stella6.com

so, like i mentioned, i’ve been doing some freelance work.  one place i moonlight is waaaaay out in the boonies of the city - it takes me like an hour to get there. i’ll go out there for a couple hours after i’ve already put in 8 hours at my day job - so needless to say when i’m coming home, it’s pretty late.  fortunately there are two busses (i thought) that run as close as door-to-door as i’m going to get at 9 or 10 pm.  last week i found out there is really only *one* bus that does said door-to-door running - and it’s not the one i initially got on.  i took one bus out to this place, and i went ahead and took the same bus back when i was finished.  only problem is … it stops going as far as i need it to, once it gets past, like 7pm.  after 7, it stops in Seedy McSketchy-ville.

when we got to this point, and the bus driver kicked us all off, i briefly thought of just staying on the bus, riding it back to a safer area, getting off there and catching another bus or a cab.  then i realized, most of the area that bus drives through are sketchy. i’d have to ride it halfway back to where i’d been freelancing before i felt safe getting off in a neighborhood i didn’t know at 10 pm.

i was at least familiar with the area where i had to get off. ironic thing is, it’s actually closer, blocks-wise, to my apartment than the stop i was going to get off at.  but walking home west to east is sketchier than walking home east to west.   that’s just how it is.  one block you’re in a ritzy shopping district, the next, you’re being ushered into a porno store by a homeless crack addict.  not kidding.

so there i was - in ghetto-town, 10 pm, on the corner of meth junkie and crack whore, tall, white, blonde and alone. i wasn’t ABOUT  to walk the (mere) 6 blocks back to my building through that mess. so it took me about .25 seconds to decide to take a cab. well, since meth junkies and crack addicts aren’t known for their common use of cabs, there’s not a WHOLE lot going thru those parts.  thank GOD there was a tiny little donut shop on the corner that’s open 24 hours. i went in there to be partially safe, and call a cab.  while i was on hold with the cab company, i saw a couple taxis go by, so i decided to walk out to the bus stop and try to hail a cab from there.

after a couple seconds i got one to pull over, but he wouldn’t let me in. he asked me where i was going, and when i told him, he refused to take me.  the problem was you can’t turn toward the direction of my apartment from the street he was on - he would have had to circle the block, instead of making a direct turn. he was like, ” go walk down to X street, and catch one there.” the whole POINT of getting a cab was to avoid certain death by walking ANYWHERE.  i told him i didn’t care, he could circle the block, and tried to open the door. then, i SHIT YOU NOT, he DROVE THE FUCK AWAY!  i’m SO not even kidding. i’m a BLONDE, well dressed girl in the middle of the ghetto!  i would’ve paid you double just to let me get in the fucking cab!! but aside from that, it should have been obvious i was in distress!

so anyway, a minute later i hailed another cab, who took me around the block and didn’t bitch at all.  i looked up the website of the first cab company so i could leave feedback, but no such luck.  guess i’ll have to call my complaint in - those bitches are gonna get an earful.

Since i work in TV, and - contrary to popular belief - therefore make a relative pittance, and because I have a spa/clothing/shoe/travel addiction, I’ve been doing some freelance work.  now, like any good 20-something in a big city, i manage to get most of my jobs off of craigslist. so, since things like craigslist exist, i’m sending my resume out online, and i haven’t used a typewriter since i was a kid, i’m forced to believe it’s sometime in the 21st centry. how then, can lines like this one still exist?:

Women and persons of color are encouraged to apply.  

Really?  i mean, the job sounded so complicated, i figured only a man could do it, but then i saw this empathetic note, and wow, now i really feel empowered!  i think i WILL apply!

seriously, what the hell? ok, i get the “equal opportunity employer” thing, and maybe this is just a stipulation that goes along with that.  but it sounds so frikkin condescending. we’re “encouraging” you to apply.  you might just need that little nudge.  thanks, but i’ll apply for whatever the hell jobs i feel like. i don’t need you to give me your blessing.

32 hours.  That’s the amount of TV people in my demo (18-34) watch EACH WEEK - and surprisingly, the numbers are even higher for kids and families younger than me.  so i wanna know - how is this possible, and who are these people that have 32 hours to spare?! that’s almost an entire week of work spent just in front of the TV.  sure, i’m sure some people are skewing the results by constantly having the TV on in the background and what-not, but even if you watch eight hours of TV each weekend day, that’s still more than three hours you’d have to watch each weekday. i can see watching a DVD every now and then, or vegging out on your favorite show, but THREE HOURS is still a lot, and that’s assuming you’re spending ALL DAY saturday and sunday doing nothing but watching TV.

now, i’m probably not the person to talk to about this since i don’t even have a TV. when people find this out, they always look at me kind of dumbfounded and ALWAYS ask, “what do you DO?”  maybe these are the people watching 32 hours each week.  i’m not completely blameless, b/c we do have a computer with some of our favorite shows, and we do watch DVD’s.  but i just don’t think in terms of  flipping the TV on just to see what’s airing.  I have far too many other interests i’m always trying to find time for, TV is kind of an afterthought, like if i wanna veg for 20 minutes at the end of the day.

so what DO i do?  i write, a LOT.  some of it is for me, for projects i’m working on.  some of it is for companies i’m freelancing for - and if you think of it in terms of having an extra 32 hours a week, that’s a helluva lot of extra money from freelance jobs.  i’m a member of the junior league.  i volunteer. i read. i spend a lot of time with friends. i belong to groups that focus on things i’m interested in, like writing and producing. i go to the gym a lot.  i take yoga. and belly dance. and ballet. and at the end of the (sometimes really long) days, i feel really good about all that - which is MUCH more than i can say for myself if i’m hanging out in front of the TV.

oh, and while we’re on the subject, probably more disturbing to me - what are KIDS AND FAMILIES doing spending more than 32 hours watching TV?  i hate to be all “when-i-was-growing-up-and-we-walked-to-school-in-the-snow” but when i was growing up (i didn’t much live in places that snowed, but) i sure as hell wasn’t watching even three or two hours of TV a week.  if we did all our chores on time we were allowed to pick the 1/2 hour of TV we wanted to watch on saturday mornings.  that was it. 1/2 hour. and whatever educational programming my parents made us watch.  so i have to ask, where are these kids’ parents?? and how much TV are these kids going to be watching when THEY’RE 18-34?

i’ll just come out and say it: i tend to be judgemental. i know that i try to hold people up to *my* standards, without taking into account their lives and what they may have been through. I expect them to want to look, act, and dress similarly to the way i would want to look, act, and dress. oh, and i would also brand myself as “pretty tolerant.” but isn’t that kind of the way of things today? “tolerance” is such a buzz-word, but we really only mean that as long as people fit inside *our* boundaries, we can tolerate them. so this discrepancy is something i’m constantly slapping myself on the wrist for. i *want* to be truly tolerant. i *want* to understand people instead of judging them.

i say all this to say that i’m especially at my judging finest when i ride the bus. a whooooole bunch of people ride public transit in this city. but when i see a lot of them, the spoiled brat inside me wants to look down on them, to judge them, and be appalled by them. that’s kind of the premise of the whole “MUNI Chronicles” thing - telling the stories about ridiculous people (and sometimes events) on public transit.

so this one’s a little bit different. it actually happened to me months ago, but i have been meaning to write about it. i was on one of the more ghetto busses (there’s the spoiled brat i was talking about), going home, when a blind man got on with his seeing eye dog. he was fairly young, and the man across from him recognized him and began talking to him. apparently they’d been in a job training class together at the community college. they were talking about where they worked now (both in relatively entry-level positions - a clerk or assistant or something along those lines) and what they’d been up to since the class.

the blind guy started to tell the other guy about the trouble he was having getting government assistance for his rent and medication - all the hoops he’d had to jump through with the offices, HMO’s, etc. but he wasn’t bitching or complaining. normally when i hear people talk about how the government’s not taking good enough care of them, i immediately think - make something of yourself, stop living off my dime, and be accountable for yourself like the rest of us. but this guy’s story actually brought tears to my eyes. from the few minutes i spent listening to him, he seemed like he was doing everything right. and here was somebody the government *should* be helping, and instead it was just making life that much more difficult for him.

that day on the bus, i didn’t come away angry with the traffic, or frustrated with other people. i came away with the feeling that i have so much more than i will ever truly be able to appreciate.

i went to the gym this morning to go to a ballet class, then my yoga class.  when i got there, i realized they’d switched out the ballet class, with a class i didn’t want to go to - i didn’t feel like going home, then coming back for yoga, so i decided to wander around the area near my gym until the yoga class.   the gym is a few streets up Nob Hill from my apartment, and close to gorgeous and legendary Grace Cathedral.

i went and got some tea, then headed to the sanctuary of the cathedral.  i can’t remember the last time i was in a cathedral and the best word i can really think of to convey the feeling of granduer i got when i walked in is ” majestic.”  it was quiet for the most part, with a few people milling around, and a trio practicing an a capella liturgy - the sound carried through the marble foyer and expanded in the high ceilings.  it reminded me of the soundtrack of a movie. i sat down to let the experience reach me, and i felt something i haven’t felt in a church in a long time: awe.

i would definitely classify myself as a postmodern christian- someone who tends to shy away from the idea of organized religion, denominations, labels, structure, and the like.  this has led me to be part of more free-form churches: ones that met in schools, ones with a closer, more intimate setting, sitting on couches instead of pews, watching a dance performance as part of a service rather than repeating a liturgy.  i would say these things fulfilled my need for a communal feeling, in line with being a 20-something in a postmodern society.

but as i sat in grace cathedral i began to think of how maybe some things fell by the wayside in the journey to postmodernism  - not just the journey from modernism to today, but a decades, maybe even centuries long journey.  i’m sure this is already going on, and i’m probably coming to my personal realization a little after the fact, but i think the next step along the way (post-post modernism?) might be bringing the majesty back.

postmodernism has gone a long way toward taking some of the bullshit out of religion (although in some cases, there is still plenty to go around), simplifying it and bringing it back to a story of love, acceptance and redemption.  people are more free to express themselves in the ways that best suit them - in ways that were previously questioned by “big religion.”

i think there’s still some room for the awesome-ness of the older forms of religion.  the liturgies,  practices, cathedrals, and even sometimes the formalities of approaching something or someone that is so much bigger than we are.