Revisiting a Mockingbird

It's odd to think about how something can mean so much to you at one point in your life but later on mean something completely different. My first car was a roaring speedster when I bought it, and thinking back now I wonder how I managed to play it so cool in that piece of crap. In college I was glued to my newest pink Motorola Razr flip phone, making me cringe as I now blog, Instagram, Tweet and run temples on my iPhone 4s.

After hitting a reading dry spell upon completion of the Hunger Games trilogy, I decided I wanted to brush up on my writing skills. As someone who finds their best mode of communication via the written word, I thought the best way to continue my rogue education was to explore what most consider classic literature. I can remember myself as an awkward 8th grader, sketching out what I imagined the infamous Boo Radley to look like as depicted in Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird. I vaguely recall creating a gentle, monsteresque figure not unlike Edward Scissorhands, holding a pair of bloody sheers for a reason at the time of reminiscence I did not recall. Most of the story escaped me but I was sure that it was a book I would enjoy. That's all I needed to know. I traded in Mockingjays for Mockingbirds. I picked it up and felt instantly at home, transported to an unfamiliar time in Montgomery, Alabama.

For those of you who slept through 8th grade (because we didn't have Spark Notes back then), To Kill A Mockingbird is a story about "growing up and the human dignity that unites us all." It's a tale of attorney Atticus Finch in the court trial of his life trying to raise two children in the south, pre-pubescent Jem Finch and the narrator, Jean Louise "Scout" Finch.

Not having been able to recall the story line, one thing stood out to me above all else: I loved Scout Finch. I didn't remember why but I kept this in mind when I started reading round two. I now realize that I liked Scout at the time because I could relate to her. The narrative she displays expresses to the audience her innocent adolescence dealing with adult situations and not completely understanding them. I think I related a lot to Scout because the first time around, I was somewhat oblivious to the adult nature of the book's subject matter (Atticus is representing Tom Robinson, a black man accused of rape).

Now having read more than half of the book (no, I'm not done yet), I find myself painstakingly drawn to Atticus Finch. I also find relate-ability to be the cause of this. Besides the obvious facts of being exposed to and enjoy learning the subject of law, I relate to Atticus in a way that I can understand. As mentioned, I haven't finished the book. I don't remember if Tom is convicted or Atticus sets him free. But my lesson from the book has already been learned: no matter how many people speak out against you, or who don't agree with your actions, standing up for what you believe in and what you believe is right is the most important lesson of all. And if Tom is killed at the end of the book, at least Atticus can know he did what he could to try and save him without regret.

What the hell is the point of this post? I'm glad you asked. Books that evoke thought are good, but stories that everyone can relate to in different ways are genius. And I think that's what makes To Kill A Mockingbird so brilliant (besides Lee's beautiful writing style of course). You can chalk this blog post up to change. I changed what I took away from the story, having related more closely to Atticus than Scout. Maybe next time around something in my life will challenge me to look closer at Jem's character. I'm sure in 15 years I'll wonder how I ever drove around my Honda Civic for so long, or mock the "newest technology" of my iPhone 4s. But all I know is that change is good. Change means growing, learning, moving forward. And isn't that what life is all about?

"I'm a Big Kid Now" or "Why Not To Get The Comcast Self Installation Kit"

For those of you hiding under a rock, I recently moved into a studio in San Francisco. I got the call a few weeks ago that I scored the place and I literally screamed out loud. It's been a little bit of a challenge finding an apartment that was both in my budget and in the Marina, but I somehow managed to pull it off.

A little about the place: My next door neighbor is practically the Exploratorium (how awesome is that?!), hardwood floors, laundry in the building, a walk-in closet and... wait for it... a parking spot. Cue angelic music. This place is everything I hoped to find and more. It's always quiet, I feel completely safe, and most importantly, I'm a short walk (or bus ride if I'm lazy) away from my friends.

I'm going on my second week here and I love it more and more everyday. I'm finally settled and it's beginning to feel more like home. After a slight tug-of-war with Comcast, I finally have tv, internet, and a phone line so I can buzz people into my building (debatably my favorite part of living in San Francisco).

Move-in costs in the City can be pretty phenomenal. One place I looked at wanted what some people in the Central Valley pay for a down payment on a home. Luckily, I was able to get in here with more reasonable costs. But since I spent all of my money on a deposit and first month's rent, I decided to opt for Comcast's "self-installation kit." When I got the box in the mail that was large enough to sleep in, I began to panic. Luckily (or unluckily, however you want to look at it) they sent me the wrong order so they scheduled a technician to install everything for free. After two calls to Comcast, one missed appointment and 3 hours this morning with Ali, the Comcast technician, I'm finally up and running.

I like to describe my place as "quirky." You have to be under 150 pounds to even fit through my foyer (yes, I have a foyer) and the sound of my shower often mimics the screaming mandrake root on Harry Potter. But I can lay in bed, eating ice cream and watching The Bachelorette; I can blast the Dixie Chicks while I make a Trader Joe's dinner; and I can leave my dishes in the sink for 3 days and no one will care. This place isn't perfect. But it's perfect for me.

Just when you thought our living situation couldn't get any weirder...

I can summarize my Saturday in three words: Baseball, beers, bars. Consequently I had a rather unfavorable Sunday morning, however, for more reasons than just my hangover.

Tim only lives 6 blocks away but he stays over at Ashley, Dave and Sofia's a close second to me. "At 2am, that's a rough 6 blocks." I wake up and see him on the loveseat. Knowing neither of us are going anywhere anytime soon, I turn on Dumb & Dumber. Two hours and 4 glasses of water later, Tim and I have the standard 10-minute discussion on who is going to venture out to Safeway for eggs and bacon. After a coin toss, rock paper scissors, some pretty unconvincing arguments and having it closer to noon than 8am, we both decided we'd venture out to the Italian Deli on Chestnut for lunch. Being the diva I am, I required a shower first.

So fresh and so clean, I immediately grab my towel and wrapped it around me. While still in the shower, wringing out my hair, the door between Ashley and Dave's room and the bathroom flies open in full force. There stands Dave. Naked.

My initial reactions in chronological order are as follows:
1. Gag reflex
2. Rubbing my eyes to make it go away
3. Scream
4. More gagging

Dave bolted out of the bathroom and before I can even get my upchuck reflex under control says from behind the door, "If you like what you see, speak up."

Getting dressed with the speed of light, I head back to the living room. Wanting to put it all out there (no pun intended) I stop at the entry way, look Tim in the eye and say, "I just saw Dave naked." He stares back at me then says, "Well... what did you think??"

With zombie-like demeanor I put my PJs away in the closet and head back to the couch. In a last ditch effort to avoid Post Traumatic Stress Disorder I sit down and try to watch tv. Before I knew it, Tracy Chapman starts blaring and it's coming from the bedroom. Again, the door flies open (cringe) and out comes Ashley in nothing but a blue towel dancing the jig to "Talkin' Bout A Revolution."

The four of us, plus Jarrett who came over shortly after, eventually ended up heading to the deli for lunch. I did not order salami.

Inspire Me

Lately I have been a little down in the dumps about my wardrobe. I consistently feel like I need to be adding to my closet to make sure I don't become a fashion robot, wearing the same thing week after week after week. Further, it's become more and more difficult to get creative with the pieces I already own since I sleep on someone's couch and have limited closet/suitcase space (my living on a couch is a blog subject for a different day). In an effort to overcome this slump, I've been reading a lot of blogs, articles, and anything I can get my hands on to try and help me tame the wild beast that is my wardrobe.

A few months ago I posted a status on my Facebook asking people for any interesting blog suggestions. After wading through all of the smart ass comments, I found a diamond in the rough. My friend Christine suggested I check out Kendi Everyday, a fashion blog about utilizing only the items in your closet and remixing them for 30 days. I was intrigued.

Not only does Kendi manage to mix and match the cutest outfits ever, but she is a phenomenal writer who keeps me in stitches with her daily posts. Are you sensing a girl crush?? Totally have one. For those of you wifeys out there, Kendi also has another blog about she and her husband's relationship called Better Off Wed, which is just as funny if you're not married and you're a single gal like myself. Again, with the girl crush.

Having been in San Francisco for an entire three months now, I have found fashion inspiration in plain sight: takin' it to the street. There are people from all different cultures and walks of life here, so why not use them to influence your daily fashion choices? I wouldn't recommend trying to scope out inspiration from the crackheads in the Tenderloin, but the Mission hipsters and Marina preps are a good start.

One of my interests on StumbleUpon just so happens to be fashion (if you haven't "Stumbled" yet, give it a whirl. I highly recommend it). Every now and then I'll come across shopping or fashion websites that catch my eye for a minute or two before I move on. But today I came across a blog that simply captivated me. The genius behind this gem of a blog decided to draw inspiration from animated Disney characters. They had me at "Disney." I was enthralled with all of the fabulous outfits they were able to produce from not only the Disney Princesses, but the Villains too. Amongst my favorites were Cinderella, Belle and Ariel. But my heart melted for Sleeping Beauty. Tell me you wouldn't want to rock every single one of those outfits?? Absolutely fabulous.

I feel like I've uncracked a whole new world of inspiration (Did you get the Aladdin reference? How witty am I?!). Ladies, and gents if any read my blog, moral of the story is to keep your eyes and mind open at all times. Inspiration is lurking around every corner.

Hot Child In The City

I've been in San Francisco since March and I still feel like I haven't seen a fraction of what the City has to offer. I really wanted to utilize the extended part of my weekend to maximize my San Francisco exposure. We shall call this extended weekend my first "Exploriday."

On Sunday, we ventured out to the Treasure Island Flea Market. A $3 entry fee gets you access to vendors selling everything from feather hair extensions to 1950's circle-dial telephones. I only walked away with a bag of kettle corn (which is gone, by the way) but Ashley scored herself a nice used baseball glove ($25) and a pair of the raddest white cowboy boots on earth for a measly $30. Jealous.

Since we made our rounds at the flea market early and the weather was phenomenally gorgeous, we decided to get some authentic Mexican food in the Mission at La Taqueria. Named on of the top 20 places in the Mission to eat, it did not disappoint. It may have been one of the best tacos I've ever had. Sorry grandma. Filled to the brim with kettle corn, carnitas tacos and an ice cold Corona, we headed back to camp and watched a house-record 3 Netflix movies until bed. I'm now not only convinced the real Paul McCartney is dead, but I'm convinced Courtney Love killed Kurt Cobain. I need to stop watching documentaries. I digress.

Today I woke up and hit the gym with Ash. She and Dave had tickets to the A's game, so it was just me, myself and I. I knew I wanted to head down Fillmore and check out some of the shops in Pac Heights, so I hopped on the ol' deuce-deuce (the 22 bus) and headed on my way. A little nervous to be by myself in the City, my mind was soon at ease when I spotted my boyfriend on the bus. And when I say "boyfriend," I mean Tim Lincecum. And when I say "spotted," I mean there was a newspaper article about him hanging up. It took all my might not to vandalize the by-line to read, "Lincecum flirts with Carrie Campos." But again... I digress.

Shopping was a huge success. Not only did I manage to buy my sister a birthday present (yeah, I know it was a month ago, but I haven't seen her in a while so lay off me), but I gained the confidence to go out and explore on my own. Head held high, I decided to walk home. I took the picture featured above on my way. The weather was too nice to sit inside for the rest of the day so I called Tim and asked him to meet me for some food/drinks and watch the Giant's game. We decided to head out to the Embarcadero, only to find it was a ghost town. Thankfully, Gordon Biersch was open and happy hour was just beginning. Awesome. Dave and Ashley met us there after the game and after a few more apps and drinks, we were off to pick up a bed at Ashley's co-worker's house. The mattress didn't fly off of Tim's roof going up/down Fillmore, so we can bank this as yet another success.

Not ready to end the day, we headed out to Moscone Field to break in Ashley's new baseball glove. While Dave and Ash played catch, I practiced my fastball on Tim (yes, in flats). At first glance, I thought a homeless man was walking toward me on the mound. Turns out he was just a weirdo who wanted to pitch to Tim. I happily obliged. After about 10 minutes of this guy almost pegging Tim in the head, he left the field with his shopping cart full of beer and told us to have a "Happy Fucking Memorial Day."

We all took turns at bat and, not to toot my own horn but, I was pretty good. I even told Dave my softball team in 5th grade almost made it to the Junior World Series (total lie). He believed me (total sucker). We played until sundown and walked back to the apartment. How "Sandlot" of us.

I remember moving to San Luis and exploring on my own. The only problem is, there was only so much in San Luis to explore. Not here. There are museums, and fields, and galleries, and food (lots and lots of food). There is a never-ending plethera of events, places and people to see. I learned today that exploring a city can be fun, challenging and more often than not, memorable. I can't wait to see what my next Exploriday brings.

Get It Right, Get It Tight

I know everyone has their own taste in workout music. In high school, my friend Jenna would listen to Celine Dion's "A Decade of Song" before basketball games. To each his own. But the other day I was working on my fitness and I had an epiphany: I had perfected my workout mix.

For a long time I'd find myself skipping tracks, which would consequently get me out of my workout groove, especially while running. What I noticed is that there was a direct correlation between what song was on my iPod and how hard I was pushing myself. This needed to change and my playlist was the key.

With the consistent release of new songs, I am constantly adding to my playlist. I find this both encourages me and excites me to head to the gym. Another tool I utilize is my "shuffle" button. I put my mix on shuffle to spice things up a bit and find, somehow, my iPod knows exactly when to play Kanye's "Stronger" just before I get the urge to push the emergency stop button on the treadmill.

For those of you wondering what gets my blood pumping and my legs moving, I have decided to share a few crucial tracks on my workout playlist with you. Happy running, everyone.

1. Uprising, Muse
2. Cry For You, September
3. Dynamite, Taio Cruz
4. Rock That Body, Black Eyed Peas
5. Because The Night, Cascada
6. When Love Takes Over (Remix), David Guetta & Kelly Rowland
7. Stronger, Kanye West
8. 3, Britney Spears
9. On The Floor, Jennifer Lopez
10. Blow, Ke$ha
11. S&M, Rihanna
12. Evacuate the Dancefloor, Cascada
13. Boom Boom Guetta (Boom Boom Pow Remix), Black Eyed Peas & David Guetta
14. No Sleep Til Brooklyn, Beastie Boys
15. Say It Right, Nelly Furtado
16. Getting Over You, David Guetta with Fergie and Chris Willis
17. Right Above It, Lil Wayne & Drake
18. Make It Rain, Fat Joe
19. I Like It, Enrique Iglesias
20. Can't Be Tamed, Miley Cyrus

Just another day...

Having a job at Genentech has its perks; one being the charter bus that totes me to and from work everyday. The only downside of the Genetech bus system is that my route home only comes once an hour. If I don't make the 4:30 bus, I'm waiting until 5:30 for the next one. I've never had much problems making it onto the bus... that is, until today.

The ride back to the Marina is approximately 45 minutes. Considering I have a bladder the size of a peanut, I try and hit up the ladies room before I take off. When I returned to my desk after today's daily lavatory ritual, my boss was waiting for me. He was in meeting all day and wanted to discuss some tasks before his busy schedule tomorrow. With a plastered grin I tried to seem interested, but found my eyes darting back and forth between he and my clock, like I was watching a tennis match, to make sure I could catch the bus. After wrapping things up, I had 5 minutes until the bus arrived. I didn't have time to properly stow anything away so I grabbed my tupperware from lunch and headed out. Like a gazelle, I flew by my co-workers' cubicles, leaving behind only the voice of my goodbyes.

I decided I better skedaddle since I was cutting it pretty close, so I picked up the tempo as I hopped down a few flights of stairs. Now into a brisk walk, I headed out of the building and around the corner where I could get my first glimpse of the bus stop. The bus was already there. Shit. Without hesitation, I threw my body into a full-on sprint. Approximately 12 steps in, I felt my bare right foot hit the ground. My shoe must have flown off. Behind me. Shit! In an effort to stop the momentum of my body, my right foot dragged across the cement, leaving a nice scuff across a number of my newly pedicured toe nails. Double shit!

No stranger to hop scotch, I launched myself on only my left foot to my abandoned shoe, slipped it on and was rolling in no time. Not wanting another aerodynamic mishap, I was running and shuffling at the same time. I was ruffling.

Hoping some kind soul would see me ruffling across campus and tell the driver to hold the bus, I started waiving my arm, tupperware in hand, in a panicked frenzy. When I finally made it to the bus doors, I apologized to the driver and thanked him profusely for waiting for me. He looked a little puzzled, glanced at his watch and said, "Oh you had plenty of time. We're not leaving for a few more minutes."