Drinking tonight. Watch for it.

(pic courtesy of Jumini on Flickr)

Ye Olde Pastime of Internet Stalking

I can never tell whether I should be grateful we have the internet or rue the day we ever met. Sure, we have everything at the tip of our fingers but when paired with a broken heart, that's when information becomes too much. Finally, the questions you've been wrenching your guts over can finally be answered: How fast did they get over us? Were they cheating this whole time? Are they actually. happy. without. me?

It's hard to believe, this person actually getting over you. Prior to internet stalking, whenever a boy would turn me down (for shame!) or break my heart, I would try to hold strong and pretend that they didn't exist or that they spontaneously combusted. This theory of spontaneous combustion works very well in terms of helping you move on. No more lingering feelings or "what if" wonderings. There is no guilt in sending thoughts of ill will upon them because spontaneous combustion is a pure act of nature -- or karma -- that even you can't control. Perhaps you can look upon your time together with (almost) nostalgia and not ever have to imagine how good the sex they're having with someone else is.

But now! Oh, the gluttony of the internet and its networking sites, blogs and Flickr galore! Those keyed into the internet can now see Exes whenever they want, message them, see the pics of the new S.O. (significant other), read about how happy -- or, even better! how sad -- they are in their new lives minus you. For the truly obsessive, you watch their progress, hope for something to fail, wish for your own loserness to disappear and make promises never to visit these foreboden sites; meanwhile, you end up doing anything except the required moving on.

Now this isn't to chastise the internet and make it feel bad but for all its Information Highway-ness, it still has a sense of lacking. In mystery. I twice quit MySpace for telling me things I didn't want to know -- how, yes, he has a gf despite words convincing me otherwise -- it's been a tough realization that the Internet is what you make it. While his lying ass was hardly MySpace's fault, I didn't want the drama that I associated with all networking sites. Now, nearly two years later, I am a blogger, MySpacer, Facebooker and (briefly) Nerve.com gal. I have finally learned to reassociate these sites with something good and useful. I'm grasping the concept of mystery and self-control and now know that there is goodness in the internet.

But still: Clicker, beware.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

(pic courtesy of NaOH on Flickr)

Your Go-To Person Not Feeling So Go-To'able

It's a known fact in my circle of friends that if you're looking for anything to do in San Francisco, I'm one of the people to contact.

For the last couple of years of my living here in San Francisco, I've looked for anything interesting to fill my time, trying to learn about cute new shops (Flight 001, Flicka), events (Maker Faire, Folsom Street Fair), quirky things (a model of San Francisco in Jell-o, Urban Golf). While I may visit maybe half of these things, my mind has become a wealth of knowledge for the non-SF inducted.

My brain, as of late, has become waterlogged (knowledge-logged?) with all of the things one can do in SF, as I've recently been hired by Gridskipper. The responsibilities? A commitment of at least one post a week, chronicling lists of things to do in SF. In its own Gridskipper way. Not a bad gig, but when you factor in the day job, night school, other projects, the bf, the fam and other random shit, you begin to feel out-of-tune with the city you live in -- esp. when the closest thing to the perfect night consists of staying in and being sloth-like on the couch and perhaps trying to make it to your favourite neighborhood bars. Where they're beginning to recognize you.

But, I digress. Perhaps I shouldn't complain about things, seeing as how I live in the best city in the world (San Francisco -- duh) and am being paid for doing what I (unconsciously) do for friends: recommending places/things to do.

Shit. I'm tired, though. And seeing as how I haven't seen a dime of this writing thingie yet and since we haven't been officially relaunched and how -- technically -- I haven't officially written anything yet...?

Fuck that. I'm going to complain about all the shit I have to do.

Although, I love my job. I do.


(photo courtesy of Thomas Hawk on Flickr)

Blogger Nirvana

I got this picture from valleywag.com and while this was a tongue-in-cheek "how-to" on how to achieve maximum readership, this is actually a very shrewd guide to reaching blogger nirvana.

And while I haven't written anything in almost two weeks, I still haven't come up with anything I feel like writing about. I have been gearing up for finals, writing applications for internships, trying to get my Gridskipper lists on, and trying to unearth myself from the mountain of work on my desk. I wish I had stories to make you all gooey with schadenfreude, but alas! I have none. I also haven't felt indignant about anything since the Warriors lost on Tuesday.

I am a big pile of 'bleh'.

the end of the beginning.

The masthead from my second-ever blog once read: The beginning of the end. Maybe I was feeling Smashing Pumpkins-y or something, but it feels apt to begin something new with something old. To juxtapose, if you will.

As this is my first blog post, typical blog prototype says that this is the appropriate time to insert mission statement here. Bah. I'm more inclined to just start in (no introductions, no nothin') but perhaps what I'll do first is MY version of a mission statement -- the half-assed kind, my fave -- which I should in no way be held to.

1. I will try not to write a Carrie Bradshaw-esque blog. Meaning, I will try not to: dish about my bf (I have one, yes. You don't need to know all about him), wonder about the San Francisco dating scene, ask for proof of whether there are any good men left on this earth. Yes, maybe this will come up, but I will try to refrain. But if I do: cut me some slack, people. I am still a girl.

2. As an offshoot of the first statement, I will not be giving advice. I can barely handle my own life, let alone yours.

3. May begin posting my amateur-ish photos. Am hoping to improve my photography/DP skills. We'll see. Be kind.

4. Umm. Okay. I'll add on as necessary. I told you this would be half-assed.

Halfway There. My newfangled blog of sorts. Yeah. Welcome.