Two sad pieces of news to post about:
- I didn’t get the apartment I really liked. Instead I got the one with the panoramic view. The most sad thing about this is that the world will not be getting a “zelda secret found” playing device. Oh, one nice thing about this new place is that it is really close to my CSA pickup place. I am kind of mad now that I realized this is the pickup place with about the worst hours (12-6) in the city. I was looking forward to changing to one near the other place that was open a bit later a night, so I wouldn’t have to leave work “earlyish”
- The optical drive in my Macbook Pro is busted. It’s in the shop now. AppleCare to the rescue again, I guess. This is worse than it would normally be because it is nanowrimo and I liked to write on it. Well, I will just use my work laptop for this last week or until I get sarnath back. Double points to anyone who knows what that name is a reference too
I think I will be moving around 12/5 or so, if all goes to plan.
The auction was postponed a month. This just gets weirder and weirder. I guess I will pay rent to the “landlord” since no one else told me to pay anyone else. This is all nutty.
I went to the SF Museum of Modern Art to see the Frida Kahlo exhibit with a friend Saturday. Sounds good right? It should have been, Kahlo was a great artist, and they have amassed a great collection for this exhibit. But, sadly, it is too popular for it’s own good.
They have timed tickets which are designed to keep the crowds down – you have a 20 minute window to enter (set 30 minutes apart) and most people spend 30-45 minutes in the exhibit. Of course there are also a bunch of people with the audio tour, more on them later. This is a good plan, except that it means that you have a huge cluster of people entering at the entry times (they try to meter it, but we’ve all seen the meters for highway entrances that seem to have no effect on traffic). So you have a big crowd in the exhibit, everyone trying to look at the same paintings, as you basically are railroaded in to a particular viewing pattern (which might be good, because they are chronological). And to make matters worse, about 10-20% of the people are on the audio tour, and oblivious to those around them. So, instead of being able to move between paintings at your own pace, you are railroaded to spend a long time at some paintings, because the guy in front of you is just standing there listening to his headphones, or people are discussing the next one.
My friend basically was done immediately, and I was soon overwhelmed by the crowd and lack of ability to see the exhibit in a reasonable way. I don’t really know of a better way to deal with this sort of exhibit, but it does make me sad that I couldn’t enjoy it properly, and I wonder how many other people are put off by things like this.
I am back home. Yay.
iPhoto might have eaten all my digital photos from the past 18 months, including many of the ones from my trip. Boo.
I might be able to ressurect them, but the album information will be gone. Ambivalent so far.
“Where is my book?” I thought this morning, while getting ready to head in to work. I have been reading “The Mismeasure of Man” for quite a long time, interspersed with other books, and I had finally finished the main portion of the book on Monday. But there are appendices to read before the book is finished. I searched my room, and the kitchen, and even the living room to no avail. The book was gone. Oh well, I thought, at least I read the main part of the book.
I walked out the front door on my way to the bus stop, and I saw on the ground, near my steps, my bookmark. It’s not a fancy bookmark, just a cardboard one from Borderlands. But I knew it was mine and I knew it was the one I was using in that book. “Well, did I leave the book outside somehow. That makes no sense, I drove to see the movie on Sunday and I brought it with me. Phantoms!”.
I picked up the book mark and put it in my pocket, and walked up the hill. Lo and behold, I saw a book, splayed out, lying on someone’s driveway wall. On closer examination, it was my book. So now I can finish it properly.
I blame the birds, by the way.
I went to dinner tonight with stega and “Agent Smith” at a nearby place called The Liberty Cafe. I had the chicken pot pie. It was delicious. And hot. I burned my mouth, and my throat. But it was delicious, and I still consider the meal a huge success (I’m making a note here).