I'm not too good at remembering my dreams. There are a few that stick out in my consciousness-- like my favorite one, where I am being chased by a dinosaur on ice, and I have my hockey skates on. It wasn't scary, the feeling was more like being on an amusement park ride, with obstacles. In some of my more boring dreams, I am driving and it's totally natural, not the stiff and nervous way I drive in real life. I had one bizarre dream where I got married to a friend of mine, and there's totally nothing there (unless my subconscious is telling me otherwise), but at the reception I start talking to her, quite worriedly, that we don't have any money to fulfill our dreams together. It seems that I have to wreck even my dreams with my real-life worries.
28 May 2009
22 May 2009
Not long ago I was talking about how difficult it is to really get bored, no matter where you are. If you can't vary the places you go to, you can vary your interests, vary your company (in this case, it changed from last year to mostly just me, without my mom and my brother), or vary your activities. And always, always (unless you never plan on coming back) leave something for next time. When it comes to San Francisco, you'd have to be a dead fish to finally run out of things to see or do, or you're just one of those people who don't like what San Francisco stands for. Above is a pic I snapped of the Caltrain terminal between Mission Bay and SoMa. (There's no logic in the optics of this one-- the lens blur was applied in post because my camera can't achieve depth of field well.)
I mean, just look at the cheeky shops you can see on Castro! Even the restaurants seem to have joined in on the fun. (That, or I'm just that filthy.) Under One Roof is a great shop filled with little gadgets for the home and furniture, and their proceeds benefit AIDS research.
14 May 2009
Gâteau de Crêpes aux Mangues
Whenever I go on a shopping trip and my brother is around (especially when we were in the States), we have a gag where if the shop has unexpectedly expensive stuff, I'd reenact the taunt of the shopkeeper in "Pretty Woman." "It's very expensive." "We have nothing for you here." Of course, I don't take it as personally as Vivian did (not to mention no shopkeeper would be that rude).
I would make a terrible socialite. Not because I consider myself antisocial, but I just don't care about the trappings of status. And even worse, I don't particularly care for being part of a group that makes me jump through hoops just to feel worthy of them (employment excepted, heh). And all those secret conversations that these exclusive groups revel in... They can't be that important. Being a man has its perks here: no-one labels you a bitch/weirdo for not caring. You're just being the strong silent type. However, instead of yapping on and on about hundred-dollar handbags, you're now forced to keep up with impressive cars or something. Shrug. (Sorry, Marc.)
07 May 2009
Before anything else, I'd like to share that Uncle Rob of The Curious Blogquat is going to give away an Espresso Maker for what he judges to be the best summer potluck recipe! Now you've got to be crazy not to want that, so go go go! I'm still deciding what I'll contribute. I want that prize so bad! Espresso makers are eeeexpensive here.
Over the weekend I'll be looking forward to more RSS-feed post accumulation as I will be heading to the beach with my buddies (friends from undergrad-- the closest friends I have). I'm trying to remember the last time I went to the beach with them, and that was when I was still in undergrad. Somehow nobody ever suggests that we go hiking in the mountains. What is it about the beach that repels me in the first place?