today i went to the fabric store. i bought fabric, for secret things (sshhhhh! you can't know until christmas!) and, really enjoyed it.

on my way back, on the bus from the mission to the "tender nob," as my neighborhood is sometimes so uncomfortably called, i had such a pleasant experience sharing a space with the people who were on the bus.

first, as i was waiting for the bus, the man sitting near me said, "man, it's cold isn't it?" this was ridiculous because the sun was coming down (it's always sunny in the mission) and it was very warm. i said, "no, it's warm! i like it!" and he said, "i just wanted to see what kind of personality you were! it is warm, and i like it too!" he struck me as a little odd, though pleasant, but i didn't sit near him on the bus since he snuck on the back anyways.

i sat in down near the front, and another young lady my age gets on and sits next to me. i thought she had spoken to me, but she was speaking to another lady, saying "you too!" when wished a happy thanksgiving. we smiled, and i continued reading a blog post about making thigns out of fabric (and i can't tell you what kind of things because i would give away what someone is getting for christmas!). i shared a smile with the thanksgiving lady, across from me, when the baby at the front of the bus cried incessantly and we all felt bad for her, and for her mother. i shared a laugh and a short conversation about teething with the girl next to me when the older mexican men sitting across from the baby stared clapping to try to distract her from her own crying.

i was very glad that, even when she was on the phone, she said goodbye as she was getting off the bus, and that the thanksgiving lady gave me a lovely grin as i exited the bus myself, as did another older gentleman.

that was one jolly bus ride. it reminds me of how much i really like people.

I know, I know.

I can hear you all now.

Erin never blogs anymore.

All four of you are sad.

------------------------------

I'll give you quick highlights, I guess, since it's been so long. I've started keeping a journal. I agonized for about 27 minutes about which notebook to pick. [Green. Lies flat. Lined. Smooth, thick pages. Letter sized.] So it's not super awesome yet, but it might be something super awesome. Just writing.

One of my favorite neighborhoods is the Mission. Great book stores [Dog Eared Books. Modern Times.], delicious burritos [Paplote. El Castillito. Los Jarritos], interesting community centers [826 Valencia.], tasty coffe [Ritual.], and clever little shops [Her Majesty's Secret Beekeeper.]. I go there a lot.

There is a man, Dr. Francis Rigney, whose mother founded Raphael House [and, before that, the American Cancer Society.], who often comes for dinner. For a while, he was Jack Kerouac's psychiatrist. He knew all the beat guys. So that would be a cool thing, if I thought Kerouac was cool. Actually, it's kind of cool anyway.

I like my work. I like the people. I'm trying to find a church...supposedly there are lots of Orthodox people in San Francisco but the only ones who are my age already live with me...so...

That's life right now. My project for myself, or really the project that Zak gave me, is to mull over the idea of community and how we can implement this into Raphael House currently. So more to come, I suppose.

- E

B to the O-M-B

Okay, you birds. I have finally sat down at a real computer. For some inexplicable reason I feel a bit like Doogie Howser. That's probably because I am saying all of these words I am writing in my head as if I were doing a voice-over. It's also because I wish I had a soundtrack to my life as awesome as that opening song was.

Okay, you birds. So I am in San Francisco now. I got here on Monday after having spend a nice weekend with a going away party, sleeping a lot at my grandparents', seeing my baby cousin Aiden, and going to St. Seraphim's (and then a BBQ at Fr. Lawrence's - awesome!). I've settled in fairly well. There are three other girls who live with me who are interns, and one who is a paid staff member. There are also other men and women who live on the third floor of the house. I will have two more roommates soon, that is, if the elusive "Rachel" ever makes an appearance.

So far my work here has been just filling in where needed. Yesterday (Friday), I started working in ChildReach by cleaning and sorting out clothing donations, which included a shirt with artwork incorporating fallopian tubes. That got donated to the GoodWill. The cool thing about this program is that I get to go on field trips with the kids! I might be going to the Giants/Dodgers game next Sunday, and I will be going with my co-worker (supervisor?) David to Angel Island with the kids.

The other big chunk of my work here will be assisting with case work and "working the floor," as it's called. I am not so sure exactly what the latter entails. That's what I'll be learning this next week. I've already sat in on a case review meeting, which was very interesting. I'm hoping that I will be able to take on work with the case managers. If not, there will of course be plenty of other things to do around here!

Besides living in this amazing place with some pretty awesome people (cooks! directors! families! interns! Darlene the front desk lady!), I get to live in an amazing city. Don't get me wrong, this city is (forgive me) bat-shit crazy. But it's awesome. In the last few days I've gotten to see a few different parts. I went to the Mission last night, which is full of hipsters. I laughed at them, secretly wanted to be one, and then laugehd at them some more. In some ways, the lifestyle is appealing, until you realize that it's just another case of the gluttonous monster Capitalism subsuming everything society produces, even counter-culture. But I digress. I went with a girl named Sarah, and we hit up this cafe which was cool, because I could get a nice beer without having to go to a bar. I also have been down to Union Square a few times now. There is a Muni/Bart station there, as well as a hotel with a bomb glass elevator. I mean bomb in the way that it's way cool, not that it blows up when you reach the top or anything. I've also hit up Civic Center, which is where the library is (I only checked out 6 books yesterday...) and I saw Gavin Newsom. Which was weird.

Today I went to Ocean Beach, and we explored a little bit the "ruins" of the Sutro Baths. It was strange, because at first we didn't know what they were (we being myself and Lucia), but we recognized them as resembling ancient ruins, and she suggested that there were baths here. I wasn't so sure, but some "research" at the Cliffhouse gift store revealed the former existence of the Sutro Baths. Also, apparently, San Francisco has been home to some pretty bomb World's Fairs. I mean bomb in the way that it's way cool, not that it blows up when it's over or anything.

I have yet to have any crazy adventures, although today as I was riding back from church on the bus a person got on. At first I noticed the headgear - a flowery swim cap. Then I noticed that this lady was pantless. Then I noticed this lady had hairy legs. Then I noticed this lady was not a lady, but a man, wearing briefs and a T-shirt and makeup and high heels. Then about three stops up this person gets on the bus again. Then I realize that this is not the same person, but another person dressed exactly like the first person.

This is very long, so I apologize. But this city is pretty bomb. I mean bomb in the way that it's way cool, not that it blows up or anything.

Follow me.

I know this is so lame.

But I have started to blog at tumblr.

http://erinbernard.tumblr.com/

I can blog from my phone, which is nice. But mroe substantial text updates will be here. Update your RSS feeds accordingly (ha. ha. ha.)

I love you all.

Sister Golden Hair

This song is. Amazing.

+ Memory Eternal

From Father Josiah:

ARCHIMANDRITE SYMEON, 82, of the Monastery of St John the Baptist in Tolleshunt Knights, Essex, in the U.K., reposed late in the night of last Thursday, August 20th. Father Symeon was one of the original four monastics who came with Elder Sophrony (Sakharov) from France to England in 1959 to found the monastery. Father Symeon’s funeral on Saturday afternoon, likened to “another Pascha,” lasted over four hours due to the large number of faithful – many being his own spiritual children – who came to kiss his hand a final time before he was laid to rest near his spiritual father, Elder Sophrony, in the crypt of the monastery’s funerary church of All Saints.

Father Symeon, right, with Elder Sophrony

I had the distinct pleasure of meeting Father Symeon in January of 2007 when I visited the Monastery of St. John for the first time with Pres. Catherine and the girls (and baby Garet). I didn't speak with him much, except for he was telling us a story once, while giving us a tour. He showed us his office where he meets with/confesses people. The man had life in his eyes, even if then he was 79 or so.

The photograph below is from the Paschal procession at St. John in 2008. Father Symeon is holding the icon with Father Z, standing on the right.

With the spirits of the righteous made perfect, grant rest also to the souls of thy servant, O Savior, and preserve him in that life of blessedness which is with thee, O Thou who lovest mankind.

sing the song, don't be long,

So I picked up this album today at Red Planet Records down on Indiana (What happened to CD World?). The place was chock full of classic, and I mean classic, records. Tons of the Beatles. Of course, some twit had to write his name all over Hard Day's Night, not that I was going to buy i anyway. I bought Revolver, for no particular reason.

But I digress. So I picked up this album, and to be honest, it is only because I love "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes." It's a classic song, but it most recently sparked my interest late one night as I was driving back to Riverside from Palm Desert this summer.

I have to say, there is something about the photograph, the whole set up of the album art that I really love. The dilapidated house, the blue shutters, the torn up couch that probably used to be quite a beautiful piece of furniture, the palm tree peeking out on the left side there...and the mailbox.

Below is another photograph from the same time. I like the more vivid colors, the change in details, and the fact that Nash is not looking at the camera. I like his style...


I also picked up another album for my Simon and Garfunkel collection, Bookends and then a copy of Paul Simon's Still Crazy After All These Years, and some Dire Straits and two Fleetwood Mac albums. So even though they'll be sitting on my shelf for the next year, it's nice to know they'll be here when I get back.

Timshel

"Thou mayest rule over sin," Lee. That's it. I do not believe all men are destroyed. I can name you a dozen who were not, and they are the ones the world lives by. It is true of the spirit as it is true of battles--only the winners are remembered. Surely most men are destroyed, but there are others who like pillars of fire guide frightened men through the darkness. "Thou mayest, thou mayest!" What glory! It is true that we are weak and sick and quarrelsome, but if that is all we ever were, we would, milleniums ago, have disappeared from the face of the earth. A few remnants of fossilized jawbone, some broken teeth in strata of limestone, would be the only mark man would have left of his existence in the world. But the choice, Lee, the choice of winning!

--John Steinbeck, East of Eden

Jordan and Bettina got married! Hooray!

Now to figure out what the hell is going on inside my own head. Hopefully I'll come back for a visit in November. Hopefully I'll come back in November more myself.

Today I Saw...

From Today I Saw. Love it.

(Give and) Take Pictures.

I am sure that I've mentioned this before, but my friend Scot's blog makes me so happy, not least because there are pictures of Riverside there.

This is Mission Inn Avenue downtown. Scot, Kat, and I walked from Coffee Depot all the way over past the Mission Inn. I gave a little history lesson. If anyone cared enough to take a guided historical tour of Riverside, I could give it. Scot and Kat were stopping through on their magnificent roadtrip all over America earlier this summer. There are pictures on the blog of all sorts of great places in our great country. You should go look at them. Seriously.

People. Seriously. I don't know what's difficult about an RSVP.

I even made it easy for you. "Regrets only."

I can't believe I am still awake thinking about this.

Exactitude

I.

On Sunday, I discovered that I had not returned my debit card safely to its pocket after closing out my tab the night before (don't worry, Dad, it was only two...over the course of a few hours...). I also discovered that I needed gas to get home to Riverside from La Mirada. I checked my wallet. Three dollars. I went in to the store to pay cash. "Three dollars on pump 11, please....oh and I have some change." "Just dump it all out!!" I had $4.33. This was exactly how much gasoline I needed to get back to my house.

II.

On Monday, I took my brother to the Wild Animal Park in Escondido. We stopped to get money out of the bank. Walking back to the car, I heard a junebug coming at me. Since I seriously dislike things flying at me, I hurried to get in. The junebug came after me, and started to fly into the car. I quickly closed the door. Right on the junebug.

III.
On Tuesday, I went to Coffee Depot and my tea cost $1.90. That is exactly how much I had in loose change in my wallet.

Blue is the only human color

I really love Regina Spektor's music. She has a sense of melody that really resonates with me. She also has a sense of whimsy that is mostly just weird. I feel that up to now, most of her songs fall into either one category or the other. I love the whimsy, but when it crosses into weird ("Chemo Limo", for one) I can't abide it. But I feel like her new album Far really brings the two together in an amazing way.

This video is gorgeous, as is the song, "Eet":


This is a live performance of "Blue Lips" on a UK late night show. I love what she does with the rhythm and time signature on the refrain.

Scattered thoughts

As I was driving somewhere, or home from somewhere (though I suppose home is a somewhere), I was thinking about a friend who has a very specific hurt in her life, which she has allowed me to see intimately. When I realized the depth of her pain, my sadness for her became deeper too.

I was talking with a new friend about eight months ago about her experiences living and working at an orphanage in Mexico, and the great empathy and care that the boys had for her when someone very close to her, but geographically distant, passed away. As she experienced this loss and grief and sadness, she said that the best thing anyone said to her was not "I know how you feel" or "I can sympathize," but "I am sad that you are sad."

I was also thinking about how it always seems that someone else has something we want. It's very hard when there is just one thing that you want more than anything else in your life, and it seems like everyone around you has it, but you don't. I mean, it's not like it's a new car (or an iPhone!) or something like that, but part of your life that you strive after, when you want something that is categorically a good thing and you don't have it. Just keep moving forward, I guess, and try not to think about it too much?

And I am very sad to be leaving Riverside. I am very happy to be going to San Francisco, but perhaps just Sunday I realized that I can't take everyone with me. I can't take St. Andrew's with me, I can't take my family or my closest friends or my goddaughter. Really, if I wanted to, I could stay. No one is making me go. I could stay and be very satisfied. But I'm going. I don't know what's going to happen, but I am pretty sure it's going to be awesome.

Just today I look at myself and my life and wish it could be different in 400 ways. I want to stay, but I need a change. That's probably really immature. I want change and stability simultaneously.

Okay too much ranting. Big life changes always seem to precipitate a pensive mood.

All our explorations

I'm Erin.

I love Christine.

That's all for today.

P.S. . . . I don't know. GIGGLE.

-----------

All of this came from Christine's mouth not seven minutes ago. She wanted me to update my blog. Currently, I am sitting on Sophie's bed listening to her music. Which is also my music, because we like the same music. Kings of Convenience. Simon and Garfunkel. Ratatat. One of these things is not like the other. She's also into this band called The Dodos, which will be interesting to hear once we download it. We've been on an iTunes shopping spree, because we both have gift cards. Anyway. Christine is leaning on my arm and it's very pleasant. I like being near my friends, but of course this is not always the case. Because we are sometimes far away, and it makes me sad. But it's also my fault because I am the one who goes away. The truth of this fact is corroborated by Sophie, who has only been within 50 miles of me for like 4 days this summer. So whatever.

Christine is my only one true friend who has not ventured away. Hanson. They're coming to the House of Blues in Anaheim in a couple months. [Christine said this. I merely record what she says.]

She is mad that I don't blog on LiveJournal anymore. "Why the change?" she asks. Because, Christine. I am not 15 anymore. Because blogging on Google is so much superior. 'Why?" Because everyone else is doing it.

Oh, stream of consciousness. Kind of. I am really digging this music. Sophia is going to Hume tomorrow, and we will miss her. I am going to Disneyland tomorrow, and on Saturday.

Shantih Shantih Shantih.

Despair

"Despair is the loss of consciousness that God wants to give us eternal life. The world is living in despair. People have condemned themselves to death. We must struggle resolutely against despondency."

Elder Sophrony (Sakharov) of Essex
Words of Life

Elder Sophrony

Romania (FINALLY!)

Sometimes extroverts get the blues, too. Right now, I definitely have the blues. I just graduated from college, which is a great relief and anti-climax all at once. My closest friends live at least 30 miles away, which is ridiculously inconvenient. My social life in Riverside...well, let's just say that I've become really close with Clinton and Stacey. And I'm at home, writing this, on a Saturday night. It's an in-between season of life, which is necessary but extremely unsatisfying. So I went back and looked at pictures from Romania, which makes me happy. This is probably the happiest I've been in a while. So here are some pictures that I never posted. Maybe I did (I don't think I did though). Click them to make them bigger. In no particular order:

New friends in our new favorite living room.

After (during, really) Sunday liturgy at Holy Trinity. The church was packed! Can you tell how cold it is?

Us, on the bus from the airport to our temporary home. It was about 3 hours up winding mountain roads. Not unlike the roads upon which Jonathan Harker traveled. Perhaps even the self-same roads!

Jesse, myself, Adina, Ksenia, and Paul. Adina is blind, and a student at the only primary school for blind children in all of Romania. She's an amazing little girl.

At the Center for Social Integration, they love Americans, particularly ones from Dallas. Here, Matt & I demonstrate our enthusiasm for both America and Romania.

We spent our whole Tuesday doing this: scraping (lead-based?) paint off of the walls of the hallway at the Center for Social Integration. Things got pretty powdery. Some of the guys who live there helped us, like Adi in the green shirt.

On our last night with our new friends, we went to pizza. Here Lillian and I are eating and trying to converse with Nicu (short for Nicholai/Nicholas) and Florin, who runs the program for these guys. He grew up in orphanages, and when he had to leave upon adulthood he had no one to support him. He establish the Center for Social Integration for young men like him who need support so that they can finish their educations and become good members of society.

This is myself with Florin. He smiled like this THE WHOLE TIME we were there. I am sure he smiled like this THE WHOLE TIME we were not there. I am sure he is smiling like this RIGHT NOW, because he is full of love and joy.

This is Mihai. He became good friends with us, because he speaks a lot of English. He has a tender heart and a sly sense of humor, and took great pleasure in singing some good old Backstreet Boys for me.

Calin, Dany, and Adi. Dany and Adi are brothers, and Calin is great. This picture is from Thursday afternoon, when we went to play pool and go bowling with the guys instead of finishing the project. We intended to finish the project, but when we got there it was all done! They had stayed up into the wee hours of the morning finishing the small job we had left from the day before. So we all just hung out instead. :)

Dany. One of my favorites. I was really sad to say goodbye, and I said goodbye to him last. He IMed me the other day on Facebook, which kind of made my day. <3>

The view from Bran Castle. Beautiful, even it if was freezing cold.

Adi and I. He and Dany both love dancing. They were a lot of fun to spend time with, and even though they were unimpressed by my premium knowledge of the Romanian pop band O-Zone, they loved to show us other music and the dances that go along with it. Awesome.

The whole group after finishing the hallway renovation, friends from the U.S. and Romania.

I miss this.

Father's Day

Today is Father's Day, as you all well know. My pops is pretty much the greatest. He has taken me all over the world. He sacrifices for his family. He has taught me the value of an education, to care for others, to watch baseball, and to appreciate a pulled-pork sandwich. I know that he loves me and my brother, both because he says and because he lives it. Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you.

My father is a man of adventure.

Even though he is pretty good with a camera, alas, I am less so.

And he has the best smile in the world.

Summer Reading II

I finished Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer, and I have to say that I did not enjoy it as much as I enjoyed Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. I was greatly pleased by the development of Alex's character, as opposed to the film (sorry for the comparison, but it's rather inevitable since I saw the film first). I haven't had a crush on a character in a book in a while, and I definitely wished he was a real person. The novel is comprised of alternating chapters: a letter from Alex to Jonathan, a portion of Jonathan's narrative about his mythologized family history, and a portion of Alex's narrative about his and Jonathan's journey to Ukraine. The entire storyline provided by Jonathan's narrative was left out of the film. It was some beautiful storytelling, a family history made mythical and mysterious and wonderful. It was that part of the story that had the most gratuitous sexual content, however, and it continued as the novel progressed. I was also disappointed in the ending. It was without love or hope, and that seemed unfortunately contrary to the experience of Jonathan and Alex throughout.

I also finished The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri. It read like an overgrown short story. There was little going on in the way of plot, except for the quotidian movements of a young man's life - travel, cultural and generational tensions, sexual awakening, going to college, girlfriends, getting a job and getting married, etc. This was also made into a film, but I have not seen it. The struggle that Gogol has with accepting his name and accepting his family and himself would be more strongly conveyed in a short story. As it is, the existential details get buried under the material details, and that kind of just makes it boring.

So now I am on to On the Road. I happened to visit City Lights bookstore in San Francisco on Monday, where Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsburg and that whole Beat crew would socialize and whatnot. The top floor is dedicated entirely to poetry and the Beat authors, and it was creepily quiet up there. They had one of the best selections of poetry I've ever seen, though, for a bookstore, and some awesome anthologies that I would never even think to look for, much less even attempt to find. I was impressed, though I found the whole Beat thing a bit overdone. But I am not far into On the Road, but so far it is interesting. Kerouac's voice is light, pleasurable, and I appreciate his vivid and frequent but not overbearing use of exclamation points. I think this tone comes from the fact that the stories are semi-autobiographical. Well, they are probably more than semi-autobiographical. I love reading his impressions of different local folk across the country. It's like Travels with Charley in that way, but probably with more sex and booze and benzos and no adorable poodle that I want in my own life.

I'm also reading Czelaw Milosz' Unattainable Earth, and I don't know what to make of it quite yet. That's all I have to say about that. Except that I kind of love it.

After On the Road is done, I will dedicate myself entirely to East of Eden. And then I don't know where I will go from there. I might crack Kevin Starr's California, which I bought at Copperfield's used (in hardcover) for $9.