Wednesday, May 10, 2006

I live in San Francisco. I walk up the hill that looks like a movie backdrop behind my house and look at this. I pass stories woven in spray paint frozen on the sides of buildings, peaking out from the walls above street level, framing people moving about in the BAY windows, in their VICTORIAN houses and apartments. The first plant outside my kitchen window must be related to a palm. It's like a palm tree on a stick, next to some vine, next to some fruit tree, next to the evergreen. There is a bus stop outside my bedroom window and in the morning I'm woken by the sounds of 8-10 kids yelling at each other, running, and kicking random things around. It seems that is it a constant game with no rules, no discernable object, just the yelling and sounds like they are kicking something.

And then I go to an office for approximately 8 hours of a day. This is foreign to me. Everyone says that I'm a workaholic but being at Vera never felt like I as "AT WORK." Yeah, I was working, always (or chatting), and it felt like work but it didn't have the quiet drone that sits over a room filled with people all quietly typing and talking, and playing their music inaudibly. It is a cool office with brick and glass and transparent walls. But still there is the drone, the typing, the inaudible music. I'm adjusting.

And I'm surrounded by some of the smartest and most savvy people I've ever met. Last night I had the pleasure of going out for a few hours with four incredible woman and guess what we talked about? Politics and movement building. Yes, these things are our jobs. Yes, we think all day long about them. But to sit down and break shit down with smart, good communicators and think critically about strategies in general, our own strategies, etc felt momentous. I don't know why it doesn't happen more often, but whatever, I'm just glad it did.

Been feeling dizzy a lot lately. Trying to kick the caffiene habit while simultaneously wrap my brain around how to be an effective organizer and be swimming in newness. It feels like a visit, this move. It feels like a piece of me hasn't arrived yet.


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