Project Dissertation

I moved to this fabulous city three years ago mainly to; be near an airport for travel, be able to not trade my stilletos for trainers, and to finish my doctoral studies in four years. Yes, that pretty much sums up my priorities at 30. So now I am ABD with nine months to go and San Francisco is no easy city to ignore. Although, I would argue that each experience that deters my academic writing is really just needed inspiration. Welcome and I hope you enjoy...

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Location: San Francisco, California, United States

Bilingual, Bicultural, and Dual Citizen. J School B.A., M.A. in High Incidence Disabilities, & ABD in Education.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Viva le Fuzzy

My male friends always know just what to say when I announce, "I am not going out with him ever again!"

This time it was a truly dull and jet set man, without an ounce of spontaneity in his blood, and if warmth could be measured then he was ice cold- even when he tried to be warm...but you know, when I met him, I thought he had potential, don't they all?

"You need someone with a fuzzy mind or appearance, everything else is boring or dull." Wait I asked, "I am a fuzzy mind right? I wouldn't want to be in the fuzzy appearance category." We laughed as we ate veggie cheese-steaks and drank beer from brown bags at Dolores park, "yes, you can be a fuzzy mind, only because you actually use it despite your non-fuzzy appearance." The sun was out and felt warm at last. Besides he added, "If you were homely I wouldn't even talk to you, much less be seen in public with you!" Male friends sure don't mince words.

He was onto something, "I think you are right, because every millionaire I have dated has been completely non creative or 'fuzzy'." Without a pause he added, "they are hollow as fuck." We laughed and I cheered, "to my first brown bag in the park!"

He has a brilliant mind, an MFA, and like most most New York transplants via LA the most irreverent humor. He is a writer and understands the nuance of creating. Never at nausea but often enough we have addressed the issue of not writing, usually over a drink at a bar as the bartender or someone else befriends us and we then turn the conversation to who they are hitting on, or who we would hit on, if either of us actually did that.

There are very few instances when men and women can truly be friends, in my lifetime at a given time I have had maybe two or three, fortunately they have all been brilliantly fuzzy and articulately platonic.

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