I don't really understand how there can possibly be a need for substance abuse counselors in California. It seems to me that, if there's someone you want to cure of substance abuse, the first thing to do is to get them the hell out of California.
If you're going
to San-Fran-cisco,
be sure to wear
two glowsticks and a tiara in your tie-dyed hair.
I hate youth unemployment, because it means seeing absurd ads for useless education, and also because it means that, if I go to a bar and meet someone, I can't ask him "so, what do you do?" as a way to open conversation; so many people are out of work that it's a dangerous question.
If I have to deal with this, I'd at least like a revolution. From what I've seen of the entries for the Leica reportage award, a revolution is like a continuous Kodak moment, or Leica moment, I suppose.
I got in an argument on Friday or Saturday about the perishability or non-perishability of calendars.
"I need to get up early."
"Why?"
"Because the Post Office closes early on Saturday, at like, noon or something."
"You have to mail something?"
"Yeah."
"Just mail it on Monday."
"I need to send it soon, though. Plus, the Post Office is crowded on Mondays and I hate standing in line."
"It it perishable?"
"It's a calendar, so it's perishable, in a way."
"What, it's going to mold or something? Little mice are going to eat it?"
"It's perishable in the way that--it's a 2012 calendar, so the later I send it out, the less use he'll get out of it. If I waited till December 31st, and sent it to him, it'd be totally useless to him."
"That's true. And it's already February. Was it for Christmas?"
"Yeah."
I went to a party on Friday with Stanford people; I hadn't intentionally met anyone from Stanford since graduating. The only Stanford people from my undergraduate years I run into are LDS men who were in my class year but took two years off to go on their Missions and are therefore graduating this year, rather than having graduated in 2010. I'll see one on campus once every few months. By and large, they're quite tolerable.
The party was a "Groundhog's Day Soiree." It was in celebration of someone's leaving for New York to get a Ph.D. in Acoustics. I was worried, because in the invitation, he mentioned he would be debuting his first home-brewed beer at the party. I'd heard many accounts of home-brewed wines turning out disastrously, and brewing beer is much more difficult. I almost didn't go, but then I remembered he was a germaphobe, which reassured me. The beer was fine. He had bottled it, and all the bottle caps popped up properly when the bottles were opened.
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