So the new 24 season is upon us. Well, sort of. I don't think it actually starts until January, but it's never too early for FOX to start running promos! And of course, a month and a half is close enough to the new season to run the  prequel-teaser "jack is back and ready for more action" movie-thing. I mean, give voracious fans just two hours of what they've been dying for since the last season left them hanging (did it? I can't remember, actually. Season six was so forgetfully bad, I can't remember the conclusion off the top of my head), then leave them hanging yet again. You never know...maybe they'll get so desperate they'll actually buy the DVD of the movie that FOX was so shamelessly promoting throughout the entire movie itself. You never know.

As for me...eh. I was admittedly a bona fide 24 addict through the first several seasons--though I'll stop short of saying I was a fan. I was well aware of any and all bad acting, cheesy writing, over-dramatic plot devices, and shameless pandering to our right-leaning hawkish American countrymen, but the overall package was just so damn exciting that I, the cynic, could actually overlook all that. We'll say 24 was my soap opera of choice. But, as with most things, it just got too stupid for me to handle.

Enter the movie, 24:Redemption and season seven, which I'm hearing is supposed to be more of a "return to the glory days" of the show. I guess Jack isn't the only one looking for a little redemption. For those that didn't see the movie or its (many) promos, Jack is out to save some kids (Jack Bauer voice: "these are innocent children!!") in a made-up African country from being kidnapped and recruited into a rebel army. Intrigue? Yes. Violence? Of course. Guns and mines and rocket launchers and sticks of dynamite? Naturally. And of course the gimmicky countdown clock. But what this had that previous incarnations of the show lacked was an overarching sense of realism and impending doom. Jack may save a few, but the overall picture is a war-torn poor-ass country where lots and lots of people will inevitably die. People running through the streets with their whole lives in a napsack, trying to escape from their home. Men and women swarming the gates of the US Embassy, while the US is evacuating it--talk about invoking historical imagery. And of course the ideological debate about whether the US should even be involved in such matters.

I guess when it comes down to it, I used to like 24 for the escapism. Something I could watch for an hour or ten just to be excited for that time. It could end, and I could scoff at the sensationalism of it all, or I could cheer because Jack saved the day. This movie thing had about the saddest imagery an "adventure" show could ever conjure up. It wasn't unlike those ER special episodes where Noah Wyle goes to Africa for Doctors Without Borders. It's not often a TV show punches you in the gut and just leaves you on the floor gasping for air. And it's hard for me to roll my eyes at a show between convulsions.

I don't know what this means for the new season of the show. Jack gets in trouble with the law (not again!), an old cast member returns (I'll probably watch it based on that plot point alone) and the new female president has a foxy son who will undoubtedly get into some lame Kim Bauer-like exploits. Sounds formulaic enough, but if gut-busting depressing realism is what they're going for, I may not make it through the season.

PS - Conservative-types may still like it though, because there was a UN guy in the story and he was a WEENIE.

What am I doing here? Seriously, I have come to the conclusion that the Great State of California is highly, highly overrated. Sure, it's got the ocean, population diversity, and wonderful and bizarre San Francisco. But step outside the City and you're left with unattractive open spaces (blech, Interstate 5), bad tans and dye jobs, weird politics and the Governator. Come on folks, what's to love?

Heck, I would dispute greatness even inside the City. On the plus side, we've got smiling faces, a lovely sense of community, great scenery with interesting history and a wide selection of unbeatable ice cream. But on the other hand, you never know when those smiling faces are actually crazy faces, the sense of community sometimes gives way to fear of criminals, the scenery might fall/burn down when the big one hits, and the ice cream is expensive. And it makes you fat.

But the worst thing, the absolute most criminal thing, is that a majority of Californians who I talk to (and I think this includes my loved ones) think there's nothing better beyond these borders. This mentality never fails to raise one of my WTF eyebrows. Seriously, what is it about this state that makes people believe, deeply and truly, that there is no greater quality of life elsewhere in the states? It's an all too common exchange. I say "I think I want to move back to Arizona," and the response is almost always inevitably, "you think it's better than here?"

Is it too much to comprehend that I'm not taken in by your oversized state with the breathtaking coastlines and even more breathtaking smog problem? Can you not understand that, despite the fact that I enjoy SF's progressive politics and conservation-oriented lifestyles, I can live a similar (if not identical) way of life in another place?

I finally have a tight group of friends here. We aren't bffs or anything, but it's nice to have a posse I can count on to hang with on a regular basis. We laugh a lot and party time is always around the corner. They're youthful and fun and never too serious. I'll miss them when I bug the hell out of here. I hope we can all keep in touch, and that they don't take offense when I say their state isn't all it's cracked up to be.

So the declaration is this: I'm leaving. I don't know when. I don't even have a rough idea of how long it's going to take. But I AM leaving and when I do I will be glad. I won't miss it. I like the urban adventure in the City on good days. I feel that it's a soulless pit on bad days.

Consider this a pre-good bye, San Francisco. I regret to inform you this won't be a long-term relationship. I will try my best not to use and abuse you on my way out as many people do. I'll be respectful and a good citizen for as long as I can, and then it's toodle-loo.

I know this doesn't really mean anything. I am, for now, still a San Franciscan. But it's nice to get this off my chest and out in the open. Consider it the start of the long voyage home.

PS - I would like to thank Calexico for rocking the house last night and making me homesick enough to finally say long-plagued pity-party self, "enough is enough."
PPS  - I still have the hots for Jacob Valenzuela.

So for whatever reason, I seem to have abandonned this thing again. And most other social networking sites I was once involved in. And kind of the phone too. It's funny, when I have things to do (like, mainly, finish a degree and get the hell out of school) I'm all about the Internet. On the flip side, when my life is empty and unsatisfying and little more than unrecycled polystyrene products washing out to sea (no, I'm not being too harsh. It's that post-graduation funk again), I really don't put much care or effort into tending my social life.

I guess I'm a creature who just thrives on procrastination, huh?

Only problem with that is when I more or less cut off contact, things tend to get bottled up inside and come spewing out in an incoherent mess. Kind of like this:

God I hate that Sarah Palin woman and her hicktown hatred of and lashing out at righeous liberal Democrats I really want a better low light lens for my camera and I know I'd be more than happy with Canon's low-end 50mm f/1.8 but I just don't know if I should put any more money on my credit card we're moving back to the Avenues in November and I know I should be happy with our new place being that it's cheaper and in a more happening part of town but I just can't get over the feeling that we hurt our really nice landlords' feelings after all the help they've given us maybe we can still be friends I really want to go to my aunt's bachelorette party at the end of the month but I'm going to the bridal shower this weekend and the wedding in early October and is three trips to LA in two months just too much but hey if I'm willing to shell out that much on plane tickets maybe I should just get the freaking camera lens and by the way speaking of things i want i kind really want this or this or maybe even this or this and i've been waiting for the hot weather in san francisco for an awful long time now and now that it's finally here i'm spending it all sick feeling because my allergies won't stop ruining me and cover letters cover letters i hate writing them but i know it needs to be done but everytime i clear my head and get set to write I just can't shake this feeling of how mad Republicans make me.

How mad? The answer tends to vary based on the specific incident to which I'm referencing, but in general I would say pretty darn mad.

Blah. I have things to do. Obviously. Because I'm posting this.

I'm sorry...that could possibly have been the lamest episode of Scrubs I have ever seen. I forced chuckles maybe once. The rest of it was furrowed brow-gaping mouth-"what the F are they doing?" bewilderment.

The Office was enjoyable, though in the long run, probably forgettable. And I think Jared has the same shirt Michael was wearing.

Not the best night for TV. I should find other things to look forward to. I just like watching it. So. Much.

So it used to be all about the Ritz crackers. They are overwhelmingly delicious with just about anything on them. Also delicious plain--I could eat my way through a whole tube of them in about five minutes.

I got this really great block of Irish cheese from Costco a bit ago (lucky for us it's incredibly sharp and delicious cheese...since it's from Costco, you know it has to be ginormous) but I didn't have any Ritz to eat it with. Nor did I have any crusty French or sourdough bread, another great cheese partner. My saltines were tasting a little stale, so I tried the cheese on a piece of apple. And it was OMG awesome.

Then the other day I wanted some peanut butter, but not on a sandwich. Sadly, my cracker situation hadn't changed. So I tried...apple. Also awesome.

I wanted some baby bananas this morning so I got some. Now I want a snack, but I think I want apples with cheese. But I just bought the bananas. Suckage.

I know it's nothing revolutionary or particularly innovative, but apples slices with things on them is like my new thing. Because it's oh-so-good. And I just thought I'd let everyone on the internet know this.

When I signed onto LiveJournal just now, it asked me to describe life in a perfect world. I guess this feature, called "writer's block," is designed to help out people who have blogs, but not the creativity to come up with blogging topics. Though I have so much creativity I can barely contain it (right) I decided to bite on this one, since it fits a bit with what I signed on to say.

So in a perfect world I wouldn't have a ton of hangups every time I saw something I wanted to buy. Here I am in the ____ store, and I see an item I like. Nay, an item I want. Badly. But do I up and take it to the register?

No. I stare at it for a long time. I try to picture it in my house. I compare the price to similar items that aren't as nice; then I compare the price to nicer items, but ones that I might not necessarily want. Then I'll compare the price to completely unrelated items. "Gee, this would be great, but I could get like three_____s for the price of this one ____."

I usually end up leaving the store without my desired item in tow. Such was the sad case today, when Jared and I went discount furniture hunting in the Mission. After browsing a variety of nameless cluttered used and new furniture outlets that all seemed to be selling the same bizarre 80s bedroom sets, we ventured into the second floor overflow room of a shop near 16th and Mission. We took about ten hunched-over steps in the ridiculously low-ceilinged place and were ready to leave when it suddenly and unexpectedly caught my eye: The solution to our tiny kitchen woes!

While I've been the proponent of keeping Jared's Wal-Mart compact kitchen table and chair set (he was ready to ditch it the moment the mover unloaded it), I mostly wanted it for the sake of having a kitchen table and not having to look for a new one that will actually fit in the space. What I stumbled on today wasn't so much a table with chairs, but a small kitchen island with a fold-out leaf and portable stools.

"Early to bed, early to rise" never has been my thing. The only way I can rise and feel at 100% for the first couple hours of the day is if I do so naturally. And that tends to never happen early, since I'm always missing that oh-so-integral first part of the saying.

With that on the table, I can't often start my weekday mornings by sleeping in. I'm accustomed to a variety of wake-up methods, all of which have their varying levels of misery. Let's make a list!

least miserable: the quiet rustling sounds Jared makes as he stumbles around in the morning getting ready for work. It's just enough to get me out of deep-sleep mode, though sometimes I'll fall back into dreamland for as much as an hour after he leaves the house.

not quite miserable: the wake up call. Few and far between these days, I will sometimes get calls from my parents, making sure I don't sleep my life away. School makes me want to (or makes me feel like that's exactly what I'm doing), but my dad's unnaturally chipper morning voice (9am is mid-day to him) reminds me that I can't. Nice to hear from them first thing, but the vibrating telephone--too jarring to be pleasant.

miserable, in the most basic sense: alarm clock. I hate all types--beeping, ringing, vibrating, music blaring. I know it's coming the night before, but I'm never ready for it. I use the vibrating cell phone because I sleep through all the rest nowadays. It's got the worst traits of the "wake up call" with none of the perks that make me feel loved in my bleary-eyed state.

As a side note, the only time I've ever enjoyed waking up to an alarm was back in my 4am band camp days when I set my CD player to hit me with Green Day's Basketcase. I could wake up and sing along with Billie Joe's incoherent mumbling because I knew, with all the sun and sweating that would soon come, this pre-dawn ritual was going to be the best part of the day. Sadly, those times are long past me now.

miserable with a side of blah: loud noises from the world beyond these walls. As a kid I was so sensitive that the bluejays outside my grandma's window would do this to me. Then I graduated to garbage trucks. Last year it was Danielle stomping around like an elephant in stilettos in the room above mine. Now it's contractors. The contractor who lives the floor above me and is also my landlord. I love these people, but power drills at 8am? That's some serious buzzkill.

miserable to the max: stress-induced dreaming. You know, the ones where you wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, never quite sure if it was a dream or not? I guess it's an efficient waker-upper, since I never even WANT to go back to sleep. But waking up with the shakes is how I never want to wake up--I'd prefer sleeping past my alarm and getting the shakes as a result of running late, thank you. This morning it was running through an airport trying to get to a plane that had probably already departed. Only it wasn't an airport, it was more like a hall of mirrors. Oh yeah, and it was miserable.

Go back to sleep? No thanks. I think I'll have another cup of joe.

For someone who claims to not care too much for woods, and not be particularly impressed with the Muir Woods and its collections of California Coast Redwood trees, I seem to go kind of a lot. Last weekend was my fourth trip out there, second this year. And though I generally like to avoid being trapped in places that haven't experienced sunlight in centuries, Jared and I decided to drive Ramon out there last weekend when he was here for a visit.

The quick jaunt over the bridge was worth it because (forget the giganto trees) I came face-to-slimy little face with the biggest, yellowest banana slug I've ever seen. It was glorious:

...I am constantly missing out on good deals on furniture from craigslist. No matter how hard I try, there's just no way I could get my hands on all the cheap/free furniture I want/need.

...my latest MUNI challange--catching a ride to school that takes me less than an hour--is really beating me hard.

...the new season of Scrubs just isn't doing for me. And I couldn't tell you about The Office this season, because I have yet to get caught up on the last two weeks.

...the fog has been disturbingly heavy the past couple days.

...birds are covered in oil in the bay.

...I still haven't seen The Darjeeling Limited.

...my phone gets no service in my new place.

...my life feels like the last episode of Seinfeld right now. You know, the one were Jerry tells George that the collar button on his shirt just isn't right, and that a well-placed button can make or break a shirt, then George asks him if they've already had that conversation. Yeah, same old crap and repetitive as hell. Perhaps it is time for Thanksgiving break.