Dog People. Dog Person.

The rain this past weekend transformed Mill Valley’s residential dog park into a muddy and treacherous cesspool. Since weather conditions were less than ideal for a Saturday afternoon, it seemed that most of the dog-loving patrons who normally frequent the park had opted out of what was surely a disaster waiting to happen. Any dog at the dog park on this particular Saturday afternoon would have been covered in mud, nose to tail, within minutes. Still, one tiny middle-aged man and his equally tiny dog decided to live life on the edge.

The Mill Valley dog park is, in all fairness, just like any other green and scenic park in Marin County. A paved path lined with bushes and small trees ran the outer length of a large field. Half the field was secured with a chain-length fence where the dogs were set free to socialize.

I watched the tiny middle-aged man and his dog from one of the two benches inside the fence. He was dressed in a dark, hooded raincoat and had brought an umbrella with him even though the rain had stopped a several hours before. He was broad and squatty; I remember thinking that if I’d stood close to him for any reason, I would’ve surely towered over him. A few pieces of shaggy, salt and pepper colored hair had loosed themselves from under his beanie. It looked as if he might have once had a head of very dark hair, but whatever his age, there was now a lot more salt than pepper. He wore rectangular black-rimmed glasses that, combined with his squatness and goofy beanie, made him resemble a good-natured toad.

His dog, which also sported silly outerwear of some kind, had a tan, wiry coat and looked too much like a Chihuahua. It never ran or chased a ball or even bothered to socialize with the decoy dog I’d borrowed from my friend as an excuse to be in the dog park.

The man walked slowly around the inside of the gate with his sausage-like fingers laced behind his back. Every now and then his gaze turned toward the sky as if he were expecting the rain to start back up at any moment. Then he looked back down at his bug-eyed dog. It trotted along a few feet ahead of him with its tiny nose to the ground, giving one of its paws a skittish shake every couple steps. The man smiled faintly at his dog whenever it did this as if he found it amusing.

The pair circled the inside of the gate twice before finally retiring to the bench next to mine. The wiry little dog jumped onto the bench and wiggled its way onto its owner’s lap. Despite its seemingly delicate steps the dog hadn’t done very well avoiding the mud and, as it crawled into the man’s lap, little smudgy paw prints began to appear on his raincoat. He smiled faintly at this too, but never said a word. 

Collie Girl Conquers Greener Pastures in America

In stark contrast to the rolling green hills of the Irish countryside, the hustle and bustle of San Francisco would be hard to swallow for most, but 23-year-old Bríd Flynn is all smiles. Pouring me a glass of Pinot Grigio in the living room of her cozy outer Sunset apartment she coos, “It’s just a thank you present from some friends who stayed with us last week, sorry it’s not the good stuff.”

I assured her the Pinot was no better than anything in my fridge, and we raised our glasses to the city. Bríd has jokingly called herself a San Franciscan since her arrival to the U.S. this past August. She made the journey with her close friend from home, Aoife McGahon, 23, and the pair have had the time of their lives learning the ropes ever since. “We love it here,” she says of the city, “six months has already gone by so fast.”

Bríd and Aoife were able to find jobs through the Irish Immigration Pastoral Center, an organization that provides Irish immigrants with helpful services such as job listings, apartment rentals, as well as useful city information and living tips. The IIPC works directly with many Irish-owned companies around San Francisco and places Irish immigrants in jobs working alongside or with other Irish natives. Bríd landed a job at an Irish/American startup called Rua (Irish for red), where she does outsourcing administrative work for small construction companies in the bay area. “It’s not really what I want to be doing forever, but it pays the bills for now. I was hoping when I signed on to be doing something that would relate to my field of study, but the people who worked with me were all so lovely, I felt bad being unsatisfied at first with my job—I should be lucky to have one at all, to be fair.”

For someone so young, Bríd has already known her fair share of hardship. Born February 1, 1992, Bríd grew up during a time of great economic prosperity in Ireland, known as the Celtic Tiger. During this period, the country experienced rapid economic growth unlike anything recorded in previous decades. From 1995 to 2000 the Irish economy expanded at a rate of 9.4%, and continued to grow at a rate of around 5.9% the following decade.

“I grew up, my teen years at least, in the Celtic Tiger, up until I was about 18. Most families weren’t struggling—I wouldn’t say that most families were wealthy necessarily, but there wasn’t as much of a struggle.” Bríd grew up simply, but she was still able to spend summers going to Dublin and shopping with her friends a couple times a month. Her parents would even giver her up to 200 euro on occasion for shopping for going out. Although she applied for a job when she was 16, it was less out of necessity and more for experience.

Things took a turn for the worse in 2008 when the country’s economic climax ended and Ireland fell into a deep recession. The country hadn’t felt such strong repercussions since the downturn in the 1980’s, and its affects were felt nationwide. “It definitely hit a lot of the smaller towns and villages, but it was absolutely nationwide. Everyone felt it.” Although Bríd’s family were lucky enough to keep a roof over their heads and food on their plates, some weren’t so lucky. Millions of people lost their jobs and unemployment skyrocketed to a height of 15.1% in 2010. Her father and brother, who worked for the same construction company, were both laid off that year, losing their jobs at the same time. Her father, Martin, had worked for the family owned construction company for over 25 years, and felt the recession’s brutal sting as he watched the company he had dedicated most of his life to go out of business.

 “It was hard, but once the recession hit, to be honest, I think it was kind of a positive, a good smack in the face to everyone because it actually made us realize that we can’t continue living like this for the rest of our lives—we have to work harder and do everything for ourselves, and realize that we can’t be spending all this money on materialistic things constantly.” She paused to sip her wine. “It hit us bad, but it didn’t even hit my family as bad as it could have, and I’m grateful for that.”

Her mother, who worked as a secretary, also lost her job during the recession. Her older sister, Olivia, who was training to be a nurse, couldn’t find work in Ireland and was forced to move to Australia to try her luck there. When her brother, Cathal, was laid off with his father, he made connections in England and was able to land a job as a site construction manager in Reading.

“My dad lost his job in 2010 and he was unemployed for 2 or 3 years. He managed to get another construction job a couple years ago and he is still there and he’s happy,” she laughs “he’s just so happy to be working. He didn’t know what to do when he lost his job; he was always trying to do something in the garden or around the house to keep himself busy.”

Bríd too felt the repercussions of her country’s recession. After graduating from Dublin City College in December 2013, she found herself unable to land a job that would ever help her in her career path. “I found basic retail work at a shop in the Dublin airport, but I knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere.”

That realization drove her to seek out greener pastures and only added fuel to the fire of adventure. “I’d been to Cape Cod once in 2012 on a J1 and knew I needed to come back to America. Even if I just got another retail job there, I knew it would be a better place to make connections and I’d have more luck here than I would have in Ireland.”

“I love it here” she adds, “if they would let me stay forever I would.”

Although her one-year working visa is up in August, Bríd still has another six months to experience life to the fullest in San Francisco. She plans on taking a trip to Lake Tahoe next month. She smiles a full-faced grin and says jokingly, “I’m going to do as many American things as I can before they deport me.”

The Bold Italic at USF: Jennifer Maerz Makes a Guest Appearance

Last week our humble Feature Writing class received a visit from the managing producer of The Bold Italic, Jennifer Maerz. The San Francisco based website has been growing in popularity over the past few years, and Maerz was kind enough to impart some words of wisdom to the aspiring writers of USF.

As managing producer for a successful magazine/website hybrid that we’re starting to see a lot more of, Maerz took some time to talk with the students and answer questions about our uncertain future. She tried to ease our troubled minds with some suggestions for how to prepare ourselves for the professional world.

“Right out of college be comfortable writing online. Internships are always valuable even if you're not interested in that particular field. Take what you can get, because it could lead to something bigger and better. It’s also important to trust your voice. It might change over time, but remember to be true for it. Try to seek out the publications that write about things you're interested in.”

As students we are constantly being bombarded with advice for the real world or pushed to prepare ourselves for graduation. It gets old hearing what we should be doing with our lives from people who are older than us, but Maerz took a different approach. Maybe it was her calm, quiet voice, or her admission to being “a punk rocker at heart”, but either way, Maerz wasn’t off-putting, and that’s always a breath of fresh air.

Maerz also took some time to discuss The Bold Italic, describing what kinds of writers/stories they look for to match the tone of their site. She describes The Bold Italic as “silly, pro LGBT, feminist” and one that doesn’t “take anything too seriously.” Contrary to many professional publications, writers for The Bold Italic don’t have to have 10 years of experience and a vast store of writing samples to be considered.

What she looks for instead are “stories where people write about race or racism that is unobtrusive, people posing situations not as any one person being wrong, but instead about their experiences, what has happened to them, and what they learned from it.”

The website’s editors try their best not to completely edit what their writers say, but Maerz confirmed that, if a story seems racist or overly crude, they will not run it.

“We don't want to print something that we think would be spreading something negative. We also cut out things that are bias or homophobic.” As they should.

The Bold Italic’s aim is to appear in some ways as a “conversation with the city”, featuring writers and stories straight from the city they are representing. The site features, stories, anecdotes, and humor pieces—all of which have to do in some way with San Francisco.  

Maerz also stressed the importance of being up to date and savvy with your social media use. She described her use of Facebook, not so much as a tool to communicate with her friends, but more as a means of creating an online presence for herself. Facebook, she says, can be an extremely useful tool for self-promotion. If a student has writing or a blog, she encourages them to post links through Facebook as a way of getting the word out.

“I say yes to almost every friend request I get, because I don't see Facebook as a platform just for sharing my personal life, I see it as a way to further myself. At this point no one really cares about what you do on Facebook, the most they'll do if you post too much is take you out their feed, so post links to things and share your stuff! We're in an era now where everyone is posting selfies and self-promoting. So it’s important to get yourself out there in a positive way.”

Still, despite an ever-increasing attempt to stay relevant, Maerz does worry about being out of the loop and losing touch with her young audience. Although she claims that “writing about music keeps you very young”, she still doesn’t want to be the one to decide what’s important to San Francisco. For this she turns to the throngs of new writers entering the professional world every year.

“The more you can show that you have an online presence the better. We need someone who really knows the publication and really gets what we're about. Be a confident person and a strong voice in your writing will show.”

Exploring the Exploratorium

I’ve never been a fan of large crowds or excessive noise. Amusement parks, malls, and even some bars (sad to say) can prove too much for me. With that being said, I took a huge step outside the parameters of my comfort zone this past Saturday when I agreed to accompany a friend and the child she nannies to the Exploratorium, at its new location at Pier 15 on San Francisco’s Embarcadero.

It was a mild day for exploration. It was sunny and cloudy off and on, but not exceptionally windy. My friend Brittany and her watchling, Mait, were anxious to indulge in the process of exploration offered by the museum. The two were veterans of the Exploratorium, usually making an appearance about once a month—but this was my first encounter. Although I do hate crowds and noise, I still possess a bit of a soft spot for children’s museums. They’ve usually got games, shiny things, and stuff you can touch. I really couldn’t ask for much else. Thus, I decided to brave the noisy masses for the sake of childhood wonder.

Founded in 1969 by American physicist Frank Oppenheimer, the Exploratorium is a museum and learning laboratory in San Francisco that provides interactive exhibits for guests, in hopes of igniting curiosity and encouraging exploration. As opposed to the often cold and rigid structure of other educational museums, the Exploratorium gives its visitors the chance to actively engage with the exhibits. The “no touching” rule does not apply here—and therein lies all the fun.

As the three us neared the building’s entrance, Mait was fit to burst with excitement. The closer we got, the more rapidly his 6-year-old mouth began to fire off statements, questions and declarations pertaining to the magical things laying just within the museum doors:

“Did you know they have a machine that lets you stand inside a REAL tornado?? The smoke just floats around you it’s like you’re INSIDE a tornado—like actually inside. Once when I was here I played this game that tests your memory with a computer and I have a REALLY good memory—have you played a game like that? I play it all the time. We can play it inside, I bet they still have it—or the magnet things that look like sand!!—I just know you’ll love it here, it’s SO fun!”

He continued on like that for the duration of our time in line, adding his own observations to the commentary as they came to him. After about 10 or 15 minutes our young explorer’s prayers were answered and we were allowed to pass through the doors.

The main gallery was a vast concrete structure, scattered with exhibits and various objects that showed their true function only after close inspection. Our youngest (and most excited) member wasted no time in herding us toward his favorite area of the museum. He took mine and Brittany’s hand, pulling us with remarkable force to the south gallery, which housed a multitude of tinker machines. There were kids all around the museum, but their numbers were greatest by far in the south gallery. This area was full of interactive games, challenges, and experiments. There were one or two young employees in Exploratorium shirts helping kids and explaining exhibits to them. The two I saw both looked young, probably around my age or possibly a couple years older. I started chatting with one employee while Brittany chased Mait around, trying to tell him he couldn’t take the marbles from one of the exhibits.

“Don’t even worry about it, kids always try to take the marbles,” Nikki Damien, 23, says to me, “we’ve got a big box of replacements in the back.”

“That’s a relief,” I told her. “How long have you been working here?”

“Just about five months,” replied Damien, “it’s kind of hectic sometimes—weekends are pretty busy. But I actually like it a lot, the atmosphere is exciting.”

I was about to return the small talk when the weight of a small boy collided with me. Mait had launched himself onto my back and was now clinging to me with exceptional force. I told him the piggyback ride was going to cost him. He giggled with excitement.

“I put most of the marbles back,” he whispered in my ear, “but I kept ONE in my pocket, don’t tell Brittany!”

I gave him a wink and told him we could keep it between us. That’s the beauty of not actually being the nanny; I always get to be the fun one and tag along on adventures while Brittany has to be the one to lay down the law. Far less awesome for her, to be sure, but I guess someone’s got to do it.

A few moments later we found our warden, panting and winded from chasing her escaped convict, and together we continued to make our way through the museum. Mait rode happily on my back for a whole three minutes until another attraction caught his eye and he began to flail wildly, demanding to be set free to investigate. We followed his hurried footsteps to a collection of tall glass cylinders near the back of the museum. Each of the 7 cylinders held a different amount of water, each representing the height of the tide in San Francisco bay at specific hours during the day.

“What’re these?” Mait asked. Brittany read him the paragraph-long description that was propped on a podium near the tubes. He listened longer than I thought he would, but soon realized he hadn’t much interest in tidal patterns and moved wistfully along to browse the last few exhibits. The Exploratorium’s new facility has huge windows that look out on the bay, so the lot of us spent the remainder of our museum visit looking for sea lions and sailboats. End-of-day-count: sailboats-4, sea lions: 0 (unfortunately).

The crowd had died down only slightly as we made our way back through the museum, stopping briefly at the personal lockers to get our bags and Mait’s toys. When we got to the exit there was a young cheerful employee, doling out Exploratorium stickers and high fives to young and old alike. His name tag read: DYLAN!— matching his personality with equal fervor. We all happily received our high fives and Mait planted his sticker on his chest like a sheriff’s badge. He wore it out proudly and with a very impish grin. 


"Did you have a good time, Mait?" I asked.
He nodded aloofly, but still grinning. I could tell he had a good time. 

The Day They Made Cats Trendy

Crazy cat ladies, it’s finally your time to shine—the fashion world has officially made cats trendy, so you can wear your over the top cat attire without shame. By now anyone who shops regularly will have noticed that cats have made a cozy place for themselves in almost every mainstream retailer. Urban Outfitters and Forever 21 sell anything from cat loafers to cat-themed home accessories, while Popular retailers Top Shop and Nasty Gal both stock a ton of cat sweaters, as well as beanies and bowlers with little cat ears, shirts, socks, scarves, and more.

Nasty Gal

Urban Outfitters
(boys like cats too)

Book-Urban Outfitters
odd...but trendy

Even celebrities like Miley Cyrus, who are popular with younger generations, have been seen sporting everything from cat shirts to a skimpy pair of feline print underwear at the 2013 American Music Awards. Fashion designers Karl Lagerfeld and Oscar de la Renta have also drawn inspiration from cats for their collections.

Cat prints emerged on the runway in Mui Mui’s spring 2010 collection. From there, they filtered down into wearable, everyday fashions like the ones commonly found in retail stores. Since then cat fashion has grown in popularity, earning the status of “trendy”. But this is not because the newer generations love cats anymore than older generations. Lots of people like cats. Lots of people have always liked cats. The difference this time is that fashion has provided an outlet for cat lovers to share in and express their love through clothing. Whereas it would have previously been odd to wear cats on your clothes, it is now considered quirky and fun.

“They were unexpected. They were intentionally cutesy, which made them funny”, says Katherine Bernard in her Vogue article, “they flipped the notion of being a “cat lady” from something dumpy and lonely to a source of wit and pride. That moment of playing with expectations is what can make fashion interesting.”

However, as with most things that start out unique and quirky, the cat fad has evolved into a popular trend in mainstream fashion over the past four years. Now we observe hipsters and fashionistas feeling frustration, much in the same way indie music lovers do when everyone starts listening to that song that they’ve been “listening to for like ten years now”. It’s the feeling you have when you like something you feel makes you unique, and because of this you feel a kind of ownership over it.

Being an avid and self-proclaimed cat lover for the better half of my life, I often find myself saying “ugh, everyone’s wearing cat stuff now…cats have always been my thing. I’ve been rocking some kind of a cat shirt since 2^nd grade”. But realistically, anyone who has ever really liked cats can argue the same. 

“I actually like dogs better in real life I think”, says Taylor Reifurth, a girl I saw wearing a black and grey cat sweater from Urban, “I just see a lot of stuff with cats on it in stores and I like the style. The cat clothes are funny to me—it’s like a joke almost”.

We can’t be sure exactly how long with cat fab will endure, but Karl Lagerfeld’s 2014 launch of cat inspired accessories proves that it’s not quite over yet. And I say, let there be cats. I feel like I’ve been wearing over the top cat attire for years now—way back to when I wore tails into the grocery store and any other public place I could swing it. The only difference now is that the clothes for sale are cute and trendy because the fad is widely popular, giving us more options as consumers. It is currently an option to buy “in style” cat clothes, whereas options in the past were not always considered in style. So, while the option to buy trendy cat clothes is real and alive, I’ll be taking advantage. Let the soft-padded paws of feline style tread on.