A Man, A Car, and a Parking Spot

Today, I had to pick up lunch. And the restaurant I was picking up lunch from has a notoriously small parking lot. So I was a bit wary, but I figured there had to be some place I could pull over just to run in, grab the food (it had already been ordered and paid for) and run out.

Nope.

The lot was full. The parking spots were taken. The non-parking spots were taken. There was nowhere to go.

Except for one lone spot. That was specifically designated for a very small shop.

At first, I thought, well I'll just pull in, turn my hazards on, run in and run out. It's not like he can have me towed in two minutes.

But I didn't like that thought.

And then, it hit me. Why not just ASK the shop owner if I could park there? So, I pulled into the spot, ran into the shop, and asked if I could use the spot to pick up lunch.

"I'll just be one minute."

The shop owner looked at his watch, and said, "Okay ... go."

I stared at him uncertainly. Was he ... kidding? Was he serious? I mean, I was going to be a minute, but I wasn't about to end up with a ticket because I had taken a minute and ten seconds.

"Are... you really going to time me?" I asked pathetically.

And maybe he had been kidding the whole time, or maybe he had been serious, but I made him laugh, and he said, "No, go ahead."

So I ran. I grabbed lunch. I ran out.

"I told you I'd be fast!"

"I knew you would be"

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome."

Seriously, thank you. You made my day.

This Post Has Nothing To Do With Halloween

A few days ago, I decided to re-read Nick Hornby's "About a Boy." I love this book so much, I ended up re-reading it twice (because there aren't enough UNREAD books on my shelf, clearly) and then I went out and rented the movie on Sunday.
I'd already read the book, and seen the movie, and I remember enjoying the movie. But I didn't remember being disappointed by the movie, whereas this time, while I still liked the movie, I also felt vaguely disappointed.

I think one of my favorite things about "About a Boy" is the way Hornby manages to capture that ineffable essence of the 1990s. And of course, the movie is not set in the nineties. So while the book centers heavily on Kurt Cobain and his music, and sets up interesting parallels between Kurt Cobain's life and the characters' lives, the movie features the music of, well, Mystikal. I'm not going to say that Mystikal's songs aren't catchy, but ... that's kind of all I have to say about that.

So when the movie ended, I pulled out my copy of "In Utero" and put it in my CD player. And I was immediately taken back to the day when I purchased that CD (amazing how music can do that.) I remember my dad and I having something between an argument and a discussion about the CD. My dad heard the song "Rape Me" and was shocked that I, a self-proclaimed feminist, would listen to such a song. And I argued with the total authority that only a teenager can possess that Kurt Cobain was a total feminist! And that "Rape Me" was a feminist song!

Which is funny to me now, because I know NOTHING about Kurt Cobain. And the nothing I know now is still probably more than the nothing I knew back then. Because back then I didn't even LIKE Nirvana really. I thought they were kind of noisy and scary, and I mostly listened to Nirvana because they were cool. And I mean, I guess I can extrapolate a little and say, well, Courtney Love seems to be a sort of strong woman? So maybe Kurt Cobain was a feminist? But the truth is, I don't know. I don't know if I met him, and talked to him, whether I would have considered him a feminist.

Back then, I listened to Nirvana because it was cool. And now I listen to it because it makes me nostalgic for the nineties, and because I eventually grew old enough to appreciate their music. I'm not trying to claim any moral high ground there. Because, frankly, I enjoy listening to rap, and while rap music does give me some qualms, I mostly shut down those qualms. Because while I might be able to claim that Tupac was a feminist, and you might even be able to make the more tenuous claim that Eminem is not really that misogynistic, it's his character Slim Shady that's the real culprit, I don't think you can claim that Ice Cube's "Put Your Back Into It" has a hidden feminist meaning.

And I know the controversy surrounding "Rape Me" (now, I'm not sure I knew much of it back then.) And I know what Cobain purported the song to be, and yet, I understand how many feminists found the song untenable. To me, the song has always been laced with irony, but I sometimes wonder if that's because I have always wanted to like the song, or because that's how I really feel. I think the lyrics are ambiguous enough that you can draw various conclusions, but I think the anger, frustration, and resignation in the song suggest that at the very least, Cobain is not taking the words "Rape Me" lightly.

All of this rambling to say that, there are some musicians I believe are worth analyzing. Cobain is one. Mystikal is not. Or maybe I was trying to say that the book for "About a Boy" is much better than the movie. That's probably it. Go read the book.

All Candy Diet

Tonight I ate a salad for dinner to try and make up for the fact that I ate my weight in candy earlier today. This is why I don't buy candy. If it's not there, I'm fine. If it is there? I will eat it ALL. I'll be very glad when Halloween is over (well my scale will). I have no sense of will-power.

Must ... Stay ... Awake

Today was an exhausting day after a pretty crappy Sunday. And I'm really tired, and want to be in bed.
So why am I still up?
Because the Daily Show is on in half an hour. And they were on hiatus last week. And I'm an addict.

Pinkberry Plastic Spoon Meltdown

Well I guess it's fitting that on a day that I talked about my imperfections, that my imperfections got the best of me.
I was having a crap day, so I decided to take a walk, return the video I rented, and pick up some Pinkberry.
I have maybe an unhealthy love for Pinkberry, but I try to restrict my Pinkberrying to once a week or so. And I've been really good, and probably hadn't had any for a couple weeks, so I felt justified in getting one.
When I went to the store, I remembered to order it for 'here' so I didn't get an unnecessary plastic lid on my cup.
When the guy handed me my yogurt, I hesitated over the plastic spoons.
I was a two minute walk, max, from my apartment. I could take my Pinkberry, walk back to the apartment, and grab a spoon from my kitchen and save a plastic spoon.
But, I thought, if I do that, I won't be able to eat as I walk, and I really want my Pinkberry noooooow.
So, I grabbed a spoon, and dug in. And immediately felt guilty.
Have I become so obsessed with instant gratification that I could not stand to walk TWO minutes to my apartment?
So I decided, as penance, that I have to keep the spoon. Okay, it's not perfect as far as penance is concerned, but it's the only way I could justify it.

Imperfect

I am not at all perfect.
And neither is my non-consumerism.
I just wanted to state that up-front lest you think what I'm doing is really crazy or amazing or crazy amazing.
Because there are a LOT of things that I'm not doing. Basically because I know I can't. Or at least, I don't feel that I can right now.
For example, food.
I buy pretty much all my food from Trader Joes.
But.
I don't always buy organic because sometimes I'm feeling cheap.
I buy a lot of pre-packaged meals wrapped in a lot of plastic because I work 12 hour days and I don't have time to cook.
I drink cans of soda.
And I admit. I drink bottles of water too. Though I do try and refill the bottle several times before I recycle it.
I like to fly places because it's faster. I feel a little guilty, but not enough to stop flying. (I do buy carbon offsets though when I fly.)
I would like to change some of these habits, but I am trying to take things one step at a time. A year ago, I didn't recycle consistently, I didn't bring my own bags with me to the grocery store, I printed things single-sided, and I liked to shop.
I've changed a lot in the past year. And I know I will be changing even more.

Vegetarianism, Scrapbooking and Cults

When I first started down the road of non-consumption, I didn't put that much thought into it. My first thought was, basically, I'm not going to get crazy about this, but I'm going to try and just buy less stuff. I hadn't really stopped to consider exactly WHY I was buying less, but it just seemed like a good thing for many reasons. It's odd because in many ways I am a very rational person, and yet this isn't the first time I've embraced another way of life without really thinking. I was a vegetarian for four years in college, and I never was able to fully articulate the reasons I was a vegetarian except that ... it felt right. Hmmm. Does this make me a prime candidate for a cult?

In any case, I kind of just figured I would just not buy durable goods and that would be that. But, as I got more into this challenge, and as I started doing more reading online about people doing similar things, my not-buying-durable-goods mentality started seeping into other aspects of my life.

For example, scrapbooks. I love making scrapbooks. I know that it is not exactly the hobby of choice for most twenty-something women without any children, but whatever, it's what I like to do. Initially, I figured that scrapbooks fell in the gray area between non-durable and durable. So I thought, I could buy a scrapbook because where on earth was I going to find a USED scrapbook. But I kept putting off buying one, and putting it off, and putting it off. And finally I realized that it just felt ... wrong to buy a scrapbook especially since the whole point of scrapbooks used to be that they were made out of SCRAPS. And now yes, you can buy specialty papers and ribbons and so forth, but that's because NOW, we are all crazy consumerists.

So I decided that there was no question, I just couldn't buy a scrapbook. I would have to make one. Which posed a problem for me because I am not a crafty person by any means. Pasting photos into pre-made books was as crafty as I get. How was I going to CREATE a scrapbook. After looking at options online that involved elaborate binding of paper bags, I finally rummaged through my cupboard and came up with a nice red binder and some fancy wrapping paper. Voila! My scrapbook.



And then the total score- I was going to buy 100 percent recycled cardstock to go in the scrapbook. But I went to my mom's house for a weekend, and took the opportunity to do some cleaning out of my old room, and I found a whole pack of 100% recycled scrapbook paper that was left over from my college scrapbook and has been sitting in my bedroom at home all this time. So the result was a wonderful scrapbook created from things I already had and also free! It's not the most beautiful scrapbook I own. But I think it's my favorite.

What I Know About Childbirth You Can Fit on The Head of a Pin

Me: Are you getting any of those Toni Braxton contractions?
[pause]
Her: Braxton Hicks?
Me: Yes! That!

I Hereby Absolve You From Housecleaning

Much to the chagrin of my mother, I am a very reluctant housekeeper. I did not used to be so. When I was a child, I loved to clean and organize. Every summer since the summer after fourth grade, I would spend a week re-organizing my room. School work from the past year would go into separate files. I would rearrange books. Throw away broken toys. I did this on my OWN, mind you. Because I found it FUN. My mother never asked me to do this. Sometimes I would go to other kids' houses and re-organize their toy boxes. Their moms would ask my mom if they could hire me out.

Since then ... things have deteriorated. I am still fairly organized. But my apartment is often a mess. Clothes lie in heaps on the floor. The dishes can pile up. Junk mail gets tossed onto the futon. My bed is never ever made. And you know what? It's okay. I don't mind living with junk mail on the futon. Or with an unmade bed.

But whenever I'm having people come over to my apartment, something strange happens. Suddenly, the vacuum comes out. The pillows have to be straightened and fluffed. Paper has to be picked up. The bed has to be made. The kitchen has to be scrubbed until it's spotless.

Why?

Why do we, as women, and I say women because I know of almost no men who do this, feel the need to clean before company comes over? Why do we feel we need to PROVE to people that we are good housekeepers?

Well you know what? I'm a crap housekeeper. Why? Because cleaning house is stupid! It takes time from other things I'd rather be doing like going out with friends or reading a book or even watching TV or SLEEPING. Yes. I would rather do all of those things than pick up my clothes or make my bed. Yes I would. Why isn't that okay? Why do we women feel like our sense of self-worth is somehow measured by how clean we keep our home? Most of the women I know are brilliant. They are funny. Some have twelve degrees. Some make lots of money. And yet ... we honestly think that our friends judge us by how clean our bathrooms are?

Isn't there something wrong here?

Men, largely speaking, don't seem to have this philosophy. The few men I know who are clean are ALWAYS clean. Period. They don't just clean when company is coming. They are just freaks of nature who apparently are immune to the second law of thermodynamics.

And that's why women largely get stuck with the housework. Because we CARE, because we feel JUDGED, and men don't. They don't care that the laundry didn't get done or the dishes or that the bathroom floor hasn't been cleaned in a month. So they don't do it. And women, well we might not REALLY care, but we feel that we SHOULD care. We feel guilty, and we decide that even though we cannot tell the difference between a bathroom floor that hasn't been cleaned in a month and a bathroom floor that hasn't been cleaned in a week, that dammit, we need to clean that bathroom floor!

And then we screw ourselves even more because we decide that NO ONE ELSE can CLEAN AS WELL AS WE DO. Like it's freaking BRAIN SURGERY. Like we're trying to win a MEDAL at the CLEANING OLYMPICS. So when say, a man, agrees to do the dishes, we then end up RE-DOING them because he JUST DIDN'T DO IT RIGHT. And then, he becomes rightly pissed off, so he decides that if when HE does them WE are just going to clean up after him, HE might as well just watch TV. And he would be correct.

But you know what? We should watch TV too. Because seriously? Once I did not do my dishes for like ... a week and a half. And I got fruit flies. And it was kind of gross, but I did not die. And actually nothing bad happened. So, the moral of the story is, if you don't clean your house that often, it's okay, you WON'T die.

Unless you get hit by a bus.

THE END

Fire, Fire

Yes, I'm okay. Yes, I know, that when you watch CNN it looks like Los Angeles has all burned down. But while fires rage in Malibu, Valencia, Orange County, and San Diego, the city of Los Angeles itself remains strangely unaffected.

So, I'm fine. My allergies have been acting up, and when you look out the windows at work you see thick black clouds everywhere. And helicopters. But other than that, life as usual. For now.

Rub a Dub Dub

I have a lot of soap. I used to have even more soap, but I've managed to use a few bars since starting the whole not buying thing. Technically speaking, I CAN buy soap. But, I have so much of it ALREADY, because people have bought me a lot of soap as gifts (I'm hoping because soap is girly and fun and not because people are trying to hint that I smell). So I don't really feel like I can justify buying soap until I finish the soap I already own.

See, I do not really like bar soap, Sam I Am. I like liquid soap. So the piles of bar soap have just accumulated because I can't throw away perfectly good soap, but I also never wanted to use bar soap. Also the soap looks so pretty in a pyramid like that. So I was always loathe to you know ... use it. Then it would lose all its aesthetic charm! So I kept convincing myself that I was keeping the soap for some sort of special occasion. Like for when Kofi Annan visits me, I guess.

Except, funny, Mr. Annan has never stopped by my apartment, so when my liquid soap ran out, I had to bite the bullet and start using the bar soap. And actually, bar soap is actually quite nice now that I've gotten used to it. It smells good, and some of the soap I have been given is quite fancy, so I can say that I'm living the high life soap-wise. And I enjoy that I'm saving money by using the stuff I already own.

But I still miss my liquid soap. Le Sigh.

Books, books, books

I'm a book hoarder. I love books, and I like to keep them forever and ever and ever. Lately, though, I've come to the realization that if I am serious about non-consumerism, I have to start letting some of my books out into the world so that they can be read and enjoyed by other people. So I sold a few of my books, but I hadn't gotten around to doing anything else until yesterday when I got an email from
a friend of mine who desperately needs books for her middle-schoolers.

I pulled about 30 books off my shelves to give away, and it felt so good. I am so glad that these books, most of which I've only read once, will perhaps be read and enjoyed by someone else.

Los Angeles Love

Last night I saw the Silversun Pickups play at the Wiltern. It was amazing. I've seen them before, and they're always fantastic live, but last night especially, they seemed hugely energized, and little surprise. In the past year, they've gone from being a local LA band that not a ton of people have heard of, to developing quite the following. Enough of a following that they managed to sell out the Wiltern a couple hours after tickets went on sale.

It almost made me tear up to think of how huge this was for them. And I felt so proud to be able to say that I went to see them back when they played at tiny venues like The Echo! And I think many people in the crowd felt the same way. The audience was teeming with hometown generosity to the band. This doesn't happen very often in Los Angeles. There are too many actors and musicians who technically call LA "home." So "hometown" in Los Angeles doesn't mean much, and Los Angeles rarely shows hometown pride towards their musicians the way that say Seattle or Portland or Atlanta does.

But last night, when Brian mentioned that the band was from Los Angeles, and that he had been born and raised in Los Angeles, it meant something. The whole crowd was cheering, and I felt a gush of affection for the band and for my city.

Why I'm Not Shopping

The simple answer is: I have too much stuff.
The long answer is ... more complicated. I'm not even 100% certain of the reasons I'm not shopping.
I do know that I once bragged that I wore most everything in my closet. And, at the time, it was pretty much true. I still had too many clothes, but most of the clothes I had, I wore. Maybe not very often. Maybe not often enough to justify owning them, but a few times a year? Certainly.
That is not true anymore. I have plenty of clothes that I never wear. Not even once a year. So why on earth should I buy more clothes?
We live in a capitalistic society (duh.) We are bombarded with advertisements for products at every moment. After 9/11, we were told that it was even our patriotic DUTY to shop. It seems very easy to justify shopping.
And yet...
I don't need more stuff. I just don't. I want stuff, sure. Like, frankly, I really want this, but I certainly don't need it. And as much as I love that glass, I don't think it's going to change my life. It's not going to make me happier.
By not shopping, maybe I'm putting a teeny-tiny dent in our trade deficit with China. Maybe there's that much less carbon in the air. And it definitely means that I have that much more money for other stuff like seeing a play or visiting my friends and relatives.
So I decided, that for at least a year, I was going to only buy used durable goods. No more new books. No more new trinkets. And for a year, I wasn't going to buy any clothes. Period. It's been about two months. And it's going pretty well. It's not super easy. But it's a good challenge.

Compensation

So today a co-worker and I were talking about the concerts we are going to and want to go to, and we were deep in discussion about how both of us really wanted to see Bjork, when another co-worker said to me, "You are totally going to all these things to compensate for not being able to shop, aren't you?"

Busted!

Colbert for President?

Okay, I can't believe I'm sitting here dissecting this, but I can't quite stop thinking about it. Last night, Stephen Colbert announced his plans to run for president. Thus far, he only intends to run in the state of South Carolina as South Carolina's "favorite son" on both the Republican and Democratic ballots. The NY Times ran a little article today that basically states that, whatever Colbert's ultimate intentions, his television staff is apparently serious about getting him on both the Republican and Democratic ballots.

Colbert could possibly face problems getting on the Democratic ballot, which requires candidates to be approved by the executive council of South Carolina's Democratic Party. Assuming he does get on the ballot, I think he might cause problems for the netroots' "favorite son," Barack Obama, since presumably, Colbert will pull from the internet savvy, young middle class vote that Obama traditionally does well with.

The Republicans don't seem to require candidates to be approved by the party, but they do require a very hefty filing fee. Assuming Colbert pays up (and I wouldn't be surprised if he does) he could easily be on the Republican primary ballot. This is actually more interesting because the Republican primary poll numbers are much tighter. From Rasmussen, Fred Thompson leads Guiliani in South Carolina 24% to 20%. While most of Colbert's supporters are probably Democrats, I think it's possible that Colbert could manage to get a percent or two of the vote in the Republican primary thus throwing South Carolina off kilter. And if Colbert manages to pull from Thompson, Colbert's satircal campaign for president could kill Thompson's campaign.

Driving While Partisan

While I was driving to work today, I committed my good driver citizen act of the day and stopped to let someone get into my lane. And then I saw that he had a "Viva Bush" bumper sticker on his car, and I immediately regretted letting him in.

I know, I know, that kind of knee jerk partisanship is what's destroying discourse in America, blah blah blah, but "Viva Bush?" Really?

Extremely Aggressive Telemarketers

Ugh. I just had a 5 minute phone call with the MOST aggressive telemarketer on the PLANET. Why didn't I just hang up on him? Well, because he represents a non-profit that I really believe in. In fact, I believe in this non-profit so much, that I donate $20 a month to its national chapter. But see, he, was calling from the local chapter, and he did not see why I couldn't spare $100 or so for the local chapter of said non-profit. They do good things!

And you know, I KNOW they do good things. Of course they do good things. That is why I ALREADY DONATE $20 a month to said non-profit. And you know what? I don't want to really feel guilted into donating more, thank you very much. This is not the only non-profit I support, and frankly the other non-profits I give to are much smaller, and thus, in greater need of money. And I told him this. REPEATEDLY. And he would STILL not GIVE IT UP ALREADY.

And now I have a bad taste in my mouth about a non-profit that does really fabulous and necessary things.

Sucks.

Water Water Everywhere

Today I was feeling a little sick of all the bad, bad songs playing on the radio, so I turned the dial to NPR. (I like news and am very likely a news/news blog junkie, but unlike everyone else I know, I am not an NPR junkie. In fact, I think I may have been peer-pressured into adding NPR to my pre-select buttons, because I can count on one hand the number of times that I've listened to NPR in the past six months. I don't know if this says more about me, in that I will listen to top 40 radio over listening to NPR, or if it says more about my friends in that they peer-pressured me to do something extremely nerdy. But I digress.)

One of the stories that caught my attention quickly was about the water shortage we're currently experiencing in California. According to NPR, the water shortage is the worst California has experienced in fifteen years. In fact, I clearly remember that drought 15 years ago. It lasted from 1987-1992, and it's very clearly imprinted in my memory, because as Californians, we were exhorted to do everything we could to conserve water. We were advised to turn off the tap while we brushed our teeth, to cut back on watering our lawn, to take shorter showers, to use the run off from our showers to water our plants. And of course, who could forget, the little rhyme, "If it's yellow let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down."

And yet, this time, no one seems to be mentioning any of this. Californians are not being called upon to conserve water. We are not being asked to only water our lawns in the early mornings, or to use low-flow shower heads. I remember, 15 years ago, Californians bragged about the latest technique they employed to save water. This go around, it's all different. Many Californians are barely aware of our water crisis, and we certainly aren't being called upon to help our beautiful state.

Why is that? Why are public officials so afraid to ask us to DO something for our state or for our country? Why are they afraid of asking us to rally behind a cause? Do they really think that Californians are so shallow that we would kick an elected official out of office simply because he asked us to take shorter showers?

Inconvenience Fees

Yesterday I was in a hurry, and desperately needed cash so I stopped at a Giant National Bank that is not my own Giant National Bank to use the ATM. I rushed out of my car, and selected $20 to withdraw. As usual the window popped up, "You will be charged a convenience fee of $3.00." I was running 10 minutes late at this point, so I almost hit accept, when I suddenly processed this. THREE dollars? For a convenience fee! I couldn't believe I was about to throw three dollars away, not to mention, the convenience fee my own bank is probably going to charge me for not using one of their ATMs. But I really didn't have time to stop anywhere else, so, resigned, I hit accept.

After I got back in my car, I started wondering if Giant National Bank had upped their convenience fees. I almost never use a bank ATM that's not my own, so I wouldn't necessarily know, but three dollars seemed a little obscene. And then I started wondering...the screen specifies that the branch chooses the fee. The area I had been driving in is near MacArthur Park- one of the poorer parts of LA, where not as many people have cars. Could it be that Giant National Bank was price gouging these people because the bank knows that people in this area don't have much choice but to accept outrageous fees?

I'm not really sure of the answer, but, sadly, I'm inclined to think the worst.

Shopping Nightmare

So last night I had a terrible dream that I had lent my warm winter coat to my grandmother and that she couldn't find it. So my mother was yelling at me that I had to buy a new coat and I refused because I am Not Buying Clothes For A Year and so I couldn't possibly break my clothes-fast because of a stupid coat. And my mom and I kept fighting and she kept saying that I couldn't live without a coat in Chicago in the winter.

And then I woke up relieved that I live in Los Angeles. And that I do not need to buy a coat. I can't believe that in my subconscious it's now a nightmare to have to BUY a COAT, but there it is. I've gone two months not buying any clothes, and I'm determined to go another ten.

ce n'est pas une blogger

Oh, right. I should maybe introduce myself. I'm arduous. That's me and this is my blog. Moving on.

NYAQ (Not Yet Asked Questions)

Q: Arduous? That's an ... interesting name.
A: Thanks! My dad named me!

Q: Wait so it's your given name?
A: Well ... yes, in that it was given to me. I mean, it's not the name on my birth certificate. But it is pretty much all he ever called me.

Q: Why on earth would he call you 'arduous?'
A: Because it's the word I missed in the fourth grade spelling bee.

Q: Really?
A: Basically, yeah. Well, and also, because I can be a difficult person (see my profile.) And also because arduous sounds a little like an iteration of my birth name. But it never would have happened if it weren't for that bee.

Q: Does your dad still call you 'arduous?'
A: Unfortunately, he passed away a few years ago. That's kind of why I'm using it here. Names fade away if they're never used, and ... I don't want this name to fade away.

Q: I'm sorry.
A: Hey, as my dad, would say, LILT.

Q: LILT?
A: Life Is Like That.

Q: He sounds great. Hey one more thing?
A: Hmmm?

Q: The picture?
A: I know, right! Can you believe that I am NOT an artist?

Q: It kind of sucks. Even for a stick figure.
A: Shut up.

hmmmm

Making my piles for Goodwill, I realized that this might be kind of tactless to donate:



Hi, homeless! You know what would make things better? If we all played a DRINKING game!

On second thought, maybe I should donate it to my former college dorm...