Day 9 - Closing Time

Last night I went to Elbo Room for what I understood was the last sweater funk dance party they would have before they close.

Elbo Room was the first bar I went out in San Francisco. My good friend Amanda had just turned 21, and the two of us were just realizing a whole new side of San Francisco: the 21+ side. I don't think that night was particularly eventful, but I vividly remember the walk from my parent's house to the Mission, our session in the photo booth, and the overall excitement I felt, being out in the city as an adult.

That night was just the first of many fun nights to come at the bar. It became a place where I would bring out of town visitors, go on the occasional date, and have dance parties with my girlfriends. The drinks were always good, and the music was fun. I even appreciated the napkins covered in trivia questions - questions that I would often insist on trying to answer after a few drinks. Although I could never get more than a couple of them right.

Elbo Room has consistently been, for the past 7 years, my only go-to bar; its glowing yellow sign a beacon of good times to be had.

Admittedly, I haven't made my way to the Mission very often lately, and last night was the first time in probably over a year that I went dancing there. I was there again with Amanda, and my good friend Sara. The night, like every other night I've had there, was effortless and fun. Although 7 years later, my knees hurt a little more from the dancing.

While it is sad to see an institution like Elbo Room close its doors, I am grateful for the many good nights that I've had there. Even though the photo booth tragically wasn't working last night, I managed to find the very first photo that was taken there with Amanda, and most recent photo from about a year ago (also with Amanda + Sara).

I apologize in advance for the duck face in the first photo. I was 21 after all...

Day 8 - Brunch in Nob Hill

Bill recently made friends with a chef who lives in a lovely garden apartment in Nob Hill. Today he invited us over for brunch, and it ended up being quite a memorable meal.

We got there a little early so we walked around for a bit. Bill perfectly matched Stookey's Club Moderne.

It's hard not to see beautiful views in Nob Hill.

To get to Jan's apartment you had to walk through a lovely garden. The table was set far back from the street, so that you almost forget that you're in the city. Thankfully, the sun decided to come out and greet us.

Then we got to eating! We started with an amazing trout salad, followed by a delicious beef rib-cake, topped with a poached egg.

We finished the meal with some delicious fruit, cheese, and a decadent brownie and ice cream. The brunch went from morning to evening. The multiple courses, paired with champagne and wine reminded of meals I'd had in Southern France.

After eating for hours, I decided to walk home to the Richmond district along California Street - one of the most beautiful walks in the city.

It's days like these, when I'm surrounded with good food, good people, and amazing views, that I remember why I love my city.

Day 7 - The Struggle

My office is on the 18th floor of a high rise, and our cafeteria is on the 9th floor. One of the perks of working for my company is that they provide us with three meals almost every day. Since most other companies in the building don't offer similar perks, I occasionally feel awkward when I'm carrying my food in the elevator. I've gotten many annoyed looks, and the occasional annoyed comment during my year and a half in this building.

While I don't feel that it's necessarily fair to blame me, specifically, for the issue of inequality and gentrification in the city, I do understand the sentiment. I'm also aware that while I might try to be friendly, and to have positive interactions with other elevator patrons, not everyone else I work with makes the same effort. 

This morning I grabbed some oatmeal on the 9th floor and then headed to the elevator. Another employee at my company was waiting for the elevator too, and politely held the door for me. Both of his hands were full with food, so he was having difficulty flashing his badge and pressing the button for the 19th floor. I noticed, and asked "19?" He looked a little embarrassed, and said "yes, thank you! It's always a struggle..."

While I know that his comment was completely well intentioned, and he only meant to make casual conversation, I immediately cringed inside. Using the word struggle to describe having your hands too full with free food to press a button might not come off well to the others on the elevator. Although I understood it for what it was, and laughed politely.

Day 6 - Bill's Home

Over the long weekend, Bill went on a camping trip with a friend. Every time he goes camping, I forget to ask him where he's going. By the time I remember to ask, and send a somewhat panicked text, he's already in the woods somewhere without reception.

All weekend long I worried that he'd been attacked by a mountain lion, or was lost somewhere in the wilderness. I constantly replayed a scenario in my head where the police come knocking at my door to get information on his potential whereabouts. I stutter like an idiot and am not able to be more specific than "he's probably in Northern California."

I knew he was coming back Wednesday, so I anticipated a text or a call from him in the morning. 9am passed, then 10am. I started to worry when it got to 10:30. When my phone finally buzzed, I internally jumped for joy and let out a sigh of relief at the same time.

After being alone for 5 days, it's weird to have another human around me again. It's harder to motivate myself to write, when this other human looks so relaxed and comfortable. I just want to relax and be comfortable with him.

Day 5 - Sue and Agnes

I'm a member of FitnessSF, the gym right next door to my office. One of the nice things about the membership is that you can go to any FitnessSF in the city. The gym by my work is great, but it doesn't have a pool. About once or twice a week, I'll venture to the FitnessSF in the Fillmore that does.

The Mid-Market gym is pristine, the average age of the members must be about 28, and the members, sporting their Twitter, Uber or Square shirts are all in great shape. The Fillmore gym is by no means dirty, but is not quite as spick and span as the Mid-Market gym. The age range and fitness levels of the members also varies widely.

When going to the different gyms, I almost feel like I'm experiencing two different sides of San Francisco - the old city that I grew up in, and the new SF life that I'm currently living. I love going to the Fillmore gym because the people remind me of what makes San Francisco great and unique.

Not long after I joined, I was approached by an older woman with a clipboard. She mentioned that the gym had cut a water aerobics class that was a favorite of the senior members. "Most of the members in the class don't speak English," she said. "So they don't sign into the class. The gym thinks attendance is much lower than it actually is. And now these women are showing up, so confused."

I signed her petition, and watched as she walked around, asking other members. "I only had to get 100 signatures, but I'm already on 115!" She exclaimed. "I figured, why stop?"

My favorite members of the Fillmore gym are two older women - one looks like she's in her mid to late 50s and the other is probably about 75. I don't know their names, so I will call them Sue and Agnes.

Sue is an attractive middle aged woman, who is always dressed stylishly and proper. Agnes is older, and a little less concerned with her attire. She usually sports a large white t-shirt and khaki pants or shorts. Sue is often putting on her make-up and getting ready to leave, as Agnes is putting on her swimsuit for her morning workout. Agnes always finishes getting ready before Sue is done, so she sits and chats while Sue finishes up her make-up.

The first conversation I overheard, Sue was lamenting about a man. "He's just so narcissistic." Sue said a matter-of-factly, as she applied her concealer. She had a sultry Kathleen Turner-esque voice. "Well that's just crazy!" Agnes exclaimed. If Sue was unflappable, Agnes was very flappable.

The conversation turned to Agnes talking about her days as a young woman in San Francisco. "I went to this fancy art gala, and I was wearing one of those short dresses, with black tights, you know that style that was in back then. I figured people there would be stylish since it was an art show."
"Yes, of course," Sue agreed.
"But they were shocked!" Agnes exclaimed. "They said that I couldn't come in wearing a shirt and pants! They thought my dress was a shirt!"
"What did you do?"
"I told them it was a dress!"
"Did you take off your tights and show them that it was a dress?"
Agnes shrieked. "Take off my tights! No, they finally let me in. But people were sure looking at me funny."
"They were all just jealous."
Agnes shrieked again. "Jealous! Yeah, right."

Sue finished applying her makeup, and grabbed her bag. She recounted a time she stayed at a hotel where women would be escorted back to their rooms if they were wearing jeans in the hotel lobby. Sue didn't strike me as a woman who often wore jeans.

I watched them walk out, and wanted to follow them. I wanted to hear more stories about Agnes's crazy youth, and hear Sue's clever retorts.

I see Agnes almost every time I'm there, and Sue every once and a while, but they're conversations always brighten my morning. Maybe one day I'll be a Sue to someone's Agnes. Or more like, I'll need a Sue, since I'm not exactly unflappable.

Day 4 - Beyond the Grime

The view from my office at work is spectacular. I'm on the 18th floor of a high rise in the mid market area, and can see cascading views from all around the city. We've gotten so used to the view on this floor, that it's become like wallpaper. People sit at their desks every day, 5 days a week, only occasionally glancing out the window, at the ever-changing skyline. Although when there's a nice sunset, a few people will go to the window to snap photos of the dramatic site.

The one comment I hear over and over again during these dramatic sunsets is complaints about the grime on the windows. Without the appropriate camera, it's impossible to take a photo of the sunset, without specks of black and grey in the forefront. 

The logistics of frequently cleaning an 18th-story window aside, I worry sometimes that I'm focusing too often on the grime on the window, rather than what lies beyond it. When I took this photo below, I had that very thought, and I promised myself to look more often at the view because it is spectacular.

Day 3 - A Different Approach

I decided today to try to shoot pictures from Turtle Hill today. Views from atop this hill in the Inner Sunset are some of the most unique of the city. You can see the ocean and downtown, and almost an ariel view of Golden Gate Park, all in one fell swoop.

I left my house and hopped on my bike, only to ride through the thickest fog I've seen all year. Realizing that I might not have much luck shooting a great view, I decided to ride through the park instead. In spite of the terrible weather, people were still out enjoying themselves; I passed children and families, couples on roller skates and bikes.

I realized that this 100 day challenge has given me a gift - normally I would be at home watching Netflix or convincing myself to do housework, but instead I'm outside, trying to find beauty in the world. This challenge has forced me to find something beautiful, or humorous in my every day life - something that I want to share. I realized that this would be a good way to approach my life, not just for 100 days, but every day.

I rode to the west side of the park to photograph the buffalo, but when I got there, they were cooped up together under a shelter, hardly visible. It wasn't even worth trying to take a picture. I ended up riding to the sunset, since I was meeting some people over there to watch the Warriors game later. I got there early, and started walking up to Turtle Hill, when I got this shot. While the views from the hill itself weren't great, some of the shots I got on the journey there were perfect.

Day 2 - The Path to the Beach

Last Sunday I decided to go on a hike with my friend, Amanda. It was a whimsical move - I had a long to-do list, no clean laundry, and a messy apartment. The logical decision would have been to stay home and get everything done, so that I could start the week fresh. I'd been having a whirlwind past few weeks, which had been stressing me out, and keeping me from getting anything done. Every little thing got to me, whether it was a text I forgot to respond to, or a stain I couldn't get out of a favorite sweater.

Sometimes when I'm at that breaking point, it's not clear if the better choice is to stay home and regroup, or to run away from it all and allow myself to forget about my daunting to-do list. I choose the latter, and decided to join Amanda on a hike with her friends, whom I'd never met.

Amanda came by, and we drove up to Marin with Bill's car. We drove across the Golden Gate Bridge as our favorite Lucius song came on the radio. The majestic orange towers passed over us and the beautiful Marin hills peaked out from underneath the fog. "It might actually be a nice day," I said. 

We got to the trail head before anyone else, so we waited in the car. The parking lot sat next to a small horse ranch. While we waited for everyone else, she recalled a dream from the night before where she was walking on a path, and encountered a horse. The horse was beautiful and majestic, but intimidating. She worked up the courage to walk past the horse, and walked down the path to find herself at a beautiful beach. I tried to come up with all the possible hidden meanings in her dream; "the horse represents the challenges you have to face before you can reach your beach in your life!" I said matter-of-factly. "...Or you were just thinking about the hike we're doing today."

Amanda's friends showed up shortly after we got there, and we decided to start trekking to the beach. Her friends were incredibly friendly and welcoming, and I immediately was glad that I made the decision to hike. 

About a half-mile down the path I realized I didn't have the car keys. "You got the car key, yeah?" I asked Amanda. She stopped in her tracks. "No, I thought you did. Did you lock the doors?" I had.

We searched our pockets frantically for a couple minutes before coming to the conclusion that we did, in fact, lock ourselves out of our car. I pulled out my phone to text Bill - maybe he could somehow save us - but realized that I didn't have reception. A kind woman, who still had reception offered to lend me her phone. I thanked her profusely, and texted Bill a slightly frantic message.

Amanda and I decided to just keep hiking. We didn't have reception by the car either, so it was probably smarter to just stick with everyone for now anyway. The hike wasn't long, and before we knew it, we were at the beach. I checked the phone and saw a response: "I'm not Bill, but I have the number for AAA if you need it." I laughed. "I texted the wrong number...and now you don't get reception either," I said as I handed the kind woman back her phone.

Amanda and I decided to let it be. We ate carrots and hummus, drank beer and made new friends. The group grew larger, as more people arrived, and I recognized two of the new arrivals from my college days. We laughed about how small of a world it is, shared memories from college, and talked about what we've been up to since then.

The fog rolled in, and I began wishing I hadn't worn shorts. Just when I began to shiver, someone suggested that we hike up the hill to get a better view of the ocean. I jumped at the idea, and immediately felt warmer. Halfway up, someone mentioned poison oak. I noticed that I had been hiking through the red, oily plant in my shorts this whole time. "I think I'm gonna turn around," I told Amanda, slightly defeated. "This hill is covered in poison oak." She gave me some words of encouragement, and I decided to screw it, and trek on (but to pay more attention).

When we got to the top, everyone took out their phones to take pictures, so I did too. As I snapped away, I noticed something new - "No Service" was no longer sitting mockingly in the upper-left hand corner of my phone. I jumped for joy, and took the moment to call AAA. Although we quickly found out that Bill's AAA did not extend to me, and neither Amanda nor I had a membership. Before I hung up the customer service agent, probably feeling sorry for me, said "you know, if he (Bill) adds you to the plan, we could help you. 

By this time, most people were already hiking down. The wind had picked up, and the sun was slowly sinking behind the hills. I motioned to Amanda that I would stay up here to figure this out, so she waited with me. After a few phone calls, I was added to Bill's plan and a car was coming to help us in 45 minutes or less. "The driver will wait 5 minutes for you, but that it." The customer service agent said. Amanda and I rushed down the hill, said hasty goodbyes, and essentially ran-hiked back to the car. 

Just as the parking lot came into view, we saw a yellow truck pulling out. "No! That's it!" I yelled. We sprinted towards the yellow truck, waving our arms and yelling. Thankfully he saw us, and stopped.

I thanked him profusely and explained why I hadn't answered his calls. "I only have reception on this one hill, a couple of miles away..."

It took him less than a minute to get the car door open, and then we were off. We turned the music up, and drove through the fog, back over the bridge. I stopped at home to scrub my legs, hoping that it wasn't too late to rid myself of any poison oak. Tired and cold, we decided to grab some pho at a nearby restaurant before calling it a night. We ate spicy beef pho and drank cucumber water, as we recounted our day.

100 Day Challenge Terms + Day 1 - View from a Hill

The camera that I recently bought for myself sits on the coffee table most days, accumulating dust. I've been terrible about updating my blog as I'm sure you've (all one of my followers) have noticed. I don't really have an excuse for not taking pictures, making movies, and writing stories - I've just been lazy lately.

My friend Amanda told me last week that she's doing a 100 day challenge, where every day for 100 days she does something creative. It struck me that this was the perfect solution to my recent drought in creative motivation. I never say no to a challenge, and I absolutely hate quitting. So I took it upon myself to start this challenge today, May 23, 2015.  Although before I begin, I must make myself agree to specific terms so that I don't start to make excuses and fall into the same unproductive pattern. By starting this challenge, I agree to the following terms:

• Every day for 100 days straight, I must do something creative. It doesn't matter what it is that I create, as long as I am able to document it in my blog. Activities may include, but are not limited to: a written blog post, a photo, a drawing (which can be scanned or photographed and added as a post), a movie or short film.
• Due to potential unforeseen circumstances, such as limited or no internet, I am not required to upload my project on the day that it was created. As long as I create it on the appropriate day, and note the date in the post, it counts.
• I must create/complete the project on the said day. Again, due to potential unforeseen circumstances, I am allowing myself to skip two days. However, I must make up that missing project the following day, by completing two projects.
• If I miss more than two days, I must start the 100 days from the beginning.
• I'm welcome to upload/create multiple projects in one day. Although only one project will count towards the total (unless it's one of the two allowable make-up projects).

I, Lorraine, agree to the above terms and conditions.

Below is my first contribution to this project. I walked from the Richmond to my parent's house in Duboce Triangle, with my camera in hand. It wasn't until I'd almost reached their house when I saw this view: