Something Clever

Alternate Title: James Gets His Punditry On

Every year, California voters are faced with a slew of propositions. Very few times have I been able to speak with sound experience and an educated opinion on an issue. Nor, has the really been a Proposition I want to wine, dine, and bang on the dinning room table. I am in love Proposition 7.

Proposition 7, also known as Big Solar as an attempt to differentiate it from Prop 10, has a simple guiding principle - by 2025, California should have a at least 50% of their electricity provided by a form of renewable energy at a rate of 2% increase per year. In this effort, the California Energy Commission (CEC) will be required tomark out clean and ideal solar plants. Furthermore, the CEC will fast track the approval of renewable power plants by once the environment reviews are complete. All non-compliance fines with regard to the renewable energy, will be decreased from 5% to 1%, but the cap on the fines will be eliminated and the fines will go to fund grid expansion by the CEC to connect the renewable sites to the place of use. Fines would have to be drawn from profits - not from ratepayers. The total effect rate-payers are expected to experience is a 3 percent maximum increase. Renewable energy for the purposes of this legislation are defined as solar thermal, photovoltaic, wind, geothermal, small hydro, biomass, and tidal.

So, there is the plan layout clear and simple. As an intelligent and straight forward pundit, I’m going to address each clause.

1. Fifty Percent Renewable Energy:
   As a proponent of smart use of renewables, I think this is a plausible goal. Nuclear energy (currently about 15%) will form the base load backbone in the state, providing electricity for all the stuff that is always on. As the load curve rises, our natural gas plants will bridge the gap between solar viability. Geothermal, small hydro, biomass, and tidal are sufficient predictable that they can be programmed into the load demand curve as appropriate. Wind power we can take as we get it, so it will likely require the rapid shutting off of nat. gas plants.
2. Two Percent Growth Per Year:
   According to the CEC’s website, California’s renewable energy use increased by 0.9 percent between ‘06 and ‘07. Doubling this rate of growth should not be difficult given the concessions the CEC is willing to make.
3. CEC Siting:
   With the CEC going out on a limb to preform the viability studies, a good deal of the risk associated with site planning is taken out of the equation for energy providers. This will in turn allow for a speedier turn around from site planning to approval to construction to operation.
4. CEC Fast Track Approval:
   In another attempt to speed the process along, the fast track approval process will enable a speedier turn around for renewables. One of the repercussions of Fast Track Approval is the reduction of the public opinion gathering and speaking out period to 100 days. Honestly, 100 days is more than sufficient to make yourself heard, whatever it was before seems unnecessarily long. Reducing the outcry time also helps to fight NIMBY objections, which really piss me off. It’s always going to be in someone’s back yard.
5. Fines:
   If there is to be any change, the legislation has to have teeth. And that’s why the big energy players in California (Sempra, Edison, and Pacific Gas & Electric) have donated about 15 million dollars to the “SAY NO” campaign - especially since the fines are restricted to their profits and cannot be passed on to the consumer.
6. Rate Payer Rate Increase:
   At a 3 percent increase maximum, the rate matches inflation and will help encourage people to be more energy savvy. We don’t live in a world of abundant, cheap energy anymore. People need to get that through their thick skulls. Unfortunately, the California Legislation Analysts’ Office says the bill lacks teeth to enforce this requirement.

Tomorrow, I’ll deal with criticism from people who are supposed to be in the know.

About the Author:

James is a graduate of Californial Polytechnic University, Pomona with a Bachelors of Science in Mechanical Engineering. As a carrer goal, he seeks to work in either building efficiency or renewable energy production, thus the opinions above may be slightly influenced by his desire for the market to grow just enough to facilitate the addition of another entry level professional. His drive to work in the industry is influenced by his inner conviction that a renewable future is possible and that there is a mandate of will to get it done.

You know what grinds my gears?

The Neelys. Pat and Gina Neely.

Pat and Gina Neely are married. They’re chefs of some skill with a show on the Food Network. “Down Home with the Neelys”, simply put, is a television train wreck that should have been aborted in the boardroom. Gina is an obnoxious, odious hostess with a loud mouth, asinine hints, and a laugh that makes me want to strangle a kitten. Pat Neely is clearly a emasculated  cuckold of a husband who has been browbeaten into offering these imbecilic platitudes. Both, when combined fuse into a churlish assemblage that causes the very pillars of creation to tremble with fear.

Now, regulars of my cooking diatribes know that while Rachel Ray’s voice is to my ears what a garlic press applied to the eye, her recipes are very simple, rather healthy, and high on the taste factor. I am able to ignore her raspy-zombie vocals and her sloppy diction parsing in order to dine at her table of culinary knowledge. The Neelys are just stupid. Who tells their viewers that the best way to get their kids to eat their veggies is to batter dip and deep fry them, cause you know - peanut oil and refined flour products are so healthy. And even worse, they have these side interviews that are interspursed throughout the half hour of torture in which the Neelys continue their painful “down-home”isms - stories about a family I could care less about. I don’t need to know about their damn families. I need to know how to cook. Not that any of their entirely too fatty garbage would ever grace my dining table.

Food Network, I realize you’re trying to broaden your market appeal in African American groups, but I’ve got say - I really expect better than employing these burlesque mockeries of black culture. Get some one in there who comes off less like a gross imitation and more like a honest, real-life person.

I started my first official day of work on last Wednesday at Michaels. It was a big day at Michaels, as the first truck of Christmas stuff came in. Boxes and boxes inundated the floor full of wreath decorations, table-top trees, ornaments,  ribbon, crafty stuff and paper mache reindeer. Of course, there was no shortage of fall merchandise out there - stuff like Scarecrows, witchy bottles, and of course, an animatronic zombie bride and groom.

Courtney, my store’s manager, was there to get me started shelving merchandise. I worked through a gigantic pile of stuff in section 9. Most of this was stuff called Michaels Picks - things that you can weave into a wreath - small gift boxes, fake fruit, birds, leaves, fake berries, etc. Unfortunately, 90 percent of this stuff with coated with glitter. And it all had to be deboxed and debagged, a process which in turn coated me with sparkly glitter sheen. I was leaking glitter like Tink’s own period. (Yeah, you just think about that.)

The Michaels recipe for shelving product was pretty simple, involving a series of numbers and letters that basically identify the section, wall column, and slot on the wall. It’s much like three-dimensional Cartesian coordinates, except there is no global or radial conversion - thank God. Of course, there was a lot of overstock, so much of the material ended up being pulled out of the boxes and displayed artistically on the top shelf. I got to do this since I’m tall and a noob who can’t be trusted with anything else.

Of course, eventually I completed that task. And began stocking a variety of misc. items around the store. That’s when I ran into a black gentleman who was looking for candle making supplies. To make raiders-fan candles. Make what you will of that, but I helped him out quite successfully and got him to his stuff in short order. I managed to make a good dent in the helping out aspect of the job, being a font of plenty of technical information that I figured out how to apply. Like, getting to use a conversion factor to go from yards to feet. Yeah, no one on the floor knew how many feet were in a yard. Again, make of that what you will.

I got to take my lunch and since I had not planned on working yet when I last did grocery shopping, I’d have to eat out and after 4 hours of solid work, I was famished. So I decided to try out Togo’s. I got a nice turkey and avocado sandwich minus tomato and proceeded to wolf it down along with 32 ounces of soda. Then went back to work.

I was now helping out in the ornament isle, putting boxes into the various places where they needed to go and emptying out garbage from the deboxing process. Then it was time for a break and I sat down and noticed instantly how badly my feet hurt. Exceptional tearing pains wracked my heels. When I got up, 15 minutes later, to begin shelving more product, my heels flared with pain, but I told myself I’d tough through it. I mean, I’m a man.

Unfortunately, about 15 minutes later I made a mad dash, by which I mean an old man shuffle, to the manager’s office to get permission to go outside. I stood in the door way, barely able to hold on to my balance, “I, uh, could definitely use some fresh air - do you mind if I step outside for a few minutes?” Courtney looked over at me, skeptical eyes bulging out of her head when she actually looked around the cashier she was talking to, “Oh, sure James. You didn’t have subway for lunch, did you?” I shook my head as I started back up, “No, only Togos.” She closed her eyes and nodded her head, “Yeah… not good.”
Once I made it outside, I sat down on a planter. I took one breath and emptied breakfast and lunch into the fine green foliage. All while a lady sat five feet away from me, bitching about her son on her cellphone. She didn’t even notice. What was cool, is that this was the first green puke I’ve ever puked - the avocado and lettuce managed to tint the whole thing a delightful shade of Kelley Green.

I walked back in the store, rinsed out my mouth and got back to work. I worked for about 15 minutes before I experienced searing pain with my eyes and got so dizzy I had to sit down and look busy by picking up stuff and putting it into the overstock boxes. Then I stood up and felt my kidneys try to crawl out of my back, and felt my steady pulse through them. I hobbled over to Courtney and had to explain that I must have caught something nasty at Togos and she just nodded, “Oh yeah, that’s to be expected. Alright James, good work. Clock out and go home.”

As I neared home, my strides became shorter until it was more of an old-man shuffle. I figured I was just sore from being on my feet for so long. I kicked off my shoes and slowly made my way up stairs. I was too tired to grab a single soda from the six-pack, so I just took the whole thing up stairs. Huffing and puffing, I made my way to bed.

I tried pulling off my socks, only to discover they had become one with my foot. With agonizing pain, I managed to peal the cotton from my foot to see what the hell was wrong. It seemed, I had developed 3 blisters on each heel, although my left foot was by far worse. I had fifty-cent piece sized blisters on my heels that has exploded and in the process of removing my sock, had removed the old skin covering. And forming mickey mouse ears to the primary blisters, were two smaller blisters about the size of nickles. With a weary sigh, I covered them up the best I could with my existing blister treatment package, but knew I’d have to do better before working again.

Then I slept. It was a good sleep. Divine even. Perhaps even Druid Sleep.

Well, dear blogfans, my first week in the bay area is nearing its conclusion. Here is a run down for those of you who are not in the know and would like to be.

Tuesday:

My last day in Southern California, I had to scramble around and organize my stuff for my flight. Only I didn’t realize I had so much. I ended up bagging a load of clothes for donation (mostly ones I don’t wear and didn’t wear during the month I lived with my uncle) and a cloth, reusable grocery bag full of books I read during the last month. I’ll have to pick up the books during Thanksgiving or something.

Then my shuttle showed up early. Like, a half hour early. So I piled in with an old lady who had exceptional difficulty speaking, although that didn’t stop her from praising Michael Phelps and his body. I guess even old ladies need their fantasy men. I also missed seeing my uncle before I left, so I got his wise parting words over the phone. Ah well.

I checked both of my bags, but my big green monster was overweight by eight pounds. I sat down in the terminal and completed Tower of Shadows while waiting for my plane. The ride was nice - I sat next to a totally smoking hot blonde cougar business woman. She was working Excel like I was fantasizing working her body. It was impressive.

The landing at Oakland was the roughest one I’ve experience. SHBCBW cursed like an effing sailor, that was pretty impressive too. I piled out, grabbed my bags and hopped on AirBART and then transferred to BART. My hotel was literally less than a block away. Lugging two bags was a bitch, but I got it done and I was safe in my shabby Indian-run hotel in less than 15 minutes.

Wednesday:

I was up and out the door at like 6:25 am and according to transit.511.org I was supposed to get there at like 8 am. I got there at 7:15am. So I burned time by walking in circles around the block and finally sauntered in at 7:50 and sat down for about 15 minutes before they ran me through a bunch of tests - tests that really were not all that complex.

But then I got butt-raped by the lead engineer in the interview. It was one of the most uncomfortable interviews Iv’e ever had. I figure, it can’t ever be worse than that, unless that actually physically hurl poop at my face. He gave me crap for not having experience, he questioned my ability to be a good engineer lacking hands on experience, and then he busted my chops for my GPA. I couldn’t walk straight as we toured the shop. They’re doing a lot of cool stuff there, but none of it was particularly shouting “JAMES, YOU COMPLETE ME!”

In the end, I ended up not getting the job - and I’m kinda thankful.

Thursday:

After coming home and vegging out, I decided Thursday would be day of exploring Union City and canvassing the local malls with applications should my next slew of interviews sour. Union City is where there was also a house for rent that I was rather interested in given that it had an exceptionally reasonable rent and a decent location near BART.

I canvassed Borders, Target, Starbucks, Best Buy, Circuit City, and Kinkos. All of which are located in a very tight, efficient open-air type mall ala the Frisco, Tx mall near my mom’s place.

I came home Thursday a little depressed though, still for whatever reason. Haha - whatever reason being my lack of a job.

Friday:

The next morning I manned an extensive Google search of engineering firms needing mechanical engineers. I ended up with 3 HVAC positions, 1 ME internship, and 1 CAD drafting position. If I get a call back from any of them, I’ll be happy - if just a little tired. All 5 jobs are in downtown San Francisco - so I’d be commuting pretty far everyday.

Then, I embarked out of my room to take a gigantic tour of Oakland. I walked all over the place and miraculously managed to not get shot. I must be secretly jacked-in to the matrix or something. I got to see my first Bay Area protest/strike - which was very interesting but not exactly exciting. I had coffee in a park while reading a book. And I went up to Berkeley to see their Half Price Books. They had quite an impressive selection of RPG books and two Dresden Files hardbacks in stock. I was quite pleased.

After my day trip I went down to Union City and viewed the house with a room for rent. It’s in a small gated community of about 30 or 40 homes sandwiched between two railroad tracks. The house I was looking at is optimally placed in the center of the furthest, widest end. A two story affair, I walked in the garage door and took one look at the open first floor and knew instinctively that this home was not decorated by straight guys. The whole first floor is essentially done up as in what I could describe as “beach motif”. Lots of bright neon colors, plenty of white, and beech wood. The owner, Daniel, is a pretty alright guy. And Juan, the property manager, is quiet but kind.

I looked at the space. The room is about 10 ft by 12 ft furnished with a desk, chair, pair of lamps, dresser, night table, bed, bedding, and clothes hamper. The window faces the west, infinitely better than what I had in the village. The bathroom is neat and clean and located across the hall. Lame restraint says I’m not technically allowed overnight guests, but the owner said infrequent over night guests are okay - seriously puts a cap on the ladies I can drag home from my club hopping and taproom seductions. The kitchen is plush with all the good stuff that one would want - including a dishwasher. Hooray! Haha

After the tour, we sat down and talked. And I had my theory confirmed. Daniel and Juan are a couple - which while I really don’t care, it kind of strange. I’ve never been around a gay guy couple for long periods of time. I figure this is a good way of anesthetizing myself to the Bay Area. Daniel works for a school district and Juan is a student. Niko, the third roommate is a younger guy, closer to my age than the other guys (who are both 29). He’s another border - presumably straight given he has a girlfriend - an awesome girlfriend who was going to take him to see Dark Knight. I was given a lease to look over. And after BARTing back to my hotel - I decided this was a good place - a nice location, decent roommates, and an awesome price.

Saturday:

I packed my bags and hung out in my hotel room just futtzing around and watching bad television.

Sunday (today):

I showed up and signed my lease and handed over my check and moved in. It took two trips, since I had hideously heavy bags that would be a bitch to get on the Wipple Street bus, but on the second trip I got a wild hair and decided to walk from BART to the house. It was not too bad. 15 minutes without my gigantic duffle, more like 25 minutes with the beast. It’s a good walking distance - and a rocking quick biking distance. I’m gonna check out a bike shop next week and see about getting a Dahon folding bike to get around speedily.

I was unpacked and settled-in with 20 minutes of getting my last bag in the door. It’s a fairly quiet neighborhood and there are lots of families. I’m sure it will be a fine place for staging my greater impact on the bay area.

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Or, more precisely – the ghetto of the Bay. Honestly, though, I feel kind of at home. There are more black people here than I’ve seen since I went to high school. I’ve found that saying “please” and “thank you” is doing wonders for me with the locals. Honey, vinegar, more flies – you know how that goes.

The Imperial Inn is pretty much a no frills, dilapidated hotel. Last night I couldn’t access the internet when I got in, but this morning it seems to be up. There is a nice 23” TV and a nice fridge/microwave combo. And Internet.

I had trouble sleeping, so I got up this morning at 4:08am as opposed to my 5:20am alarm. I’m watching the KRON News. Big stories include Daly City trying to sell off the Cow Palace overflow parking lot, the Richmond City Council voting on Chevron’s planned expansion of their crude oil processing plant, and Oakland initiating a new parcel tax to pay for more police officers.

My interview is in about three hours. I suppose it’s time I did some more company research. More word to follow this evening – assuming the Internet is up.

Well, since I don’t get to talk to nearly all the people who I’d like to, I figured I’d sum up my plans for the next couple of weeks here on my blog.

I will arrive at Oakland International Airport at 8:30. Once I have my baggage, I’ll hop on AirBART and take BART from the Coliseum to MacArthur, where my hotel is less than a block away. I’ll check in and hit the hay.

The next morning I’m up at 5:30 to get ready and out the door for my first interview. I’ll take BART down to Union City, where I will hop a bus into northwest Fremont. I have an 8:30 appointment for a mechanical aptitude test, followed by a SolidWorks test for a company in the area. Once I complete both examinations, I have an appointment to meet with the director of the Advanced Projects Group to discuss the position.

The company, whose name I’m not ready to disclose (you can email me if you’d like to know), is a pretty neat firm. They’re about two decades old and they’ve work primarily in renewable generation technology and heat transfer design - like two of my favorite things ever! My uncle contends that the reason they’ve made the appointment so godawful early is so that I can start then and there.

Assuming the appointment goes well and I am offered a position, I will cease looking for a mechanical engineering job and begin looking for a room for rent. While I’d really like an apartment, I think a room for rent is a wiser choice for the next month or two.

If the appointment goes well, but I am not offered a position then and there, I will return to my hotel and email another firm who wants to do an interview as soon as I’m in the area, but one for which I do not yet have an appointment. This firm does energy efficiency and other building efficiency design, but is located in downtown Oakland as opposed to west Oakland.

Depending on the time of the appointment, I’ll either begin looking for a room for rent or a retail job to tide me over until I can find a position. The job will likely be more important, seeing as how I’ll need some money to make it by. All the while, I’ll continue the search for a mechanical engineering position.

I’m hoping for something positive to happen here soon.

In little more than 7 days, I will be in the Bay Area permanent like. I fly out of Ontario at 7:20 pm and land in Oakland at 8:30 pm. Then, I stay in a hotel for five days, while I look for a retail job and room for rent. I’ll continue my search for a career utilizing my degree, but this is my only viable immediate option. I’m being ever so politely kicked out of my uncle’s house and the people who would offer to take me in are far, far away and would be even more inefficient for my job hunt.

It’s a grand adventure and there can be no doubt that I’m nervous as hell about it. I’m just making it the best of the situation I can. I have some friends up there and I do have some leads for jobs. I’ll be gainfully employed in an engineering position without a doubt - it’s just a matter of time.

A duffle and a suitcase, a laptop and a notepad - I’m setting out on a grand adventure. Perhaps I’ll get some xp, a box of loot, and rescue the princess.

(alternative title: Good God, could I be more whiny?)

I’m a good guy.

Not to be conceited, but literally true. I don’t fuck around with people. I strive to be an honest person, a hard worker, and not too offensive. I help where I can and my goal in life is to use what I know to make the world something a little more. I’m a fixer of all things, a mender of mind, body and spirit. And nasty computer problems.

I don’t run around. I don’t play games. I’m pretty simple. I stand my ground and I give way to reason. I dig having fun, but I knuckle down when the situation calls for it. I can be serious, but the hell with me if I’m lying - I’m also pretty damn funny. Like, seven times out of ten. Then there is all the ridiculous stuff that is part and parcel with me - creativity, smarts, and the rest

Like I said, pretty good guy.

Unfortunately, if there is a flaw with being the nice guy - it’s that we tend to come in last.

It’s hard, realizing that there are people out there who exemplify the traits that you adore, characteristics you resonate with, and feelings you empathize with. They have that bizarre mix, that lethal concoction that boogies with your own to turn lead to gold.

The kicker is realizing that they are not ready for you.

So I wait. It’s road I’ve traveled. It’s a place I’ve been. I’ve got a PO box there and a small, modest apartment with basic cable. Perhaps, just maybe, I’m approaching that hill and waiting won’t be all that much longer.

I’ll only be able to tell when I finally crest that rise.

Greetings to you, dear Blogfans!

It has been a good while since my last blog entry and I figured that you – my adoring throngs of fans and groupies – were dying to hear the what’s what of my life once more.

I’m doing this is classic blog formant, so it’s bullet title and paragraph explanation for brevity’s sake.

Senior Project Home Stretch

As of this moment, my senior project is finished. I received my pieces last Friday. On Saturday, I unpacked the box of water jet cut aluminum (±0.005 inches) only to find that 6 of my outer ring of spacers were missing. Not to be any further delayed, I began fixing the inner ring of spacers into the dish leaving the outer spacers free of epoxy until I had them all in place. The result is a somewhat more flimsy model, but one with high geometric accuracy. I completed polishing on Wednesday with a final coating of polymer sealant.

All that remains to be done is crafting a fine PowerPoint of 3 or 4 slides detailing the design and its merits and presenting my findings to the ME Department and a local community of engineering interests at the May 30^th 1:20 Symposium. Going above and beyond, as I usually do, I will be preparing a design report for future senior project students to give them a bit of guidance. I’m a giver.

Job Hunting

I don’t have a job at this point in time. I’ve spammed my resume and a number of cover letters to firms I’m exceptionally interested in. Last Friday, I was in West Oakland interviewing with a particularly neat mechanical engineering firm that specializes in energy efficient HVAC design. What was really awesome was their drive towards continuing education. Their small annual per employee endowment is a lucrative strong point. Having use of such an endowment, I could be persuaded towards getting a MS in engineering. I’d be a fool not to, if I’m going to be taking 8 courses in HVAC design from Berkley.

At this point in time, I’m still looking and working hard at finding something that appeals to my technical skills and allows the molly-coddling of my interest in the environment and sustainable living.

Far out man.

Moving!

As I write this, I’m on a plane to Oakland International Airport. I will be BARTing over to Daly City for a rendezvous with Amber. This weekend, with the help of my friends, I will be scouting San Francisco for a place to call home for a year or two while I establish myself in the Bay Area as a new engineer.

I’ll be brining a camera along and will document the search with steadfast resolve. Here’s hoping I can find a place outside of the Tenderloin District of Death and Unpleasantness.

Regardless of whether or not I find a place this weekend, the I beams will be hitting the road over Memorial Day weekend to dump my boxes of books, computer parts and DVDs into some semblance of a storage unit. Then we shall roam and cavort (my favorite kind of mischief) for the remainder of the weekend before heading back to the long shadow of the CLA.

Graduation

It appears that I’ve done it. With the completion of my senior project, I will be in position to actually graduate. Oh, sure, I’ve got Intro to American Government and Senior Seminar to complete still – but honestly – it’s not like I’m a business major. And both profs seem to think I’m pretty intelligent. Let’s hear it for social promotion.

So far, my confirmed guest list for the shindig at Casa de Maynard is rather short. My mom and Michael are definitely coming, as are Skyler and Amber. My uncle and his family, minus Jessica who is busy adding to her spectacular acting resume, will obviously be there. Sarah and Caitlin will be absent, having their own reasons for having to miss out, as will Pat – seems his parents are throwing a shindig of their own for there very special, Salame-loving son. At this rate, it may be a very benign and successful event. We’ll see how it turns out once some of the more contentious elements from my list RSVP.

Closing Thoughts

Ooh. The Flight Attendant (see I can be PC) is telling me it’s time to sign off…

… and I’m back, on BART, swooping towards Daly City. Amber says the commute is liable to be about 45 minutes – just enough time to finish this puppy up.

While I was in the skies, I received a call from the HR dude from the company I interviewed with. They want to see me again, but not today, seeing as how the principle engineer is out of town. But that is a good sign and I need to call him back once I reach my host family’s dwelling. Haha. And pick up some underwear. I knew I forgot to pack something.

I’m going to try posting this blog here right quick, but I dunno if one can wardrive on BART. We’ll see.