My favorite coffee shop
As promised, here is my favorite coffee shop, Equator, getting its own post.
Equator
22 Mills Pl (at Colorado Blvd)
(626) 564-8656
The sculpture and menus at Equator
The first time I came to Equator I was 17 years old and an exchange student in Pasadena. In school I had made friends with a Danish exchange student, Dina. Through an interesting coincidence, the first time I tried to call the phone number Dina had given me, I actually got a hold of a 27-year-old German girl, Julia, who didn't know anything about Dina but who was in town visiting her American boyfriend who I believe was a cameraman for the Real World. 27-year-old German Julia and I became friends, and she introduced me to Suzanne, a 23-year-old American living near Pasadena. And after Julia had already gone back to Germany, Suzanne took me to Equator for the first time. It was night time. I thought the place was cozy and cool. That night I saw this girl there that I thought was especially cozy and cool. I remember thinking at the time that she was probably about 20 years old, so a little older than I was. I assumed that she was a college student, but who knows, really. She was sitting at a table with another girl and they were talking and having hot beverages. She didn't seem particularly happy or excited. She didn't seem particularly sad or angry either, but I'm quite sure that there was a certain angst or discontent about her. She might have been complaining to her friend about something that happened to her recently. But I really don't know. What I do know is that she made quite the impression on me. More than twelve years later I still remember her. She had some kind of braided hair and was wearing a loosely fitting dress, maybe a cardigan, and, I think, boots. Remember, it was 1993 and still the Grunge era, so a good chunk of young subculture was dressed in dresses with boots. I liked wearing dresses with boots, and I liked this girl. She embodied for me the fantasy of the cool bohemian lifestyle. I assumed that she was smart. I assumed that she did a little going to school and a lot of talking to friends and having hot beverages. I assumed that if I was 20 years old and had her life, life would be pretty sweet.
I probably went to Equator a few more times between 1993 and 1998, but the next time that stands out in my memory was in the fall of 1998. I went there with my friend Steffen, a university exchange student from Germany. We were both attending Cal Poly Pomona at the time. My boyfriend of four years had just dumped me and I needed to be cheered up, and Steffen, I think, had a little crush on me. Pasadena was about a half-hour drive from Pomona but one Tuesday evening or whatever day it was, we decided to make that drive because it was worth it. I looked around at the paintings and the huge sculpture, the mismatched couches and the people and told Steffen about the first time I had come to Equator and how Pasadena was a great place. We then fantasized about living in Pasadena while still going to school in Pomona. We didn't like living in Pomona but living in Pasadena, that would be cool. We wondered how much more we would pay for rent. We also wondered what the commute to school would be like. In the end, neither of us ever lived in Pasadena while attending Cal Poly, but it was a nice thought that Tuesday evening or whatever day it was.
Me at Equator in 1998
Since the year 2000, I haven't lived within driving distance from Equator. But I have made it a habit to go there during every trip to Los Angeles. People sometimes ask me "What's in Pasadena?" And the answer is: Equator. Equator is there. And luckily, Equator is always the same. The couches are always worn in and mismatched; the sculptures and other art of celestial bodies are always there; the staff is always snooty and too cool to smile; the menu is always WAY up there. I always ask for one of their signature soup-bowl-like big round mugs, which I'm pretty sure were featured in the opening scene of the movie So I Married An Axe Murderer. And every time I'm there, I feel so good, just like all the other times. If my soul had a gas tank, going to Equator would be like filling it up at the gas station.
Me at Equator in 2005
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.: posted by Vera 
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The obligation of the college-educated to do white collar jobs only
Growing up I was often told that I was smart and that I was "good in school" and that I would be able to go to university so that I could do anything I wanted, especially things that pay well. But those people didn't really mean that I could "do anything I wanted." I was never told that I could be a maid, a carpenter, or a truck driver, for example. To "do anything I wanted" meant to become a doctor or lawyer or professor or psychologist. Or really anything else that involves sitting in an office and thinking a lot and being brainy.
Being college-educated, there are many professions that were automatically out of the question for me because they didn't require a college degree. If I had ever felt a strong desire to be a gardener or a hair stylist, those feelings would immediately have gotten suppressed by myself and the people around me because I was "too smart" for that or too educated. And I don't mean to say that gardeners or hair stylists aren't smart. I don't mean any of this in an arrogant, "I am better than that" way; I mean it in a self-limiting way. My education and intelligence have been limiting my imagination to white collar jobs only. Much like my elementary school classmates that had poor grades were limited by the school system to blue collar jobs and not allowed to go on to become, say, teachers or geologists, I have been limited by the same school system and society to focus on brainy professions. Both are like prisons; except one is a lot more golden than the other.
It takes some effort to break out of the white collar prison, but many feel a desire to do so. That guy from Office Space did it at the end of the movie when he leaves programming behind and starts working in construction. Amy Leblanc not long ago talked about wanting to be a ditch digger. Thousands flock to Burning Man every year to voluntarily do blue collar jobs, such as construction, cooking, cleaning, and carpenting, for a week, but few actually translate the joy they find in that to their lives outside of Burning Man. Many just go straight back to their high-paying white collar jobs they secretly despise.
Like Amy Leblanc and the guy from Office Space, I find myself enjoying blue collar work more and more. When I babysit Antti's sister's twins, I aslo do a little cleaning while she takes them for a walk. And the cleaning is like meditation; it's so relaxing, I love it. And I also like the feeling of really offering her something: When she comes back, like magic! the babies' lunch mess is gone, their toys put away and the floors clean.
And to take this blue collar thing to another level: I'm about to start doing the ultimate blue collar job. I'm about to go to cab school and become a licensed cab driver. After that I hope to drive a San Francisco taxicab one day a week or so, only during daytime. But wait! I'm a girl! I speak English! I have a college degree! I could even be making $60 an hour doing psychic sessions! But I don't want to be doing psychic sessions eight hours a day or even four hours a day. That would feel too much like work. I need a little balance in my life. I need a little driving around in the city, exploring the city. I have always LOVED exploring the city. I have also always liked giving people rides. Other people may like to cook for others or give them massages or buy them presents, and that's how they express their generosity. I have always been generous about giving rides. What if I could get paid for it? Even if I would get paid only $10 an hour, it would be worth it because I would be
- driving around the city
- getting to know the city even better, being able to put in some more puzzle pieces
- having a very flexible setting and schedule; driving a cab is pretty much like running your own business - no boss to look over you shoulder, and the scenery changes all the time!
- meeting all kinds of people, maybe even future clients
- being exposed to potential opportunities, who knows? I might meet a book publisher, a model agent, or a journalist who wants to write an article about a female cab driver. The possibilities are endless. (I love having articles written about me.)
I have been fantasizing about being a cab driver ever since I saw Andrew Shue do it on Melrose Place. Cab school starts next week.
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.: posted by Vera
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Charlottesville
I lived in Charlottesville, Virginia, between August 2000 and May 2002. I moved there after graduating from college because my boyfriend at the time was going to law school there. We both had intentions of moving back to Los Angeles after he graduated. The whole time I lived in Charlottesville I was looking forward to moving back to California. I was also looking forward to living in a bigger city again. So in a way Charlottesville was just this temporary small east coast town (east coast means there are actual seasons, oh no!) I had to endure.
But in another way Charlottesville gave me a lot. I discovered Flash there and launched my first meaningful and fulfilling career. And I met one of my best friends there. And there were lots of little things going on there that I really appreciated at the time. There were 33-year-old guys with mohawks and bands who acted like they were 18. There were beautiful old (Victorian?) houses. There were lots and lots of college age kids because of the big university there. The high school kids there were divided into all the necessary subcultures to make a whole: goths, punks, hippies, ravers, thriftstore whores, etc. There was a metaphysical bookstore. There was a soup place. There was a place called Oh Baby and lots of other little specialized retail stores that inspired me. There were also lots of specialized independent contractors and freelancers who inspired me. There was a 31-year-old male web designer, whom I never actually met, but whose website was full of butterflies and whose domain name contained the word 'sparkle', which inspired me to buy mediasparkles.com. I saw fire dancers for the first time there, and I had never even heard of Burning Man. There was a grocery store there where I could get German, Danish and Dutch groceries. There was a pizza place called Mellow Mushroom that had lots of mushroom decoration, perfect for ravers. There was an awesome coffee shop that also served pizza that seems to have closed (probably because Starbucks moved in too close) that was just one of those perfect coffee shops with a great atmosphere and comfy cushiony chairs.
I miss that coffee shop.
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.: posted by Vera
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My first painting
My first painting
Originally uploaded by Verabug.
My friend Tracy is an artist and she has a lot of art supplies. Yesterday she invited me over to her house to paint together. This is what I painted. In case you are wondering: They are flowers.
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.: posted by Vera
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People don't ask me what I do anymore
I strongly believe that the world each of us lives in is a reflection of each of our thoughts and beliefs. If you believe that people are good, people will be good to you. If you believe that people are mean, people will be mean to you. Etc.
I used to live in a world where everybody worked 9 to 5. That's just what everybody did. You had to have money so you had to work 9 to 5. If I saw somebody running out and about on, say Tuesday afternoon, I would think that they are taking a late lunch. It would never have occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, that person doesn't work on Tuesday afternoons. I would even have been tempted to ask "Aren't you supposed to be at work right now?" And I would have expected other people to wonder the same about me, if I was running around on Tuesday afternoons. Aren't you supposed to be at work right now? It's like when you see school children or teenagers running around at like 11am on Thursday. You know they're cutting class. It's kind of like that.
In that world, what you did for a living defined you. The question "What do you do?" was the most important and interesting question to ask. In fact, "What do you do?" was probably equivalent to "Who are you?"
Two and a half months ago I stopped working 9 to 5, thereby contradicting the assumption that everybody works 9 to 5. And now I am finding that the whole 9 to 5 world is crumbling all around me. It still exists out there for sure, but it seems that more and more I am surrounded by people who don't belong to that world. My world is no longer the 9 to 5 world.
It started during our Utah trip, just two weeks after quitting my job. We were staying at a Bed & Breakfast. Every morning breakfast was served for all the guests at one big table. So we got to talk to fellow Utah travelers several mornings in a row. And not one person ever asked another person "So what do you do?" I had no idea what any of them did for a living, and they had no idea what Antti and I did for a living. Sure, this could be that everybody was in vacation mode and didn't want to talk about work, but I personally think that it was the beginning of the old world starting to crumble around me.
Then, last week I was having lunch downtown with some friends. There I met a girl that I didn't know before and she asked me "So do you work around here?" I shook my head and started grinning. "No, I don't! Not at all!" She then proceeded to ask me if I lived in the city. She did NOT ask me well where did I work instead or what did I do.
And today I had a little plumbing problem. My toilet was clogged. Around 11am I decided to ask the woman who lives in the building next door, who I had met briefly recently, if she had a plunger I could borrow. She was home, at 11am on Tuesday, so she apparently does not believe in the "everybody works 9 to 5 world" or she would have been at work, and she did have a plunger for me to use. When I returned the plunger half an hour later, she noticed that I had changed my outfit. She said "You're all bright and cheery - where are you off to?" I said "To have lunch with some friends." She nodded. I love that she didn't ask me what I did. I love that she wasn't surprised that I wasn't at work at 11am on a Tuesday.
So it seems that people--even those that don't know me--kind of don't ask me those things anymore. They are not surprised by all the free time I have, and they don't define me by what I do. It's more like I am just a person now, and I am here talking to them. That's all they see, and that's all that matters. So as I have let go of the assumption that everybody, including myself, works 9 to 5, the people that I meet don't have that assumption about me either.
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.: posted by Vera
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Languages
My first language was German. I was always very interested in other languages, and I was also very good at learning them. One time I even made up my own language, complete with grammar rules and everything. I also declared at one point--I don't remember when, but I think I was under 15, maybe even under 10--that I want to learn at least eight different languages.
When I was 8 or so, my mom took some French classes in the evening. I begged her to take me with her, but she said it was for adults only.
When I was 10 and in fifth grade, I started learning Latin in school. A few years later I would grow to hate Latin and the fact that there aren't any people to speak it with, but at first I really liked it. It was, after all, a language. There were words to memorize, grammar and syntax rules to play with, sentences to construct, etc.
In seventh grade I started learning English. English VERY quickly became my favorite subject in school and I couldn't wait to do the homework every day. In seventh grade I also taught myself a little bit of Dutch by memorizing also the words I could pluck off of cereal boxes (German cereal boxes have all the nutrition information in several different languages).
In ninth grade I started learning French. French became my new favorite subject in school because it was new. I really like the beginning phases of a new language when all there is to do is memorization of words and rules. I start losing interest when you have to actually start writing essays and stuff in another language. That's not what learning a language is about to me. Learning a language is just about knowing how to say what you want to say. It's not about how to write a good essay. I think that's why for many years as a teen I dreamed about becoming a translator.
In ninth grade my dad and I also took a Dutch class together in the evening. I had been dreaming about learning Dutch for a while. But for some reason I didn't want to continue on to the advanced class. Maybe I didn't like the teacher or the weekly commitment, or maybe it was confusing to be learning two languages at the same time (Dutch and French).
After that I didn't learn any new languages for a while. I kind of gave up on the idea of knowing eight or more languages. I knew how many years it takes to get really fluent, and I also knew that the older you are the harder it is to learn a new language, so I kind of resigned to "only" knowing German, English and French, well, and some Latin and maybe some Dutch.
But in my junior year of college I knew somebody at work that was of Hispanic decent but he had been raised with English only. But he now spoke Spanish because he was married to someone who spoke Spanish. I was impressed. Somebody had become fluent in Spanish as an adult, just by being married to someone who speaks Spanish! I decided that one day I wanted to be in a relationship with somebody who speaks a language that I don't speak, so that I could learn it.
In my senior year of college I took a semester of Spanish. I now don't speak Spanish very well but I understand a lot of it because it's so similar to both French and Latin.
Also in college, I had a lot of friends who spoke Asian languages. They were bilingual, and so was I, but I always thought that their bilingualism was more impressive and more of an achievement because their languages had nothing in common with English and were even using different character sets, while my two main languages (German and English) have many similarities, including the alphabet. Really, all the languages I had ever studied are related to each other. They had all been Roman languages.
But. Many years later I am now learning another language again, and it is NOT Roman! It's NOT related to German or English or Latin, and there are almost no opportunities for guessing what a word means, except for maybe televisio or other more modern words. The language is
FINNISH.
And I'm learning it in the best possible way. Not only am I in a relationship with someone who speaks Finnish (just like I had wished for many years ago), but I am also babysitting two one-year-old babies who understand Finnish. I see these babies one or two days a week, and I am pretty much learning the language as they learn it. I'm learning about colors and animals, how to say "What is that?" and "That is a horse" and "Where is the cat?" I am so grateful for this awesome opportunity to learn Finnish from Antti and from the babies' books and their mother. This is language number SEVEN!
P.S.: I wrote about languages before, but I guess I'm slightly more optimistic now than I was then.
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.: posted by Vera
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Hot weekend
The trip to LA was awesome.
We started driving Thursday afternoon around 4 and spent the night in San Luis Obispo where we ate dinner at a place called Toshi's Sushi. This is awesome because one of my best friends' name is Toshi.
We arrived in LA on Friday around 11:30am and decided to drive right past it to Pasadena. The weather was perfectly gorgeous, and we ate lunch and carrot cake cheesecake at the Cheesecake Factory and then walked and shopped around the stores on Colorado Boulevard, which all culminated in the all-important visit to Equator*, one of my favorite places in the world. As a result, I now have a new favorite song - Noah's Ark by Coco Rosie. When we were all chai'd up, instead of going back to the westside, we kept driving east so that Antti could see some parts of Southern California he had never been to and so that I could indulge in some guilty pleasure memories: We visited the university I graduated from in 2000 and drove by the two places I lived while attending that university.
Then we drove west again to check in to our hotel and miraculously avoided any rush hour traffic. We thought we were staying at the Radisson in Culver City, but it turns out that we had a reservation at the Radisson right next to the airport, about three miles southwest from Culver City. Who knew that there are two Radissons within three miles from each other? At first we were bummed to be at the wrong Radisson, but that changed quickly when we found out that the wrong Radisson had two things the right Radisson didn't: The Southern California Linux Expo, which made for some awesome geekgasms, and a circular penthouse bar with a view, which made for an awesome game of pretend over cosmopolitans.
But that first night, we didn't stay at the Radisson long. Instead we headed to Santa Monica to have dinner at this Indian restaurant that I had been to once before, in 2000. Back then I had absolutely no patience or taste for Indian cuisine and hadn't liked the food AT ALL. I thought it smelled and tasted bad, and it was so spicy to me that I ate barely anything. Six years later, Indian food is pretty much my favorite, so I had to get a second opinion about this place. And it was pretty much like any other Indian restaurant I have been to: I loved the food, and it was spicy but definitely edible. Conclusion: My taste buds must have changed a lot.
After dinner we walked around the Santa Monica promenade, did some shopping and also a little visualization at the Barnes & Noble. What did we visualize? My books on the shelves of Barnes & Noble! Wouldn't it be grand? Yes, it would.
The next morning I discovered on Antti's laptop via an email that my friend Brent from Seattle, who I thought was unfortunately going to be in San Francisco this weekend, was actually going to be in San Francisco next weekend, and this weekend found himself in LA like me! We talked on the phone and schemed about hanging out. He was staying at his sister's in Anaheim but wanted to meet up with us in Santa Monica. But he actually never made it, so I didn't get to see him.
We were supposed to meet my friend Lyzz for brunch after she was done surfing, which she had said would be around 11:30/12. We went to the Beverly Center for some more shopping at 10, and by 11 we were pretty hungry so we called Lyzz to see where and when she wanted to meet. She hadn't even made it to the beach yet, so we had brunch without her. We went to Urth Caffe on Melrose because that place had been in my head ever since we decided to go to LA. A metaphysical bookstore was next door to it, so I thought that maybe I had to go to Urth Caffe so that I could buy a crystal ball next door, but the only crystal ball they had was $700, so that didn't happen.
About that crystal ball.
I had to get a crystal ball because I volunteered to do free crystal ball psychic readings at Circo Romani this week. Circo Romani is a gypsy dinner circus. When I saw the picture of the woman holding the crystal ball on their website, I got inspired to get involved and bring my own crystal ball to do readings. Some conversations happened last Thursday, and I am now scheduled to do crystal ball psychic readings this Thursday, Friday, and Sunday.
It couldn't be that hard to find a crystal ball, right? That's what I decided to find out this weekend in Los Angeles. And it's true--it's not that hard to find a crystal ball. If you have $700 or $1000 lying around. Ouch. At least that's the impression I got at places like Bodhi Tree Bookstore and the Aura Shop. But I didn't start panicking, oh no. I knew that I was going to find a "crystal ball" I can afford.
In the afternoon we went to Venice. After going into one place that looked like it might have something resembling a crystal ball lying around but didn't, Antti pointed at another place that looked like that--think buddha statues, wind chimes, dream catchers, etc.--but instead of looking in there I said "Why don't I just ask somebody." So I went to the jewelry counter of that place and said "Excuse me." A woman turned around and gave me a big and beautiful smile. I said "I'm looking for a crystal or glass ball, about this big. Do you know where I might find one?" She said "There is this guy who sells crystal on the boardwalk, but I think he left.." She turned 90 degrees and pointed at a guy carting away some boxes on a cart. "That's him right there! He is leaving for the day, but he sells crystals. You could ask him." I thanked her and ran after the guy. "Excuse me!" He stopped his cart and faced me. I said "Somebody told me that you have crystals. Do you have any crystal balls?" He said "Yes, let me show you" and started opening some of the boxes on his cart. I asked him what price range they were, and he said that he has some for $10 and for $30. I looked at them but they were kind of small. Then I saw an awesome big one, and it said $145 at its bottom. I said "This one is $145?" He said "Yes, but you can have it for $100." I think I got all pensive at that moment. Then he showed me one that was slightly smaller than the awesome big one, but MUCH bigger than the $30 one he had shown me in the beginning. I asked him how much that one was. He said $50. I gave him $50. Given how much bigger this one was than the $30 one and how close in size it was to the $145 one, I know that he gave me a great deal. And that, my friends, is the story of how I got my crystal ball. I think it's an awesome story.
Crystal ball
Originally uploaded by Verabug.
Lyzz and I talked on the phone several times while we were in Venice. It was about 3pm, and she was finally done surfing and ready to hang out. We met her at Venice Restaurant on Pacific and 18th. She ordered banana pancakes, but we just had something to drink because we had already eaten. As always, it was very entertaining to be with Lyzz.
Then we made the obligatory quick visit to Melrose Avenue, but there was nothing there for us, and we had to pee, so we decided to go to our restaurant of choice for the evening a little early. We went to Juliano's Raw, a restaurant that serves only raw food. The more raw food I eat, the more I love it. I am even thinking about taking a raw (un)cooking class. The food is always so flavorful and energizing. Juliano's was no exception--the food was fantastic, but the service was very slow.
After dinner, we went back to the hotel where we had the aforementioned game of pretend over cosmopolitans in the hotel's 360 degree penthouse bar. Antti pretended that he was a geek from Finland in the country for the first time to attend the Southern California Linux Expo. I pretended that I was a freelance Flash developer from San Francisco on my annual February trip to LA. (It's true, I go there every February: 2003, 2004, 2005.) And we both pretended that we were meeting for the first time. This guy sitting near us eavesdropped for a while, and I just know that when he saw us leave together a little later, he asked himself "How did that geek do it?" It was awesome.
The next morning we went to another one of my favorite coffee shops in the world: Insomnia. There we did a Tarot reading for Antti with my new Kalevala Tarot cards, a late anniversary present he had given me.
Then we made a little trip to Sherman Oaks to visit the Bank of America branch there because the Bank of America in Sherman Oaks plays a supporting role in a Bret Easton Ellis book Antti read recently. It was just very important that we go there, so we did.
After that we started our drive back up to San Francisco.
*Equator deserves its own post, which I promise to write very very soon.
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.: posted by Vera
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Upcoming trips
Antti and I are leaving in a few minutes to go to LA for a long weekend to find a crystal ball.
I also signed up for a ten-day meditation retreat in Northern California at the end of April.
Finally, on May 7 Antti and I are flying to Helsinki, Finland, to return on May 22. Inbetween, from May 11 to May 18, we will be in Germany, staying at my parents' and attending the ten-year reunion of my graduating class.
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.: posted by Vera
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What I really want
Yesterday morning I met my ex-roommate Joe at a coffee shop. It was awesome. We have always had such a strong relationship, and we continue to do so.
Joe told me something very important. He said that he gets something out of each person he gets to know. And what he got from me is the ability to go for what I want, no matter how impossible it seems. As an example he said that he was impressed by how I got the job at the company that makes Flash without a computer science degree, and how I am now pursuing this new career even though it's a very unusual path that a lot of skeptics don't agree with.
The cool thing about him saying that is that I thought that I didn't have this ability until I started opening up psychically because that allowed me to see more clearly the imaginary boundaries I and other people construct for ourselves to keep ourselves from doing what we really want to do.
But he is right, I have always gone for what I really wanted and usually gotten it. I then told him about a conversation I had with my dad in 1995 where we were talking about what I might do in college. Our conversation was focused on programs in Germany. But finally I stopped short and said to him "You know, what I REALLY want is to go to America. I want to go to college there." I had already won a greencard in the lottery a few months earlier, but still had all these imaginary boundaries about why I should stay in Germany. But when I expressed so clearly to my dad what I really wanted he said "Okay. Let's do it." He supported what I really wanted emotionally and financially, just as he would have supported me emotionally and financially if I had gone to college in Germany.
What I realized during this conversation with Joe is that WHAT we really WANT is what it's all about. And what I really want is to enable people to realize AND get what they really want. It's good to know that.
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.: posted by Vera
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Growing support
The other night, Antti and I were having dinner with two friends. At one point the conversation turned to Antti's brother, Ari, and how he is majoring in Finnish at university.
Friend: Ah, so he is going to become a teacher or a writer?
Me: He could be anything with that, really.
Antti: Yeah, like he could still be a psychic, for example.
Awwww.
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.: posted by Vera
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His name is Antti, by the way
My boyfriend will henceforth be referred to by his actual name, Antti. Today is the one year anniversary of our first date. On our first date, I picked him up and we went to a Russian restaurant and to a tea lounge afterwards. No hug, no kiss, but a very comfortable feeling.
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.: posted by Vera
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Psychic Valentine Button
If you like the idea of sending Psychic Valentines and want to let others know about it, it would be great if you can put a button on your website.
Just grab the button above, upload it to your server, and put a link to http://www.dragonflypsychic.com/valentine/ on it.
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.: posted by Vera
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