A little culprit with a big appetite has made a home in my basil plants. I haven't found the voracious eater yet, but if he's planning on continuing in the vein of his comrade documented in print, I may have to perform a forced relocation.
I know I'm not the only one disappointed by Obama's recent decisions (supporting the telecommunications bill, forgoing public funding). In fact, it's probably easier for me to deal with what some see as his sudden change in direction: I wasn't one of his ardent supporters during his primary campaigns. I voted for Clinton and remained a Clinton supporter throughout the entire primary, not because I didn't recognize her downfalls, bad decisions, and political game playings, but because nothing about Obama counteracted her positive points enough to pull me to his side. People tried to convince me, but unfortunately his speeches and message did nothing to inspire me nor give me enough hope.
But after he won I did remain hopeful that he would turn into that next great president that so many believe he could be. And I certainly never thought that those hopes would be squashed so quickly. I don't know how anybody could not turn into a "politician" within the U.S. political sphere, but I thought he was stronger; I thought he would hold out longer, at least through the presidential election, before acquiescing to political spin and bad decisions made in the name of image.
The worst is that now I know in November I'll be going into my ballot box to cast my vote between "two evils"... again. Although I supported Clinton, I was excited about both candidates. Come November I was planning on voting for Obama with pride. Will I still vote for him? Pending some drastic change, yes. But unless he explains his recent decisions in a way that reinstates my belief in him then I won't do so with any sort of pride. I will vote for him only because he's not McCain.
Due to concern for pollution (and, admittedly, gas prices) I often take the bus to work. And while I enjoy being able to converse with the day laborers, gardeners, and housekeepers of Malibu today I had another, more fun, reason to appreciate public transportation: a band. As I was walking from one bus to another I almost walked past, but then stopped and listened and danced to a band that was playing on Santa Monica Blvd. right by 3rd Street. From the comments on their myspace page they seem to be regulars, but I'm trying to avoid consumer culture these days and am not a regular patron of the Promenade. Hence, if I'd been driving as opposed to taking the bus I would have completely missed them. They had a large crowd (probably about fifty people) that had stopped what they were doing and were listening to them and, in some cases, dancing.
The band, John David Rushton's Content Life, is made up of four people: John Rushton on guitar and vocals, a Salvadoran called Mauricio Hernandez playing a djembe and singing backup, and two guys that looked like they were homeless (I apologize if they aren't) and had been pulled off the street to play along: one was wearing chains around his angles that jingled when he stomped and held a chunk of chains in his hands which he used like a less precise shaker, and the other had a tambourine. I bought their album, which is good, although I think they're better in person. There's something especially about those chains that adds a unique sound, whereas the album is only John Rushton singing with his guitar.
But mainly I was just impressed that they drew such a crowd, that they got people to dance, and that people were continuously dropping cash into their jar and buying CDs. I've never seen a street band be that successful. It was pretty amazing. And they deserved it.
I recently read this and thought it was extremely interesting. One of my possible post college plans had included the Peace Corps, but I never followed it through because I was afraid of being "that" American: the one that crusades around the world trying to fix problems that we actually are, at least partially, at fault for creating. So I didn't. And after reading the intro to Alternatives to the Peace Corps, I'm quite happy that I chose not to. I'm sure it would have been an awesome learning experience, but especially considering the continuing events coming from our superiors, I'm happy not to be even more associated with the U.S.'s foreign policy.
I was recently invited to become a guest blogger on BlakeMakes, and my first post went up today. Look for me on every second Wednesday of the month, and I promise not all recipes will include a cup of shortening.
I'm performing!
I wrote a short piece for the most recent issue of Robb Report's Vacation Homes. The section, dubbed Groundfloor, tends to be about new developments in previously undeveloped areas that provide rich and high profile people with exclusivity, while the developers and customers rationalize their venture with thought that the indigenous peoples now have jobs. Kealanani, however, seems a bit different. Firstly, the developers know Hawaii: its history and its current condition. And secondly, they're going out of their way to provide low income housing on the development. That last tidbit was not included in the piece for VH, which you can read here.
My apartment mate, Katie, dug this calendar out of her room recently. She'd bought it as a lark, on sale, after Rudy was already out of the race.
And it should serve as a lesson to anyone considering a presidential run: a calendar countdown to your victory is never a good idea. That is, unless you do in fact win.
Maybe he was trying to reach out to the black vote?
Rudy... Set... Then wait for all the other candidates to win a few primaries.
The first heat of the year came through today. It was one of those days where the hotness just pounds you and all you want to do is sleep. I'm not sure if it's the dramatic change from yesterday, or just that it's genuinely hot. Either way, the best part came after sundown, as the day cooled down, when I sat on my balcony next to my potted herb garden with a glass of wine and my current novel. 
Today I drove down to La Jolla and back again. The trip was work related, but I found the time to stop by the Torrey Pine Glideport and have since decided that I need to learn to hang glide. These photos are actually of people para gliding, but you get the picture.
