An Open Letter to Oakland Coliseum and Live Nation

On a peaceful afternoon about 18 months ago (November 2, 2009 to be exact) I bought three tickets to the U2 360 tour. At least one of these tickets was to be my brother in law's Christmas present, and my sister and I were particularly thrilled because they were pretty decent seats, and we hadn't seen U2 in years. So more than $800 lighter, I put the concert in the back of my mind as it was a months away.

Make that years.

To be fair, no one could have predicted Bono's injury, and the resultant need to reschedule the concert for the next year. Where this becomes hauntingly relevant though is when you consider that this means that Live Nation and the Oakland Coliseum had an extra year to plan.

Last week I received my email reminding me of the concert and noting that if possible, I should consider taking BART to the show as it drops you off right there. Since I was coming from work in downtown SF, this made eminent sense, although my sister and her husband didn't have this option as they were coming from Menlo Park, where their babysitter was taking her turn with the kids that night. They planned to leave MP at 7, as they were not terribly concerned about opening act, and I planned on meeting them around 8.

As scheduled, I took the 7:47 train to the venue and arrived shortly after 8. Lenny was still on - I heard maybe 4 songs. I checked with my sister and she noted that traffic was bad, but generally anticipated being able to meet up around 9. What I did not anticipate, however, was the fact that they would not show up until 10:15, well after Bono and co took the stage at 9:30. Why?

The simple answer is a total disregard for planning or consideration. As they recounted to me, parking in the main lot was completely decimated. They where stuck in the freeway ramp for over an hour and a half, and then, once they made it near the main lot, were told that they had to go to overflow parking (which they were also told was free- lie) except there was no one to explain where that was. It then took them 15 minutes to determine where the overflow parking was, which turned out to be over the freeway and at least a mile away from the venue. All that to get charged the full 40 dollars for parking which appeared to be nothing less than an abandoned feed lot, pitted and rutted with no discernible lines and choked with overgrowth. After a hike, which took no less than 20 minutes at top speed, they finally showed up on the tenth song, halfway through the main set. All this for the discounted rate of $842.25.

I understand that some will say that they should have left earlier, that they should have taken BART. These things may be true, but they don't change the fundamental facts:

1. The promoters and the venue know exactly how many tickets they sold and they should be prepared for the eventuality that they need at least half that number for parking. Clearly you knew that that was a risk as there was overflow parking which could not have been put into place as the event unfolded last night. Would it have been so hard to inform your patrons of the distance and likely time involved in the reminder blast? Moreover, given that I noticed a number of event trucks parked on the main lot, you should have taken into account the fact that those spots were eliminated for concertgoers. When people are opting to abandon their cars on the side of the road because they don't know where else to go, and when they are making the decision to give up on the show completely after being in the car for 4+ hours, there is clearly a problem.

2. The venue is designed for parking for two major venues - the Coliseum and the Oracle arena. How is it that the main lot does not have capacity for merely one of the venues?

3. Why is overflow parking the same rate as the main lot? There should have been a discounted rate for the mile hike. C'mon guys, even the airport is aware of that rule.

4. It is completely unacceptable that there was insufficient/inadequate traffic regulation between the overfill and the main lot such that it was unsafe. What is the purpose of having cops around for at a large event if they are not ensuring safe passage?

5. BART is simply not an option for everyone. You may not be able to find a reasonable station to begin with, and the fact of the matter is that I find it ridiculous that the station is not going to stay open past 12:20 when the show itself ran until 11:55. The station is not equipped to deal with that many people squeezed in for 20 minutes. Frankly because of the lack of accommodation for the lateness of the show, people may chose to opt out of BART in favor of driving, leading to the problems listed above. It's just a perfect storm.

6. Some may say this is not U2's fault or anyone else's fault except for people who chose to come later or not plan to be at the venue 4 hours in advance. I simply disagree. Part of the reason we pay for all of the crazy surcharges and facilities fees is for the expectation that the venue have a plan for basic contingencies - like making sure that people who paid for tickets can park at the venue of the show they are attending. If this was beyond Live Nation, the Oakland Coliseum and the City of Oakland, then they certainly shouldn't be pocketing all the fees and profits they obtained for being able to host the show.

Bottom line: Live Nation, Oakland Coliseum - you are a disgrace. U2 - please take notice of this. It's a sad reflection on your respect for fans if you don't recognize that this was a travesty. All people wanted to do was see you guys perform and this was just a slap in the face.

P.s. Think this was a a limited phenomena? Think again after you take a look at this - http://dustinkeirstead.blogspot.com/2011/06/traffic-ruins-my-u2-concert-did-it.html

Night swimming

Last week, in a fit of motivation and an inability to deny the siren call of the view of the pools from our office, I joined the local swim and tennis club. How very waspy! To be honest, I did not technically join the tennis part of the club, and therefore will not be playing in any of the leagues or anything, but I do have the pool. Ah, the pool...I love it. I went for the first time on Tuesday, flush with the concept of getting up early and having a refreshing swim before heading to the office, and it was fantastic. I was then beset by my inability to wake up early and didn't make it there either Wednesday or Thursday mornings. But after an excessively long day at work, I girded the loins and jaunted over for a late night swim tonight, and I am so glad that I did.

Here's the thing - swimming is one of those activities that is incredibly good for you, but doesn't feel like quite the chore that running does to me. Don't get me wrong - I like running a great deal (much to my, and I'm sure, all my elementary school gym teachers', everlasting surprise), but that doesn't change the fact that running makes me sweat like a pig and pant like a debilitated dog. All things which point to its great cardiovascular effect, but also make it somewhat arduous and less than attractive. Swimming, though, feels very natural and peaceful to me, which is a major irony to my entire family, as I basically almost drowned as a child during my first swim lessons, and then was kept from swimming without multiple flotation devices until I was 12. Maybe it's the weightlessness (which is tempered by the horror of swimsuits) but I feel very at home in the water, whether it's in a pool, or in the ocean. And as I swam tonight in simple, leisurely laps, with the wide expanse of the night sky above me and the shimmering of the lights through the water of the pool, I thought that it was a very good thing to be able to find that comfort at the end of a difficult day.

Strange pathways

As some of you know, I wholeheartedly scoffed at any number of new media phenomena when they first cropped up. I had no understanding of, nor any real use for twitter, and I certainly mocked the iPad when it first came out as I was a steadfast kindle fan. Fast forward a year, and suddenly I understand how this happens. First I start looking at various blogs. Then I notice that half of my favorite bloggers are twittering. And then I start thinking that I would be much more likely to blog if I don't have to wait until I get home to do it, and which point the allures of various things such as food, sleep and entertainment start taking precedence. And now here I am, blogging through the vaunted internet cloud, and typing on my new, shockingly girlish iPad which is white and pink. (Don't ask me what happened. I went in with the best intentions of getting a black one and a blue cover but somehow got swindled into the white one with a pink cover under the auspices of being told that it was very "Hello Kitty." I make no excuses.)

Anyhow, I'm still loyal to my kindle. I consider this more a multimedia platform, and a way to separate church and state, so to speak. Consider this an experiment of sorts - is it true that increased accessibility can lead to greater communication or will this simply end up being a deluge of rather useless minutiae? Only time will tell. I'm trying out a new blogging app called Blogsy, so we'll see how that works. But to set the tone right as we embark on this new venture, here's a random photo of Yukie intent on her donut frisbee to get us started.

Much in the way she is completely fixated on her activity, I myself have been fascinated by my new techie toy. How embarrassing it is to be such a sucker for early adoption. Regardless! Here's to the grand experiment!

semantics

Yesterday, as I was ruing the fact that I hadn't worked out in days other than during my bike commute, and melting the butter for a truly wicked chocolate sheet cake (http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2007/06/the_best_chocol/), I started to think about how difficult it is for me to be committed. Indeed, I would even argue that I fear commitment (see, e.g., male/female relationships of a personal nature). Thus, we see the repetitive cycles of my life - abandoned diets, short-lived exercise efforts and the like, and the accompanying whine of "it's too hard to commit."

Yet on the other hand, my life is overwhelmingly full of what I would term obsessive interests. For example, the devotion to crafts can be demonstrated with my persistence in finishing yet another row even though it's 3:00 a.m. and I have to go work the next day. Or, the need to continue making fantastical, really gorgeous baked desserts despite living by myself with only choco-allergic canines. And then there are the 16 (or 54, or 108) episode Korean drama marathons. All shining exemplars of obsession, which, it need be said, are not limited to extracurriculars. My type-A attention to detail regarding professional writing is also closely related to the obsession gene.

Commitment feels hard. In theory, it involves working against one's nature, diligence, and a stoic kind of Protestant work ethic. Obsession though, is easy in its involuntary, whimsical nature, as it is more akin to surrendering to the tide of your interests. Regardless, both involve immersion in an activity and true dedication. It's just that one is much more fun and feels infinitely easier, rather than a trial of patience.


So I'd like to say, screw commitment. Isn't it possible to reframe one's mind into productive obsession? Can't I become obsessed with exercise, and whole grains, and a more positive attitude towards work? I think it's worth a try. After all, it all depends on perspective.

blog delinquency, I banish thee!

A quick update:

1. As always, coming late to the party, I am now kind of totally obsessed with http://www.bakerella.com and http://thepioneerwoman.com.

2. I started a new job. Sigh.

3. I started trying to date again. Sigh part deux.

4. I am crocheting (!) a ginormous blanket for myself. My sister has already asked for one. Only through the magic of familial bonds and genetic recognition will I be willing to undertake this herculean task again for her.

5. I got a new adorable bike. I have, upon further consideration and a month of on-again-off-again contemplation, now named her. She is MolaMola, the Commuter Sunfish. Pictures to follow.

6. MolaMola is still in the process of being properly accessorized.

7. Yesterday, a true SF-bike folk asked me something in inexplicable biker code. Apparently my disguise is working. Also, now you too shall know that evidently there is some kind of group ride along the bay and through the city on Wednesday nights that involves drinking called the butter ride or the butter lap. See, this blog is educational too.

8. I made red velvet cake bombs (I cannot bear to name them cake balls because I am evidently quite puerile) this week and they have gone over exceedingly well. See #1.

9. I think I need a Jelly roll pan. Id.

era's end

It sounds so dramatic, to think that we are standing at the precipice, overlooking the next decade already. I can still remember the drama surrounding the thought of the new millennium, and the welling feeling that great things lay ahead.

Today, at the end of 2010, there is a niggling sense of dissatisfaction. Reflecting on the past year, I can't help but feel unfulfilled. If you asked me, I couldn't say that there was any great horrifying event that marred this year for me. Certainly not at the level that many people have to deal with, and for that, I am tremendously thankful. Regardless, I feel as though this year was a series of little disappointments, a lack of progress, and a sense of limbo that has been difficult to shake. I am discontented and frustrated, and it threatens to color my recollection of the year.

Mulling it over with my mother, I mentioned how other friends of mine seemed to have such good years, and she responded with the chestnut that it's human nature to believe other people are happier than ourselves, but in reality, no one is that happy. Now, that's a typically depressing thought from her, but it led me to think further - is it a question of managing expectations? Isn't it true that if we don't expect anything of ourselves, we won't disappoint ourselves either?

Well, yes, but who wants to live like that?

It seems to me that that may just be an excuse to race to the bottom. With no expectations, no hope for achievement, it's true one won't be disappointed, but then there's nothing to inspire ourselves. If we take the paved road that we can see stretching in front of us to the clearly marked destination, things may happen, but it's pure luck. The overall journey, despite that, is completely predictable. You end up where the path said you were going to go. But what if we take the weirdo path that is overgrown and unmarked? It's risky, but possibly rife with great rewards. Unfortunately, the very drive, the striving for something better, naturally ends in at least some sense of defeat for some of the time. After all, no one wins all the time.

What's the answer? It must be a balance between the two - having goals to work towards, and learning to savor the little victories along the way. Self help experts always say you should break down great goals into manageable steps, and there's something to that. Perhaps I haven't changed my life hugely this past year - there are elements that I wanted to change and haven't. But I have managed to accomplish some great things, and I am proud of that. Next year, I'll tackle some other goals, and maybe I'll nail some, and some will surely continue to slide. We'll see.

So, sayonara 2010. You weren't the worst year, and you weren't the best. But I got through you a stronger person, and I'm sure 2011 will be just as challenging. Not because I'm passively allowing things to happen to me, but because I'm looking for that hilly goat track off to the side that hopefully leads to the better view.

The knee high perspective

There's this amazing thing that happens when children in your sphere discover the process of conveying how they see the world to you. It may be in stories, in song, or in interpretive dance. More likely, though, I find that the advent of digital photography, and its attendant freedom from ordinary monetary cost associated with

usage (until your camera finds itself in pieces or in water) means that more and more children are turning into amateur shutterbugs.

My niece Natalie took possession of my camera over Memorial Weekend, and I utterly forgot to look into what she had done with it. Instead, I continued to take my own photos once I regained possession, and only discovered once I hooked it up to the mothership what an adventure she had gone on. It's fascinating to see what she finds worthy of interest, and from what I can tell, she REALLY loves my dogs. (To be honest, I was well aware of that for any number of reasons.) But in addition to revealing her sweetly obsessive interest in documenting the hijinks of my older dog Yukie, her photos are like a little love letter to those things she adores.* Her sister. The backyard. Her flip flops. The dogs. The ball thrower. The garden. Flowers.

It's a good list. I think we should each have one to remind us of the things that bring us happiness.

*To be fair, there were photos of her mom and me, which I have omitted to save the innocent. Also, her dad was away, or surely he would be represented as well.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming

The business of being a bridesmaid is an odd one. I've had two weddings in relatively short succession and been in both of them and they've been distinctly different experiences. There is something to be said for seeing your close friends go through that "wedding day transformation." It's interesting to see how someone you're used to seeing on a daily basis in relatively low key gear get whipped into princessness, much less undergo a similar transformation (though to a much lesser degree, and possibly under a certain degree of duress depending on your tolerance for being beautified). And though it's been fun, I'm happy to declare an ending to my wedding season.

This particular wedding was in Healdsburg, which is an area I've not been to before - and I would genuinely like to go back again. It is really gorgeous, and it seems like there are many adorable boutiques in the main square, including what appeared to be a quilting store. Intriguing!

In other news, I have rounded up a new series of recipes to handle. I am a big fan of the savory egg dish for dinner, and any opportunity to do so should be thoroughly encouraged. So when I found smittenkitchen's recipe for Spring Asparagus Pancetta Hash, I was immediately intrigued. This has led me to realize that I seriously need to master a faster method of dicing vegetables.

prepped - finally.

An hour or so later (okay, I exaggerate, but seriously, stupid potatoes took forever), I was finally ready to cook. Time for walkies for the pups!

mmmm....pork product.

After a pause to feed the puppers, phase II commences - I start the cooking. Note to self: need larger pan, as it took so long to brown the potatoes that we were approaching more of a "giant potato pancake" rather than all the diced potatoes I spend an hour on. See supra. Undaunted, I struggle valiantly on. Despite my best efforts, I proceed to both cook my yolks (grrr, I like them runny) and drop the remaining 6 eggs on the kitchen floor.

The product of my labors - at 10:00 pm.

Was it worth it?

Every bite.

enamored

I am completely infatuated.

Not with anyone, but with this blog I discovered through a backdoor link from another knitting blog - smittenkitchen.com. Honestly, if you're a decent photographer, you have such a jump on getting people sucked into what you talk about, and then if you happen to be talented to boot...my goodness.

Anyhow, so this site has a ton of interesting recipes, mostly adapted from other sources with the cook's twist. I am in love with it. It started with the Apple Cake.

Before

After

Ironically this stemmed from a strange little memory of going to the German Delicatessen over by Logan Square when the whole family got hauled along with my dad to his office on the weekend. It was such a crazy little place - you could get marzipan anything, all these little animals and vegetables, which my sister really liked, but I couldn't stand because I can't deal with marzipan. And then there were all the various sausages (well, it was a German deli after all), including the odd cured sausage shaped like a pretzel (why??), the bratwurst, the knockwurst, the head cheese, etc. Then they had the best chocolate Santas and Easter bunnies, and funny German taffy candies. I adored going there, but the crowds were nuts.

What I remembered at the moment that I came across that recipe was this German Apple Strudel my mum used to make. From a box. That we bought at the deli. I really enjoyed it, but, as my mum informed me when I brought it up, there were no real apples in it. Yeah, all we did was probably add oil or butter. Otherwise it was all dried/preserved/artificial. But in my head it was delicious.

Regardless, here was an opportunity to recapture my youth. Oh sure, I could go and try to google the box mix, but honestly. Better to at least use real apples, right? Anyhow, it was a resounding success despite the inexplicable loss of my tube pan. I swear I had one, but evidently not anymore. Nevertheless, yum! I let it sit outside for about 36 hours, and then started refrigerating it. Leaving it out helped the apple juices soak in, making it a moister cake as opposed to a drier coffee cake. The biggest danger, of course, is to keep from eating it all. My friend, who I swiftly corrupted into making it as well, was not so lucky when making it for her husband and sister, and proceeded to devour her version over the weekend with her accomplices - a distinct risk.

So since trying the Apple Cake, I have since made the Jacked-Up Banana Bread (unjacked, frankly, because I don't have bourbon, and there was no way I was going to buy it just for a quick bread), and tonight, the Shakshuka, which is allegedly poached eggs in spicy tomato sauce to be served with warm pita bread. Despite using the increased pepper dosage (Anaheims, not Jalapenos) mine turned out not-so-poached, and not-so-spicy. Also, forgot to buy the feta. OK, so in other words I completely botched it - it's really just eggs in a tomato-pepper stew. Not bad, but not exotic either.

Oh man, shakshuka.

So next time - I have a bunch of knitting to share. Plenty of FOs, including the wedding shawls (one for the bride, and one for me), and Mama socks. Also, the world's most ineptly sized sock for my dad. Yeah, he's going to have to wait for that one.

multiplying

Lately I have these incidents where I see things and think, oh, that would make a good post, but then find myself handicapped by an inability to remember it by the time I get home. You see, in an effort to maintain proper distance between my workplace (not an appropriate blogging location) and anywhere else (blogging-friendly locale), I have concluded that this is why people twitter. But also it has made me contemplate that this is how people start to/continue to lose that filter between brain and mouth, or in this case, fingertips. It's important, really, to remember that not everything you find remarkable (in its most pure form, meaning worth of remarking about) actually is. I find that many problems can be traced to that same root - that people frequently fail to pause and consider whether what they are about to say is important, appropriate, or adds value. Along the same lines, it makes me wonder if saying someone is calculating is really the pejorative that people automatically think it is. Perhaps it is just noting that someone takes the time to calculate the weight of their words - which is not such a bad thing.

Ahem. That was random - sorry.

Now to completely fly in the face of the above, I will return to the original purpose of this post, which was to wonder if there is some new trend in the world regarding bikes with strangely high handlebars. I wish I had a picture - I will try to remember to take one later on - but there has been a bike for some time in my garage with these crazy high handlebars. They start in the same place as normal ones, but then after they split into the right and left sides they extend for at least 1.5 feet before terminating in handles. At first there was only the one, but today I noticed for the first time a second one. They're multiplying! My thought is that they must be more ergonomically friendly or something, but isn't that what those odd reclining bikes are for? Maybe this is the cheap man's version. Despite this, I have never actually seen one in use, so I can't tell.

teal time

a lone monkey sock

in Dream in Color Smooshy Sock yarn

US 2 needles (DPN)

I have been distinctly delinquent in blogging, mostly because I couldn't be bothered to take appropriate pictures. Also, because evidently I need to use a tripod, as I appear to continually have the shakes based on the number of out of focus photos I take. However, crafting has been proceeding prodigiously, which means I have all sorts of FOs to share but have not documented. That said, there have certainly been sightings of various items in their native habitats. To wit:

- My first pair of socks emerged from the needles sometime last week, rising from the ashes of marathon Olympic ice skating viewing. Question: since when have all the men skated with gloves on? I don't remember this trend.

- I finally finished weaving in the ends of the Wave and Ripple Kimono Jacket, also mysteriously the second of no less than three different pieces incorporating teal yarn. How odd. The jacket debuted itself both at Stitches West (annual mecca of fiber - to be reported on later) and at the office and garnered its first confirmed knitter's praise.

- And above, the first Monkey sock was born (to date, still no explanation for why it's called a monkey sock), which is earmarked for my mother. Once I figured out the pattern, it actually fairly flew off the needles. I am hoping it is not too big. According to her measurements, it should work, but they may end up coming quite a bit higher on her than expected, as she is a bit shorter. We'll see. They are even remotely loose on me. I am thinking that if I do this pattern again I will size down my needles.

So the current sock count is 3. I can now say that I have no real allegiance one way or another in terms of toe up/cuff down. Surprisingly the kitchener stitch graft at the toe of the cuff down sock was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be, and looks rather nice. Also, the gusset heel was similarly unnecessarily dreaded. Eh, I guess this means I am more versatile and have expanded my skill set. ~excellent~ (in Mr. Burns' tone)

Also, my devious plan to recruit various victims for my hobbies is succeeding beyond all expectation. Have managed to seduce two people into signing up for the same half marathon, woo another into running with me while I train, and suckered my sister into joining the sock knitting craze. Ah, nothing like practicing my persuasive abilities...

tiny milestones

I was in a piss-poor mood last night due to a complete re-jiggering of plans based on an unexpected work project in the afternoon. The bright side is that I was able to reschedule the entrelac class I'm taking to Saturday (although with a cost/penalty...understandable on the shop's part, but grrr in general).

However, this morning I was pleasantly surprised and pleased to discover this:

that's right, so cool the stuffed dog toys are staring

On a whim, when it was pouring buckets a couple weeks ago I pulled out from my trunk (the one that things are sadly consigned to when they're the stuff of long ago dreams) my old college lacrosse track pants. I did not try them on, having looked at them and scoffed at their perceived circumference and thinking about the fact that it's my 10 year reunion this spring, and consequently stuffed them on a shelf.

Scene: It's early morning. Bleary eyed, the protaganist notes that it's raining. Again. But the protaganist needs to walk the furry fiends. She goes to grabaround on shelf, and pulls out track pants.

Me: "Oh, what the hell."

*pulls on*

Me: "Huh."

*does happy dance*

end scene.

***

a fledgling's attempt

It's a new leaf again - there was the defunct effort at an iWeb blog for a bit when I first moved out to San Francisco from Chicago, and there was long, long ago, my LJ account (still up, and still used sporadically to keep in touch with basically one web friend). As I re-engage with my own life, I think it's a worthwhile effort to attempt to record it. So here we are.

This year I will turn 30. It sounds like such a milestone, which is odd, because it's not like I feel any real social pressure to do anything "typical," like get married, or have a child, or even get into a committed relationship. What I did feel, at the end of last year, was that it was the right time for me to work on being happier with where I am. To feel less like I was at the whim of the stresses of my day job and do something about un-defining myself by it. To regain control by taking charge of my health, my hobbies, my habits. What is amazing to me is that it wasn't an empty effort, and I think I've done a pretty good job so far.

Thus, the manifesto. This blog will be about, in theory, my adventures in exploring my crafty, creative side, the one that helps me regain my sanity from my alterna-ego. So be prepared to be inundated with more detail than you ever cared about regarding my knitting, my nascent sewing efforts, my dogs, my cooking, and evidently, the new efforts I'm making at becoming a runner. And whatever else my brain comes up with.

******

Enough background then. To celebrate: here is a shot of the roasted brussel sprouts I rustled up tonight.

behold, my sproutyness

Nothing too fancy - rinsed, halved, tossed with olive oil, sea salt and black pepper for 45 minutes at 375 degrees. Easy-peasy. I love roasting vegetables. It's such a painless, simple way to get a deeper flavor out of winter veggies.

I am also in the process of working up a Noro striped scarf, inspired by my sister, via brooklyntweed's blog (http://brooklyntweed.blogspot.com/2007/04/noro-scarf.html). The major challenge would be trying to come up with harmonious colorways based on vague descriptions when ordering the yarn online. They seemed so...cheery and different.

noro, all easter-y for some reason

Sadly, my colorways started approaching one another in two spots, which suspiciously came close to pooling, but which I have decided to interpret as an ombre instead.

yeah, I'm not sure how this is all going to work out.

Regardless, it's a lovely simple project that is happily mindless, which is a nice break from the cable-filled pieces I've been churning out lately. It's my first time working with Noro (Silk Garden), and I have to say, although I thought it seemed unpleasantly scratchy at first (far from the sweet, soft alpaca blends I've been working with lately), it has really grown on me. It's got a dryness that reminds me of linen, but it's more supple, probably due to the silk. Actually, what it's really made me do is start thinking about looking into a Habu-based project...perhaps the Kusha Kusha scarf? We'll see!