work boyfriends, democrats, and flats, oh my.

fog with just enough visibility to drive is now one of my favorite morning commute conditions. the look of the fading layers of mountains and rolling hills to the side of the freeway is just magical. and blindly following a bridgey freeway interchange into a cloud is also a good time.

favorite recent quote: "oh, some background: you see, julia's my girlfriend." -- my coworker, joel, to his real girlfriend last night at a pub. (do i need to explain this?)

dennis kucinich (bestill, my bleeding heart) is endorsed by ELLIOTT GOULD. how can you not vote for him now?

my husband left for work today wearing a registrar-of-voters-issue bright red polo shirt with the touchscreen voting logo "VOTE! It's At Your Fingertips" embroidered over the left breast. he still managed to look hot.

speaking of which, erik also works with pretty much all 70 year old men. he said they act like junior high students and pull pranks on each other. but they still curse like old men.

this man from my church said, "gee, it's like the sixties again" while i sang during a little guitar practice. first of all, yes, he did infact say "gee." second of all, i'm both flattered and concerned.

the other day, my three favorite coworkers and i took our lunches to a playground. we ate, and then played on slides and climby things. two conclusions: a) "let's never tell anyone about this," and b) we now know why children keep their youthful physiques: they know not to eat if they're going to play any time soon. which probably results in rarely eating.

really, why are some people complaining about Howard Dean's wife? every other word out of that man's mouth is "healthcare," so shouldn't we be impressed that she's focusing on her patients rather than political campaigns? doesn't that show he's not kidding? that said, i still don't really like the guy all that much. [small voice] he's no dennis. [/small voice]

for the record, sofia copolla's choice of golden globe footwear was very indie. that woman can do no wrong. flats! speaking of indie fashion, sweet melissa is now helping cowrite the Indie Rock Guide To Corporate Living's "Style" chapter. this girl knows her shit. fun pants!!

my coworkers have taken to thinking my and erik's "geography trivia" is a euphemism. a code word, if you will. yesterday, one sent me a link to the Peter's Projection map and called it "foreplay."

these bullets are dedicated to matt grace. he's the LI to my brackets.

just you wait.
there'll be bullets tomorrow.
oh yes there will.

call me a socialist and a heretic, but
sometimes i wish that jesus had been a lesbian, and that i payed 50% taxes in order to ensure universal health care/welfare/quality public education for all and real environmental protection.

to the people who have been challenging me lately: you're not turning me. in fact, you're making me more liberal, more progressive. mwah.

nostalgia, already?
following are two pictures from the wedding that i have recently rediscovered. i don't know if you can really call it "re"discovering, after a mere 4 months and some change have passed since the wedding. and we haven't even made our real albums yet. but for some reason, i hadn't given these pictures the attention they deserved when we first scrambled through the stack of 460+ proofs.

the first is our "first kiss." the best part about this picture is that nobody is paying attention to us (besides our dilligent photographer). this is mostly due to the nature of an episcopal marriage ceremony - the first kiss takes place at "the peace." everyone else was sharing the peace (those are our fathers, about to shake hands). that rocks, to me.

and it's almost like an end of a movie. the camera is panning out and the world is moving on around and despite the two lovers, finally kissing.

the second is a picture of erik and i dancing. i think i first dismissed this picture after erik complained that his hair looked like it was thinning. also, i'm pretty sure the only thing completely in focus is a freckle on my shoulder. but now i can't get over the look of peaceful happiness on his face - his subtle smile.

at that moment, that man was so in love with me. and at that moment, my hair looked pretty fabulous, no?

linkage
here's what julia has been reading recently.
let's discuss.

Is Kucinich Electable?
Envision San Diego: The Call for Creativity.
Envision San Diego: Land Use and Transportation.
Jon Carroll, 1.16.04, San Francisco Chronicle.

and of course, The Handy Geography Answer Book. don't knock it till you've tried it! also, i've taken to calling it the Handy Dandy Geography Answer Book. because, it seems, i'm not only the type of person who quizzes her husband on geography facts during Golden Globes commercial breaks, i'm also the type of person who names things after PBS children's program props.

geek games
since i got such positive feedback on the "get someone to say a word" game, here's another for you. it's courtesy of my lovely friend traci, who's in-laws seriously need to adopt me. [i'm serious! call me! i'm cheap!]

they call it the "I'm Hiding" game. basically, you pick a global landmark for a location. then say, "i'm hiding somewhere in the world. yes or no questions, please." you'll get the standard hemisphere questions to guide the search, and then anything goes. "are you hiding in a former eastern bloc nation?" "are you hiding in the largest inland body of water in central america?" yes, that one was erik.

for example: the other night, erik was hiding in the Hoffbrauhaus in München. and i was hiding in the coast guard base in Kodiak, Alaska.

i'm completely addicted to geography trivia right now. let's all stop laughing. this is far healthier than say, controlled substances or Alias.

mmm, crepes
you asked for more about erik.
here's something i stumbled upon. from freaking 2002!
i'm retitling it "my life is more amazing than nutella crepes."

contradiction
things i love and hate at the same time:

the smell of jet fuel

democrats

high heels

people who do things better than me

television

being ticklish

working

coffee

the episcopal church

driving

that squeak the guitar strings make as you slide your fingers up the frets

ironing

erik no longer being a house husband. (oh yeah, everyone, erik got a job!)

the WB

my body

the internet

even without the black turtleneck...
last night, i turned on the computer to find a note from an east coast friend, informing me that my damien rice song from alias was on CSI Miami that night. so what do i do? i watch the show. yes, i have the CD. yes, i can listen to the song whenever i want.

i've never been able to get past the first five minutes of CSI Miami, because i can't stand that old red haired guy who plays the main character. the "delicate" placement was very nice, subtle, and brief - only the first verse before fading out into dialogue, but please, TV, i beg you: never again try to taint my favorite songs with love scenes with fucking david caruso.

what was more alarming, however, is that EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY FRIENDS HAS FAILED ME. i can't believe nobody told me Lucas From Empire Records is on CSI Miami. come on! granted, the black turtleneck and civily disobedient wit have no place in the forensics lab, but he's still completely adorable.

delicate
i may have happened to mention my slight, recent addiction to alias, and my not-so-recent and not-so-slight passion for music. tonight's episode of alias was remarkable on both fronts - the alias-ness, and the music.

the final three or four scenes were glorified with one of the most amazing, sad, beautiful, bitter, loving songs ever written. damien rice. "delicate." i wept for the beauty of the episode and the photography, for the ridiculously complex and bittersweet relationships, and for the fact that some adorable irish boy achieved such aural perfection -- the kind that affects all your senses when all you do is listen.

we might kiss when we are alone... when nobody's watchin' we might take it home
we might make out... when nobody's there
it's not that we're scared it's just that it's delicate

so why'd ya fill my sorrow with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known
why'd ya sing hallelujah if it means nothing to ya
why'd ya sing with me at all?

we might live like never before when there's somethin' to give
how can we ask for more?

we might make love... in some sacred place
that look on your face ... is delicate

so why'd ya fill my sorrow with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known
why'd ya sing hallelujah if it means nothing to ya
why'd ya sing with me at all...

what's the difference between "middle america" and "central america"? and other questions that keep me up past midnight.
last night, i babysat the darling grace as her parents went to the giant dave matthews-and-very-famous-friends concert.

i spent much of the evening with the attachment-parenting-raised grace tucked away in a sling that wrapped around over one shoulder and around my waist. she was so warm and cozy, with her precious baby snoring and occasional maggie simpson sucking/smacking noise. i'd walk around in circles in their house trying to soothe her, and their two german shepards would follow me around, practically licking my heels.

eventually, after several attempts to lie her down failed (that 5,000,000+ decibel snap the crib bar makes at you lift it into place really screws things up), i decided to just keep her in the sling. besides, i was cold without her. we snuggled up with scott and sarah's copy of "Green, Cheap, and Happy," and i read more than half the book before dozing off myself.

around midnight, i get home to find my husband waiting with a midnight snack of a fake corndog and some leftover tofu stroganoff. we watched an episode of That 70's Show before crawling into bed around 12:30, only to stay up for another hour and a half while erik asked me GEOGRAPHY TRIVIA QUESTIONS. no, i'm fully serious.

i may be tired and a ridiculous nerd, but i'm totally in love with my life right now.

material girl
so, i'm working on an article-of-sorts. of course, nobody will hire me, so i'm just writing it for here. actually, it'll be a series. i'm calling it The Indie Rock Guide To Corporate Living. subtitled, "Now That You've Sold Out..."

the first installment is a style feature, which was originally subtitled "How To Shop At Banana Republic Without Looking Like You Shop At Banana Republic." i've since scratched that title. (if you ask me, you can be indie rock and still be wearing all Banana Republic pieces.) so far, it's basically some somewhat serious, somewhat tongue-in-cheek suggestions on how to dress well without betraying your kind.

i have five or so suggestions, ranging from color suggestions to warnings against stacked heels, and i've already drawn a blank. so... consider yourselves my journalistic research pool and fess up, you fabulous indie rock stars, you. just short of wearing ironic printed t-shirts to work, how do you dress well without completely selling out?

i'd like you to meet my first husband...
a brief conversation with the director of engineering today, while walking out of the downstairs cafe at the same time as me...

al: "so, how's married life?"
julia: "it's great." (opting, thankfully, to refrain from my usual "yeah, it kind of sucks - it's not what it's cracked up to be" jesting answer.)
al: "is this your first time?"

it was seriously all i could do to not crack up.

julia: "yes. yes it is."

the glamorous high profile life of a college bus driver
actually, this post isn't really going to be about my glamorous high profile life as a college bus driver, but i needed a good hook.

i may or may not have lived out this internal struggle on the blog - i can't remember. but either way, i had a really rough time with The Whole Name Change Thing, starting long before i even settled on flowers and a reception venue, and continuing now, after all most of the thank you notes have been sent out.

this may strike you as a little out-of-character for me, if you knew me any time between the ages of 6 and 20. i hated my last name. it was slightly unfortunate as far as last names go, what with the hint of male genitalia in the root word. and it looked particularly unfortunate scrawled across the chest of a middle school P.E. shirt.

the sudden fear about losing the well-hated last name can be attributed to three things. let's break it down.

1. you know, my inner feminist and inner activist. why should julia be the one to change?
2. the thought of the former me ceasing to exist. she would be eliminated. that's a little alarming, no?
3. all the people who sent us checks for wedding presents MADE OUT TO SOMEBODY WHO DOESN'T EXIST YET. i think more than anything, this pissed me off. and, when i get pissed off, i get stubborn. who are these people to assume i'll be changing my name? who are you to call erik's mother 2 months after the wedding demanding an explanation as to why the checks weren't cashed yet? don't fucking rush me! i appreciate your amazing generosity, and believe me, we'd love to cash the checks and work on our home, but you're going to have to wait until i'm good and ready to change my name.

so, i finally made an appointment at the DMV. the stubbornness turned into apathy, and i decided to go ahead with it. also, i filled out all the forms with HR at work, including my health insurance, to accomodate for a name change. i should probably make sure i legally turn into that person in Aetna's database pretty soon before i get turned away at the emergency room or something.

i have a commercial class B license, from driving buses in college. (yes, it was actually a really kick-ass job). i had to go through so much goddamned bureaucracy just to get a training permit, and i'm not about to downgrade to a class C license any time soon.

most of that bureaucracy stemmed from my vision being pretty lousy - i have a mild "muscle turn" in my right eye. when severe, those are the sort of defects that make people look cross-eyed. fret not, i'm not cross-eyed. but i did have to wear a white sticker over the left lens of my glasses when i was 6. for a commercial class B, they require at least 20-40 vision in your weakest eye. i have 20-20 vision when both my eyes are open, but somewhere in the vicinity of 20-8,000,000 in my right eye. not really. something like 20-60. the problem is that muscle turn-related sight problems aren't really correctable without some sort of newfangled "prism" surgery. i barely scraped by for the last two DMV medical exams. i may or may not have tried to memorize the eye chart before covering my left eye. and you didn't just read that last sentence. "what last sentence?" good.

my DMV medical card has expired. i found this out after waiting 45 minutes past my appointment time. i generally don't make a habit of driving buses or being pulled over while driving buses these days, so how was i supposed to know my medical card had expired? by keeping track of these things? by being organized? whatever.

so we're back to square one. now it's not just idealism, mother-in-laws, and stubbornness keeping me from changing my name, it's Lenscrafters and the fucking DMV.

something you didn't know yesterday
the portuguese word for "goat" is "cabre."

this discovery had a little bit to do with baby toggle coats from banana republic. and, of course, emily mistaking the letter g for the letter c.

water
the World Trade Center Memorial design was chosen today. it's actually a really beautiful, really subtle idea. my friend told me about it, using the phrase, "water is so meditative."



it got me thinking. yes. water is meditative, until people throw coins and stuff in there.

it's such a strange phenomenon that we as a human race (let's say we as a western civilization human race, because i'm pretty sure it's not widespread) just can't help tossing coins into bodies of water, especially man-made bodies of water. we're so attracted to the idea of wishes and fortune and luck.



i think the sentiments of wishes and good luck are sweet and hopeful - traits that are usually absent from any other kind of human phenomenon... but i was momentarily struck by how inappropriate it would be for people to toss coins and make wishes at the site of a massive tragedy - at a giant grave site.

but then the more i think about it, maybe it is strangely, obtusely, beautifully appropriate to be wishing for good fortune at the WTC memorial.

either way, then. i really do love the concept of the pools. whether they be silent bodies of water, reflecting light, sky, grief, community, and beauty, or whether they be a place for children and lovers and tourists to make wishes and envision better lives.

quick start guide
in technical writing, we often create something called a "quick start guide" to complement the major documentation. to me, it's a little bothersome, because you're admitting that what you're doing (writing an entire user's guide) is useless. your entire job, in fact, is useless. the mere concept of a quick start guide is saying, "hey. nobody reads the fucking manual anyway, so we're going to spend more time and resources creating a short, brief version of the minimum information needed to use the product."

so, without further ado, here's a Quick Start Guide to Julia's Weekend. using mostly pictures, since nobody reads the sentences anyway. (fuck. my job is a joke.) anyway, sorry. i digress...

i title this one "alcohol." new year's eve at our house.


off to see the pandas. we waited in line for a freaking HOUR.


it's the baby! a.k.a. a very adorable playful fluff ball.


come on, kid. throw the ball or get the hell off the field.

no, actually, i didn't really play football. i was having too good of a time with the baby. and what you can't see in that picture is that i'm wearing a t-shirt that says "OBOE POWER," with a well-drawn oboe on the front.

and another thing you don't see: pictures of erik, my brother-in-law, and me sitting on the couch drinking wine and watching an entire volume of alias episodes from season 2. so this isn't a very accurate photographic representation of our weekend.

there was also a 7.2 mile vicious hike and some nightclub dancing. i felt a strange air of superiority/comfort as i walked through the club, not really attracting any attention. i just felt really good about being on a dance floor with my beautiful husband and my fabulous siblings-in-law as everyone else around us tried desperately to impress strangers.

i think i'm still in shock about the whole "feeling good while not attracting attention" thing. who am i and what did i do with the real me?

i know, i know. i'll save the deep crap for the manual.
happy new year, everyone. it's now my third year with a blog. good times.