Today, more than most days, I'm truly ashamed to be American. So much for being the Great Liberators...

It's actually hotter in SF than in Austin today. What's up with that? Apparently, most people are into it here, since it doesn't get warm that often. But it's giving me painful flashbacks of that time in Austin when you realize that each cool breeze you feel could be your last before the long, infernal Summer sets in. Fortunately, it's supposed to cool down again before the weekend, so I think I'm gonna be okay.

The NBA playoffs are in full swing and even in spite of the heat, I miss watching all the games at The Posse with my posse, a pitcher of cheap bear and a basket of cheese fries. All of a sudden I'm surrounded by Lakers fans. Very unsettling. At least I can get behind the Kings if they manage to knock out my Mavs. But I'm gonna go out on a limb here and call it for the Spurs again in '04. Are there any betters out there willing to say any different?

I've been working six days a week so, as you've probably guessed by now, I'm not having the easiest time coming up with new material for the blog. I'm pretty sure I can't handle this schedule for long, but at least it's allowed for some shorter days mid-week. C and I are headed to Golden Gate Park for a picnic and a stroll after work. I am loving the fact that it doesn't get dark until 8pm! And I have to say, NYC may be all cool and shit, but Central Park ain't got nothin' on Golden Gate Park. Boo yah.

It's not much of a secret that I have no sense of style. I'm what you might call a low-maintenance dresser. Traveling around South America with just 6 or so articles of clothing was ideal for me. I didn't have to worry about what matched or whether someone had seen me in the same outfit already that week. I had about 3 shirts and 3 bottoms to alternate between; just putting on whatever was "clean" I was always content. And I still pretty much operate like that . Come to think of it, I've always been this way.

When I was in kindergarten I was sent home once for wearing a little summer jumper in the dead of winter. It was a onepiece that had little straps that tied over the shoulders and pastel pinstripes on the pants. I adored it and it's all I ever wanted to wear. It's not my mom's fault, or rather, my nanny's (mom NEVER dressed me). It was the only way they could get me out of the house. I can only imagine my mom's embarassment and confusion when I came home one afternoon, note from the teacher pinned to my back, telling her that she needed to dress me appropriately for the weather.

Of course, this all ended after Christmas when I started having a new affair with my pretty new holiday party dress. It was all red and white fluff with a little bell hidden somewhere within the layers of skirt that would tinkle whenever I would go into a spinning frenzy. It was divine. And it became my new uniform. I would probably still be wearing it today if I could fit into it.

Then, in second grade, there were the three pairs of corduroy knickers I became addicted to. In warmer weather I'd pair them with sandals, and in the winter I'd wear them with my knee-high leather boots. Dreadful. There are, of course, pictures. I shudder evertime I think of them.

In highschool it was, of course, jeans. Paired alternately with my ratty grey wool sweater, my poncho, or a blazer if I was feeling stylish. In college, forget about it. Corduroys and whatever t-shirt I happened to pick up off the floor on my way out the door, covered in winter by a fleece...which I happen to be wearing today.

Which brings me to my point: Now that I actually want to have a decent wardrobe, I have absolutely no idea how to build one. I completely missed out on those formative years when the little kid that wanted to wear whatever Esprit top everyone else was wearing learns to express their individuality through their sense of style. I NEVER had parachute pants, or Jams, or Converse All-Stars. If I was ever allowed to follow a fad, it was always at the very end of it, when it was over and consequently on sale at bargain basement prices; which was decidedly uncool. So I guess I just gave up on the whole thing.

I think I may need to enlist some people in my own What-Not-to-Wear project. Otherwise, any pointers or tid-bits of fashion advice would be greatly appreciated from my oh-so-stylish readers.

Yesterday C and I spent the entire day in line at the DMV. We finally got around to registering the car in Cali and getting new drivers' licenses. I'll spare you the exciting details. The only thing I felt compelled to mention was that I have now, officially, changed my last name for the third time in the last 29 years. Hopefully it will be the last. I already got the new social security card, which was followed by a couple of weeks of complete identity crisis and wondering whether or not the guy was really worth it after all. But I finally came around and decided that I did, indeed, want to have a last name that is completely unpronouncable in English and practically unwriteable in any language. And now I'm finding myself in a goofy stage of practicing my new signature and being weirded out by/reveling in the sound of my first name butted up against this newest last name. So now it's official (weird). In exchange, of course, C is learning how to speak Thai. He's doing great and we start our next semester next week. So the next time you see him he'll be able to tell you all kinds of things like, "I like Thai food" or "I come from America" or "I like to eat fried fish."

New York, New York.
Back from NYC. A great time was had by all. It wasn't at all the chaotic, overwhelming, intimidating cesspool of humanity that I expected. And the only rat I saw was freeze-dried and on sale for $119. The best part of the trip was that Chris, Bryan and I stayed with Michael and it was like a slumber party every night. Other highlights...hanging with the Drew, cupcakes at Magnolia, The Met, a surprise Glenn Tillbrook concert, Central Park, and walking across the Brooklyn Bridge at sunset. Oh yeah, and another great part of the trip was that when it was all over I got to come home to San Francisco, which rocks. Life is good.