omg, omg, the overly friendly guy who sits next to me at work (I sit upstairs with the telemarketers) just told me that when I take my lunch, he brought a suit for me to try on.  It apparently belonged to his fashion-forward cousin who just had – get this – gastric bypass surgery.  When he told me about this last week, he asked if I was offended and I said “Um, I’m not really offended I guess, but I gotta be honest, that’s weird.”  I thought that would be the end of it but apparently not.  Can I sneak out of here without saying anything?  I like this computer (they just gave me a new one and everything) and I like sitting here, is this guy gonna ruin it for me?  He’s always been, like, too friendly: I don’t even know how many times he told me I “don’t need to wear makeup like some women” and that I “shouldn’t feel like I need to go to the gym” to change myself…oh, but that I can go if I want.  But all these compliments are a little bit negated by the offer of pre-gastric-bypass-surgery clothes.  Am I right?

My phone just died so I can’t even send out texts or update my Facebook status about this awkwardness.  Omg.

Update: He slid the Macys bag over to me at some point and said “Just try it on, and then if you like it, no pressure, but if anyone asks, one of your lady friends downstairs gave it to you.”  I peeked in the bag and it was a pile of wool with a houndstooth pattern, and I started thinking, How cute would I look in houndstooth in the winter?  In my little skirt suit?  When he left his desk for a minute I pulled the skirt out of the bag and held it up, and it was (according to the tag) an entire 3 or 4 sizes too big for me.  Which made it not worth it anymore.

Last week when he first brought up this subject, he was telling me his cousin used to be “the same size” as me, “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”  Um, apparently you don’t because you overshot by quite a bit.

Categories
Memoir Nonfiction

The Internet, with the email and the wikipedia

Our generation will have some really interesting stories to tell our grandchildren, the kind that begin with “Back in my day” or “When I was your age.”  For instance, I remember before CDs or DVDs, I must have been in middle school and a teacher who worked with my dad at the high school was showing us these “laser discs” he used in his classroom instead of videotapes.  I remember thinking, Psshhh, that’s ridiculous, but look what happened within the next few years.

I also remember when the “computer lab” at school was a happening new addition, and we each had a Mac to work on.  We would practice typing, ClarisWorks, and SimCity.  Eventually we even went on The Internet.

When we got The Internet at home, my family had one computer in the middle of the kitchen, and my brother and I would monopolize it to “do homework.”  If we were doing something private we would turn down the brightness of the screen almost all the way.  We would have to squint to see it, so how could someone getting a glass of water glance at the screen and see what we were doing?  (I guarantee you I was writing poetry.) 

Of course we couldn’t sneak onto The Internet because our parents would hear the telltale sound of the modem dialing up – and will anyone born in the 80s ever be able to forget that sound?  I think not.  We quickly figured out how to turn the sound on the modem off, and I definitely remember my mom picking up the phone to make a call and realizing we’d been on The Internet for hours now.  Oh such fun.

Now I realize how annoying it must have been for anyone trying to call us between the years of 1999 and 2002.  That busy signal drives me crazy now when I try to call home, and it only happens every so often.  I bet back then it was constant, and more irritating with every redial.

I got my own phone line sometime in high school, although that was only because of all my long-distance phone calls to Mendocino and Ft. Bragg.  I even remember the phone number (-9096) although I only had it for a couple years before I went to Davis.  Then that phone line became the internet line, and now I wonder what happened to it, if it even still exists.  Maybe some other kid has my 9096 number as their personal phone line.

My parents have, of course, graduated to a cable internet line for more rapid downloads, a much sleeker Mac, and constant internet connection.  They are now a house with a computer in one room chiming with each new incoming email.  Along with these chic new changes came cable TV, three years too late for Robb or me, which I think was deliberate and my parents’ brand of dark humor.

When we were having all the carpets in the house replaced with hardwood, I was the one who opted to keep the carpet.  (I still prefer carpet to wood floors, one big check mark in California’s favor.)  While the rest of the house was torn up, the computer, TV, and VCR were moved into my room.  I have a vivid memory of renting old movies from National Video (they did 3 movies for 3 days for 3 dollars) and watching them while emailing people and talking on my own phone line.  It was so luxurious.  Amazing.

My grandchildren will probably roll their eyes at me while they pick up whatever tiny miracle devices also happen to suffice as cell phones (or maybe they’ll be implanted in their heads so they’ll roll their eyes while they tap out codes on their temples?) while I try to tell them about the days of busy signals and not everyone had an answering machine, and sometimes you just had to make plans to meet up with your friends at a certain time or place, and then everyone would just go there.  If you didn’t know how to get there you had to ask someone for directions or look at an actual map you would keep in your glovebox. 

I’m absolutely not saying it was better back then, I just like the way our generation balances on the divide.  Sometimes I see old people with email addresses and it makes me smile, and sometimes I see old people who refuse to get email addresses on the grounds that they’re too old, and that makes me smile too.  My parents have adapted somehow, better than I would ever have guessed (especially given that they still don’t have call waiting or caller ID, and they screen their calls, so I always have to leave a message going “Hello?….Are you guys there?….Hello?”).

But some older people are trying to adapt and just haven’t quite made it, as evidenced by this conversation I overhead at work between two (ahem) older folks:

-Did you watch that video I told you about yesterday?
-Yeah, I watched it last night.
-On the youtube?
-No, not on the youtube, I just googled it.
-You what?
-I watched it on ebay.  I mean, not ebay.  On yahoo.
-Oh really?
-Yeah, I googled it.

Bless their hearts.  Of course, I know this’ll be me one day, with phrases and trademarks I can’t even imagine yet.

Categories
Memoir

To brand new experiences

Today I went to my first ever yoga class.  I really wanted to be able to condition that sentence somehow: Today I went to my first ever yoga class in California.  Today I went to my first ever yoga class at this gym.  My first ever yoga class since college.  But nope, I thought it over and realized I’ve never taken an actual yoga class, much as Kaitlin and I discussed going to one in New York City.  It’s not surprising I never went to one in Davis, given my one single failure of an appearance at an ARC class: a pilates class targeting legs, abs, and butt (that is over half of your body; is it wise to target all of it at once?).  I don’t remember how Erin and Paige fared, but I remember aching for days.  For days, I tell you.  It hurt to laugh.  I remember Liz and I were taking Kerry Hanlon’s class at the time, and I remember saving her a left-handed desk and concurrently being in pain.

Well, pilates for over-half-of-your-body is not the same thing as yoga, and I thought I would be okay.  I have become something of a yoga master on Wii Fit yoga, which I believed would count for something.  Then I arrived at the gym.  And saw all the people lining up with rolled up mats under their arms.  But I am good-natured, so I asked Teresa (who works there, who has become something of my friend/acquaintance, against all odds) if I was supposed to bring a mat.  She said no and pointed towards the room where the mats were (there was still a kickboxing class finishing up) and I laughed it off, joking that I was intimidated.  But I was kidding.  But I made a little mental note to buy self yoga mat.

When the kickboxing class finished up, I headed straight inside to the back of the room where I could watch other people.  I have heard you’re supposed to tell the instructor you’re a beginner, but I couldn’t figure out who the instructor was until she had started instructing.  And I’m pretty sure she figured out my beginner status right away.

It was pretty cool, over all, except that it’s hard to go all Zen and relaxed when you’re alternating between a) surreptitious glances around to see what “backwards swan dive” looks like, and b) giggling at the pose names.  Near the beginning we did a series of sun salutations, which I remember doing in Sheldon’s acting class, and I remember liking the repetition and the way it all flows.  I bet it would have been a lot more fun if I didn’t spend the first 2 1/2 salutations remembering what flows into what.  The last 1/2 was pretty fun.

When the instructor started walking around and touching people I freaked a little bit, but she seemed to focus on the students she already knew, which was reassuring.

Then a bunch of them did Bird of Paradise, which looks amazing but was absolutely not happening with me.  Luckily only about a third of the people in the room could do it, so the rest of us stood around and pretended to be “lengthening” while we really just watched them enviously.

Halfway through the guy next to me rolled up his mat and left, although I guess it was his third class in a row today, so mine is a shallow victory.

Also, while doing tree pose, while I was thinking, Yes! I know this from Wii Fit! I can totally do this!, it turns out my foot is resting too close to my knee, which the instructor didn’t like.  She didn’t say anything to me directly, she just kept saying, “Everyone, please keep your foot away from your knee, it’s bad to rest on the knee,” until I finally moved my foot down.  So I’m pretty sure she was talking to me.  Tree pose is no fun when your foot is on your calf.  So now I have something to work towards, I guess.

We finished up in corpse pose, which is the funniest one, right?  Because you’re just lying there.  Then she kind of whispered into her microphone to stay there as long as our bodies could (me: “Um, I can lie down a long time, like for hours even”) and then she thanked us, and then she thanked our bodies for being there tonight, and then she whispered “Namaste.”  And then I waited until I heard at least 3 other people get up before I got up.

It was interesting, and I would like to go again.  Actually I would like to try a class with the other instructor to see if I like her style more.  I don’t feel the way I feel after a regular workout, but I don’t think that’s necessarily good or bad.  To new experiences!

Categories
Awesome Beginnings cars Drew Family Memoir Sentiment

One year: California

 

I can hardly believe it, but a year ago today Drew and I arrived in California with a van packed full of our stuff (see above) and a camera full of pictures from our warp speed drive from NYC.  We arrived one day ahead of schedule (earning us back a day’s refund on our rental car – totally worth it).

I am so happy that we decided to drive back.  Driving across the country was kind of inspiring.  I just flipped through the Facebook album I made when we got back, and there are some really great pictures in there.  A lot of the landscape and the way it changed over 3000 miles.

Iowa, one of the best states.
I think this is Nebraska...I have like 15 pictures of this labeled "Void 1," "Void 2," etc.
Colorado, or Wyoming, something like that.

One year later, I still think it was the right thing for us to do, to come back.  I don’t think that we “gave up” or that New York “got the best of us,” especially considering we had a pretty sweet setup out there.  It was a good life for three years but I guess we both knew it wasn’t going to be our life forever, and it was time to get that party started.

Right now, Liz and Bill are packing up their lives: putting a ton of boxes in storage, giving away a bunch more, and packing up a few suitcases and their cat, and in a week they’ll be flying out to New York City.  They will go from the airport to their sublet in Brooklyn (sound familiar, anyone?) and try to orient themselves to a lifestyle completely unlike what they’ve been living.  While a little part of me is jealous over this blank slate, most of me is just plain excited for them…while also being relieved that I don’t have any packing/unpacking in my near future.

I am ready for an NYC vacation, so hopefully we can get it together soon.

In the meantime, I can see the Pacific Ocean from where I’m sitting, and even though I just saw my parents less than a week ago, I’ll see them again next weekend.  It’s 68 degrees here and I’m wearing socks to keep warm (sorry, New York friends).  I miss New York, but not the way I missed California.  Plus, think of the stories to tell my kids about my reckless youth.

Categories
Beginnings Drew Friends Memoir Religion Sentiment

Wives and husbands

Yesterday was the wedding of our friends Laurie and Dale.  The thing about weddings is, no matter how prepared I think I am for them (for instance, having been at the rehearsal), I always get emotional.  There’s just something about the intimacy of seeing the ritual of two people promise themselves to each other.  When Laurie entered I kept looking from her face to Dale’s face to her face.  It was like they didn’t even know anyone else was there.  In a good way.

I did the Scripture reading, which Laurie approached me about a couple months ago.  Initially, I was a mix of honored to be asked, and terrified to be in front of all those people, and I was honest with her about that.  But I also know that what the bride wants, goes, and I was honest with her about that too.  She was honest with me about appreciating my honesty, and repeated her request.  I worried about the reading, especially as it got closer, because I’m just not a performer, or even a read-out-loud-to-other-people-er.  But I kept the verse forefront in my mind and practiced it when Drew wasn’t home, and just concentrated on generic public speaking tips: take a deep breath before you begin; keep your feet flat on the ground (when I get nervous I tend to roll them to the outside edges); read slower than you think you need to.

Some people might laugh at me because I know this is kind of an irrational fear – but it was a challenge for me. ( Hello, do I not still have dreams where I have to take an actor’s place onstage and it ends up being  just awful?)

But I am very glad I did it.  I was very flattered and honored to be a part of their ceremony and their special day, and I would have really regretted it if I had chickened out and had to watch someone else take my place.  So, Laurie, if/when you read this, thank you for asking me!  I hope you guys liked it.  (Although, if I remember correctly, when you’re up there in the dress and the makeup with the jewelry and the guy, it’s really hard to focus on anything else.)

At the reception, we were at a table with 3 friends of Laurie’s we didn’t know (but I think they traveled from afar), and 3 friends of Laurie’s that we did know, plus a boyfriend and a fiance.  Ten people…and only eight little pats of butter.  Luckily the travel-from-afar friends didn’t seem to care about the butter, and the people on the opposite side of the table didn’t even see the butter.  So there wasn’t a scene.  But there could have been.  Joe P (who we moved to New York with oh so long ago) and Drew and I made up the plot to a blockbuster film that I think could be a box office hit:  it revolves around the fastest, slickest pickpocket in the world, who goes around to weddings and sneaks the garter off the bride when no one is paying attention.  Then, when the groom goes to get it for the garter toss, there’s no garter there!  That’s when the pickpocket casually walks by and drops the garter in the bride’s lap.  The movie begins at the wedding of Luke Wilson and Dakota Fanning, and she’s got the last garter in the world.  The pickpocket is played by Colin Farrell, possibly doing an accent, but not Irish.  He and the bride originally hate each other, but by the middle of the movie have fallen in love.  At the end you find out that Luke Wilson, who has turned out to be a drinker, didn’t sign all the papers correctly and so they’re not technically married.  Then she’s free to marry to the pickpocket, who turns in his…tool that pickpockets use, and vows to walk the straight and narrow.  I may be forgetting something, but this is the gist.

At one point Joe P asked Drew and me what we were thinking while watching Laurie and Dale make their way around to each table to say hello.  He asked if we were reminiscing about our wedding.  Well, I don’t know how you can go to a wedding and not reminisce about your own, especially when it was fairly recent.  I just remember how surreal it was: an event that we had been planning for and paying for, for almost a year, and it was over in a day.  And it was a trip to see people from all different parts of our lives together in one room, sometimes at one table.  And from everyone – from our parents down to the computer teacher at my high school whose class I was never actually in – there was just an incredible amount of joy. 

I feel like, even though this year has been rough with the job searching, scraping and saving, and not always knowing how we’re going to be able to pay rent, that joy has stayed with us.  I’ve heard that the first year of marriage is actually pretty hard, because there are bank accounts to be combined and new rules to be established, but the last 8 months has felt easier in a lot of ways than the 5 years that preceded it.  Or if not easier, then happier.  Surely, more joyful.

So, while I will forget the anxiety of always feeling like there was no money (and I am assuming Drew agrees), there has been plenty this year to make up for it, that I won’t forget.  Here’s a little jewel I’ve been saving up:

There’s a path down by the ocean by the Pacifica pier, and you walk out parallel to the beach for maybe a quarter mile, and then up a staircase to the top of a crest, where you can pretend to push each other off into the ocean.  This spring, on top of this crest, hidden back in the grass, were three large puddles filled with tadpoles.  We checked on them a few times over a couple weeks, getting nervous as the water levels went down and the tadpoles didn’t seem to diminish in number.  We encouraged them to sprout legs and leave their overcrowded quarters. 
          One morning, Drew got up before me, and I dozed until I felt him sit down near my feet.  “It’s raining,” he said.  “Mmmmmm,” I said.  Then he said, “It’s good for the tadpoles.”  And I thought, Awwww.

I wouldn’t trade that kind of relationship for years of paid rent.  I’m not sure I’m saying that right, but the cheesy theme has probably rung true, so I’m going to shut up.

Categories
Endings Memoir Theatre

Equivocation, Part 3 (The One With The Toasts)

Equivocation closed on Sunday and I failed to write anything about it.  I had planned this “funny” post where I talked about how I had gotten my track down to a science, and detailed how I spent a lot time sitting in the green room or on the floor backstage, and jumped up at the precise moments to be where I needed to be…but the day that I started writing it was the day EVERYTHING went wrong.  One of the actors got a scary phone call 5 minutes before curtain and thought his child was sick or hurt, so the first 15 minutes was real hectic until he could get offstage, get someone on the phone, and make sure everything was fine.  Props were misplaced (not always by me) and right before the end of Act I, one of the actors spilled a tidal wave of fake blood (mostly corn syrup and red food dye) all over herself and backstage left.  While we made it through intermission and got her cleaned up, some of the spots on the floor backstage were missed by the mop, and so I spent a lot of the second act finding sticky blood spots and trying to clean it with baby wipes.

ANYWAY, Equivocation is closed now and that’s that.  It was a good closing.  The audience was very friendly and agreeable and on our sides.  The cast got to go back out for a second bow.  (The stage manager apparently LOVES encore bows and always wanted to send them back out, but this was actually deserved.)  The champagne toast onstage was very nice and everyone was happy and it was just a good note to go out on.  One of the actors tipped me (hooray!) and one of them gave me a copy of Middlemarch, because he had been telling me to read it ever since rehearsal.  That may very well be the nicest closing present I’ve ever gotten.  The tipping actor told me that the book actor must really respect me, because that is one of the highest compliments he pays (she’s known him for about 15 years).

I was sad for about 10 minutes and then I started in on the next project, which is 5 days of a reading of this new play called Carthage by Emily Schwend.  I really like the play and I’m stage managing and it fills in this week, which otherwise I would have had off.  On Friday we start prep for the next mainstage show and on Tuesday we start rehearsals and then I’ll just have hundreds of things to say about Woody Guthrie’s American Song.

Categories
Memoir

Temporary Lease Sweet Temporary Lease

Last night, while failing to fall asleep (failing asleep?), I realized that in the last 9 years I have lived in like 10 places.

Until August 2002: Lakeport
Sept 2002-June 2003: Davis, dorms
(Summer of 2003 I lived at home in Lakeport again.)
Sept 2003-Aug 2004: Davis, Almondwood
Sept 2004-Aug 2005: Davis, Drake Dr.
(Also, summer of 2005 I basically lived in Drew’s apartment at Oxford Parkside.)
Sept 2005-July 2006: Davis, Adams St.
Aug 2006-Nov 2006: Brooklyn, NY
Dec 2006-July 2009: Queens, NY
Aug 2009-Sept 2009: San Francisco, CA
Oct 2009-now: San Bruno, CA

No wonder I have an anxiety attack any time Drew wants to throw away old empty boxes.  I knew I wasn’t just channeling my Hoarder self when I thought frantically, But that’s one of those good boxes!  Hammermill!  It still has its lid!

I think I just had some kind of breakthrough.

Categories
"Other people" Being a girl Drew Memoir

The Starbucks Exchange

Last fall, I had this running joke on Facebook about the Starbucks employees having major problems getting the name “Drew” onto my drinks.  By all rights, at some point, I should have just switched to another one of the several thousand names in the world that are easily recognizable and have one spelling.

(Like…”Drew”??)

But I thought it was funny and each day I wanted to see what new perversion the baristas could come up with.

I stopped going to Starbucks to save the money, and for months I drank coffee brewed at work.  A three dollar bottle of generic vanilla creamer could last two weeks.  Such thrift!  My mother would be so proud.  But no one ever wrote on my cups for me. 

Then, after the fiasco with our wall (which is, in fact, finally finished and repainted!) the rental office very thoughtfully gave us a gift card to Starbucks, as a way to say “We are so very sorry about the ridiculous delays, and thank you for your patience.”  I basically grabbed it out of Drew’s hands and ran-not-walked to the nearest Starbucks to rediscover my addiction.  (Not true.  I did wait maturely until the next morning.)

And here is where, can I just say, Starbucks, I missed you.  I have been rediscovering the joys of my morning venti-nonfat-vanilla-latte.  I fear I may be off the wagon.

One morning recently, I gave the young gentleman behind the counter “my” name, and he looked at me thoughtfully for a minute, pen poised, before asking “D-R-U?”  I said with a tight smile, “D-R-E-W.”  And he said, “Oh, right,” and wrote it down. 

“Is that a girl’s name?” he asked.  It was high time for me to have moved down the counter.

“Drew Barrymore,” I offered.

“Right,” he said.  “Is it short for something?”

Should I have said, “It’s not my real name, here, write down my real name, it’s Syche”?  I just said it wasn’t short for anything, grabbed my drink and made a hasty exit, noting the correct spelling on the cup.

Maybe it’s time for me to pick a new name.  Maybe it reads too “clingy girlfriend” that I use Drew’s name.  Maybe I should just give them a number.  What’s the consensus here?

In the meantime, I leave you with today’s cup of fame.  Today, my name is Drak.  Address me accordingly.

Categories
Family Fashion Memoir

The danger of scarves

The room we rehearse in is always freezing (except when all the actors leave the room and Liz the SM and I turn the heat up and sit under the vents).  I’ve been wearing more and more layers every day; I’m two steps away from bringing a blanket or buying a Snuggie.  The last couple days I’ve even resorted to wearing scarves, which I thought I would never need in California.  Today I had wrapped my scarf around my neck twice when I recognized a familiar sense of anxiety…

…which I then placed as coming from the fear that, when I wrapped my scarf fully around my neck, someone could come up behind me, pull on the end, and break my neck, or strangle me, or otherwise cause me harm.  Where did this fear come from?  I thought of Isadora Duncan and her untimely scarf demise, but this feels like a deeper fear, something that would have had to be instilled in me at a very young age.

Of course, it must have been my mother.

Here are some other things I’ve recently realized I still (sort of) believe in, leftover from my childhood, even though my brain tells me it’s stupid:

-Premade chocolate milk: made from the milk that comes out bloody from the cows
-Don’t sit directly in front of the TV: the radiation comes out and then down (I guess I know where my brother and I used to sit)
-Reading in the dark ruins your eyes

What did you get told that you still believe?

Categories
Beginnings Memoir Sentiment

A new year, a new decade, a new domain.

So it’s not quite 2010, but I wanted to take this for a test drive before I officially made the switch.  My goal here is to be able to document myself now, without thinking about those pesky archives from when I was 20 years old.  It’d also be great if this was interesting to other people and not just myself.

Hopefully WordPress will end up being a better resource for me than LiveJournal is now…although we had our years together, didn’t we, LJ?