Four whole days of stumbling around a blissfully white landscape at Sugar Bowl. I was struggling not to get blown over when I was taking this photo, lens and self both drenched. The conditions were too cold and wet for me that day, so I stopped skiing mid-morning and decided to wander in between the Village and Judah lodges, as advised by one of the staff. I was obsessed with getting visual evidence that it was actually snowing, because Iâm not around it much at all and it was so precious and exciting. The skiing, I donât miss (perhaps I fell one too many times). But the sights - late night gondola rides, fresh and empty winding paths of snow along the forest trail. Just rows and rows of trees, specs in the distance now, as the lifts begin to rise, far as the eye can see. They were something else altogether.
Finally, some photos again. Gone are the days of trying to tag everyone in way too many uploads. Letâs do this old school, with non-compressed files for once.
And so the adventure begins.Â
Elena a little under the weather, but still cute as heck.
Eva met up with us for incredibly cheap and delish dim sum in Oakland Chinatown (this was a candid when she walked out to ask me a question).
Story time about labs and climbing in Missouri.
You tell me what theyâre talking about here. Love how everyoneâs hands are so expressive in this photo.
Ya boyâs --
-- cruisinâ. I really liked Louieâs shirt, as well as the fact that all of us were wearing blue! Very nautically appropriate.
David smiling to himself. Suspicious.
Reeeeally like these earrings she got from a train station in Germany. So classy.
âWe have to tell them we know how to sail. We have to be convincing!â
Louie was very satisfied with the food, as always.
Noticed this little boy and took quite a few photos of him and his mom. The night before I watched Room (a very harrowing film) with the house and it was fascinating contrast, watching this precious and happy child run around, enjoying the sun and the koi fish in the fountain.
And they say youth is wasted on the young. I could hardly believe it, watching kids like that.
I really like this shot of Elena - contemplative, angled against the sun just right.
We went to a boba shop across the street after lunch.
Elena: Try some.
David: Whatâs this?
Elena: Oolong.
David: Ouyang!
Not pictured:
Camila meeting up with us by the lake and serenading us with her ukulele.
Arriving at Lake Merritt Boating Center, where I sadly left the camera in the car, David passed a sailing test, I told them the wrong zip code in an attempt to prove my new Oakland residency but they gave us the discount anyway, and we got in our respective catamaran and kayak. We all slathered on sunscreen and donned life jackets. Beautiful sun out on the lake, with a decent bit of wind and not a cloud in sight.Â
Took turns steering the skipper. David taught us how to tack, gybe, adjust the sail and read the telltale. In addition to acting as the boatâs unofficial captain, he also served as the boatâs official mermaid. While charting our course in the dangerous ocean, we survived a deadly splash attack (many injuries were sustained) as well as surprise vegetal bombings, and appropriately retaliated in kind. Elena was happy to have gotten the cutest, tiniest glove out of it, but David lost it.
A speedy grocery trip to Berkeley Bowl West right before it closed during which we were able to garner all the ingredients for an authentic Brazilian dinner: mango salad, black bean stew over rice and mango ice cream with plantains (mango is the unofficial fruit of the Rio 2016 Olympics, according to people familiar with the matter). Cooking was a full blown operation, enough so that I complete forgot to take photos. Vincent dropped in just in time and we watched the Olympics (us, of formerly Mount Olympus) on the TV thanks to Evaâs parenting caving in to a cable subscription just for the Olympics. Much gymnastics and swimming, to everyoneâs delight.
We missed you dearly, Hannah. Heck, I missed everyone the moment they all walked out the door. I recall about a month ago when I was at home one night after work, cleaning through all the old photos on my hard drive, and it hit me that Olympus was well and truly over. Without a doubt, if there was any group of friends that made me feel at home, it was this house.Â
Until next time. Hope to see you all in Santa Rosa.
Land-based exercise is difficult. Swimming 1.2k everyday is less so in comparison.
In a moment of arrogance: What if instead of biking, I start swimming to work? (across the SF bay, that is)
Sometimes speed walking after I get out of the pool reminds me that Iâd rather be swimming than walking. Something akin to sea legs.
3 months without sex is totally doable if you can at least find yourself reading books that somehow talk about it all the time (Infinite Jest, The Golden Notebook).
In fact, almost all my current literature intake is serving a highly therapeutic purpose, and I couldnât be more pleased. Itâs almost as if other people have experienced my same problems!! Curious, though, the timing at which I read what I read.
Sometimes being at home reminds me how lively and not lonely being at the office feels like.
If sitting is the new smoking, are mattresses the new chairs?
âBedâ time no longer involves a bed, really. Just a yoga mat with some sheets on top. Thought this was a drastic set-back at first, but really itâs been a positive change that has taught me to question 1) western furniture 2) the necessity of shoes, even.
I get a greater kick out of reading about people reading than reading about anything else.
When I stare out the window on my daily commute (which I can do now that I stopped taking BART and started preserving my sanity), I often think about drawing, how Iâm not doing it enough. Then I go back to reading and am instantly happy again.
As of today, I am 7,962 days old. My 21st birthday was quite some months ago, but here is the first week where I really became an adult. Took my first real driving lesson, then test, and now licensed (after possessing a learnerâs permit for 2 years). Flew all the way to San Francisco and back in one day for my first real interview. And now Iâll be moving again, to my first internship, and eventually, hopefully, full-time job.
And yet Iâm so terribly aware of how young I feel. How my main concern is what shoes Iâll wear to the office (obviously not Converse or Birkenstocks, but my god dress shoes are so horribly uncomfortable). How Iâll have an income to put on my housing apps, but I have to explain itâs my first job and that in reality, my parents will still have to co-sign for me. How, this past weekend, a brief encounter with a childhood friend who I barely knew could be such a powerful connection (to be honest, just a lot of awkward smiling on my part). Several months in a steady relationship later, I still manage to forget that I am way, way too young to be done with loneliness. Â
There was a large chunk of time where I stopped writing, between the last few days of the semester and the second week of June. I was drowning in moving errands, saying goodbye, packing for travel, all the flights and performances and subway rides, and finally back home, where I spent just about 3 weeks unpacking and fretting over my joblessness. Now, time is slowing again, and thatâs all I can bear to write about. The way the hours drip down the walls. Most days I had been sitting around waiting â for a call back about the interview, or an open house. But really I am loafing around, waiting for an opportunity to land in my lap. Itâs only on the weekends or the late evening where there are people around me again that I remember to take my time seriously, to put some structure back into my life. It is so damn hard to think positively when Iâm by myself for 14 hours a day, when I have too much time to imagine all the things that could get complicated or go wrong.
Reading helps, a lot. Gotta remember to keep doing that. Â
âYouâre going to reach 130 sooner than you think, at the rate youâre going.â
Dadâs been feeding off Momâs anxiety about her weight to try to get her off the couch. Last night he told me he read about a celebrity who started a 10-grain rice diet. âHow does she cook the rice? She canât possibly count out the separate grains and cook it, she must cook it all at once. But how does she count all the grains when the rice is fully cooked and sticky?â
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