Bike to Work Day

A few months ago I had heard that Bike to Work Day was May 14. I told all roommates about it and had a poster hanging at work outside my cubicle. But when it came to May 13, everything inside of me did not want to ride to work the next day. I had ridden other places during my stay in Inglewood, but never to work.

The night before I couldn’t find my bike lock key so I didn’t think I was actually going to do it. But then the morning of the 14th I accidentally found it and so decided, gosh darnit, I had to do it; I had to walk the talk of a physical activity advocate in South LA.

So I did.

It was harrowing. That is the best word that comes to mind. I wore my helmet and pumped up my tires before I left. But right away, there were too many cars on every single street I went on. And not enough bike lanes (no bike lanes, actually). And I had way too little confidence.

I was going back and forth between being a car and a pedestrian (riding on the street and sidewalk), which I hate doing. I somehow managed to ride by a garbage truck at the exact moment it was dumping trash in the back and got a few pieces of debris flung at me.

I got to work in enough time. But when I went to unlock my bike to go home, I saw someone had tried stealing the front tire. It was detached from the frame, but still within the lock (good thing I locked all tires and frame together to a fence). I was shocked--this had never happened in all three years I had a bike in Azusa.

I made it home within the same time it takes on the bus. But to top the day off, I ended up a slight tan line where my helmet came on my forehead.

Other BIke to WorK DaY observations:

• A sign near my work that says, “NO CRUISING: Cruising is riding by the same place more than once within six hours.”
• Florence avenue has a bunch of really tiny cracks in it that makes a biker feel like they are riding a jack hammer when they ride over it.
• Garbage day is apparently Thursday
• I saw a young man driving along the most harrowing area of Florence, with what looked like grocery bags on his handle bars. No helmet. Changing lanes, turning with cars in the turn lane. I bet he didn't know it was bike to work day--probably just going to pick up some dinner for the night...
• Surprisingly a lot of people like to blare rap music at 8:00 in the morning.

"Shake n Bake"

Two earthquakes in the last two days. Both were centered just a mile from Inglewood (even though a lot of news stations are saying they were centered in Inglewood, they were actually in a small town “Lennox” just south of Inglewood). They were on the “Newport-Inglewood” fault line.

The one two days ago was 4.7. I heard it before I felt it. At first I thought a roommate Jay was dropping something upstairs, and then I thought he was falling down the stairs. My first thought was, “Omigosh, I hope he’s okay, we’re gonna have to go to the emergency room.” And then when the rumbling got so loud and the room started shaking with it, I figured it wasn’t Jay.

My other roomate PJ, his friend Lauren, and I were sitting around the kitchen table. We all looked at one another and were like “earthquake?” I got up and started heading toward a doorway when it stopped. I proceeded to embrace Lauren—someone I had barely met. It took me another few minutes to process what just happened.

The one today happened at work. I barely got to the cubicle aisle when it stopped. All my co-workers immediately started blaming the weather. My co-workers say it’s something about this time of year. The hotter it is, the more earthquakes there are, thus "Shake n Bake." A little bit of local wisdom there....

It really adds a new aspect to the oil field issue. There is a group of “radical” residents that would always, in a manner similar to screaming “fire” in a theater, claim “7.0 earthquake” at all hearings related to the oil fields. They were sure that the new water injection techniques used by the oil field near their home and near the Newport-Inglewood fault line were going to cause a 7.0. People would look down upon them because there isn’t much scientific proof of a definite linkage.

But, actually feeling a few lately—and how scary it is—I can really feel their fear in a new way.

Sights from Baldwin Hills

My latest Webshots album:

Sights from Baldwin Hills

North Fork

Our third intern retreat was last Thursday and Friday at a cabin in North Fork, California. Five hours north, between Fresno and Yosemite. We stayed in an amazing cabin with the finest craftmanship of everything I'd ever seen. The woods used on all the walls and cabinetry almost didn't seem like wood to me because I had never seen wood look so natural and beautiful.

There were no paper towels anywhere. All the bath tubs were the old fashioned kind with the feet. As we were eating dinner outside at sunset we saw flocks of bats leave the rafters--live bats, a first for me.

And this is the car I've been driving recently. 1993 Saturn. I learned stick shift on it at the request of my program director who wanted to sell the other car I had been using. This pictures was on the way back from our retreat. You can see we took some of the dirt roads with us.

Growing up and the working world

It's been 9 months since I started my first professional work experience. Below are some thoughts and experiences about work, working, and co-workers:

• Coworkers 10 years older than me are strangely at the same place in life as me. I realize the question "What next?" is life-long, not just specific to my age group and life stage.



• I notice how a lot of co-workers have side projects/jobs/passions. I think this is really great. It's a good example to me of how to stay active, keep one's mind going, and not become complacent or stagnant. One is opening a chain restaraunt, one teaches on the weekend and has a real estate license, another has an event planning business, and another is really invovled in Toastmasters.



• Recently a coworker asked me how I was doing, I told her "blah," and she told me "Welcome to becoming an adult." She said the same thing to me when I was having foot spasms. "Growing up is one of the least fun things you can do," she has said on another occasion.



• When I entered this year I really was interested in seeing how the "intentional community" would play out at home. But I really have noticed that my work place is just as much of a community as my homelife is. The shared space, the drama, the teasing, the conversations focusing on vocation, the arguments about whose dirty cubicle is attracting the cockroaches...



• I'm amazed at how much respect I get just from my affiliation with my organization's name. Just the name CHC gives credibility to whatever I say. I've never expereinced this before.



• I'm amazed how much people get paid for the work they do. It seems going to school is more work than a job is and you had to pay others an arm and a leg to do it. Now it seems you get back so much for doing less work. Maybe this sounds silly, but it's what my young eyes perceive...



• When I was a teenager I used to think adults were so very magically different. But judging from the drama, the personality clashes, and the ways of dealing with conflict that I see around me the past few months-- they are exactly the SAME! Even in the working world, it seems things still boil down to silly things like popularity...
• There is a certain politics around e-mails. Who is and is not included on certain e-mails. Who is in the "To:," the "CC:," and the "BCC." When to put everyone in the "BCC" (so that no one knows anyone else's contact info." Whether to push "reply" or "reply all." What business to take care of through e-mail, phone, or in-person (do I really need to type any letter to the person who sits in the cubicle next to me?" Etc., etc., etc.,

A great story

A story from "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho, translated and paraphrased by me:

A merchant sent his son to learn the Secret to Happiness from the wisest of all men. The boy traveled 40 days through the desert until he reached the beautiful mountaintop castle where the wiseman lived.


The boy found in the immense entry way tons of merchants and people conversing, a small orchestra playing their melodies, and a table covered in the most delicious dishes of tht region. The wiseman conversed with everyone and the boy had to wait 2 hours until the wiseman came to him.


The wiseman listened to the boy, but explained that at that moment he didn't have enough time to explain the Secret to Happiness and suggested that he return in two hours, meeting him at a different gate to the castle. But before the boy departed, the wiseman asked him a favor: he gave the boy a teaspoon with two drops of oil and asked the boy to guard the drops until he returned, not letting them fall.


The boy kept his eyes on the two drops of oil while he made his way to the new meeting place. The wiseman asked the boy: did you see the garden created by the master gardeners over the past decade and the Persian tapestries hanging in the hall and the beautiful parchments in my library?


The boy, ashamed, confessed he had not seen any of it. He was preoccupied with not letting fall the drops of oil the wiseman had entrusted to him.


The wiseman told him to go back, then, to see the wonders of the his palace.


The boy took another pass through the palace, taking notice this time at all the works of art, the gardens, the mountains, the delicacy of the flowers, etc. When he returned back to the wiseman, he was able to relate all the details of what he saw.


"But where are the two drops of oil that I trusted you with?" asked the wiseman.


The boy realized he had dropped them.


"Well this is the only advice I have to give you," said the wisest of all wiseman, "The secret to happiness is in being able to see all the wonders of the world, while not ever forgetting the two drops of oil in your teaspoon."


"El secreto de la felicidad esta en mirar todas las maravillas del mundo y no olvidarse nunca de las dos gotas de aceite de la cucharita."