musings
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Wild foodstuffs of Pacific Heights
I’ve always been kind of sensitive to things being out of place (I chalk it up to having a neat freak Asian mom, but maybe it’s just my nature). It’s useful when I’m editing for mistakes in a musical score (I’ll write a whole blog post on that some time) but less so when I’m rearranging leggings at Costco because they’ve mixed in some navy with the black ones. So lately I’ve been trying to use this proclivity of mine, not to judge my environment but to use as a tool to be more aware of the little moments of wonder I might be missing in the world around me.…
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Ode to my Step-thru Pedego City Commuter: Black Edition
O Pedego City Commuter, how I loved thee. I rode you everywhere, from Ocean Beach to the Ferry Plaza to Marin. Your five levels of Pedal Assist whizzed me up many a San Francisco Hill, while your slightly squeaky brakes kept me from hurtling too quickly down said hills. You were a constant companion for weekends gliding through Golden Gate Park or late night returns from dinner parties. You held water bottles, extra hoodies and most importantly, Pinkerton in your fetching basket. You were the epitome of green commuting and California living. To the asshole who stole you out of our garage; Fuck you. The battery wasn’t in it. Good…
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It doesn’t look like anything to me
Those of you who are fans of the HBO series Westworld will recognized this quote as a running theme through the show. It’s the reflexive response of the “hosts” (robots) whenever they encounter something that their programming can’t possible comprehend. In a larger sense it’s a reaction borne of a limited, strictly prescribed perspective of a larger reality. This got me thinking about the Buddhist concept of dharma, or reality-as-it-is; Buddhist philosophy is based on the concept that human suffering arises from the disparity between a person’s view of reality and the actual state of things. I’m often made aware of how my own perspective colors and creates my own…