Miracle of technological miracles -- my mom's computer and my computer are both online, and we're not stealing our Internet connection from the neighbors either! It took me two hours to install, uninstall, install, and uninstall the blasted AT&T high speed caca, but I finally got it to work.
There are so many passwords and things to remember when signing up for a new account. No wonder my mom had me do it for her. "Who's your favorite singer?" "What's your first pet's name?" "Where was your last vacation?" "Tampons or maxi pads?" Each question meant a separate trip from our home office to the utility room where my mom was watching TV. "Mom. What are the last four digits of your Social Security number? What do you want your umpteenth password to be?"
My snafu had something to do with something not recognizing my modem's sign-in. "Please enter your AT&T login and password." "Uh, is that the login I just created 15 minutes ago or is it one of her other logins?"
I made it to the final page of the installation four times before the modem recognized itself (or whatever the hold up was.) Whew! And here I told my mom it'd be easy. I hope installing Office software goes more smoothly tomorrow.
Getting my wireless connection going was much more simple. Search for wireless networks, punch in a couple of numbers and bam! I'm working from the dining room instead of the office (the only place I could pick up our neighbors' wireless signal.) The coming days will determine whether or not I can get the signal from across the house or from the backyard.
There is still a printer to hook up, wires to untangle, a fax machine to figure out, and boxes to clean-up but I am going to bed satisfied that we are finally online and high-speed passengers on this Internet train.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
"I've Got Blisters On My Fingers!"
Yep, real live blisters on my fingers. I didn't get them from shredding the guitar as in the famous Beatles quote, I got them from helping my mom in the yard this morning.
My job was to dig up grass where she wanted to add a couple of cement squares along the driveway. My tool was a shovel, which I used to chip into the grass before having enough "give" to fully dig into it.
Having just blow-dryed my body in an effort to warm up from our cold house, I started this task wearing jeans, a long-sleeved pajama top, and a long-sleeved sweatshirt. About midway through I put a belt on to avoid "plumber's crack" and steadied my top half with a bra. By the end of it all, the sweatshirt was on the grass and my jeans were caked in dirt. I sweated and sneezed throughout the dig but admit there is something nice about earning my keep with this manual labor, blisters and all.
After my outdoor work, I thumbed through the L.A. Times and the Daily Breeze. The Daily Breeze is a slim local paper that is one half AP stories and one half stories about the South Bay. In honor of the start of the city football playoffs, the Breeze's sports section had a big article on Carson High School's football team. My team, Banning High, got a small paragraph about their match against Crenshaw High.
My favorite Times article of the day was one of those "no duh" stories: "Traffic Rises As Gas Prices Fall." Oh really? Anyone on the roads this month could've figured that one out. I drove up La Brea to Melrose, then down La Cienega to Jefferson the other morning and it was hell. It wasn't even rush hour. Perhaps if gas prices stayed high there'd be some real movement towards alternative modes of transportation. I'm not even a commuter and I can't stand it!
The more I live in the South Bay where the traffic flows, the less life in the city appeals to me. Sure, I miss out on concerts and happy hours and spontaneous access to friends but at least I am sane behind the wheel. I'm not saying there isn't traffic down here but it's nowhere nearly as awful as on the major thoroughfares in L.A. proper.
I shouldn't be shocked by gridlock having lived on the Westside for ten years, but I am. Even more loco was Sunset Blvd. on the night of the Madonna concert at Dodger Stadium. I couldn't believe it. Eastbound traffic so bad that signals would change without a single car moving. And Frank McCourt wants to develop Elysian Park???!! What a crock. It's already hideous getting into the park and nothing has ever been done to alleviate the mess of hundreds of thousands of cars trying to get through quaint streets. Developers stink.
My job was to dig up grass where she wanted to add a couple of cement squares along the driveway. My tool was a shovel, which I used to chip into the grass before having enough "give" to fully dig into it.
Having just blow-dryed my body in an effort to warm up from our cold house, I started this task wearing jeans, a long-sleeved pajama top, and a long-sleeved sweatshirt. About midway through I put a belt on to avoid "plumber's crack" and steadied my top half with a bra. By the end of it all, the sweatshirt was on the grass and my jeans were caked in dirt. I sweated and sneezed throughout the dig but admit there is something nice about earning my keep with this manual labor, blisters and all.
After my outdoor work, I thumbed through the L.A. Times and the Daily Breeze. The Daily Breeze is a slim local paper that is one half AP stories and one half stories about the South Bay. In honor of the start of the city football playoffs, the Breeze's sports section had a big article on Carson High School's football team. My team, Banning High, got a small paragraph about their match against Crenshaw High.
My favorite Times article of the day was one of those "no duh" stories: "Traffic Rises As Gas Prices Fall." Oh really? Anyone on the roads this month could've figured that one out. I drove up La Brea to Melrose, then down La Cienega to Jefferson the other morning and it was hell. It wasn't even rush hour. Perhaps if gas prices stayed high there'd be some real movement towards alternative modes of transportation. I'm not even a commuter and I can't stand it!
The more I live in the South Bay where the traffic flows, the less life in the city appeals to me. Sure, I miss out on concerts and happy hours and spontaneous access to friends but at least I am sane behind the wheel. I'm not saying there isn't traffic down here but it's nowhere nearly as awful as on the major thoroughfares in L.A. proper.
I shouldn't be shocked by gridlock having lived on the Westside for ten years, but I am. Even more loco was Sunset Blvd. on the night of the Madonna concert at Dodger Stadium. I couldn't believe it. Eastbound traffic so bad that signals would change without a single car moving. And Frank McCourt wants to develop Elysian Park???!! What a crock. It's already hideous getting into the park and nothing has ever been done to alleviate the mess of hundreds of thousands of cars trying to get through quaint streets. Developers stink.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Tea For Two
Until I find a job, I am living with my mom in Wilmington, California.
Wilmington is about 20 miles south of downtown Los Angeles but it's a world away in many respects. It's an industrial town surrounded by refineries, a sanitation plant, and the Port of Los Angeles. Container trucks rumble down the streets, trains block traffic, and oil companies regularly set off bursts of flames from what look like oversized concrete candles.
Wilmington is not pretty but it is a community. Generations of families pass through Banning High School's doors; new friends and neighbors are likely to be related or married to old friends and neighbors; and the mostly working-class residents are a proud bunch. Some even want to improve the neighborhood, as is the case with Nacho and Alma Velasquez, the owners of Hojas, the new tea house in town.
Hojas (meaning "leaves" in Spanish) is an anomaly here. Wilmington doesn't have a Starbucks or a Ralphs, let alone a place specializing in premium teas.
I spotted the business a couple of weeks back. It's in a Pacific Coast Highway mini-mall next door to a Salvadorian restaurant, a liquor store, a nail salon, and a taco truck. What caught my eye was the store's signage: a simply painted facade that reads "Tea House" in a nice font. You can't really see into the store because of its tinted windows, but the tasteful lettering seemed like a good sign -- it looked like a shop you'd see on the Westside or some gentrified part of L.A.
I pointed the store out to my mom today and she suggested we stop in. As suspected, the space is nicely decorated in a clean, modern style. There's a bar on one side where patrons can sip and sample teas, and there are tables and leather seats for wi-fi work and socializing in the main space.
Shortly after we walked in, Hojas's owner Nacho invited us to sample some teas at the bar. He explained some of the benefits of his teas and brewed us two types of green teas -- one plain, and the other mixed with a flowery substance I forgot the name of.
Nacho and his wife Alma both grew up in Wilmington and have been tea devotees for a decade. They opened the store in September and celebrated their grand opening this past Saturday with tea ceremonies, a live band, and samples.
Nacho said their clientele is a mix of locals, tea connosisseurs, and Palos Verdes housewives who stumble upon the shop while passing through town for pee-wee football games. People from Palos Verdes don't usually step foot into the town or patronize local businesses, so it's encouraging that they put aside their fears and/or prejudices to enjoy a cup of tea.
Hojas sells tea pots, cups, and saucers as well as an assortment of herbal tonics, herbs, and organic and loose leaf teas. It hosts tea parties and events and has its walls decorated with black-and-white photographs by Banning High alumni.
My mother and I were both impressed by Hojas and are going to patronize it. Tea really isn't my thing but if drinking it means I can help keep this business afloat, I'll do it.
Wilmington is about 20 miles south of downtown Los Angeles but it's a world away in many respects. It's an industrial town surrounded by refineries, a sanitation plant, and the Port of Los Angeles. Container trucks rumble down the streets, trains block traffic, and oil companies regularly set off bursts of flames from what look like oversized concrete candles.
Wilmington is not pretty but it is a community. Generations of families pass through Banning High School's doors; new friends and neighbors are likely to be related or married to old friends and neighbors; and the mostly working-class residents are a proud bunch. Some even want to improve the neighborhood, as is the case with Nacho and Alma Velasquez, the owners of Hojas, the new tea house in town.
Hojas (meaning "leaves" in Spanish) is an anomaly here. Wilmington doesn't have a Starbucks or a Ralphs, let alone a place specializing in premium teas.
I spotted the business a couple of weeks back. It's in a Pacific Coast Highway mini-mall next door to a Salvadorian restaurant, a liquor store, a nail salon, and a taco truck. What caught my eye was the store's signage: a simply painted facade that reads "Tea House" in a nice font. You can't really see into the store because of its tinted windows, but the tasteful lettering seemed like a good sign -- it looked like a shop you'd see on the Westside or some gentrified part of L.A.
I pointed the store out to my mom today and she suggested we stop in. As suspected, the space is nicely decorated in a clean, modern style. There's a bar on one side where patrons can sip and sample teas, and there are tables and leather seats for wi-fi work and socializing in the main space.
Shortly after we walked in, Hojas's owner Nacho invited us to sample some teas at the bar. He explained some of the benefits of his teas and brewed us two types of green teas -- one plain, and the other mixed with a flowery substance I forgot the name of.
Nacho and his wife Alma both grew up in Wilmington and have been tea devotees for a decade. They opened the store in September and celebrated their grand opening this past Saturday with tea ceremonies, a live band, and samples.
Nacho said their clientele is a mix of locals, tea connosisseurs, and Palos Verdes housewives who stumble upon the shop while passing through town for pee-wee football games. People from Palos Verdes don't usually step foot into the town or patronize local businesses, so it's encouraging that they put aside their fears and/or prejudices to enjoy a cup of tea.
Hojas sells tea pots, cups, and saucers as well as an assortment of herbal tonics, herbs, and organic and loose leaf teas. It hosts tea parties and events and has its walls decorated with black-and-white photographs by Banning High alumni.
My mother and I were both impressed by Hojas and are going to patronize it. Tea really isn't my thing but if drinking it means I can help keep this business afloat, I'll do it.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Intro -- My First Post On This Site
Hello all. This is my new blog. I've moved it from MySpace so that anyone can access it at anytime. This more public space is also good inspiration to blog more often, as I've dropped off in recent months.
I'll be writing about anything that crosses my mind, whether personal, political, or purposeless.
I'm reading Stephen King's memoir, On Writing, right now and in it, he advises would-be writers to write at least ten pages a day and to read as much as possible. The TV is the enemy in his mind. As much as I agree, I've already spent hours vegging out to What Not To Wear, Project Runway, and the Real Housewives of Atlanta and don't think I'll give up the boob tube entirely.
King's book has helped me realize that I'm not a writer as I've claimed in the past, but rather someone with mild interest in the craft. I am competant, sure, but not at the same level as people who sit down every day for hours and can rightfully be labeled "writers." I wrote for a living for seven years, yes, but it is definitely not the only thing I am capable of doing. The writer's lifestyle is romantic but I don't have it in me to be a freelancer. I am a 9-5 kind of gal. I like steady paychecks.
So for now, I'll just write about whatever suits my fancy and save delusions of granduer and bestsellers for later. I'm thinking there will be lots of music, movie, and TV musings as well as my take on unemployment and living at home again.
One thing that's on my mind today is the movie Slumdog Millionaire. I read glowing reviews of it and fell for the hype. I should know better: no movie is ever as good as critics make it out to be. I wanted it to be fantastic for a couple of reasons: 1) I think Danny Boyle is a great director, 2) I like "feel good" movies, and 3) Slumdog was the first movie I was going to see in a theater with my new boyfriend Chris, and I wanted it to be memorable.
What Slumdog turned out to be was a perfectly competant tale of a poor Indian kid's journey to winning 20 million rupees on TV. The main character is a contestant on the Indian version of Who Wants To Be A Millioniare and is arrested for cheating on the show. As he's interrogated and tortured by the police, flashbacks reveal how he came to learn information vital to his TV win even though he was poor and uneducated. The other main characters in the movie are the tough brother and the beautiful female friend, and it's no mystery who ends up with whom in the end.
I rooted for a movie in the vein of Danny Boyle's tearjerker Millions or his flawed, but touching, Sunshine, but didn't like it as much as those titles (I cried like a baby watching Millions and highly recommend it, and stand behind Sunshine for the first two-thirds of the movie.) That said, Slumdog was better than your average movie and made the sights and sounds of India come alive. There was also social commentary that didn't hit you over the head and that's a good thing.
On my never-before-revealed ratings system (pay full price, see it at a matinee, wait for DVD, maybe catch it on TV, or forget about it entirely), I say wait to see Slumdog Millionaire on DVD.
As for some of the other movies I've seen lately, here are my opinions: Waitress was a dud -- forget about it, Black Book was solid matinee/DVD fare featuring lots of toplessness by the attractive lead actress; A Man And A Woman is a French classic worthy of a Netflix; The Lives Of Others is full price material; Michael Clayton is matinee/DVD material; I'm Not There is only for Bob Dylan fans catching it on TV; and The Darjeeling Limited should be renamed the DarjeeLAME Limited-- do not see it, even on TV.
I'll be writing about anything that crosses my mind, whether personal, political, or purposeless.
I'm reading Stephen King's memoir, On Writing, right now and in it, he advises would-be writers to write at least ten pages a day and to read as much as possible. The TV is the enemy in his mind. As much as I agree, I've already spent hours vegging out to What Not To Wear, Project Runway, and the Real Housewives of Atlanta and don't think I'll give up the boob tube entirely.
King's book has helped me realize that I'm not a writer as I've claimed in the past, but rather someone with mild interest in the craft. I am competant, sure, but not at the same level as people who sit down every day for hours and can rightfully be labeled "writers." I wrote for a living for seven years, yes, but it is definitely not the only thing I am capable of doing. The writer's lifestyle is romantic but I don't have it in me to be a freelancer. I am a 9-5 kind of gal. I like steady paychecks.
So for now, I'll just write about whatever suits my fancy and save delusions of granduer and bestsellers for later. I'm thinking there will be lots of music, movie, and TV musings as well as my take on unemployment and living at home again.
One thing that's on my mind today is the movie Slumdog Millionaire. I read glowing reviews of it and fell for the hype. I should know better: no movie is ever as good as critics make it out to be. I wanted it to be fantastic for a couple of reasons: 1) I think Danny Boyle is a great director, 2) I like "feel good" movies, and 3) Slumdog was the first movie I was going to see in a theater with my new boyfriend Chris, and I wanted it to be memorable.
What Slumdog turned out to be was a perfectly competant tale of a poor Indian kid's journey to winning 20 million rupees on TV. The main character is a contestant on the Indian version of Who Wants To Be A Millioniare and is arrested for cheating on the show. As he's interrogated and tortured by the police, flashbacks reveal how he came to learn information vital to his TV win even though he was poor and uneducated. The other main characters in the movie are the tough brother and the beautiful female friend, and it's no mystery who ends up with whom in the end.
I rooted for a movie in the vein of Danny Boyle's tearjerker Millions or his flawed, but touching, Sunshine, but didn't like it as much as those titles (I cried like a baby watching Millions and highly recommend it, and stand behind Sunshine for the first two-thirds of the movie.) That said, Slumdog was better than your average movie and made the sights and sounds of India come alive. There was also social commentary that didn't hit you over the head and that's a good thing.
On my never-before-revealed ratings system (pay full price, see it at a matinee, wait for DVD, maybe catch it on TV, or forget about it entirely), I say wait to see Slumdog Millionaire on DVD.
As for some of the other movies I've seen lately, here are my opinions: Waitress was a dud -- forget about it, Black Book was solid matinee/DVD fare featuring lots of toplessness by the attractive lead actress; A Man And A Woman is a French classic worthy of a Netflix; The Lives Of Others is full price material; Michael Clayton is matinee/DVD material; I'm Not There is only for Bob Dylan fans catching it on TV; and The Darjeeling Limited should be renamed the DarjeeLAME Limited-- do not see it, even on TV.
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