Social Media

I have a laundry list of resolutions I'm hoping to achieve this year that include saving money, getting in better shape, and learning new skills, and so far... well, I've been doing okay, I guess. There have been some hiccups with money, I'm only just getting back into running and fitness after a pretty wonderfully sedentary and indulgent holiday season, and finding the motivation to jump on Duolingo can be a difficult some days, but it's rolling on steadily but surely and I'm dedicated to giving each of my goals a shake.

One thing that I've been doing pretty well with in my 2020 resolutions is "minimizing consumption." This was mainly focused on producing less waste and saving some money in the process; less trash, more cash. For example, I try to bring my secondhand Klean Kanteen to coffee shops instead of using paper cups, use the spork that lives in my work bag instead of disposable cutlery, and buy thrift store swag and wear things I already have instead of getting new clothes. I don't know how much money I've saved, how much garbage I've prevented from entering the waste stream, or if Captain Planet is going to get me a ring and finally make me a Planeteer like I've deserved, but these actions fit with my beliefs and morals and has been pretty neat to work on.

One consumable thing that I hadn't considered when writing that new years resolution, and one that I've taken steps to work on in recent weeks, is one you could probably guess by the title of this post: social media.

At some point after MySpace, I ended up on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, LinkedIn, Untappd, Strava, and others that either are now defunct or I've forgotten about. It's not a bad thing to be connected; I live far away from a lot of my friends so getting to see what they're up to is nice. I also don't get out much so seeing what's up with friends I have nearby is also nice. Having an outlet for my stupid (read: "clever") one-liners, seeing updates on world events, finding communities of people with similar interests, and learning about things I'd never considered or thought about makes being connected on social media platforms worthwhile.

However, I catch myself scrolling aimlessly down my Facebook and Twitter feeds a lot. Pictures of cool dogs on pages like "Dogspotting" and funny articles from satire sites are great, but when I realize I'm just mindlessly thumbing through my timeline, or I catch myself reflexively opening an app to impulsively check for notifications, it reminds me of when I smoked. Years ago I'd think about cutting back but inevitably find myself on my back patio halfway through an American Spirit out of habit. A cup of coffee in the morning or a beer at night meant I was going to spark one up. Getting in my car meant the drivers side window was open a crack and a cigarette was in my mouth. It wasn't that I actually wanted to smoke; I did it habitually. I was addicted. It sucked. Once I quit and realized how much better I felt overall, it was a lot easier to not pick up the habit again. I still think about it two years later, but I'm not about to run to the corner store to pick up a pack anymore.

After thinking how much time I spend online both at home and at work, and considering how divided my attention was from other stuff I'd rather be doing or needed to do, I deleted Facebook and Twitter from my phone-- the two big time sinks of social media for me-- and sequestered my other social media apps in a folder tucked away from my phone's home page. When I'm at a computer I try to meter how much time I spend on any given social media site, and I log out of them before closing their tabs so I have to manually log in every time I want to check my notifications (making them a mild pain in the ass to use is helpful).

The evils of the internet notwithstanding, like social media addiction, data security issues, misinformation and half-truths in news media presented as fact, and the ever-rampant beast known as FOMO, I just want to consume social media more mindfully. I will absolutely heart-react to a picture of an adorable cat if I see one, and I'll definitely watch YouTube videos if I see something that looks interesting, but I'm striving to use these services on my own terms. I'm not trying to be a 21st century Henry David Thoreau, or make my apartment a social media Walden Pond; I just want to be less wasteful and more intentional in my day-to-day life, online and offline.

Hopefully my other 2020 resolutions work out as well as "reduce consumption" has because it's been a good time overall. It's not perfect, but it's a start.

"Is This Place Haunted?" pt. 4

It's easier to notice things going bump during a silent night. 

December is typically a quiet time of year for the hotel. Hiking tourism is next to nonexistent when the Sierras are subfreezing with subzero windchill so, aside from the occasional holiday traveler and retiree passing through from Tahoe to Palm Springs, traffic is pretty dead when winter creeps around. It's the time of year for maintenance projects, cleanup around the front desk, holiday parties, and busy work to pass the time.

I was in the back office earlier this week when I noticed a flashing light from the security camera feed. A bulb in a hanging fixture was flickering at the end of the south ground floor hallway. Thinking I would need to change out an old CFL bulb or something, I got up, rounded the corner from the front desk, and started down the hallway, only to find the light on and steady as usual. I shrugged it off and went back to the office, mostly forgetting about it until it happened again the next night at the same time it had the night before. I posted a Snapchat about it, hamming it up and talking about it being #2spooky, and went back to my usual duties.

The night after that was the office holiday party, so I wasn't in the back to notice if the light was flickering in the security feed again. Because it was the holiday party, however, I was tasked as usual with cleaning up afterward. Once the furniture was back where it was supposed to be and the extra tables were put away, I went to take the trash out. There's a bin outside the door at the end of the south ground floor hallway, so I carried the big black bag of Christmas wrapping and paper plates to it, not thinking about the light. I tossed the garbage in the can, and made my way back to the front desk. 

A few paces away from the door, it felt like a hand grabbed my thigh. 

The hair on my neck stood on end, a chill ran down my spine, and I picked up the pace to the front desk, mumbling, "Okay, nope, alright, no, no thank you."

There might be a reason why that particular wing would be the place for all the "shadow people" sightings and the most common place for stories to stem from. During the early half of the last century there was a Catholic church next door on the south end of the property. According to the stories I've heard it was originally built 20 miles away and then moved shortly thereafter to be in a more populous area, then moved again in the mid-1950s to the north end of town. Between the energies that could attach themselves to a hotel and the spirits that might wander restlessly from a former churchyard, the south part of this place would have its fair share of ghosts should they exist. 

A couple hours ago I was walking down the south ground floor hallway on my way back to the desk when I felt something graze the back of my calf. I looked behind me even though I wasn't expecting to see anyone or anything. The light at the end of the hall was dimmer, though; not flickering, but dimmer. Maybe my leg twitched. Maybe the light bulb or fixture is wonky. It could have been my mind playing tricks on me while walking down the narrow, windowless, fluorescent-lit walkway, like something out of The Shining.

It could be the spirit of a long-dead parishioner reaching out from beyond the veil, seeking refuge in a church that no longer stands where it had, grasping for help in their afterlife.

Whatever it may be, it does serve as a contribution to revive the Victorian Christmas ghost story tradition.

(There are some more stories about spooky goings-on in the hotel aside from this one too if you're looking for further holiday reading. Happy holidays and a happy new year!)

The Best Part Of Waking Up

I wake up to an alarm on my phone that plays my favorite song every morning. After rolling out of bed and shutting the alarm off, I open the curtains in my bedroom, make my way to the kitchen, and get the coffee from my automatic maker programmed to start brewing five minutes before my alarm. I then make my way to my front room, sit at my dining table, and listen to the news while catching up on email and social media. It's boring, but I don't want anything too exciting until I wake up a bit.

While checking Facebook this morning I noticed five years ago today I'd posted a status that read:

If the best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup you might want to reevaluate the priorities in your life or, at the very least, try better coffee.

If you know me, you know I like massive burritos, good beer, and good coffee. I've been known to haunt coffee shops for hours at a time and have even amassed tabs in excess of $100-- just from black coffee-- so it'd make sense that I would turn my nose up at the notion of drinking anything brewed from pre-ground stuff in that red can. However, it wasn't that long ago that money was pretty tight. It was during the holidays and my finances were a little tied up, so some sacrifices had to be made, notably with my coffee budget, so I folded and went for Folgers.

It parallels my coffee drinking experience as a whole, really; when I was in high school I started drinking coffee (specifically Starbucks "Breakfast Blend" if I remember right). It was too bitter and hot for my liking, so I cut it with milk and sugar. As I went through college money started getting tight, so I opted to cut out the milk and just stick with sugar. After awhile, sugar became an expense I didn't want to maintain, so I started drinking it black. Even after my money got right I still took my coffee black, and after an independent coffee house opened not too far from where I lived I discovered what really good black coffee could be like. After that, I sought out the best I could get my hands on.

There's nothing wrong with having preferences, but it's pretentious to turn your nose up to something because it's cheap or assumed to be "lesser." It isn't like I had freshly ground, freshly roasted beans brewing a French press every morning so I can fully appreciate the oils and aroma of a particular roast. I also don't run up egregious tabs at my local coffee shop anymore either. I grind okay coffee ahead of time and normally use it within a few days, and it usually is made with a paper filter in an automatic drip machine. Folgers got the job done, especially when that job was being a warm beverage in the middle of December.

I guess having Folgers did actually help me reevaluate the priorities in my life. It was one of the best parts of waking up because I didn't have to fuss over it and it wasn't the focus on my entire morning. I like the process of making a really good cup of coffee, don't get me wrong, but sometimes all I want to do the first thing in the morning is wake up, and cheap coffee serves that purpose. I'm not a total convert to cheap coffee but I can at least not be an insufferable snob about what's brewing in my house when I wake up.

Resolution Recap 2019

As I've gotten older it's felt like days and weeks go by faster. However, 2018 was amazing because it felt like the last 365 days have been twelve long, agonizing years. I can't say it's been the worst year I've had because there's been a lot of good to come out of it with the bad, but I'm ready to head into the next year. I grew as a person, learned a lot, and, most importantly, I did some stuff.

Last January I wrote about my resolutions and how they went and then re-wrote a list of New Years Resolutions for 2018. After all, there's no better recipe for success than personal accountability and actually remembering what it is you're setting out to do, and with the minor successes I had last year I figured I could do even better this year. Much of the list is the same as the one from 2017, and a few bullet points are in my list for 2019, but let's take a look at some of the highlights:

~

- QUIT FUCKING SMOKING

I did it! I wrote about it in March after not smoking for maybe a week, and after nearly a year without nicotine think I'm done with smoking for good. What's more, I've been running faster, my blood pressure is better, I've been sleeping at least marginally better, and I don't stink so bad. Cravings pop up every so often, especially during stressful nights at work and moments when I'm feeling down in the dumps, but they pass a lot easier now than they did before. Having smoked for 15 years and successfully quit cold turkey is probably the biggest thing I've done for myself all year. 

- Hike More 

I did literally one hike I intended to do this year, though I'm glad it was the Whitney Portal Rec Trail because that was a blast. Especially going the weekend before Whitney Portal Road opened for the season, the trail was empty, the Portal was empty, and it was as if I had an entire woodland world all to myself. Scheduling conflicts put my plan to summit Mt. Disappointment on the back burner, and I didn't even end up going to Death Valley this year, but next year I hope to hike more and knock out some more trails. 

- Build Savings Account

The bad news is I had a little medical emergency that completely wiped my savings account, and I haven't been able to completely rebound from it. The good news is I had a savings account to begin with to pay those bills, and my finances are at least starting to get on the mend, so I can enter the coming year a little wiser and with a lot more spite toward the American health care system. 

- Keep Running 

I finished the Santa Clarita Half Marathon much faster than I had in 2017, and my recovery was a lot more pleasant. Up until the last few weeks I was pulling a minimum of 15 miles per week, with some runs lasting 10 miles without me thinking much about it.

~

The list for 2019 has a lot of the same stuff. The list is starting feeling less like "resolutions" and more like "maintenance" but, honestly, I'm kind of cool with that. Knowing I survived my 20s with only minor scarring, trauma, and brain damage, if my goals are to maintain the work I've done already then I'll go with it. I have a lot to look forward to next year, and even though the concept of "A New Chapter In My Life" is kind of old hat, I'm happy to be entering one.

Happy New Year! See you in 2019! 

Jingle Bell Rock

I was a humbug for a long time. As a matter of fact, it's only been within the last few years that I've knocked off most of my humbuggery, so now I can actually enjoy holly jolly festivities and ugly Christmas sweaters without spouting out things like "This Feeds Into The Consumerist Dogma" and "It's All Empty Gestures And Commercial Lies" too often.

As such, I used to absolutely loathe Christmas music; it's an entire subset of music that is only relevant once a year, and by the time it's actually Christmas it's been overplayed since Thanksgiving. While I've gotten over it, there are two songs in particular that I hate to hear. The first song, of course, is "Last Christmas" by WHAM! since, of course, I cannot listen to it without succumbing to WHAMaggedon. It's a fine song, but I simply can't listen to it because it's against the rules. The second song is "Jingle Bell Rock" which is the worst ever.

Bobby Helms, the original person to release the song in 1957, probably hoped it would have a lasting impact. Considering it made an appearance on the Billboard Top 100 as recently as 2016 I'd say it has. Well, what I actually said was, "Holy shit it got to #35?! " but that's basically the same idea at its core. The reason I'm so surprised is because, personally, I think it's a dumb song. It's dated, the lyrics are stupid, and it's been covered by enough other music artists to have it be its own subgenre of the Christmas music subset. There's one subgenre of this subgenre of this music subset, however, that I hate most, and I can't hear the song any other way when I think about it; it's the elementary school Christmas program rendition.

Whatever evil dictated that every kindergarten class since at least the 90s had to sing "Jingle Bell Rock" can go straight back to hell. Whatever play the school might be doing manages to shoehorn in some line about rock-and-roll, and the kindergartners come out onto the stage. Parents chuckle and coo as they take pictures of the children, usually adorned in reindeer antlers or Santa hats. The adults turn to one another, saying things like, "Oh, how cute!" and, "So precious!" as they beam with pride a their rascals. There's always one kid with the attention span of a gnat and too much unbridled energy that takes a bit longer to get in position (that was me growing up, I'll admit that) but once that kid is ready, and the teacher is only holding on to the hope of the bottle of wine at home, it begins.

The opening music starts and the bass line ba-dum-dum-dums into what can only loosely be defined as singing. I'm not sure what key the kindergartners sing-- or, let's be real, shout-- in, but it's a key that transcends generations that, I'm pretty sure, was banned by the Geneva Conventions. It's also somehow sung to the same beat regardless of when or where you hear it, that being a sporadic and anxiety-producing one. There's always one kid that's a little too excited about singing/shouting (again, that was me), and there's always one that very clearly wants nothing to do with being on stage in front of a bunch of strangers. To their credit, the kids almost remember some of the words to the song, so some parts are clearly and confidently belted out. Others are mumbled as the teacher frantically uses hand gestures to get the kids to be louder, as if the kids need encouragement. The whole affair ends with, "THAT'S THE JINGLE BELL, THAT'S THE JINGLE BELL," sang/shouted at different intervals, before culminating into a, "THAT'S THE JINGLE BELL ROOOOOCK!" that can, and probably has, broken glass and caused dogs to panic. The energy of the class throughout the performance is at all ends of the spectrum. The dissonance is palpable.

The parents applaud. The children are herded away as one kid jumps around and flails his arms (again, me). The teacher considers running to the store on the way home to pick up another bottle of wine. The play continues.

I think that's the reason I'm not a fan of the song; it reminds me of a dozen children who'd rather do anything else shouting on stage. Now, to be fair, I don't have kids and I don't plan on having any, but if I did I might appreciate my tyke belting out that classic with their classmates. It makes sense that any parent would be proud to see their child capable of memorizing a song and looking nice, but I don't have a child of my own, partly because I don't want to risk having to go out of my way to hear "Jingle Bell Rock" and partly because I know what kind of child I was and don't want to do that to the world.

Anyway, regardless, I'm okay with the season overall. Just get me some eggnog and Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas Is You" and I'll be set 'til the 25th.

Happy Holidays!

Old Hotels, pt. 2: Hot Water

I was going to write about the steam heat at work and how it clangs and hisses when it's in operation, but I decided not to this time for a couple reasons. First, the heat in the hotel is doing really well right now, which is both a relief and very suspicious. Second, there was an exchange I had with a guest earlier today that I've similarly had with other guests before. It was about the hot water.

The guest called the reception desk. Fortunately he warned me he was going to be that kind of guest by starting the call with, "Now, I don't want to be that kind of guest, but..."

According to him, the hot water in his room wasn't working. He had an issue with his television that maintenance resolved earlier today and believed the two issues were somehow connected for some reason. He berated me, saying the hotel fell so low in quality from "its golden age" (mind you, he's maybe stayed here twice in as many years, so I'm not sure what his benchmark is). Before I had a chance to tell him to let the water run awhile longer, he interrupted by saying the water wasn't getting hotter even though he had both taps running. Instead of  informing him that running hot and cold water at the same time doesn't make water hotter, I told him I'd check the water heater. He responded by very aggressively hanging up the phone, possibly in gratitude. True to my word, I checked the water heater which, not surprisingly, was working normally. I checked a sink in a room that was connected to the same water heater and, wouldn't you know it, it was running hot. I tried knocking on the guest's door so I could check the water in his room specifically, maybe also to check if the TV was taking up all his hot water somehow, but didn't get a response. By the time I returned to the desk I saw a missed call from the room, so I assume he was in the shower since there was nothing ever wrong with the hot water in his room.

Maybe it's because I've lived in houses built prior to 1960 almost my entire life, or maybe I'm proof that millennials don't always expect instant gratification, but I understand and accept that sometimes it takes a minute for hot water to get to the faucet. I think it's normal to wait with any water heater, possibly aside from tankless systems, but for whatever reason older pipes hate hot water and older people hate waiting for it. The guest who complained earlier was even in the newer wing of the facility with updated plumbing, so if he was in the part built in 1923 I'm sure he would have been able to heat the whole building's water purely with his unadulterated rage that would come from having a tepid tap for so long.

Water temperature in the old hotel is sometimes slow to warm up, and sometimes is erratically hot and cold when. Some guests have told me they had to leave their taps going for the better part of 10 minutes before the water started to heat up. Others have said their water would go from pleasant to ice cold to too hot to pleasant again in the span of the time it normally takes to shower. I mark their complaints down to pass on to the general manager and apologize to the guests, but I usually get a snide remark or scoff in response. If I were a plumber it'd be one thing to put me down for that sort of thing, but since I'm not I do my best to take those moments in stride.

It's wasteful to let water run for so long, especially being in the California high desert. I know that, but I also know the business owners aren't about to completely replace the plumbing in a nearly century-old building with high-efficiency lines and heaters. Part of the retro experience in this instance is using two gallons of water to flush the toilet and infinite patience with how long the shower takes to heat up. Usually it's not so bad and not always that wasteful, but it's honestly a crap shoot. That's part of the reason why "they don't make 'em like they used to."

So remember; much like old people exercising, old plumbing in old buildings takes a minute to get warmed up, so be patient.

That Time With The Horses

Last year I wrote on the annual film festival in October, and how westerns are oftentimes problematic. While that has been in the forefront of my thoughts in critiquing the event recently, thanks to "Facebook Memories" I remember another issue I have with it; some of the guests. It shouldn't be a surprise, really. Anyone who romanticizes imperialist fantasy probably isn't going to be a dream to be around, but besides that I remember some specific people with horses that I don't really think were a part of the event. It was six years ago today. At that point, the owners of the hotel had hosted a cocktail hour during the Festival that was open to the public. Event staff, attendees, hotel guests, locals, EVERYONE took advantage of the open bar. It was a free-for-all of noise and joviality in the lobby that, while it was a cocktail hour starting at 7 pm, it usually dragged on until I was nearly done with my shift at 11. It was tradition then for people to get liquored up at the party, then head to Jake's Saloon up the street for more beer, then to the Double L for shots, then back to Jake's Saloon, and some of the folks who had that plan in mind were some cowboy folks on horseback. They stopped at the party and tied their horses off at the pool area of the hotel. Some local kids, knowing the staff of the hotel (a.k.a. me, alone as usual) were busy attending to the folks at the cocktail hour, decided to sneak into the pool area to swim. A couple of kids did cannonballs into the deep end, which spooked the horses tied to the fence, which caused the half dozen half-ton animals tied to the flimsy aluminum bars to rip them out of the pavement. The kids scattered and the owners of the horses went outside. Noticing the commotion, the damage, and the cowboys untying their horses from the debris, I went around asking, "Hey, are these your horses? They damaged our property and we need your information." They ignored me and rode away. I spent an hour that night shoveling the horse shit from the parking lot and making a statement to a sheriff's deputy. After all that, I stashed the broken fence pieces out of the parking lot and strung up some caution tape where the fence used to be, then cleaned up the lobby after the party. I was a little stressed out, so after work I decided to head to the bar for a night cap. And those fucking horses were tied up next to the bar. So I went to the other bar because, frankly, I didn't want to deal with it anymore. After the incident (which, come to think of it, I don't think we ever figured out exactly who it was that damaged the pool area fence), the owners of the hotel tried to do away with the party completely. However, after long-time attendees raised a stink about it, the owners changed up the party from open to the public to exclusively for hotel guests and event staff, and now only serve beer and wine. It's still annoying to clean up after, but it's a lot nicer than shoveling shit and talking to cops. Westerns portray cowboys as brave conquerors of the western landscape, but maybe more accurately the cowboys of yesteryear were more like those cowboys from the party; drunk assholes that won't answer for the damage they've done. Seriously though, fuck those guys. Happy Friday.