Status report:
Generally satisfied and happy, but missing people. I came home today, threw in a load of laundry, made some chicken pad thai, finished a mix CD after some arguing with my relatively ancient Frankencomputer (4 and a half years is old in computer years), talked with my WUL (Weird Uncle L, for those in the know) on the phone for the first time in far too long and now I'm arranging swaps with friends online and listening to the newly-made CD front to back, scrutinizing the transitions. And writing this, of course.
New developments on this end: I've realized I really do need to get a new computer. How fast I move on this depends on how it behaves in the near future, though. And, really, I'm kind of putting it off, since I certainly hadn't budgeted for it.
The source of some relatively major headaches at the DJ gig is suddenly absent--my most recent regular Sunday night co-worker's been fired. I didn't really realize exactly how bad it had gotten until I found myself telling my manager that the company almost lost me over him. The manager in question had gotten one email about his behavior, but until he was gone, I didn't realize just how tense he'd made me those nights.
But: crisis averted. All is well: I think the manager in question is actually going to be taking on the night with me, which I'm pretty cool with.
Talking to my uncle, though, made me start missing him. We were talking about major life shifts and developments, the significance of which is still sinking in and making me think about my own, of course, and about how little time we both have. 'S truth, as an old fling (who I still keep in loose contact with, I might add) once had a habit of saying.
I love chatting with WUL, and I miss being able to do it in person, when we're both relatively at our leisure. But these days, enough time stretches between chats with him that there are sometimes odd pauses where we try to figure out what needs to be said--what we've told each other and what we haven't, what needs to be updated or has new developments, how much time we can spare to chat, and then eventually how to sign off. This time it took a good even dozen tries, I'm certain. We'll usually start wrapping up, then get distracted with a significant detail or anecdote, and have to approach the end of the conversation from a different angle.
I also have lodged in my head his signoff tonight, which meant a lot to me. It was a sentiment I hadn't heard out of him for awhile, and I'd noted its absence. There are relatives of mine that I can basically take or leave--I care, sure, but I wouldn't fuss or make note if they weren't totally forthcoming or genuine in a telephone conversation. WUL is not one of those. He means a lot to me, and I'm not always sure he knows it.
I value his opinions, his thoughts and theories, his personal values, his weirdnesses, his spirituality and beliefs, and being able to talk with him about all the above. And I miss it a lot. I'm proud of him, and that seems weird coming from the younger one of the two of us, I'm sure. But: 's truth. It's why I brought him as a guest panel member to my college when I was organizing our convention there. I wanted my friends to meet him, to talk with him, to realize how brilliant he was, to gain a little bit of what I've gained over the years from him. I'm still pretty constantly amazed that he's part of my family. But happy, certainly happy.
Please excuse this evening's sappiness. I'm operating on about four hours of sleep and I miss my uncle. I just hope he knows how much.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Friday, August 18, 2006
Leaving New Orleans, part the final
The morning I flew out was strange. My flight left incredibly early, which meant I and my host got up at 4 a.m. or so to get ready to make the drive out to the airport. Instead of taking the highway, which wasn't entirely reliable due to night construction, we ghosted through neighborhood after neighborhood. Some were eerily quiet. Others, from all indications, were completely abandoned. There was mist across the road in a lot of places, especially near the park.
After I finished being unnerved, I found it a completely appropriate environment for my exit from the city. New Orleans would haunt me, much as that morning's ride did. I am amazingly thankful that I got a chance to go, and took it.
Once aloft, I could see the city below quite clearly as we were banking:
Thanks to the wonder that is the satellite view on Google Maps, I managed to precisely identify what I was seeing. Metairie Cemetery is the one arranged in an oval above the golf course. Greenwood Cemetery is across the Ponchartrain Expressway from it to the right and St. Patrick's Cemetery is just below, more across from the golf course. Note the cluster of blue tarps in the lower right (click through the picture if you can't see them well enough: you can also click "All Sizes" above the picture on that page to enlarge it).
A line of sunlight appeared over the city as we left it:
And a new day dawned for New Orleans as I left it behind.
Take that as a metaphor, if you will.
After I finished being unnerved, I found it a completely appropriate environment for my exit from the city. New Orleans would haunt me, much as that morning's ride did. I am amazingly thankful that I got a chance to go, and took it.
Once aloft, I could see the city below quite clearly as we were banking:
Thanks to the wonder that is the satellite view on Google Maps, I managed to precisely identify what I was seeing. Metairie Cemetery is the one arranged in an oval above the golf course. Greenwood Cemetery is across the Ponchartrain Expressway from it to the right and St. Patrick's Cemetery is just below, more across from the golf course. Note the cluster of blue tarps in the lower right (click through the picture if you can't see them well enough: you can also click "All Sizes" above the picture on that page to enlarge it).
A line of sunlight appeared over the city as we left it:
And a new day dawned for New Orleans as I left it behind.
Take that as a metaphor, if you will.
New Orleans pictures, part the seventh
But there were other signs as well. Signs that life was returning to normal.
The shops, many of them, were open again.
The tourists were returning, that Easter weekend:
And with the tourists came the street performers:
The characters that make up the heart of New Orleans were either back, or never left:
You'll still find surprises in your food:
Like the crab's claw I found in my gumbo at Coop's Place, but it was still amazing food. I miss it, and before this I never particularly cared for spicy food.
The beautiful buildings haven't gone away:
And some things never change:
This is Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, said to be the longest continuously operating bar in the America, located on a far end of Bourbon Street. It's quiet, almost entirely lit by candles, and the interior is largely unchanged.
After all this, though, I felt just about like this:
The shops, many of them, were open again.
The tourists were returning, that Easter weekend:
And with the tourists came the street performers:
The characters that make up the heart of New Orleans were either back, or never left:
You'll still find surprises in your food:
Like the crab's claw I found in my gumbo at Coop's Place, but it was still amazing food. I miss it, and before this I never particularly cared for spicy food.
The beautiful buildings haven't gone away:
And some things never change:
This is Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, said to be the longest continuously operating bar in the America, located on a far end of Bourbon Street. It's quiet, almost entirely lit by candles, and the interior is largely unchanged.
After all this, though, I felt just about like this:
New Orleans pictures, part the sixth
Throughout, I was fascinated by the tagging. What it meant, where the different services placed them, why each was searching. But only after I returned did I look up the codes: "The top obviously represented the date of the search. The left, the unit who conducted it. The right was a code for the type of contamination found within. The bottom number told the grim tale of how many bodies were found." (I don't have the original source of that quote because it's been reposted so often.)
"When they enter a structure to search for survivors, they put a slash on the building (usually in orange spray paint) with the date to the right of it and some type of identification for the search team on the left. Then they "cross the X" on the way out of the structure, writing body counts at the bottom and other hazards to the right. (That way, if they get in trouble and never come back out, another crew can tell which building they're stuck in because the X isn't crossed.)"
And some, more practical, like this one for mail.
Also on the more practical end were those who searched for pets. A good thing in theory, it didn't work out in practice as well. Some of these folks broke into houses to find abandoned pets, and left those houses wide open to be looted.
And then there were signs of a different sort, not encoded, but plain to read. Signs like the one I contributed to Signs of Life and others, begging for an end:
And yet others carrying more hope than despair:
"When they enter a structure to search for survivors, they put a slash on the building (usually in orange spray paint) with the date to the right of it and some type of identification for the search team on the left. Then they "cross the X" on the way out of the structure, writing body counts at the bottom and other hazards to the right. (That way, if they get in trouble and never come back out, another crew can tell which building they're stuck in because the X isn't crossed.)"
And some, more practical, like this one for mail.
Also on the more practical end were those who searched for pets. A good thing in theory, it didn't work out in practice as well. Some of these folks broke into houses to find abandoned pets, and left those houses wide open to be looted.
And then there were signs of a different sort, not encoded, but plain to read. Signs like the one I contributed to Signs of Life and others, begging for an end:
And yet others carrying more hope than despair:
New Orleans pictures, part the fifth
Then there were these:
Yes, that water line would be over your head. This is from Lakeview, with a storm rolling in to the left, through a car window. Since Lakeview and several other areas that got hit hard are basically suburban cookie-cutter hells, those areas turned out like this:
Full curbs, fridges often full of rotten food, at each stop down the line.
Curbs full of belongings, furniture, clothes; often moldy or still waterlogged, in the case of mattresses.
The "luckier" areas, where people qualified, saw trailers in each driveway.
I was heartened to see kids biking down the road here, like in any neighborhood, which is why I took this shot.
Tons of new businesses sprang up or moved to the area, and advertised on every lightpole they could get ahold of:
I'm not real fond of these businesses, though I know their services are needed. To me, a lot of these are just making their money off the disaster--demolition, mold removal, businesses that buy up old houses, you name it--and others are just plain scams.
Lest you think it was just middle-class suburbia that got hit:
And the ubiquitous blue tarps:
And fridges. No electricity = rotting food. Most people probably checked theirs after they returned, then duct taped it shut and tossed it to the curb:
Yes, that water line would be over your head. This is from Lakeview, with a storm rolling in to the left, through a car window. Since Lakeview and several other areas that got hit hard are basically suburban cookie-cutter hells, those areas turned out like this:
Full curbs, fridges often full of rotten food, at each stop down the line.
Curbs full of belongings, furniture, clothes; often moldy or still waterlogged, in the case of mattresses.
The "luckier" areas, where people qualified, saw trailers in each driveway.
I was heartened to see kids biking down the road here, like in any neighborhood, which is why I took this shot.
Tons of new businesses sprang up or moved to the area, and advertised on every lightpole they could get ahold of:
I'm not real fond of these businesses, though I know their services are needed. To me, a lot of these are just making their money off the disaster--demolition, mold removal, businesses that buy up old houses, you name it--and others are just plain scams.
Lest you think it was just middle-class suburbia that got hit:
And the ubiquitous blue tarps:
And fridges. No electricity = rotting food. Most people probably checked theirs after they returned, then duct taped it shut and tossed it to the curb:
New Orleans pictures, part the fourth
Here's the much briefer and segmented version of what I wanted to do earlier: post some of the New Orleans pictures with context. I'll do separate entries for these, to break it up a bit.
A former stoplight in the Marigny. As of April, a lot of stoplights were still down, turning those intersections into four-way stops, which messed with traffic something fierce.
They are, of course, making progress on that account, though.
And, on the other hand, some are operable, just a bit cock-eyed:
And then there are other signs that are just a bit off as well:
A former stoplight in the Marigny. As of April, a lot of stoplights were still down, turning those intersections into four-way stops, which messed with traffic something fierce.
They are, of course, making progress on that account, though.
And, on the other hand, some are operable, just a bit cock-eyed:
And then there are other signs that are just a bit off as well:
the forest for the trees
This morning, driving in to work, I noticed one of the other things I appreciate about this area of Pennsylvania. While I was driving, the odd fir trees on either side of the road turned into oaks, and I realized that I really enjoy the variability of the landscape.
There's this one type of fir that you can see from the bypass out to Bellefonte, that I swear has always struck me at first, from afar, to look like a grove of palm trees. They're amazingly tall, and bend slightly from the prevailing wind, but only have needles and branches at the very tippy-top. When I was dating the former Forestry major, I should've asked about them--but then again, I might not have remembered the answer. I've forgotten a lot of what I learned then, and I wish I'd thought to write it down. Then again, I knew that relationship would end (the person in question was moving to Philly only a few short months--in reality, more like six, but it felt short--after we started dating) so I was probably busy enjoying the presence rather than planning for the absence. In any case.
Yesterday I had the morning presentation. It went well enough--one rather insistent questioner who asked some rather off-the-wall questions, but other than that and one tangent that caused, well enough. On the way back to the office after yoga yesterday, I ran into one of the families that had been in the presentation: a family I remembered not only because the mother had a foot injury that caused her to move around in a boot, but because it was one of those odd situations we run into here surprisingly often--what we call the change-of-assignment student. The student had started at Penn State York and was soon to be switching to Penn State University Park as planned, but wanted to get a tour first. He and his family had come in late to the information session (it didn't really apply to them anyway), and the mother had asked me a few questions about housing afterwards.
When I realized they were somewhat lost, I offered to walk them back to Shields, which was where I was headed anyway. I fell into step with the student and chatted with him--about getting used to a large campus, about housing, about York, and about the weather and environment here at UP. He mentioned that the landscape on the drive up was "hard to resist," and I had to agree with him there.
He asked about winter--York's almost on the Maryland border, and gets a really minor amount of snowfall--and I told him how we get one or two bad snowfalls a year, but typically that's all. The rest of the winter's just minor flurries and subsequent slush. But then I told him about the beautiful storms--the way you can see rain falling on the mountains but not touching the valley, and the way you can watch a thunderstorm crest Mount Nittany, the dark clouds building above it before it tumbles down the other side. I don't think he got the beauty in it. But I think he will, eventually.
It was when he asked my major that I realized he didn't recognize me from the presentation. I laughed, said I had changed clothes, given the workout, and that I was in disguise. I'm still amused and mostly enjoy these kinds of mistakes, and they happen often, despite that I feel the beginnings of age creeping into the edges of my eyes and in the crease between my eyebrows. But we're all our own worst critics, of course.
And now you see how the minor things--the incidentals--distract me from the grandeur and beauty of this place. Maybe I'll ask L. if he wants to go hiking this weekend. Then again, with my luck (after checking the forecast), we'll get caught in one of those beautiful rainstorms I was just raving about. 40-60% chance, depending on which day? Yeah, probably would. Then again, I don't mind a little damp every once in awhile, and I don't think L. does either. It's been a long time since I've been out to the Shingletown Gap trails. Maybe we'll try to hit it up anyway.
There's this one type of fir that you can see from the bypass out to Bellefonte, that I swear has always struck me at first, from afar, to look like a grove of palm trees. They're amazingly tall, and bend slightly from the prevailing wind, but only have needles and branches at the very tippy-top. When I was dating the former Forestry major, I should've asked about them--but then again, I might not have remembered the answer. I've forgotten a lot of what I learned then, and I wish I'd thought to write it down. Then again, I knew that relationship would end (the person in question was moving to Philly only a few short months--in reality, more like six, but it felt short--after we started dating) so I was probably busy enjoying the presence rather than planning for the absence. In any case.
Yesterday I had the morning presentation. It went well enough--one rather insistent questioner who asked some rather off-the-wall questions, but other than that and one tangent that caused, well enough. On the way back to the office after yoga yesterday, I ran into one of the families that had been in the presentation: a family I remembered not only because the mother had a foot injury that caused her to move around in a boot, but because it was one of those odd situations we run into here surprisingly often--what we call the change-of-assignment student. The student had started at Penn State York and was soon to be switching to Penn State University Park as planned, but wanted to get a tour first. He and his family had come in late to the information session (it didn't really apply to them anyway), and the mother had asked me a few questions about housing afterwards.
When I realized they were somewhat lost, I offered to walk them back to Shields, which was where I was headed anyway. I fell into step with the student and chatted with him--about getting used to a large campus, about housing, about York, and about the weather and environment here at UP. He mentioned that the landscape on the drive up was "hard to resist," and I had to agree with him there.
He asked about winter--York's almost on the Maryland border, and gets a really minor amount of snowfall--and I told him how we get one or two bad snowfalls a year, but typically that's all. The rest of the winter's just minor flurries and subsequent slush. But then I told him about the beautiful storms--the way you can see rain falling on the mountains but not touching the valley, and the way you can watch a thunderstorm crest Mount Nittany, the dark clouds building above it before it tumbles down the other side. I don't think he got the beauty in it. But I think he will, eventually.
It was when he asked my major that I realized he didn't recognize me from the presentation. I laughed, said I had changed clothes, given the workout, and that I was in disguise. I'm still amused and mostly enjoy these kinds of mistakes, and they happen often, despite that I feel the beginnings of age creeping into the edges of my eyes and in the crease between my eyebrows. But we're all our own worst critics, of course.
And now you see how the minor things--the incidentals--distract me from the grandeur and beauty of this place. Maybe I'll ask L. if he wants to go hiking this weekend. Then again, with my luck (after checking the forecast), we'll get caught in one of those beautiful rainstorms I was just raving about. 40-60% chance, depending on which day? Yeah, probably would. Then again, I don't mind a little damp every once in awhile, and I don't think L. does either. It's been a long time since I've been out to the Shingletown Gap trails. Maybe we'll try to hit it up anyway.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
by way of update
I suppose I should do a proper catch-up post, too. On the quick end: the old friends in town were good, the con was good, the old friends that I got to see at the con are good, work is surprisingly good (if busy since I was out), and I'm pretty darn good myself. Better than good, actually, if busy. As per normal.
I got home from the con sore and tired, but went to yoga on Monday night as planned, and afterwards felt some ridiculous percentage better. At work on Tuesday, I had been invited to the Directors' Planning meeting. Kind of exciting in itself, but even more exciting was the charge I was given: to co-chair a small committee to care for essentially our entire public web presence. During the discussion, it sure sounded like that committee would shape our next redesign and future web projects, and man, do I look forward to that.
Now people are handing me suggestions right and left, often what they see on other sites and think is neat. I love it. But following the pack? Screw that. Lead or perish. Do or die. And all that rot. We've been given a license to create change, and I intend to use it.
We'll be over here, making great things happen. Hope you don't mind the jackhammering in the meantime.
I got home from the con sore and tired, but went to yoga on Monday night as planned, and afterwards felt some ridiculous percentage better. At work on Tuesday, I had been invited to the Directors' Planning meeting. Kind of exciting in itself, but even more exciting was the charge I was given: to co-chair a small committee to care for essentially our entire public web presence. During the discussion, it sure sounded like that committee would shape our next redesign and future web projects, and man, do I look forward to that.
Now people are handing me suggestions right and left, often what they see on other sites and think is neat. I love it. But following the pack? Screw that. Lead or perish. Do or die. And all that rot. We've been given a license to create change, and I intend to use it.
We'll be over here, making great things happen. Hope you don't mind the jackhammering in the meantime.
extended warranties
I have to say that I'm very, very glad that I got the extended warranty on my car. Why? Because there's virtually nothing like driving home after a long day's work on a beautiful day with the music up and the windows and sunroof down. And I wouldn't be able to do that last bit if I hadn't sprung for the extended.
Last time I took my car in, complaining of--among other things--a stuck sunroof, they quoted me a $900 bill to fix it. I should've known, after my last car also had expensive sunroof problems (which I did not fix, by the by, rather just learning to deal with the occasional leak than close it up entirely) that the sunroof would be the first large-bill item. Thankfully when I bought the car, though I didn't have the sunroof in mind, I made the foolish decision to go all the way with the warranty.
And it was worth every penny, if only for tonight.
Now I'm sitting here typing this while the scent of the andouille sausages I just made myself fills the air, and I managed to do them just right for me--enough so they split and go just a little crispy--and there's a kind of beauty. Strange, sure, but mine.
And to think that if I hadn't visited New Orleans, I may never have discovered these.
Last time I took my car in, complaining of--among other things--a stuck sunroof, they quoted me a $900 bill to fix it. I should've known, after my last car also had expensive sunroof problems (which I did not fix, by the by, rather just learning to deal with the occasional leak than close it up entirely) that the sunroof would be the first large-bill item. Thankfully when I bought the car, though I didn't have the sunroof in mind, I made the foolish decision to go all the way with the warranty.
And it was worth every penny, if only for tonight.
Now I'm sitting here typing this while the scent of the andouille sausages I just made myself fills the air, and I managed to do them just right for me--enough so they split and go just a little crispy--and there's a kind of beauty. Strange, sure, but mine.
And to think that if I hadn't visited New Orleans, I may never have discovered these.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
the photo book
Quick note due to extreme busy-ness: the editors of Signs of Life were kind enough to expose some of their process. If this order holds, my shot is either in the first ten or last ten of the book.
Either way, I kind of find that a good sign. Hell, it's a good sign that it's in there at all.
Gotta run. Old friends are in town, and I leave for the con Thursday morning.
Either way, I kind of find that a good sign. Hell, it's a good sign that it's in there at all.
Gotta run. Old friends are in town, and I leave for the con Thursday morning.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
busy busy
Work's up at one of its two highest ramped-up points. Right now, we're in the middle of Spend a Summer Day's five day-long events. There was one last Wednesday, one yesterday, and there'll be one Monday, Wednesday, Friday of next week. They're exilarating but exhausting, usually. I'm going to be interested to see how I handle my usual sleep-deprived Monday under those circumstances.
Then right after this, virtually, will be my trip to Indiana to the convention that pulls together most of my friends from college. We'll have folks coming in from Seattle, New York, and Chicago, at the very least, this time around.
So, in brief: sorry I haven't been around more often, but it's for good reason. Doing well other than being busy-busy.
Then right after this, virtually, will be my trip to Indiana to the convention that pulls together most of my friends from college. We'll have folks coming in from Seattle, New York, and Chicago, at the very least, this time around.
So, in brief: sorry I haven't been around more often, but it's for good reason. Doing well other than being busy-busy.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
grasshoppers and hawks and more hawks, oh my!
I was planning an entry in my head on the way to work on Friday. It was going to be about the almost-translucent tiny grasshopper that was clinging to my window as I drove to work, and probably making it into a metaphor about hanging on as your schedule goes crazy. The grasshopper then decided, at one stoplight, to crawl to my roof. S/he did make it all the way to campus: I even took a picture upon arrival.
But as I walked into work, I got thoroughly distracted. People were looking up into one of the pine trees next to the sidewalk. I looked up, and there was a hawk--if not the same hawk as last time, then certainly the same variety. Since I still had my camera in hand, I started taking shots. The hawk decided to move pretty swiftly thereafter, gliding down to the ground, landing in the ground cover near the building, then hopping up to the railing leading down to one of the basement machine access doors. I took picture upon picture of hir there:
A co-worker watched me take them and started chatting with me as I was standing probably about 12 feet away. The hawk didn't budge, and seemed to pay us absolutely no mind. I moved in to about 9 feet, at a guess, and kept taking shots. S/he only ever looked at me once there:
Eventually, though, it did fly off, to a nearby athletics field, to perch on a goal there, a few shots after which I left it to go inside. Before that, though, I was stopped by one of the folks who works downstairs from me, who asked if I was using a digital camera and if he could be emailed copies of the pictures, which I did.
I was interrupted by another co-worker just before noon to tell me that the hawk was sitting on a branch right outside her window. I went and took a look, to find many in her suite huddled around her window watching it clean itself, mostly turned away from the window. We talked about it for a few minutes and I tried to take a few shots, but it was a horrendous light situation out of which I only got two good shots. It didn't help that s/he was turned away during most of my visit there. But again, it took no mind of us, even if it could hear us through the window, which I doubt.
The gentleman who I sent pictures to that morning replied to me that afternoon to share what he had seen on his lunch break: one hawk on the ground eating a fresh kill, and complaining at another who was trying to razz hir from the roof. Wish I'd seen that bit.
On the way back from yoga, I spotted hir again, this time in the tree right next to the back entrance of the building. I ran in and grabbed my camera again, this time getting a few more shots, some of hir grooming:
And a few more when s/he finally noticed me:
But you get the idea. It was a hawk-filled day.
Today, though, I'm in satisfied mode. Good gathering last night with folks, including early birthday gifts from the other J. Had a lap-cat for awhile--a gorgeous friendly calico who somebody will be taking away from us this weekend. Unfortunately, I also pretty well proved that I'm allergic to cats in the process. Love them, but they make me sneeze. Went home and showered so as not to get the allergens on my freshly-washed sheets. Went a little overkill on the shower, taking my time and thoroughly washing and treating my hair to a rinse and shaving and all kinds of nonsense, and came out smelling of vanilla mint and raspberry and a hint of cocoa. Slipped into bed, clean on clean.
Unfortunately didn't get to sleep in as long as I'd like: I woke up hungry. Got up and had some granola, did my usual Internet surfing, and will shortly be leaving for a minor road trip. To see a movie. Friends and I have decided to boycott the crappy theatres nearby, and unfortunately they're the only ones showing the Pirates sequel.
That being the case, I should probably go get ready to head out. Hopefully it'll be worth the trip--but even if not, usually the entertainment of the friends being enclosed in a small space for almost an hour each way is worth it. Ha.
But as I walked into work, I got thoroughly distracted. People were looking up into one of the pine trees next to the sidewalk. I looked up, and there was a hawk--if not the same hawk as last time, then certainly the same variety. Since I still had my camera in hand, I started taking shots. The hawk decided to move pretty swiftly thereafter, gliding down to the ground, landing in the ground cover near the building, then hopping up to the railing leading down to one of the basement machine access doors. I took picture upon picture of hir there:
A co-worker watched me take them and started chatting with me as I was standing probably about 12 feet away. The hawk didn't budge, and seemed to pay us absolutely no mind. I moved in to about 9 feet, at a guess, and kept taking shots. S/he only ever looked at me once there:
Eventually, though, it did fly off, to a nearby athletics field, to perch on a goal there, a few shots after which I left it to go inside. Before that, though, I was stopped by one of the folks who works downstairs from me, who asked if I was using a digital camera and if he could be emailed copies of the pictures, which I did.
I was interrupted by another co-worker just before noon to tell me that the hawk was sitting on a branch right outside her window. I went and took a look, to find many in her suite huddled around her window watching it clean itself, mostly turned away from the window. We talked about it for a few minutes and I tried to take a few shots, but it was a horrendous light situation out of which I only got two good shots. It didn't help that s/he was turned away during most of my visit there. But again, it took no mind of us, even if it could hear us through the window, which I doubt.
The gentleman who I sent pictures to that morning replied to me that afternoon to share what he had seen on his lunch break: one hawk on the ground eating a fresh kill, and complaining at another who was trying to razz hir from the roof. Wish I'd seen that bit.
On the way back from yoga, I spotted hir again, this time in the tree right next to the back entrance of the building. I ran in and grabbed my camera again, this time getting a few more shots, some of hir grooming:
And a few more when s/he finally noticed me:
But you get the idea. It was a hawk-filled day.
Today, though, I'm in satisfied mode. Good gathering last night with folks, including early birthday gifts from the other J. Had a lap-cat for awhile--a gorgeous friendly calico who somebody will be taking away from us this weekend. Unfortunately, I also pretty well proved that I'm allergic to cats in the process. Love them, but they make me sneeze. Went home and showered so as not to get the allergens on my freshly-washed sheets. Went a little overkill on the shower, taking my time and thoroughly washing and treating my hair to a rinse and shaving and all kinds of nonsense, and came out smelling of vanilla mint and raspberry and a hint of cocoa. Slipped into bed, clean on clean.
Unfortunately didn't get to sleep in as long as I'd like: I woke up hungry. Got up and had some granola, did my usual Internet surfing, and will shortly be leaving for a minor road trip. To see a movie. Friends and I have decided to boycott the crappy theatres nearby, and unfortunately they're the only ones showing the Pirates sequel.
That being the case, I should probably go get ready to head out. Hopefully it'll be worth the trip--but even if not, usually the entertainment of the friends being enclosed in a small space for almost an hour each way is worth it. Ha.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
memory and meaning
I passed a woman trying to lead a gaggle of kids on bikes on my way home for lunch today, and it brought to mind a near-ancient memory of a bike accident I had when riding on the back of my mother's bike when I was tiny: younger than five, at the very least.
We were on a country highway near the house we lived in at the time, and most of what I can remember involves gravel, and dust, and movement, and hurt.
From around the same time, I remember getting bitten by the across-the-street neighbor's dog, though that one mostly involves images of their front yard and running down their driveway.
I think I remember happier things, like playing with our German shepherd in the snow in front of the house, but that one I can't be sure wasn't ingrained in me from seeing the photo my mother took of it or not.
I'm pretty sure I remember a meal with my grandparents (mother's side) in attendance, at least, at the big dining room table, and my grandfather urging me to finish my meal so I could belong to the Clean Plate Club.
I remember parts of my fifth birthday very clearly, including one view of our patio from the sliding glass door, right before I ran in, fell, and split my head open on one of our wrought-iron chairs. Stitches on my birthday, no less.
But most of these have moments of crispness in between a lot of haze, and I sometimes wonder if everyone's memory works like that. Mine works much like a series of still images, like a photo album, and because of this, I think I know why my data is so important to me: my memories are tied up in it. My photos and writing work as ciphers: keys to open lock-boxes way back in my brain.
So I think it's through my writing and pictures that I remember best. Things that I don't write down or capture visually tend to fade, but the problem with that is that those things end up being subject to revision. The way I write it becomes more ingrained than the original memory, and thus better remembered. If I leave out a detail, it's more likely to be forgotten. But then again, if I don't re-read that bit of writing recording an event, it's subject to the same rules as a memory I haven't recorded, other than a little bit of reinforcement from having to put it into words to get it down in the first place.
Of course, there are things that aren't like that, and weren't recorded, but I still remember: these earliest memories are an example. I don't think I ever wrote about these, and other than the snow picture, none were photographed. These were only in oral history at best, and just in my head at worst. Though I do remember my mother jesting about my grandfather's "Clean Plate Club," so it's possible that I matched that up with an image from memory--I just find it really hard to be sure.
This realization starts to pull the rug out from under me if I ponder it too long: if what I remember isn't real, then what is? But then I also manage to input into the equation that it's always been like this, and it probably is for others, and they don't seem too bothered by it.
And in some ways, it works for me, since I do write, and I do take photographs extensively. And I can even--to some extent--preserve the memory of others this way.
In college, I took a course on oral history. During it, I did a project with my aunt, who lived in Denmark during World War II along with my dad and the rest of his immediate family. She was quite a bit older than he at the time, though, and remembered more from the time. I talked to her about the experience, then wrote it up for that class. This came up in conversation with my uncle a while back, who encouraged me to find that paper because he wanted a copy. I also want to read it again too, since she's gone now, and that written documentation may be all there is left of it (though I imagine she'd talked about it with others). But it's in an ancient laptop that's not entirely stable, and I haven't taken the time to try to dig it out of there yet. I should.
But it makes me realize how much of my life (and my recordings of others' lives) is tied up as data. And realize why computers dying on me fills me with such panic whenever it happens--because that's my memory. That's part of me. I could certainly live without it, but I don't want to lose more than I have to.
And I'm out of time here, but I have to say that examining all this really makes me want to go out and get another external hard drive, just in case my backup dies. It also reminds me that I should do some further backing up soon. This brain doesn't run on its own, you know.
We were on a country highway near the house we lived in at the time, and most of what I can remember involves gravel, and dust, and movement, and hurt.
From around the same time, I remember getting bitten by the across-the-street neighbor's dog, though that one mostly involves images of their front yard and running down their driveway.
I think I remember happier things, like playing with our German shepherd in the snow in front of the house, but that one I can't be sure wasn't ingrained in me from seeing the photo my mother took of it or not.
I'm pretty sure I remember a meal with my grandparents (mother's side) in attendance, at least, at the big dining room table, and my grandfather urging me to finish my meal so I could belong to the Clean Plate Club.
I remember parts of my fifth birthday very clearly, including one view of our patio from the sliding glass door, right before I ran in, fell, and split my head open on one of our wrought-iron chairs. Stitches on my birthday, no less.
But most of these have moments of crispness in between a lot of haze, and I sometimes wonder if everyone's memory works like that. Mine works much like a series of still images, like a photo album, and because of this, I think I know why my data is so important to me: my memories are tied up in it. My photos and writing work as ciphers: keys to open lock-boxes way back in my brain.
So I think it's through my writing and pictures that I remember best. Things that I don't write down or capture visually tend to fade, but the problem with that is that those things end up being subject to revision. The way I write it becomes more ingrained than the original memory, and thus better remembered. If I leave out a detail, it's more likely to be forgotten. But then again, if I don't re-read that bit of writing recording an event, it's subject to the same rules as a memory I haven't recorded, other than a little bit of reinforcement from having to put it into words to get it down in the first place.
Of course, there are things that aren't like that, and weren't recorded, but I still remember: these earliest memories are an example. I don't think I ever wrote about these, and other than the snow picture, none were photographed. These were only in oral history at best, and just in my head at worst. Though I do remember my mother jesting about my grandfather's "Clean Plate Club," so it's possible that I matched that up with an image from memory--I just find it really hard to be sure.
This realization starts to pull the rug out from under me if I ponder it too long: if what I remember isn't real, then what is? But then I also manage to input into the equation that it's always been like this, and it probably is for others, and they don't seem too bothered by it.
And in some ways, it works for me, since I do write, and I do take photographs extensively. And I can even--to some extent--preserve the memory of others this way.
In college, I took a course on oral history. During it, I did a project with my aunt, who lived in Denmark during World War II along with my dad and the rest of his immediate family. She was quite a bit older than he at the time, though, and remembered more from the time. I talked to her about the experience, then wrote it up for that class. This came up in conversation with my uncle a while back, who encouraged me to find that paper because he wanted a copy. I also want to read it again too, since she's gone now, and that written documentation may be all there is left of it (though I imagine she'd talked about it with others). But it's in an ancient laptop that's not entirely stable, and I haven't taken the time to try to dig it out of there yet. I should.
But it makes me realize how much of my life (and my recordings of others' lives) is tied up as data. And realize why computers dying on me fills me with such panic whenever it happens--because that's my memory. That's part of me. I could certainly live without it, but I don't want to lose more than I have to.
And I'm out of time here, but I have to say that examining all this really makes me want to go out and get another external hard drive, just in case my backup dies. It also reminds me that I should do some further backing up soon. This brain doesn't run on its own, you know.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Weather and office shenanigans
So I headed home for lunch today. My timing's impeccable: I started driving back just as the sky let loose. I had a hard rain accompaniment all the way to campus, when it let up to a gentle but steady sprinkle.
I had brought my umbrella into my office this morning, but hadn't taken it with me back to the car during lunch. And guess who brilliantly decided to wear a white shirt with her skirt this morning?
Hi: that would be me.
I even further appreciate the fact that the door leading to my office is right inside the stairwell now. Not that it was a big deal.
Though I don't think it's raining presently, I can see another wave coming: the darkness having just crested over the nearest mountain range that I can see from my office window. I'm still getting used to this view: I switched offices recently, to one office back in the suite. It's nice: tucked away, a little more quiet, better furnished, less of a bowling alley layout, but it is down a window compared to my last office, which I do miss. But I still do like it.
I had brought my umbrella into my office this morning, but hadn't taken it with me back to the car during lunch. And guess who brilliantly decided to wear a white shirt with her skirt this morning?
Hi: that would be me.
I even further appreciate the fact that the door leading to my office is right inside the stairwell now. Not that it was a big deal.
Though I don't think it's raining presently, I can see another wave coming: the darkness having just crested over the nearest mountain range that I can see from my office window. I'm still getting used to this view: I switched offices recently, to one office back in the suite. It's nice: tucked away, a little more quiet, better furnished, less of a bowling alley layout, but it is down a window compared to my last office, which I do miss. But I still do like it.
week in review, week in preview
A few quick notes this morning:
This is the part about a storm season that I love: when the oppressive heat and humidity is broken one morning, and though the clouds are low and drizzling over the mountains in the distance, the scudding clouds above you are broken by gaps filled with sunlight. When you can open a window and catch a breeze just tinged (but not heavily ridden) with the next shower.
When it's a temperature comfortable to humans. Well, me in specific.
Today's one of those rare days when I wear a skirt just because (though I'll admit that they're certainly cooler).
Got back from the last conference mid-week last week, which was in Hershey, where the hotel provides you with enough chocolate to drown a horse if you want it. Upon check-in and check-out, they hand you two chocolate bars. A basket full of chocolate was their answer to a housekeeping screw-up (they swiped my soap by accident). Rather than the hard candies that some conference locales provide next to the water in the back of the session rooms, they provided a selection of Hershey's chocolate. You get the idea. It was a refreshing change when on the last day, they served cheesecake for dessert: regular cheesecake, with strawberries, and no chocolate.
This week's already been a bit of a whirl, and only promises to get worse. Yesterday, a long-time Internet friend and virtual sister who I'd never met in person was in town, ostensibly to visit and tour the university, but also to spend time, which was extra nice.
Reached home to find a package and envelope of news clippings from my dad (got it, and it works!), which I was intending to call him about but didn't due to online drama having happened while I was out of touch Sunday night sometime after I went to work at the club. I called to give one person involved some moral support and catch up a bit, which ate up much of the night, it felt like.
Wednesday some of us are having a gathering that will eat up that night, and on Friday most of that group (including me) will be going to Pittsburgh for a concert, the details of which I still haven't heard, given that it's being organized by a gal one of my friends is seeing but she lives in Philadelphia (I've only met her once). Hopefully it'll work out, though. Another online friend saw the band in question in NYC recently, and gives the tour a firm two thumbs up. Hopefully we'll get a similar performance.
This is the part about a storm season that I love: when the oppressive heat and humidity is broken one morning, and though the clouds are low and drizzling over the mountains in the distance, the scudding clouds above you are broken by gaps filled with sunlight. When you can open a window and catch a breeze just tinged (but not heavily ridden) with the next shower.
When it's a temperature comfortable to humans. Well, me in specific.
Today's one of those rare days when I wear a skirt just because (though I'll admit that they're certainly cooler).
Got back from the last conference mid-week last week, which was in Hershey, where the hotel provides you with enough chocolate to drown a horse if you want it. Upon check-in and check-out, they hand you two chocolate bars. A basket full of chocolate was their answer to a housekeeping screw-up (they swiped my soap by accident). Rather than the hard candies that some conference locales provide next to the water in the back of the session rooms, they provided a selection of Hershey's chocolate. You get the idea. It was a refreshing change when on the last day, they served cheesecake for dessert: regular cheesecake, with strawberries, and no chocolate.
This week's already been a bit of a whirl, and only promises to get worse. Yesterday, a long-time Internet friend and virtual sister who I'd never met in person was in town, ostensibly to visit and tour the university, but also to spend time, which was extra nice.
Reached home to find a package and envelope of news clippings from my dad (got it, and it works!), which I was intending to call him about but didn't due to online drama having happened while I was out of touch Sunday night sometime after I went to work at the club. I called to give one person involved some moral support and catch up a bit, which ate up much of the night, it felt like.
Wednesday some of us are having a gathering that will eat up that night, and on Friday most of that group (including me) will be going to Pittsburgh for a concert, the details of which I still haven't heard, given that it's being organized by a gal one of my friends is seeing but she lives in Philadelphia (I've only met her once). Hopefully it'll work out, though. Another online friend saw the band in question in NYC recently, and gives the tour a firm two thumbs up. Hopefully we'll get a similar performance.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
New Orleans pictures, part the third
Though I'm about to leave for another conference, I wanted to note this before I ran out the door.
One of my New Orleans pictures has been solicited for a book, Signs of Life, by a couple I've never met, through the beauty of easily-searched photos online (thank you, Flickr, and thank you, tagging). Here's that shot:
I took that when my host took me on a drive through St. Bernard parish. It was eye-opening. I have lots of shots where that came from, but I have to say it was an uneasy experience. Yes, I wanted to document it, yes, I wanted those shots both to help me remember and to show others, but at the same time, these are peoples' homes. And I was just a tourist.
As for the book, I'm still not really sure how I feel about it. Sure, it's flattering, and sure, I submitted the shot, but this certainly isn't as much about the shot as it is about the subject matter there. I just happened to catch it. And I think there are much better "Signs of Life" from the area, but this is what they chose--the signs people put out to signal how they're dealing. The signs that let everyone know that people were back--or that they'd abandoned the area. There were plenty of those, too. Most residents, those that stayed, met that abandonment with heavy disdain, though.
I don't have a conclusion here (and take that as an overarching statement), but I've got to run or I'll miss my carpool to Hershey, where in addition to the conference, I'll probably get to meet up with a few folks I know primarily online. One I've met before (in New Orleans, in fact), and the other I haven't. Both are fantastic gals, though. I'm just hoping our schedules work out.
One of my New Orleans pictures has been solicited for a book, Signs of Life, by a couple I've never met, through the beauty of easily-searched photos online (thank you, Flickr, and thank you, tagging). Here's that shot:
I took that when my host took me on a drive through St. Bernard parish. It was eye-opening. I have lots of shots where that came from, but I have to say it was an uneasy experience. Yes, I wanted to document it, yes, I wanted those shots both to help me remember and to show others, but at the same time, these are peoples' homes. And I was just a tourist.
As for the book, I'm still not really sure how I feel about it. Sure, it's flattering, and sure, I submitted the shot, but this certainly isn't as much about the shot as it is about the subject matter there. I just happened to catch it. And I think there are much better "Signs of Life" from the area, but this is what they chose--the signs people put out to signal how they're dealing. The signs that let everyone know that people were back--or that they'd abandoned the area. There were plenty of those, too. Most residents, those that stayed, met that abandonment with heavy disdain, though.
I don't have a conclusion here (and take that as an overarching statement), but I've got to run or I'll miss my carpool to Hershey, where in addition to the conference, I'll probably get to meet up with a few folks I know primarily online. One I've met before (in New Orleans, in fact), and the other I haven't. Both are fantastic gals, though. I'm just hoping our schedules work out.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
con season
Yes, kids, it's con season once again. Conferences, conventions: looks like I'll be hitting up both again this year, but mostly the former. Already hit up the Penn State Admissions Conference, just today finished the Penn State Web Conference, and next week is PACAC (Pennsylvania Association for College Admissions Counseling). Needless to say (and not too much different than normal), I may be a bit scarce.
Today's conference was impressive. Excellent speakers: great ideas, well-presented. Frankly much better than yesterday's pre-conference sessions, but that may be more due to the format than anything else--a tired me and four-hour-long tutorials do not mix well.
During the conference, I talked a bit with colleagues from Student Aid, after which one offered to meet up and exchange notes on different sessions, and others offered to loan me a few books that I might want to pick up. Very nice of them. After the conference, I sat for a bit at Legends with the keynote speaker and some of the presenters and organizers (plus one that I'm not sure qualified as either), rather by accident. I'd only intended to sit at the bar and quiz one of the presenters briefly. Only after I settled in did I realize who else was sitting with him, but I certainly wasn't going to turn down an invite to join them when they shifted to a table, especially since I hadn't really found an opening to start asking questions at that point (nor did I, but that's another story). An exceptionally pleasant bit of hanging out ensued, especially considering that I knew absolutely none of them beforehand. The conversation bounced between a whole bunch of different subjects I enjoy: blogging and fiction writing, new web developments and how the University can use such, as well as some banter about semi-current events at Penn State and filling in the speaker on those bits he wasn't familiar with. Excellent stuff, and rather got me interested in getting more involved in that community. I'd forgotten how easy it is to talk to people that are interested in similar things both professionally and personally, but I suspect that has a lot to do with being overloaded and rather sequestered out in Admissions.
Here's to being not quite so much so anymore, with the arrival of the new writer.
Today's conference was impressive. Excellent speakers: great ideas, well-presented. Frankly much better than yesterday's pre-conference sessions, but that may be more due to the format than anything else--a tired me and four-hour-long tutorials do not mix well.
During the conference, I talked a bit with colleagues from Student Aid, after which one offered to meet up and exchange notes on different sessions, and others offered to loan me a few books that I might want to pick up. Very nice of them. After the conference, I sat for a bit at Legends with the keynote speaker and some of the presenters and organizers (plus one that I'm not sure qualified as either), rather by accident. I'd only intended to sit at the bar and quiz one of the presenters briefly. Only after I settled in did I realize who else was sitting with him, but I certainly wasn't going to turn down an invite to join them when they shifted to a table, especially since I hadn't really found an opening to start asking questions at that point (nor did I, but that's another story). An exceptionally pleasant bit of hanging out ensued, especially considering that I knew absolutely none of them beforehand. The conversation bounced between a whole bunch of different subjects I enjoy: blogging and fiction writing, new web developments and how the University can use such, as well as some banter about semi-current events at Penn State and filling in the speaker on those bits he wasn't familiar with. Excellent stuff, and rather got me interested in getting more involved in that community. I'd forgotten how easy it is to talk to people that are interested in similar things both professionally and personally, but I suspect that has a lot to do with being overloaded and rather sequestered out in Admissions.
Here's to being not quite so much so anymore, with the arrival of the new writer.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
New Orleans pictures, part the second
Yes, I know the sign's a little skewed in this view (had to do it to fit this layout). Click it to view it at a more normal size (and read the sign).
I believe I found this fierce creature in the Marigny. And probably had gotten on the nerves of my host by that point because I stopped so much without saying a word. Eventually I got the hang of saying "stopping for a sec," but early on, I'd just pause to take the shot.
I believe I found this fierce creature in the Marigny. And probably had gotten on the nerves of my host by that point because I stopped so much without saying a word. Eventually I got the hang of saying "stopping for a sec," but early on, I'd just pause to take the shot.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
New Orleans pictures, part the first
I've realized that I don't think I'll have the large chunk of time necessary to really tell this story the way I want to. Therefore, in order to at least show the pictures I promised, I'll just be dropping one in here every once in a while. Like this one:
Some things just go on as normal, like the wedding photos taking place on Jackson Square. I'm not sure if I saw unusual activity, though, given that it was Easter weekend while I was there.
Some things just go on as normal, like the wedding photos taking place on Jackson Square. I'm not sure if I saw unusual activity, though, given that it was Easter weekend while I was there.
quick week-in-review
I managed to screw up my spacebar this morning in trying to fix it, so forgive any mistakes, if you would.
Quick week-in-review:
Started the week with the Penn State Undergraduate Admissions spring conference. Got to see a couple of the campuses near Pittsburgh, which was good, since trying to explain them to students without ever having been there is otherwise a bit of a challenge. There was a session on Career Services there that sticks out in my memory: I was pleasantly surprised to find out that Career Services is relatively coordinated throughout our 20 undergraduate campuses, among other facts.
The night we were out there, our evening's entertainment was a trip to Dave & Busters at the Waterfront (think Chuck E. Cheese's for adults): I still have a blister from killing zombies with my grandboss. That is, we played an arcade game called House of the Dead 4 together. I also showed him Gauntlet, and he took a round with a Star Wars game that I watched. I still get a kick out of him, and I love the fact that afterward he went around to those we met up with saying, "you really owe us: we defended you from zombies back there."
Had a day's worth of tech training on Friday off-site, but an excellent conversation during lunch with the staff assistant I was there with, during which I found out a bunch of stuff that had occurred behind the scenes that I didn't really understand at the time, but now kind of have a grasp on. Office politics: I haven't really had time for it, or even chit-chat, since we lost the other writer. Thankfully, we should have her replacement on board within the next week.
I'm in the midst of moving between offices: my new one has fewer windows, but it's a prettier and quieter space, being less of a bowling alley layout (long and narrow) and farther away from where the student tour guides gather (I love them, but they're noisy every day that they're in--which is often every day, period).
Tonight I'm saturated with cigar smoke after a long stint in a room full of it, but I feel accomplished because I finished a full 28 inches of a new weave with a relatively new material--half-Persian in blackened stainless steel, a request from B., my host in New Orleans, who made me two bracelets while I was there, so I wanted to return the favor (and, for that matter, make some for myself). Now I just have to figure out what to do for the clasps. Normally I'd just use the same gauge wire that I used for the bracelet itself, but working in steel obviously isn't quite as easy. I'd take pictures of what I managed today, but I'm tired and my hands are pretty well shot. Even this typing kind of hurts, so I should probably quit pretty soon.
Also managed to see X-Men 3 today with a different combination of folks. Tomorrow's a picnic of some kind, and the usual Sunday djing gig, which promises to be a tad overwhelming. Not only is it a busy night, Monday being a holiday, but I think the guy I usually work with has either quit or been fired, and I'm not sure which, having heard from no one, but seen the schedule and noted that he's neither on this week or next. Not sure what's up with that. Guess I'll find out tomorrow night.
And yes, I know: NOLA pictures. I haven't forgotten. As soon as I can, but there's a bunch of stuff still in the way (including sending things I promised at least one person in particular from that trip, and the enormous 'net-aided mail swap I managed to rope myself into organizing having launched within the past week--I'm nuts, I know).
I tend to dive into way too many things at once. Have you noticed?
Quick week-in-review:
Started the week with the Penn State Undergraduate Admissions spring conference. Got to see a couple of the campuses near Pittsburgh, which was good, since trying to explain them to students without ever having been there is otherwise a bit of a challenge. There was a session on Career Services there that sticks out in my memory: I was pleasantly surprised to find out that Career Services is relatively coordinated throughout our 20 undergraduate campuses, among other facts.
The night we were out there, our evening's entertainment was a trip to Dave & Busters at the Waterfront (think Chuck E. Cheese's for adults): I still have a blister from killing zombies with my grandboss. That is, we played an arcade game called House of the Dead 4 together. I also showed him Gauntlet, and he took a round with a Star Wars game that I watched. I still get a kick out of him, and I love the fact that afterward he went around to those we met up with saying, "you really owe us: we defended you from zombies back there."
Had a day's worth of tech training on Friday off-site, but an excellent conversation during lunch with the staff assistant I was there with, during which I found out a bunch of stuff that had occurred behind the scenes that I didn't really understand at the time, but now kind of have a grasp on. Office politics: I haven't really had time for it, or even chit-chat, since we lost the other writer. Thankfully, we should have her replacement on board within the next week.
I'm in the midst of moving between offices: my new one has fewer windows, but it's a prettier and quieter space, being less of a bowling alley layout (long and narrow) and farther away from where the student tour guides gather (I love them, but they're noisy every day that they're in--which is often every day, period).
Tonight I'm saturated with cigar smoke after a long stint in a room full of it, but I feel accomplished because I finished a full 28 inches of a new weave with a relatively new material--half-Persian in blackened stainless steel, a request from B., my host in New Orleans, who made me two bracelets while I was there, so I wanted to return the favor (and, for that matter, make some for myself). Now I just have to figure out what to do for the clasps. Normally I'd just use the same gauge wire that I used for the bracelet itself, but working in steel obviously isn't quite as easy. I'd take pictures of what I managed today, but I'm tired and my hands are pretty well shot. Even this typing kind of hurts, so I should probably quit pretty soon.
Also managed to see X-Men 3 today with a different combination of folks. Tomorrow's a picnic of some kind, and the usual Sunday djing gig, which promises to be a tad overwhelming. Not only is it a busy night, Monday being a holiday, but I think the guy I usually work with has either quit or been fired, and I'm not sure which, having heard from no one, but seen the schedule and noted that he's neither on this week or next. Not sure what's up with that. Guess I'll find out tomorrow night.
And yes, I know: NOLA pictures. I haven't forgotten. As soon as I can, but there's a bunch of stuff still in the way (including sending things I promised at least one person in particular from that trip, and the enormous 'net-aided mail swap I managed to rope myself into organizing having launched within the past week--I'm nuts, I know).
I tend to dive into way too many things at once. Have you noticed?
Friday, May 12, 2006
symbolism/MNO sidebar
Warning: contains graphic descriptions of blisters. Continue at your own risk.
I had my weekly yoga class today, and noted that the New Orleans blisterTM is in its final stages: completely separated from the new skin beneath, cracking, and dry. It's also amazingly thick: I was shocked. The pinprick I put in it while I was down there to drain it has developed into a decent-sized hole.
I suppose it's relevant to understand how big this blister was/is. It took up most of the ball of my left foot, running farther down the side than it did along my toes, and it went all the way up in between my big and second toe.
This was not the fault of my shoes, I might add. I brought the best shoes for walking that I have: my comfy kicking-around Børns and my Dansko clogs, which have better support (thus again demonstrating my preference for all things Danish--lucky they make such great shoes). It was the fault of me not walking enough at home, and ramping up to an incredible amount of on-my-feetness literally overnight. The last two days I was there, my feet had gotten used to it.
In any case, I had noticed that this blister had reached this stage a few days ago, and I took it as another sign that I was done processing and assimilating the experience and ready to share it.
But then, I'm like that, some of the time.
In those moments, I'm connective--I tend to find links between things that perhaps shouldn't be, and symbolism where there's only practicality.
Case in point: I came home one day to find three or four bees/yellowjackets/wasps/I-can't-tell-them-apart,so-whatever dead right outside my front door. One half of my brain immediately exclaimed "this must mean something," but moments later the other half of my brain thwapped the first and said sarcastically "it means they sprayed today, stupid."
You see my point.
So there you have me: demonstratably halved, one part that wants the world to be full of mysticism and symbolism, and the other that's supremely rational.
Which will win? Stay tuned to find out.
I had my weekly yoga class today, and noted that the New Orleans blisterTM is in its final stages: completely separated from the new skin beneath, cracking, and dry. It's also amazingly thick: I was shocked. The pinprick I put in it while I was down there to drain it has developed into a decent-sized hole.
I suppose it's relevant to understand how big this blister was/is. It took up most of the ball of my left foot, running farther down the side than it did along my toes, and it went all the way up in between my big and second toe.
This was not the fault of my shoes, I might add. I brought the best shoes for walking that I have: my comfy kicking-around Børns and my Dansko clogs, which have better support (thus again demonstrating my preference for all things Danish--lucky they make such great shoes). It was the fault of me not walking enough at home, and ramping up to an incredible amount of on-my-feetness literally overnight. The last two days I was there, my feet had gotten used to it.
In any case, I had noticed that this blister had reached this stage a few days ago, and I took it as another sign that I was done processing and assimilating the experience and ready to share it.
But then, I'm like that, some of the time.
In those moments, I'm connective--I tend to find links between things that perhaps shouldn't be, and symbolism where there's only practicality.
Case in point: I came home one day to find three or four bees/yellowjackets/wasps/I-can't-tell-them-apart,so-whatever dead right outside my front door. One half of my brain immediately exclaimed "this must mean something," but moments later the other half of my brain thwapped the first and said sarcastically "it means they sprayed today, stupid."
You see my point.
So there you have me: demonstratably halved, one part that wants the world to be full of mysticism and symbolism, and the other that's supremely rational.
Which will win? Stay tuned to find out.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Pictoral
Also, while browsing Flickr, I found several great photo sets taken around Penn State. Linkage occurs here:
Flat Stanley's tour
A native's view
A photographer's viewpoint
A visitor, I think, during ArtsFest (though no ArtsFest shots are featured)
Flat Stanley's tour
A native's view
A photographer's viewpoint
A visitor, I think, during ArtsFest (though no ArtsFest shots are featured)
Missing New Orleans, part the second
A thought occurred to me the other day, when I was driving and caught a flash of blue out of the corner of my eye. I don't know if it's permanent, but I know that for awhile at least, I will never be able to associate that color of blue with anything other than FEMA tarps.
And it's not that they're everywhere, though there are a lot of them. They're clustered in the spots that were hardest hit, but when they're clustered like that, it's hard to miss them. And then you see them intermittently elsewhere, and it's like your brain gets used to that background noise. Now that I'm home, and that particular shade of blue is more rare, they stand out like a bellow in a library.
And it's not that they're everywhere, though there are a lot of them. They're clustered in the spots that were hardest hit, but when they're clustered like that, it's hard to miss them. And then you see them intermittently elsewhere, and it's like your brain gets used to that background noise. Now that I'm home, and that particular shade of blue is more rare, they stand out like a bellow in a library.
Missing New Orleans, part the first
I finished Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans? yesterday during my lunch hour. Afterwards, I thought "now I'm ready."
And there's so much to say that I feel like I could write entries upon entries about it. There seems to be at least one entry for virtually every part of me: photographer, art-, architecture-, food- and music-lover, activist, humanist, cynic (yes, I know the latter two conflict), feminist, geek, people-watcher and general observer. Writer, of course, but that's rampant due to the whole bit about these entries being written now, isn't it?
But this will certainly take more than one entry is what I meant to point out here. Time constraints may keep them pretty short. We'll see how this goes.
And there's so much to say that I feel like I could write entries upon entries about it. There seems to be at least one entry for virtually every part of me: photographer, art-, architecture-, food- and music-lover, activist, humanist, cynic (yes, I know the latter two conflict), feminist, geek, people-watcher and general observer. Writer, of course, but that's rampant due to the whole bit about these entries being written now, isn't it?
But this will certainly take more than one entry is what I meant to point out here. Time constraints may keep them pretty short. We'll see how this goes.
Friday, May 05, 2006
New Orleans pre-thoughts
Going back through photos from the neighborhoods I explored in New Orleans, I'm still at a kind of loss.
I tend to try to lead an examined life, but when I try to examine this, when I try to wrap my head around it, something just stops.
And there's this stillness. Eye in the center of the storm. There's so much around it that I fear I can't take it all in, that I won't be able to digest it all.
But that may be the lesson, right there. Sometimes it's beyond you, and that's okay. And sometimes you just go on with life as usual, and that's okay too. It's necessary, even. To continue. For the cycle of seasons to begin again.
And they will. And New Orleans will get through this. It will. It has to, if only to spite the naysayers. And from what little I learned of some of the people down there, they're like that. They'll thumb their noses just for the sake of pride.
And I'd do it right with them if they'd let me.
I tend to try to lead an examined life, but when I try to examine this, when I try to wrap my head around it, something just stops.
And there's this stillness. Eye in the center of the storm. There's so much around it that I fear I can't take it all in, that I won't be able to digest it all.
But that may be the lesson, right there. Sometimes it's beyond you, and that's okay. And sometimes you just go on with life as usual, and that's okay too. It's necessary, even. To continue. For the cycle of seasons to begin again.
And they will. And New Orleans will get through this. It will. It has to, if only to spite the naysayers. And from what little I learned of some of the people down there, they're like that. They'll thumb their noses just for the sake of pride.
And I'd do it right with them if they'd let me.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
odd
It's telling that I still think "Aunt A. would approve" at odd moments, prompted by odd subjects. I still wonder what her opinion would be on things.
Today's odd subject? My soap.
Yes, I realize that I'm an odd duck.
Today's odd subject? My soap.
Yes, I realize that I'm an odd duck.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
lakes and mountains
NOLA posts still forthcoming. I'm still in the midst of working through 3.5 gigs worth of pictures to accompany them.
As a side note: I love having good dental insurance. I hate that my jaw is still sore from it, though.
I ran home for lunch today. Upon exiting again to come back, I smelled a lake.
There are no lakes in this region.
A couple of workers were doing something to the sidewalk pavement a few doors down involving a power sprayer of some sort, as well as some other equipment. The combination of gas and airborne water particles smelled just like the lakefront where my dad lives on some days. The fact that the wind was blowing a bit and the sun shining helped too, I'm sure. It's strange--the addition of the gas makes it not necessarily a good smell, but at least one I associate with good things. And water spray--well, who can argue with that? It makes you feel like you're on vacation, even if it's just the lakefront of your hometown.
I rather lament the fact that there aren't any good large bodies of water nearby. One of our interns just wrote a story about our crew team, which of course emphasized that fact, so it's been in mind for a bit lately. But then, there I never had the pressure in my ears pop on the way to and from work, as it does here each day. Which is strange, because we're in a relatively flat area--a valley between ranges. Bellefonte's hillier than State College, really. Some of the roads there are truly frightening on first drive-through: there's one in particular that just drops from beneath you, so for a few seconds you truly cannot see where you're headed. But it is a minor thrill, of course.
I appreciate mountains, but I also like lakes. Makes me think that I might be better off out West: Colorado or Washington or Northern California or some such. Though those bring with them their own complications, of course. Cost of living being a big one.
Enough rambling. Back to it.
As a side note: I love having good dental insurance. I hate that my jaw is still sore from it, though.
I ran home for lunch today. Upon exiting again to come back, I smelled a lake.
There are no lakes in this region.
A couple of workers were doing something to the sidewalk pavement a few doors down involving a power sprayer of some sort, as well as some other equipment. The combination of gas and airborne water particles smelled just like the lakefront where my dad lives on some days. The fact that the wind was blowing a bit and the sun shining helped too, I'm sure. It's strange--the addition of the gas makes it not necessarily a good smell, but at least one I associate with good things. And water spray--well, who can argue with that? It makes you feel like you're on vacation, even if it's just the lakefront of your hometown.
I rather lament the fact that there aren't any good large bodies of water nearby. One of our interns just wrote a story about our crew team, which of course emphasized that fact, so it's been in mind for a bit lately. But then, there I never had the pressure in my ears pop on the way to and from work, as it does here each day. Which is strange, because we're in a relatively flat area--a valley between ranges. Bellefonte's hillier than State College, really. Some of the roads there are truly frightening on first drive-through: there's one in particular that just drops from beneath you, so for a few seconds you truly cannot see where you're headed. But it is a minor thrill, of course.
I appreciate mountains, but I also like lakes. Makes me think that I might be better off out West: Colorado or Washington or Northern California or some such. Though those bring with them their own complications, of course. Cost of living being a big one.
Enough rambling. Back to it.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
quick-like, from NOLA
This trip has gone extremely well thus far. The one exception is that my feet haven't held up entirely to my liking, but I've also been walking an amazing amount each day compared to my usual. I'm blessed to have a wonderful host, as well as some great friends to catch up with, as well as a bonus of the option of time alone to explore each day if I want it--but only if I want it. Though I usually do.
I'd write more, but I think a concert looms, and I wouldn't miss this one for the world.
I'd write more, but I think a concert looms, and I wouldn't miss this one for the world.
Friday, April 07, 2006
laughing at work and a stadium visit
So as I was walking in from my car this morning, my grand-boss passed me in his minivan. When he saw me, he started waving like a maniac, which made me laugh. He tends to do that (make me laugh, that is), and it's so refreshing to work with someone like that.
As soon as he got in, he stopped by my office and said, "I was trying to be one of those happy morning people, but I think I just managed to hurt my shoulder. No more of that." Kidding around, of course.
Have I mentioned I adore working with this guy?
As a side note, I finally managed to make it into our stadium, after five years of living here. A few weeks ago, our intern (a football fan--or at least, a Nittany Lion fan) said she wanted to do a story about the stadium, wanted to go inside and see the parts most people don't see. So we did. I went with to shoot photos.
It's actually a little spooky when it's completely empty. But we poked our noses into the locker room, done in carpet and wood, and, I thought at least, exceptionally beautifully done. We saw the media room, the different clubs (one for former players, one that could be bought into), and the president's suite, as well as the club boxes, which are amazing. They have windows down the front that can be rolled up so you're virtually outside (but under cover, too), movie theatre-style seating, couch, mini-kitchen, etc. Pretty amazing amenities. I'd never realized how much that whole end works like a hotel--they even have a concierge on each floor.
We even went out onto the field, an experience that was probably pretty well wasted on me. Post-season, the marks are taken off the field, so it's just an expanse of grass surrounded by empty seating. There were some potential recruits also on the field with us, down at the other end--juniors in high school--that held impromptu races across the field. When I started taking pictures of them, the one guy that wasn't going to participate decided he had to, once he realized I was taking shots. Amusing, but probably won't gain him much fame, since not only did I not get their names, but the shot probably won't even make it into the feature. It's a pretty good shot, with one in full stride, perfect form, but the others kind of ruin it--two are in-process on their forward step, and their arms are down, so it looks like they're jogging at best, and the third (the one who snuck in at the last second) had kicked off his non-running shoes, so he's in his stocking feet on the grass, which looks a little odd. And, of course, they're all in jeans, just mucking about.
They were also really small for football players, all of them, but of course I realize they're just in high school, that they've still got time to grow. But from the time I tutored one of our linebackers and saw his pencil disappear in his grasp, their size has always impressed me. And it's reflected in the locker room--all the showerheads are way, way, high--as are the controls for them. Inconveniently high for me (and I don't consider myself short), but probably perfect for them.
That feature will probably go up at the end of the month in the student life section of our website, but the intern that wrote it heavily self-edited, I think, and understandably so--very few of the people that read these will ever see the inside of these boxes.
In any case, I know I never will again. Football: not my thing.
As soon as he got in, he stopped by my office and said, "I was trying to be one of those happy morning people, but I think I just managed to hurt my shoulder. No more of that." Kidding around, of course.
Have I mentioned I adore working with this guy?
As a side note, I finally managed to make it into our stadium, after five years of living here. A few weeks ago, our intern (a football fan--or at least, a Nittany Lion fan) said she wanted to do a story about the stadium, wanted to go inside and see the parts most people don't see. So we did. I went with to shoot photos.
It's actually a little spooky when it's completely empty. But we poked our noses into the locker room, done in carpet and wood, and, I thought at least, exceptionally beautifully done. We saw the media room, the different clubs (one for former players, one that could be bought into), and the president's suite, as well as the club boxes, which are amazing. They have windows down the front that can be rolled up so you're virtually outside (but under cover, too), movie theatre-style seating, couch, mini-kitchen, etc. Pretty amazing amenities. I'd never realized how much that whole end works like a hotel--they even have a concierge on each floor.
We even went out onto the field, an experience that was probably pretty well wasted on me. Post-season, the marks are taken off the field, so it's just an expanse of grass surrounded by empty seating. There were some potential recruits also on the field with us, down at the other end--juniors in high school--that held impromptu races across the field. When I started taking pictures of them, the one guy that wasn't going to participate decided he had to, once he realized I was taking shots. Amusing, but probably won't gain him much fame, since not only did I not get their names, but the shot probably won't even make it into the feature. It's a pretty good shot, with one in full stride, perfect form, but the others kind of ruin it--two are in-process on their forward step, and their arms are down, so it looks like they're jogging at best, and the third (the one who snuck in at the last second) had kicked off his non-running shoes, so he's in his stocking feet on the grass, which looks a little odd. And, of course, they're all in jeans, just mucking about.
They were also really small for football players, all of them, but of course I realize they're just in high school, that they've still got time to grow. But from the time I tutored one of our linebackers and saw his pencil disappear in his grasp, their size has always impressed me. And it's reflected in the locker room--all the showerheads are way, way, high--as are the controls for them. Inconveniently high for me (and I don't consider myself short), but probably perfect for them.
That feature will probably go up at the end of the month in the student life section of our website, but the intern that wrote it heavily self-edited, I think, and understandably so--very few of the people that read these will ever see the inside of these boxes.
In any case, I know I never will again. Football: not my thing.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
more snow
I left home this morning to find my car covered in snow, and snow still falling. Isn't it March that's supposed to be in like a lion, out like a lamb?
The sun's shining beautifully, even though it's below freezing and still snowing. On the drive in, the ridge beyond Mount Nittany was completely obscured by the clouds and snow. Checking my window now, though, it seems to be slowly moving on.
This next week is going to be more than a little bonkers, since I leave in a week for New Orleans and have way too much to do before then. Speaking of which, I should get on a few of those things. Maybe I'll report in from down there, where I sure hope I won't find more snow.
The sun's shining beautifully, even though it's below freezing and still snowing. On the drive in, the ridge beyond Mount Nittany was completely obscured by the clouds and snow. Checking my window now, though, it seems to be slowly moving on.
This next week is going to be more than a little bonkers, since I leave in a week for New Orleans and have way too much to do before then. Speaking of which, I should get on a few of those things. Maybe I'll report in from down there, where I sure hope I won't find more snow.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
office wildlife
(editor's note: I know the photos below break my layout. I don't care. They're too good to crop down, in my humble opinion.)
Yesterday, as I walked in to the office, I noticed a large raptor hanging out in a tree near the back door, where I usually enter. After some hesitation, and pointing him/her out to someone else entering the building, I grabbed my camera.
I suspect the raptor in question is a relative of the one that hung out on the overhang while I took pictures from inside last spring sometime, but I can't be sure. I want to say they're both red-tailed hawks, but I haven't looked into it far enough to be certain.
Here's last year's visitor:
Here's this year's visitor (unfortunately backlit, so you can't see his/her markings that well):
S/he eventually tired of my clicking away below him/her, and flew off, leading to my favorite shot of the morning:
Yesterday, as I walked in to the office, I noticed a large raptor hanging out in a tree near the back door, where I usually enter. After some hesitation, and pointing him/her out to someone else entering the building, I grabbed my camera.
I suspect the raptor in question is a relative of the one that hung out on the overhang while I took pictures from inside last spring sometime, but I can't be sure. I want to say they're both red-tailed hawks, but I haven't looked into it far enough to be certain.
Here's last year's visitor:
Here's this year's visitor (unfortunately backlit, so you can't see his/her markings that well):
S/he eventually tired of my clicking away below him/her, and flew off, leading to my favorite shot of the morning:
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
weather confusion
On Monday, we hit a record high for the day, at 76 degrees. Then yesterday, we had snow flurries that didn't just fall--they blew sideways. I woke up this morning to find a decent few inches of fluffy snow that I had to dig my car out of.
Couldn't it just pick one?
Couldn't it just pick one?
Friday, March 03, 2006
ice day 2
Left this morning to find that the ice accumulation from yesterday is still around. Amazing. And still beautiful, in places layers thick, and in others, melting in the sun. I'm hoping I can use lunch today (nothing else on the docket: my usual Friday yoga is on "break" and I have no packages to send or errands that have to be run--a near-miracle) to go take some pictures, but I suspect the sun may have taken care of it all by then.
Much in sunlight on the drive in was gone or currently dripping. The shadows, though, were full of white glistening. Spindly bushes became crystalline fragility. I imagined walking through them might cause a sudden in-unison shattering, fragments bursting upwards, glittering balefully as they fell. Many of the powerlines were layered thick, frozen mid-drip all along their lengths.
A colleague, walking in with me, also commented on this morning's beauty. I noticed the magnolia (I think?) next to the back steps had thick buds, all of them coated. I commented to her that every year, I see that happen and say that can't be good for the tree, but every year, the tree somehow survives it, so it can't be that bad for it either.
She laughed with me, then mentioned that I seemed to have my name back. Within the last week or so, I sent an office-wide email signed "Anne, the writer formerly known as Anna" as a bit of a joke. People I don't know very well in the office have been gently ribbing me about it ever since. But I figured, since the one I was most concerned about confusion with (since we had the same job description, team, many of the same meetings, and offices right next to each other) had just left, I might as well take it back. Not that the original switch had bothered me in any way, though at least one person has since confessed that it made him uncomfortable. But: so be it. That little stint/phase/whatever seems to be over anyway, though my boss continues to call me Anna, which somewhat puzzles me, though he did ask if that was okay first. The plaque on my desk still reads Anna, but that's the only remnant left. To folks outside the office that ask, I usually explain the old potential confusion, or just shrug and call them interchangeable to me. The Danish pronunciation of my name is closer to Anna than Anne anyway, so I had gotten used to it that way, at one time. So "interchangeable" is somewhat accurate, if not the whole story.
I listened to my newest mix on the way in, and I'm pretty satisfied. A few transitions need tightening up, but I'm much happier with it now that I've discovered why the original draft was giving me such deja vu: I had included a total of four songs from previous mixes, unknowingly--three from one disc alone. I guess that proves that I like those songs, but since the last mix suffered from being played-out in my mind, hopefully replacing those songs will help this disc avoid personal obsolescence.
Hopefully.
Much in sunlight on the drive in was gone or currently dripping. The shadows, though, were full of white glistening. Spindly bushes became crystalline fragility. I imagined walking through them might cause a sudden in-unison shattering, fragments bursting upwards, glittering balefully as they fell. Many of the powerlines were layered thick, frozen mid-drip all along their lengths.
A colleague, walking in with me, also commented on this morning's beauty. I noticed the magnolia (I think?) next to the back steps had thick buds, all of them coated. I commented to her that every year, I see that happen and say that can't be good for the tree, but every year, the tree somehow survives it, so it can't be that bad for it either.
She laughed with me, then mentioned that I seemed to have my name back. Within the last week or so, I sent an office-wide email signed "Anne, the writer formerly known as Anna" as a bit of a joke. People I don't know very well in the office have been gently ribbing me about it ever since. But I figured, since the one I was most concerned about confusion with (since we had the same job description, team, many of the same meetings, and offices right next to each other) had just left, I might as well take it back. Not that the original switch had bothered me in any way, though at least one person has since confessed that it made him uncomfortable. But: so be it. That little stint/phase/whatever seems to be over anyway, though my boss continues to call me Anna, which somewhat puzzles me, though he did ask if that was okay first. The plaque on my desk still reads Anna, but that's the only remnant left. To folks outside the office that ask, I usually explain the old potential confusion, or just shrug and call them interchangeable to me. The Danish pronunciation of my name is closer to Anna than Anne anyway, so I had gotten used to it that way, at one time. So "interchangeable" is somewhat accurate, if not the whole story.
I listened to my newest mix on the way in, and I'm pretty satisfied. A few transitions need tightening up, but I'm much happier with it now that I've discovered why the original draft was giving me such deja vu: I had included a total of four songs from previous mixes, unknowingly--three from one disc alone. I guess that proves that I like those songs, but since the last mix suffered from being played-out in my mind, hopefully replacing those songs will help this disc avoid personal obsolescence.
Hopefully.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
ice day
Today was one of those covered-in-ice days where being in your car is surreal. You glide past a hushed and ghostly world, fully encased in refractive, solid water.
These days fascinate me. I love seeing how things look in ice. The bowing of the trees under their weight. The dripping as things start to melt. As long as I can walk without worrying about slipping (and drive without worrying about sliding), I adore them.
I wish I'd gotten a chance to go out today during lunch with my camera, but unfortunately, my lunch was eaten by two publications coming back from the printer and needing to be proofread, and then phone duty thereafter, and then a meeting after that, and then a few things that needed to be fixed post haste on the website, and then it was too dark to bother.
Many of my days end up like that. But very few are so dangerously pretty to start with.
These days fascinate me. I love seeing how things look in ice. The bowing of the trees under their weight. The dripping as things start to melt. As long as I can walk without worrying about slipping (and drive without worrying about sliding), I adore them.
I wish I'd gotten a chance to go out today during lunch with my camera, but unfortunately, my lunch was eaten by two publications coming back from the printer and needing to be proofread, and then phone duty thereafter, and then a meeting after that, and then a few things that needed to be fixed post haste on the website, and then it was too dark to bother.
Many of my days end up like that. But very few are so dangerously pretty to start with.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
quick-like:
My boss has taken to calling me "Anna-banana." It's kind of disturbing to hear that out of your superior, when to you, that name is something your relatives called you when you were quite young.
Also: the avocado tree I've been growing in my office is now taller than me. Taller than me in my clogs. Probably taller than any of my friends, if I were to hazard a guess. And it finally decided to branch out: it's got three branches, and is still going up.
A colleague that rarely visits my office finally noticed it. Her immediate reaction: "Why do you have a tree in your office?" (said with no malice, just amazement). I mentally scrolled through: "because I have a tree in my office" (poking good-natured fun), "because I like it," and "because I can," before I arrived at "I grew it from a seed. I think it's neat to see how tall it'll get. I've got one at home, too, which isn't nearly as tall. I think they like the light better here." Much more politic, no less honest, but for some reason it made me feel like I was talking down to her. I hope it didn't sound that way, because I certainly didn't mean it like that.
Also: the avocado tree I've been growing in my office is now taller than me. Taller than me in my clogs. Probably taller than any of my friends, if I were to hazard a guess. And it finally decided to branch out: it's got three branches, and is still going up.
A colleague that rarely visits my office finally noticed it. Her immediate reaction: "Why do you have a tree in your office?" (said with no malice, just amazement). I mentally scrolled through: "because I have a tree in my office" (poking good-natured fun), "because I like it," and "because I can," before I arrived at "I grew it from a seed. I think it's neat to see how tall it'll get. I've got one at home, too, which isn't nearly as tall. I think they like the light better here." Much more politic, no less honest, but for some reason it made me feel like I was talking down to her. I hope it didn't sound that way, because I certainly didn't mean it like that.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
birds, running around, and music
The birds are back. They were chirping for all they were worth outside my office window this morning--and more than just the usual crows, thankfully. While I'm used to their calls, they're not all that pleasant to listen to after awhile. I even saw a blue jay during my usual lunchtime running around.
It's been clear, sunny and cold for awhile now. Beautiful sunshine, but the wind is killer. It's snowed during the night the past couple of days, and some last week. Our neighbor even stopped by on Friday to thank us for shoveling her walk, which prompted me to do it again this morning, even pausing to knock most of the snow off of her vehicle's windows for the sun to melt the ice underneath. She keeps inviting me over to watch a movie or something after her daughter's asleep, but I've never really had the opportunity to take her up on it--my schedule's been pretty packed.
Did my usual running around at lunch today. In this particular instance, that constituted running home to add things to a couple packages for online friends, writing a quick check to my ring-supplier who I'm going to visit after work so I can get supplies to make more bracelets after being away from it for awhile (I noted today that supplies are getting expensive--I should think about selling a few online rather than gifting them so often), a quick bite since I know I'll be at the office a bit late tonight and I can't depend entirely upon the clementines and granola bars I have at my desk, then to the post office to send the packages off. Managed to cram that into an hour without a hitch.
I also have a second mix CD at work today--that is, my second in a week or so, which is notable since I haven't made a mix CD before this since--October? November? I can't remember. And it's funny how this got prompted by needing more space on my computer for pictures from Saturday's little shoot. I managed some of that space by cleaning out the files I was using to remind myself of what songs I wanted to put on the CD, once I'd finished both. When I started looking at them, having had the concept in my head for a few months and gathering material for that long, I realized I had more than enough for two discs, which is probably why they got spat out in quick succession. This second is just a draft, though, and I haven't even gotten to listening to it yet.
If you'd told me I'd be making mix CDs like the first in this little series a few years ago, I'd have told you that you were nuts, that I don't like stuff from the 80s. And that generally holds true. But I think Sunday nights have inured me to some of it. I can at least tolerate it in remixes, which is what that disc is chock-full of: remixes of a bunch of different 80s pop tunes, plus Gloria Gaynor, Elvis, Pink Floyd, The Rolling Stones and other random picks. Some are redone enough to be unrecognizable. But really, I still don't like some of it, or have gotten sick of certain songs after hearing them week after week. So that disc was mostly a bust for me. I only hope other friends I've passed it along to enjoy it more.
It's been clear, sunny and cold for awhile now. Beautiful sunshine, but the wind is killer. It's snowed during the night the past couple of days, and some last week. Our neighbor even stopped by on Friday to thank us for shoveling her walk, which prompted me to do it again this morning, even pausing to knock most of the snow off of her vehicle's windows for the sun to melt the ice underneath. She keeps inviting me over to watch a movie or something after her daughter's asleep, but I've never really had the opportunity to take her up on it--my schedule's been pretty packed.
Did my usual running around at lunch today. In this particular instance, that constituted running home to add things to a couple packages for online friends, writing a quick check to my ring-supplier who I'm going to visit after work so I can get supplies to make more bracelets after being away from it for awhile (I noted today that supplies are getting expensive--I should think about selling a few online rather than gifting them so often), a quick bite since I know I'll be at the office a bit late tonight and I can't depend entirely upon the clementines and granola bars I have at my desk, then to the post office to send the packages off. Managed to cram that into an hour without a hitch.
I also have a second mix CD at work today--that is, my second in a week or so, which is notable since I haven't made a mix CD before this since--October? November? I can't remember. And it's funny how this got prompted by needing more space on my computer for pictures from Saturday's little shoot. I managed some of that space by cleaning out the files I was using to remind myself of what songs I wanted to put on the CD, once I'd finished both. When I started looking at them, having had the concept in my head for a few months and gathering material for that long, I realized I had more than enough for two discs, which is probably why they got spat out in quick succession. This second is just a draft, though, and I haven't even gotten to listening to it yet.
If you'd told me I'd be making mix CDs like the first in this little series a few years ago, I'd have told you that you were nuts, that I don't like stuff from the 80s. And that generally holds true. But I think Sunday nights have inured me to some of it. I can at least tolerate it in remixes, which is what that disc is chock-full of: remixes of a bunch of different 80s pop tunes, plus Gloria Gaynor, Elvis, Pink Floyd, The Rolling Stones and other random picks. Some are redone enough to be unrecognizable. But really, I still don't like some of it, or have gotten sick of certain songs after hearing them week after week. So that disc was mostly a bust for me. I only hope other friends I've passed it along to enjoy it more.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
work changes
The other writer/editor in our office has taken a new job, leaving me to do the job of two, for the moment. I learned today that she will be replaced, which was up in the air for awhile. I'm hoping this will be a positive change, that the higher-ups will take this opportunity to further massage the difference in the two posts, but I fear that might not happen--I fear that far too much will depend on the applicant pool. And I desperately want someone who I'll enjoy working with in the position, which will make this an even more difficult search to be involved with.
I very much value the tech end of my job, but my boss seems to want to pull me away from that--and that's understandable, given the current circumstances. We have far too many more pure writing/editing projects for even the two of us to manage together.
This is all rather tangential. To get down to it, I'm finding work very stressful these days, even though not much has changed, practically speaking. I've taken on a few more things, sure, but it's manageable, I think. I got a quick speech from my boss today that basically comes down to him saying that I should be more flexible about working outside of our normal 8 to 5 hours, which frankly makes me balk. That's part of why I took a job like this. That's part of why I stopped teaching. I didn't want to have to take anything home with me anymore. It's not like I leave right at the dot of ending time, either: I was there until 6 tonight, for example. But I'm probably getting peeved over a rather minor point.
Tangential again. Not that I have a point, per se, other than updating folks on how things are over here at the moment. So I'm going to change the subject.
Have I ever mentioned that I generally hate television? Perhaps that's an overstatement. I don't hate television: I hate commercials. Loathe them. I understand they're part of the pop culture zeitgeist these days, but I really can't stand them. Even with the Replay TV here (it's like a Tivo, for those unfamiliar), having to skip them irritates me. If it were up to me, the only television I'd watch would be on DVD--thus, ad-free. Unfortunately, J. often leaves it on as background noise--and worse, doesn't always skip or mute the commercials. Not a fun time, in my book. Guess this means I can never be a full-fledged marketing goober, even though I'm tending that way in bits of my professional life.
Or at least, here's hoping.
I very much value the tech end of my job, but my boss seems to want to pull me away from that--and that's understandable, given the current circumstances. We have far too many more pure writing/editing projects for even the two of us to manage together.
This is all rather tangential. To get down to it, I'm finding work very stressful these days, even though not much has changed, practically speaking. I've taken on a few more things, sure, but it's manageable, I think. I got a quick speech from my boss today that basically comes down to him saying that I should be more flexible about working outside of our normal 8 to 5 hours, which frankly makes me balk. That's part of why I took a job like this. That's part of why I stopped teaching. I didn't want to have to take anything home with me anymore. It's not like I leave right at the dot of ending time, either: I was there until 6 tonight, for example. But I'm probably getting peeved over a rather minor point.
Tangential again. Not that I have a point, per se, other than updating folks on how things are over here at the moment. So I'm going to change the subject.
Have I ever mentioned that I generally hate television? Perhaps that's an overstatement. I don't hate television: I hate commercials. Loathe them. I understand they're part of the pop culture zeitgeist these days, but I really can't stand them. Even with the Replay TV here (it's like a Tivo, for those unfamiliar), having to skip them irritates me. If it were up to me, the only television I'd watch would be on DVD--thus, ad-free. Unfortunately, J. often leaves it on as background noise--and worse, doesn't always skip or mute the commercials. Not a fun time, in my book. Guess this means I can never be a full-fledged marketing goober, even though I'm tending that way in bits of my professional life.
Or at least, here's hoping.
Friday, January 20, 2006
rate this.
In brief: this article brings up Ratemyprofessor.com and Rateyourstudents.blogspot.com, which is essentially a backlash blog.
I've hated the idea of Ratemyprofessor since I heard about it when I was teaching. I understand its use, but I also understands its abuse. Luckily, I've never made the site, but some of my former colleagues have. Surfing through those reviews, I found them to be relatively accurate--even a few that were insightful.
I have stumbled upon one review of my teaching elsewhere, and found it flattering. Chris, an old student of mine, was in another English class in which he had to write and post a wiki. That wiki has since been taken down, but he had this to say to elucidate his attitude towards his current class by referencing mine (parenthetical initials/names are my replacements, for minor identity protection purposes):
I consider the 'u' arrangement to be a case of coping with inadequacy. The type of class that we seem to be attempting towards is a discussion, rather than lecture-based learning environment. In the past I've had some amazing classes, and this class certainly has the potential to be one of them. Those amazing classes were both conducted in the discussion style, and always in-the-round (thanks to copious and daily rearrangement of available seating, similar to what we deal with now. In particular they were engl 202b (go figure, I was dreading taking it) and cmlit 401, and actually rlst 83 now that I think way back. The instructors maintained a presence and directed the functioning of the classroom, but were otherwise on the same level and same position as the rest of us. In fact in cmlit, (S. U.) made a point of changing where he sat every day. In engl (A.) only gave input or prompted us when necessary, or she had something particularly worth mentioning. Otherwise the students enlightened and inspired each other very nicely without any help. It's amazing what you can learn from MANY peers, questioning, illuminating, and conversing WITH you, rather than someONE lecturing AT you. My point (or something like it): when I come to our class, I see a roomful of very bright, contemplative, and engaging people, who all have something worth sharing (whether or not they share it). Our particular classroom will unfortunately not allow for such versatility, but in my personal experience, the learning CIRCLE can be infinitely beneficial to all participants, and conducive to the atmosphere I'm trying to describe. When everyone can look into each other's eyes, without strain or even intent, there is a sort of forced involvement that no other seating possibility can duplicate. We feel obliged to participate. Aside from the three mentioned above, I've had other discussion courses conducted in the not-so-round. They were fine, but nothing close to their potential. The 'u' could be worse, however we are still, by precisely 2 right angles, only coping with inadequacy...
While I'm flattered by what he had to say about me, the review of the class he was currently in made me somewhat uncomfortable. Inadequacy? Why didn't he clarify, to explain his position?
This mini-review wasn't really my original point, though. My point was that faculty and instructors are generally worked hard, with far too many sections for the amount of other work they have to do (or just far too many sections in the first place). It's difficult to see yourself rated this way, name in full view, and commentary attached, when you probably believe that you did the best job that you possibly could have. While Ratemyprofessor.com may have encouraged at least one instructor to change their teaching style, my suspicion is that it discouraged far more of them. And a disheartened and uninspired instructor is far worse than one that is earnest, if misguided.
I've hated the idea of Ratemyprofessor since I heard about it when I was teaching. I understand its use, but I also understands its abuse. Luckily, I've never made the site, but some of my former colleagues have. Surfing through those reviews, I found them to be relatively accurate--even a few that were insightful.
I have stumbled upon one review of my teaching elsewhere, and found it flattering. Chris, an old student of mine, was in another English class in which he had to write and post a wiki. That wiki has since been taken down, but he had this to say to elucidate his attitude towards his current class by referencing mine (parenthetical initials/names are my replacements, for minor identity protection purposes):
I consider the 'u' arrangement to be a case of coping with inadequacy. The type of class that we seem to be attempting towards is a discussion, rather than lecture-based learning environment. In the past I've had some amazing classes, and this class certainly has the potential to be one of them. Those amazing classes were both conducted in the discussion style, and always in-the-round (thanks to copious and daily rearrangement of available seating, similar to what we deal with now. In particular they were engl 202b (go figure, I was dreading taking it) and cmlit 401, and actually rlst 83 now that I think way back. The instructors maintained a presence and directed the functioning of the classroom, but were otherwise on the same level and same position as the rest of us. In fact in cmlit, (S. U.) made a point of changing where he sat every day. In engl (A.) only gave input or prompted us when necessary, or she had something particularly worth mentioning. Otherwise the students enlightened and inspired each other very nicely without any help. It's amazing what you can learn from MANY peers, questioning, illuminating, and conversing WITH you, rather than someONE lecturing AT you. My point (or something like it): when I come to our class, I see a roomful of very bright, contemplative, and engaging people, who all have something worth sharing (whether or not they share it). Our particular classroom will unfortunately not allow for such versatility, but in my personal experience, the learning CIRCLE can be infinitely beneficial to all participants, and conducive to the atmosphere I'm trying to describe. When everyone can look into each other's eyes, without strain or even intent, there is a sort of forced involvement that no other seating possibility can duplicate. We feel obliged to participate. Aside from the three mentioned above, I've had other discussion courses conducted in the not-so-round. They were fine, but nothing close to their potential. The 'u' could be worse, however we are still, by precisely 2 right angles, only coping with inadequacy...
While I'm flattered by what he had to say about me, the review of the class he was currently in made me somewhat uncomfortable. Inadequacy? Why didn't he clarify, to explain his position?
This mini-review wasn't really my original point, though. My point was that faculty and instructors are generally worked hard, with far too many sections for the amount of other work they have to do (or just far too many sections in the first place). It's difficult to see yourself rated this way, name in full view, and commentary attached, when you probably believe that you did the best job that you possibly could have. While Ratemyprofessor.com may have encouraged at least one instructor to change their teaching style, my suspicion is that it discouraged far more of them. And a disheartened and uninspired instructor is far worse than one that is earnest, if misguided.
Monday, January 16, 2006
how to make a blog post, part 1
There's a rather complicated set of circumstances that has to occur before one of these posts gets made. I have to have:
1. A subject, and a reason to post about that subject.
2. Composing time, mental.
3. Composing time, physical (actually typing it up).
4. A lack of other, more pressing matters.
Subject's easy enough. Even mental composing time's not too much of a problem. I compose in my head constantly, whether in the form of blog posts or otherwise. But there's an amazing percentage of subjects--even mentally composed pieces--that never make it to any solid form. Usually that's due to number four. I have a ton of obligations, most of which I went into voluntarily, and sometimes they become a bit much.
And I know many of the voluntary obligations could be put aside momentarily, but usually not without disappointing someone. And I hate disappointing people.
So I go short on some of them, some of the time. Or I short my friends. But the pinch occurs somewhere. And I don't like that either. But I also don't want to let go of any of what I'm involved in.
I think I thrive when I'm busy. At least, I can say that I've been pretty happy for awhile now, and I've been pretty insanely busy for most of that time. So it basically comes down to being a balance between doing stuff and not going nuts trying to accomplish all of the stuff I'm committed to. Finding a way to define and/or manage that is rough, though. But so is letting people down. But there's got to be a way. And there is, I suppose, since I don't think I'm doing too badly thus far.
1. A subject, and a reason to post about that subject.
2. Composing time, mental.
3. Composing time, physical (actually typing it up).
4. A lack of other, more pressing matters.
Subject's easy enough. Even mental composing time's not too much of a problem. I compose in my head constantly, whether in the form of blog posts or otherwise. But there's an amazing percentage of subjects--even mentally composed pieces--that never make it to any solid form. Usually that's due to number four. I have a ton of obligations, most of which I went into voluntarily, and sometimes they become a bit much.
And I know many of the voluntary obligations could be put aside momentarily, but usually not without disappointing someone. And I hate disappointing people.
So I go short on some of them, some of the time. Or I short my friends. But the pinch occurs somewhere. And I don't like that either. But I also don't want to let go of any of what I'm involved in.
I think I thrive when I'm busy. At least, I can say that I've been pretty happy for awhile now, and I've been pretty insanely busy for most of that time. So it basically comes down to being a balance between doing stuff and not going nuts trying to accomplish all of the stuff I'm committed to. Finding a way to define and/or manage that is rough, though. But so is letting people down. But there's got to be a way. And there is, I suppose, since I don't think I'm doing too badly thus far.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
holiday review
I have Dresden Dolls' "Coin-Operated Boy" stuck in my head this morning. Which is really not such a bad thing. It's been warm around here for what seems like ages--steady 40s, though it's supposed to reach 58 on Friday. Ridiculous for mid-January, but again, I'm not complaining.
T. and I walked in this morning beneath a murder of crows, though T. was "almost afraid to walk under them, with my luck." A woman from another office who we walked in with mentioned that it was like being on an old movie set, and she and I said The Birds in unison. Strange. They've flown on, though--otherwise I'd be hearing them outside my window even now.
Since I last posted, I went on a bit of a whirlwind holiday tour to Wisconsin and Dad’s house. A quiet Christmas Eve with traditional Danish fliskesteg (coincidentally, before I arrived, I was just thinking about how we used to have that each Christmas Eve, before my aunt passed away--it was nice to return to at least one tradition like that) dinner in front of White Christmas, which B. wanted to finish watching. Gifts after dinner (some received either then or later quite lovely ones--thank you both), semi-rushed because B. wanted to go to Christmas Eve services. Dad declined since he’d fallen on some ice the day before, and was getting twinges from it still that made him gasp if he moved the wrong way. He said he didn’t want to sound like he had Tourette’s during a prayer. Which was just fine with me, frankly. I don't know if it was the time change or what--I mean, one hour should not be a big deal--but I was tired pretty early each evening there.
Then a manic Christmas day with B’s family. Six of the seven siblings and all their respective partners and children, plus one extended family member (B’s sister’s partner’s niece) and the resident dog all hung out in the basement to open presents and then moved to the living room, set with an extremely long table, for Christmas dinner, which our hosts had chosen to be an Italian-style dinner. A proper antipasto course with beautiful cheeses, followed by a minestrone soup, then the main course of lasagne and spudini, followed by dessert of tiramisu, cookies, hazelnut-cream centered chocolates, and the Swedish desserts that I love that my Dad picked up for us. Somehow I managed to out-food E. (one of our hosts) by appreciating the garlic cloves (by themselves) that came in the middle of the olives, and the green rum-filled desserts that Dad brought. Evidently the rum and the garlic were a bit much for him (though they weren’t in combination, of course).
The next day started with a tour of the area with my Dad, who showed me everything that had changed in town while I’d been gone—they’re doing some impressive conservancy work, as well as new development, of course. One of the springs that runs into the lake has gotten weeded of all its invasive species and more native species introduced—a ridiculous number in the thousands of different varieties that Dad had told me but I’ve since forgotten. I also managed to finagle a tour of the waste treatment plant there--something I've been mildly curious about, strangely enough. Curiosity now (mostly) satisfied.
This blog came up in conversation more than once, which I found a rather strange experience--as is this sort of meta-blogging. That is, talking about the blog on the blog. But B. and Dad emphasized that they read me here, which I appreciate, and that they read the comments--no pressure, other J. Though B. does have one of your comments printed out and in her purse. Really, no pressure to be articulate there. Just teasing, of course.
Speaking of writing about the blog on the blog, I changed some links on the side here, adding Google Maps, which is extra-useful--try looking up your own area there, then zoom in some and click "satellite" on the right. The satellite might not give you too much detail, but it's kind of neat anyway. I'm still amused at how much golf courses show up from space. And I added Salon, where I pick up news occasionally (but mostly opinion). As for the "other blogs" section: Bérubé is a professor in our English department here, and I find him pretty interesting. Marty and Will are old college friends, added mostly because I didn't think they'd mind being linked (and it makes it easier for me to find them, too). If anybody else reading this wants a link, just say the word--and then I'll think about it.
Kidding.
Also debating putting an email listserv on this thing--basically, you'd get an email from me letting you know when I put something up here. A couple other gals I've known forever online do or used to do this, and it does seem logical. It also seems the nice thing to do since I post so intermittently. I'll keep you posted on that tip.
T. and I walked in this morning beneath a murder of crows, though T. was "almost afraid to walk under them, with my luck." A woman from another office who we walked in with mentioned that it was like being on an old movie set, and she and I said The Birds in unison. Strange. They've flown on, though--otherwise I'd be hearing them outside my window even now.
Since I last posted, I went on a bit of a whirlwind holiday tour to Wisconsin and Dad’s house. A quiet Christmas Eve with traditional Danish fliskesteg (coincidentally, before I arrived, I was just thinking about how we used to have that each Christmas Eve, before my aunt passed away--it was nice to return to at least one tradition like that) dinner in front of White Christmas, which B. wanted to finish watching. Gifts after dinner (some received either then or later quite lovely ones--thank you both), semi-rushed because B. wanted to go to Christmas Eve services. Dad declined since he’d fallen on some ice the day before, and was getting twinges from it still that made him gasp if he moved the wrong way. He said he didn’t want to sound like he had Tourette’s during a prayer. Which was just fine with me, frankly. I don't know if it was the time change or what--I mean, one hour should not be a big deal--but I was tired pretty early each evening there.
Then a manic Christmas day with B’s family. Six of the seven siblings and all their respective partners and children, plus one extended family member (B’s sister’s partner’s niece) and the resident dog all hung out in the basement to open presents and then moved to the living room, set with an extremely long table, for Christmas dinner, which our hosts had chosen to be an Italian-style dinner. A proper antipasto course with beautiful cheeses, followed by a minestrone soup, then the main course of lasagne and spudini, followed by dessert of tiramisu, cookies, hazelnut-cream centered chocolates, and the Swedish desserts that I love that my Dad picked up for us. Somehow I managed to out-food E. (one of our hosts) by appreciating the garlic cloves (by themselves) that came in the middle of the olives, and the green rum-filled desserts that Dad brought. Evidently the rum and the garlic were a bit much for him (though they weren’t in combination, of course).
The next day started with a tour of the area with my Dad, who showed me everything that had changed in town while I’d been gone—they’re doing some impressive conservancy work, as well as new development, of course. One of the springs that runs into the lake has gotten weeded of all its invasive species and more native species introduced—a ridiculous number in the thousands of different varieties that Dad had told me but I’ve since forgotten. I also managed to finagle a tour of the waste treatment plant there--something I've been mildly curious about, strangely enough. Curiosity now (mostly) satisfied.
This blog came up in conversation more than once, which I found a rather strange experience--as is this sort of meta-blogging. That is, talking about the blog on the blog. But B. and Dad emphasized that they read me here, which I appreciate, and that they read the comments--no pressure, other J. Though B. does have one of your comments printed out and in her purse. Really, no pressure to be articulate there. Just teasing, of course.
Speaking of writing about the blog on the blog, I changed some links on the side here, adding Google Maps, which is extra-useful--try looking up your own area there, then zoom in some and click "satellite" on the right. The satellite might not give you too much detail, but it's kind of neat anyway. I'm still amused at how much golf courses show up from space. And I added Salon, where I pick up news occasionally (but mostly opinion). As for the "other blogs" section: Bérubé is a professor in our English department here, and I find him pretty interesting. Marty and Will are old college friends, added mostly because I didn't think they'd mind being linked (and it makes it easier for me to find them, too). If anybody else reading this wants a link, just say the word--and then I'll think about it.
Kidding.
Also debating putting an email listserv on this thing--basically, you'd get an email from me letting you know when I put something up here. A couple other gals I've known forever online do or used to do this, and it does seem logical. It also seems the nice thing to do since I post so intermittently. I'll keep you posted on that tip.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
holiday rush
Ah, the holiday rush season. When there aren't enough hours in the day. When the weather turns just nasty enough for you to not want to go out and brave the slush or ice and wind chill.
Thankfully, I'm pretty close to done.
It was 1 degree when I pulled into the office parking lot this morning. 1. No wind chill, just 1. I had left my office window a crack overnight, and it froze a few branches of my kalanchoe solid. Solid. I couldn't even bend the stem or the leaves. I clipped it and tossed the affected sections--this had happened before, to another branch, but it had thawed by the time I reached the office, and left a bedraggled, very sad-looking limp branch behind. Not this time. Thankfully, my kalanchoe is quite healthy--not overgrown, by any stretch, but could stand to lose a few branches around the outside.
I leave a window cracked because I've got a very long, narrow office. I've got three windows rather than the usual two, and a very long bank of heater right below the windows. So in such a long, narrow office, I've got tons of heat source and nowhere for it to go. It builds up in my office and gets really, really warm. Thus, I usually have a window open in the winter.
I realized this morning that I multitask to an absurd degree. I realized this while I was watering my plants, blowdrying my hair, and brushing my teeth at the same time. I think that sums it up right there.
In other news, my office avocado tree is almost as tall as me. It comes up to eye level on me, and its pot isn't even very high. The one at home, on the other hand, has decided to grow out instead of up. It's got two branches that are threatening my walking space from bed to bathroom. I wonder how the one I gave Dax (last year at this time? the year before?) is doing: I haven't seen it since he brought it inside for the winter. And if I haven't told you my coleus story yet, I should really do so. But enough plant-y ramblings for today.
Oh! I also brought the fountain that B. gave me in college to the office, finally (no readily available space for it at home). I've run into some technical problems, though, so although I've got it set up and water in it, it's not running as of yet. We'll see if I have time to take a look at what's wrong before the holidays really hit.
Thankfully, I'm pretty close to done.
It was 1 degree when I pulled into the office parking lot this morning. 1. No wind chill, just 1. I had left my office window a crack overnight, and it froze a few branches of my kalanchoe solid. Solid. I couldn't even bend the stem or the leaves. I clipped it and tossed the affected sections--this had happened before, to another branch, but it had thawed by the time I reached the office, and left a bedraggled, very sad-looking limp branch behind. Not this time. Thankfully, my kalanchoe is quite healthy--not overgrown, by any stretch, but could stand to lose a few branches around the outside.
I leave a window cracked because I've got a very long, narrow office. I've got three windows rather than the usual two, and a very long bank of heater right below the windows. So in such a long, narrow office, I've got tons of heat source and nowhere for it to go. It builds up in my office and gets really, really warm. Thus, I usually have a window open in the winter.
I realized this morning that I multitask to an absurd degree. I realized this while I was watering my plants, blowdrying my hair, and brushing my teeth at the same time. I think that sums it up right there.
In other news, my office avocado tree is almost as tall as me. It comes up to eye level on me, and its pot isn't even very high. The one at home, on the other hand, has decided to grow out instead of up. It's got two branches that are threatening my walking space from bed to bathroom. I wonder how the one I gave Dax (last year at this time? the year before?) is doing: I haven't seen it since he brought it inside for the winter. And if I haven't told you my coleus story yet, I should really do so. But enough plant-y ramblings for today.
Oh! I also brought the fountain that B. gave me in college to the office, finally (no readily available space for it at home). I've run into some technical problems, though, so although I've got it set up and water in it, it's not running as of yet. We'll see if I have time to take a look at what's wrong before the holidays really hit.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
blustery
Little hiccups are getting in my way this morning. I left the house without my lunch (leftover yams from Saturday's Orphan's Thanksgiving) and the CD I wanted to listen to. I have the little fountain I dug out of storage (nowhere in the apartment for it) to take to my office (the white noise might help distract me from the other noises that comes through the thin walls), but no distilled water for it (our hard water would gunk it up but good). Though my sickly symptoms have receded, I'm still getting moments of losing my voice, and the lymph node swelling hasn't gone away entirely. Even my writing style this morning seems a bit hiccup-y (though I blame that on the parenthetical remarks). All in all, kind of a growl-worthy start. Nothing major--just enough to irk me.
Nevertheless, it's a strangely pleasant morning out there. I walked out and thought it was spring already. When I passed the Bryce Jordan Center, the marquee read 62 degrees. But it's windy--really windy. Push-your-car-off-course windy. Grey, overcast, and wet from yesterday's rain, it doesn't look like a pleasant morning, but somehow it manages.
Nevertheless, it's a strangely pleasant morning out there. I walked out and thought it was spring already. When I passed the Bryce Jordan Center, the marquee read 62 degrees. But it's windy--really windy. Push-your-car-off-course windy. Grey, overcast, and wet from yesterday's rain, it doesn't look like a pleasant morning, but somehow it manages.
Thursday, November 24, 2005
verge of sick
I've been sitting on the verge of sick for most of this week. I say "the verge of," because if I'm actually sick, it isn't that bad.
On Monday I noticed one of my lymph nodes was getting sore. Just one. Then I remembered that I'd woken up with a little bit of a sore throat the day before. After work, I decided to take a nap. I went to bed at five and had no trouble sleeping until seven a.m. the next day, when I had to get up for work. Fourteen hours in all.
Since then, I've been sleeping pretty normal, around-the-eight-hour-mark nights. The one sore lymph node migrated into the other. The good news is that the original isn't swollen too much anymore. The bad news is that the other has taken its place.
Other than those symptoms, I'm not noticing much amiss. My energy's fine, concentration's intact, I don't feel woozy or sluggish. The thing that irks me most is that I let this get in the way of my usual exercise regimen, such as it is. I figured my body needs the energy to fight off this whatever-it-is. Now I'm wondering how long this will last, and if I'll be able to pick up my regimen again without a problem.
J. suggested I might have the flu. I don't remember ever having the flu before this except possibly once in my sophomore year of college--but in that case, it was either the stomach flu or a minor case of food poisoning. Nothing like this. So I have nothing to compare to. If I do have the flu, the good news is that it's minor, and I'll get over it eventually (at least I'm crossing my fingers that I will), and that then I'll be immune to this strain. The bad news is that it feels like it's taking forever to run through my system, though I know it's only been a few days.
I also worry about spreading it around the office. Sure, I wash my hands as much as humanly possible, try to avoid touching my nose and mouth, never touch doors with my hands, all that nonsense. But the attitude around the office toward being sick is nothing short of bipolar. My direct boss takes pride in working even if he's really ill. As long as he can make it to the car, he comes in. My grandboss seems to be much more of the school of "if you think you can pass it around, don't." And one of the other folks on my boss's level on our team has the same theory, and has in the past urged me not to come in when I'm feeling at all ill. I found this out after I'd gotten really knocked-out sick just after I started this job (and came in anyway). Amazingly sick. I hadn't been that sick in years (and at the time, I didn't even keep a can of chicken noodle soup around the house--silly me). At the time, I blamed it on the students returning for spring semester, having brought all their ailments from all the different corners of the globe. This time, I've got no such excuse.
I have no patience for this kind of sick. When I'm really sick, I have no problem with staying in bed or on the couch, eating chicken noodle soup and drinking therapeutic hot teas. I get some reading or DVD watching done. I surf the Web. Oh, the horror. With this kind of sick, I feel like I barely have an excuse to take care of myself, because I mean, come on, it's not like I'm really sick. All I can do is stay home (which itself kind of feels like a punishment), bundle up in flannel pj's, a sweater, my trusty sheepskin slippers and then wrap myself in a down blanket and take it easy. But then I feel like I'm slacking. Have I mentioned that I feel the need to multitask constantly? A discussion for another time, perhaps.
But really, at this point, I'm split between just get sick already and get over it. Let's hope the latter wins out.
On Monday I noticed one of my lymph nodes was getting sore. Just one. Then I remembered that I'd woken up with a little bit of a sore throat the day before. After work, I decided to take a nap. I went to bed at five and had no trouble sleeping until seven a.m. the next day, when I had to get up for work. Fourteen hours in all.
Since then, I've been sleeping pretty normal, around-the-eight-hour-mark nights. The one sore lymph node migrated into the other. The good news is that the original isn't swollen too much anymore. The bad news is that the other has taken its place.
Other than those symptoms, I'm not noticing much amiss. My energy's fine, concentration's intact, I don't feel woozy or sluggish. The thing that irks me most is that I let this get in the way of my usual exercise regimen, such as it is. I figured my body needs the energy to fight off this whatever-it-is. Now I'm wondering how long this will last, and if I'll be able to pick up my regimen again without a problem.
J. suggested I might have the flu. I don't remember ever having the flu before this except possibly once in my sophomore year of college--but in that case, it was either the stomach flu or a minor case of food poisoning. Nothing like this. So I have nothing to compare to. If I do have the flu, the good news is that it's minor, and I'll get over it eventually (at least I'm crossing my fingers that I will), and that then I'll be immune to this strain. The bad news is that it feels like it's taking forever to run through my system, though I know it's only been a few days.
I also worry about spreading it around the office. Sure, I wash my hands as much as humanly possible, try to avoid touching my nose and mouth, never touch doors with my hands, all that nonsense. But the attitude around the office toward being sick is nothing short of bipolar. My direct boss takes pride in working even if he's really ill. As long as he can make it to the car, he comes in. My grandboss seems to be much more of the school of "if you think you can pass it around, don't." And one of the other folks on my boss's level on our team has the same theory, and has in the past urged me not to come in when I'm feeling at all ill. I found this out after I'd gotten really knocked-out sick just after I started this job (and came in anyway). Amazingly sick. I hadn't been that sick in years (and at the time, I didn't even keep a can of chicken noodle soup around the house--silly me). At the time, I blamed it on the students returning for spring semester, having brought all their ailments from all the different corners of the globe. This time, I've got no such excuse.
I have no patience for this kind of sick. When I'm really sick, I have no problem with staying in bed or on the couch, eating chicken noodle soup and drinking therapeutic hot teas. I get some reading or DVD watching done. I surf the Web. Oh, the horror. With this kind of sick, I feel like I barely have an excuse to take care of myself, because I mean, come on, it's not like I'm really sick. All I can do is stay home (which itself kind of feels like a punishment), bundle up in flannel pj's, a sweater, my trusty sheepskin slippers and then wrap myself in a down blanket and take it easy. But then I feel like I'm slacking. Have I mentioned that I feel the need to multitask constantly? A discussion for another time, perhaps.
But really, at this point, I'm split between just get sick already and get over it. Let's hope the latter wins out.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
the beginning of winter
So, on Monday, when it was beautiful and warm enough to wander around without a coat on, C. (a co-worker) warned me that winter was about to start.
On Thursday (today). I thought he was kidding.
He wasn't kidding.
When I walked out to my car, it was snowing. When I walked into my office, it was snowing. Walking around campus during the day, the air was cold enough to make my lungs hurt. When I walked back to my car after work, it was exactly 32 degrees Fahrenheit, without taking into account the wind.
Winter has arrived, kids.
It's days like these when I wonder why I haven't moved to warmer climes.
On Thursday (today). I thought he was kidding.
He wasn't kidding.
When I walked out to my car, it was snowing. When I walked into my office, it was snowing. Walking around campus during the day, the air was cold enough to make my lungs hurt. When I walked back to my car after work, it was exactly 32 degrees Fahrenheit, without taking into account the wind.
Winter has arrived, kids.
It's days like these when I wonder why I haven't moved to warmer climes.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
of apples and bypasses
I'm munching on a Corland apple for lunch today. This weekend at the grocery store, I noticed my beloved Nittany apples weren't in their usual spot, and suddenly feared losing them altogether, so figured I should probably branch out now, while I have the chance. I'm finding the Corlands to be a bit too soft for my tastes. But sweet, which is good. I thought the Nittanys were local, which is why I first picked them up--I prefer to buy local if it's convenient, which is why I love the concept of Stone Soup. Unfortunately, Stone Soup's not always convenient for grocery shopping, nor do they always have the produce I commonly eat. Upon a quick Google search, though, I find out that the Nittany apple is actually grown in New York, usually, and is a hybrid combining Golden Delicious and York. Whatever they are, Nittanys make excellent apples: crisp, clean, and sweet.
I ran to Lemont again a few minutes ago to mail off another little package: a small gift based on the spoon theory, which I'll go into in more detail here later (if I remember). It occurred to me then how well I know the area and how many methods I know to get to wherever I'm going around here. I love getting to that point when living somewhere long enough. Here, though, I can mark it in periods: pre-bypass and post-bypass, and pre-Blue Course Drive extension and post-.
When I got here, Atherton (Route 322) was the main drag through town. Moreover, it was the only drag all the way through town. There was literally no option if you wanted to go from the north part of town to the south part of town, or vice versa (despite 322 running east/west). During this time, I learned all the little back-alley ways to cheat that (Corl Street, for example--which has since been closed, I believe, for the part that actually connects it all the way through the south stretch, though it had always been closed in winter, since it wasn't maintained for snow). I learned to cut through Lemont to get to the mall or Bellefonte, which is also how I discovered the post office out there, which nowadays is much more convenient for me to hit up during my lunch hour, since the State College post office usually has huge lines and is downtown, so traffic can be a bit irritating.
I have my friends to thank for these tricks, and I'm thankful I made them so quickly, and that they were native, having lived here a long time (as opposed to the transient student population). I'm also thankful (though wasn't, necessarily, at the time) that one of those early-made friends lived outside State College, so I got to see more than just the immediate area.
Then the 322 bypass was finished, and sure is helpful. You can now get from the north side to downtown much more quickly, and getting to I-80 to go anywhere outside the state is also much more simple now. Then the Blue Course Drive extension was completed, giving folks a route around the other side, going north/south. Also extremely helpful. Both of these relieved some of the Atherton congestion.
I have to say, though, that I'm thankful I lived here previous to both projects. I would've never discovered so much around the area otherwise.
Nor could I get places as fast as I do now.
I ran to Lemont again a few minutes ago to mail off another little package: a small gift based on the spoon theory, which I'll go into in more detail here later (if I remember). It occurred to me then how well I know the area and how many methods I know to get to wherever I'm going around here. I love getting to that point when living somewhere long enough. Here, though, I can mark it in periods: pre-bypass and post-bypass, and pre-Blue Course Drive extension and post-.
When I got here, Atherton (Route 322) was the main drag through town. Moreover, it was the only drag all the way through town. There was literally no option if you wanted to go from the north part of town to the south part of town, or vice versa (despite 322 running east/west). During this time, I learned all the little back-alley ways to cheat that (Corl Street, for example--which has since been closed, I believe, for the part that actually connects it all the way through the south stretch, though it had always been closed in winter, since it wasn't maintained for snow). I learned to cut through Lemont to get to the mall or Bellefonte, which is also how I discovered the post office out there, which nowadays is much more convenient for me to hit up during my lunch hour, since the State College post office usually has huge lines and is downtown, so traffic can be a bit irritating.
I have my friends to thank for these tricks, and I'm thankful I made them so quickly, and that they were native, having lived here a long time (as opposed to the transient student population). I'm also thankful (though wasn't, necessarily, at the time) that one of those early-made friends lived outside State College, so I got to see more than just the immediate area.
Then the 322 bypass was finished, and sure is helpful. You can now get from the north side to downtown much more quickly, and getting to I-80 to go anywhere outside the state is also much more simple now. Then the Blue Course Drive extension was completed, giving folks a route around the other side, going north/south. Also extremely helpful. Both of these relieved some of the Atherton congestion.
I have to say, though, that I'm thankful I lived here previous to both projects. I would've never discovered so much around the area otherwise.
Nor could I get places as fast as I do now.
Friday, November 11, 2005
deer
This morning on my usual drive, the car in front of me slowed almost to a stop right after having passed through Toftrees, but before passing the mansion. There's forest (or at least part of one) on either side of the road right there, but at first I thought the person was slowing down because of the speed limit. True, that section's a downgrade, and it's easy to speed accidentally, but that kind of slowing was ridiculous, I thought.
Then I saw the deer bounding into the forest in front of the car. Nice catch, I thought, and proceeded forward slowly after it did.
The one place I've hit a deer wasn't too far away, both distance-wise and time-of-the-year-wise. If my next turn had been left toward the airport instead of right toward campus, I would've been headed in the right direction on the same curvy backwoods highway it first happened on.
It was Halloween a few years ago, if I remember correctly. L. was in the car with me, dressed up as a Flemish nobleman. I don't remember if I'd gotten dressed up yet or not. We were on our way to pick up J. from the airport, after some conference of his. I was cruising fast around a corner, and saw it standing stock still in the headlights. I slowed fast, but still bumped it head-on going around 30-35, if I were to guess.
It was a young one, and I'd thankfully bumped it off the road. I stopped, put my flashers on, made sure L. and I were both all right, got out, looked at it--still moving, though barely--looked at my car, couldn't see any dents in the dark, and tried to figure out what to do--all while adrenaline was coursing through my system like mad. In the meantime, an older car cruised to a stop a few yards in front of me. A man got out, and came back to talk to us, to make sure we were all right. Once he ascertained the reason we were stopped, his questions turned toward the "are you going to call anyone?" and "are you going to report this to your insurance?" variety. I couldn't figure out why he was asking these things until he asked if we minded if he took the deer.
The guy wanted the meat. After some bantering, including debate about whether or not it was dead and him providing me with his phone number in case I wanted a cut, he picked up the young deer (I was struck with the fact that there was no blood, just dead deer) and slung it on top of his trunk (as if he'd done this sort of thing before), then drove away slowly. L. and I looked at each other. For me, it took a few beats before I grasped the absurdity of the situation. I still shake my head about it.
So I'm left with a minor divot in my hood that most people don't notice unless they're really looking (which is why I couldn't see it in the dark), and a story, though a relatively short and not especially exciting one, at that.
Then I saw the deer bounding into the forest in front of the car. Nice catch, I thought, and proceeded forward slowly after it did.
The one place I've hit a deer wasn't too far away, both distance-wise and time-of-the-year-wise. If my next turn had been left toward the airport instead of right toward campus, I would've been headed in the right direction on the same curvy backwoods highway it first happened on.
It was Halloween a few years ago, if I remember correctly. L. was in the car with me, dressed up as a Flemish nobleman. I don't remember if I'd gotten dressed up yet or not. We were on our way to pick up J. from the airport, after some conference of his. I was cruising fast around a corner, and saw it standing stock still in the headlights. I slowed fast, but still bumped it head-on going around 30-35, if I were to guess.
It was a young one, and I'd thankfully bumped it off the road. I stopped, put my flashers on, made sure L. and I were both all right, got out, looked at it--still moving, though barely--looked at my car, couldn't see any dents in the dark, and tried to figure out what to do--all while adrenaline was coursing through my system like mad. In the meantime, an older car cruised to a stop a few yards in front of me. A man got out, and came back to talk to us, to make sure we were all right. Once he ascertained the reason we were stopped, his questions turned toward the "are you going to call anyone?" and "are you going to report this to your insurance?" variety. I couldn't figure out why he was asking these things until he asked if we minded if he took the deer.
The guy wanted the meat. After some bantering, including debate about whether or not it was dead and him providing me with his phone number in case I wanted a cut, he picked up the young deer (I was struck with the fact that there was no blood, just dead deer) and slung it on top of his trunk (as if he'd done this sort of thing before), then drove away slowly. L. and I looked at each other. For me, it took a few beats before I grasped the absurdity of the situation. I still shake my head about it.
So I'm left with a minor divot in my hood that most people don't notice unless they're really looking (which is why I couldn't see it in the dark), and a story, though a relatively short and not especially exciting one, at that.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
another day, another drive
Another gorgeous drive this morning. Dark clouds dominated the landscape, except for one break that hit the rise of mountains I was heading towards (and then traveling next to) this morning. The mansion I pass on the drive had sunlight slanting into it, hard. Mount Nittany was in shadow, though, as it's on the opposite side of the valley--the sun usually peeks over a mountain right next to it in the morning. I should really learn the name of the range on the opposite side. I've lived here, what? Four and a half years, and I still don't know the names in local geography as well as I should. Though few people, other than hikers, really know those names, I don't think. Nor do they come up often in conversation.
I listened to 90s punk on the way in today. Better than five cups of coffee in the morning. Though I haven't tried it, I wonder if some Thelonious Monk might work as well--but differently, of course. Then again, that may just cause me to be a little off-rhythm all day.
I think I'm going a little too fast for my co-workers at this hour. Hopefully, after their coffee, they'll catch up to me. Though I rarely have trouble getting up to speed in the morning, and I don't drink coffee. I don't even drink tea regularly, though I have tons of it in my office. Well, tons probably isn't the right word. I've got a selection of at least six off the top of my head, though. I'd say I should get back to drinking it, but I've never really liked having caffeine in my system--nor do I like seeing the effects of not having it once you're dependent on it (headaches for no good reason other than not having had caffeine are not pretty). Nor do I usually have any trouble getting up and moving in the morning, thankfully. It's sustaining it through the normal afternoon dip that's a challenge. I'm optimistic about today, though. I feel like I've gotten enough sleep, for once.
I listened to 90s punk on the way in today. Better than five cups of coffee in the morning. Though I haven't tried it, I wonder if some Thelonious Monk might work as well--but differently, of course. Then again, that may just cause me to be a little off-rhythm all day.
I think I'm going a little too fast for my co-workers at this hour. Hopefully, after their coffee, they'll catch up to me. Though I rarely have trouble getting up to speed in the morning, and I don't drink coffee. I don't even drink tea regularly, though I have tons of it in my office. Well, tons probably isn't the right word. I've got a selection of at least six off the top of my head, though. I'd say I should get back to drinking it, but I've never really liked having caffeine in my system--nor do I like seeing the effects of not having it once you're dependent on it (headaches for no good reason other than not having had caffeine are not pretty). Nor do I usually have any trouble getting up and moving in the morning, thankfully. It's sustaining it through the normal afternoon dip that's a challenge. I'm optimistic about today, though. I feel like I've gotten enough sleep, for once.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
scent memory
This morning, while walking from my car to my building, I caught a whiff of Denmark.
I'm not kidding.
While I lived there, for part of the time I lived near a gelatin factory out in the country. The smells that came out of that place were fascinating: rotting fish and orange peel (which I found not as unpleasant as it sounds), and this tinge that doesn't smell quite like anything else, but other things sometimes smell just a little bit like it--enough to bring it to mind. That happened not half an hour ago.
My aunt (who was born in Denmark, as was my Dad) asked me after I got back if I missed the smell. She said the smell there is different than here, and she was right. I imagine it has something to do with the land being surrounded by water so closely (we all lived on Sjælland, one of Denmark's many islands, during our separate times there). I'm sure, though, that the Denmark she had in her scent memory is different than the one I have in mine--the time we spent there was separated by about fifty years, and even though Denmark is quite environmentally conscious, I'm certain development had an effect on air quality. At the same time, I'm reassured by that connection to her: that I recognized something in her land of birth that she remembered, and missed.
Shortly after she passed away, I moved here. In the early days here, I kept smelling her perfume, with no discernable reason for it to be in the area. She wore Pheremone, I believe, exclusively. I kept catching whiffs of it in hallways and stairwells across campus, once very powerfully in the stairwell of the building my office was in. I made an entry about it at the time, and someone commented that it seemed like I was being haunted by her. But I know now that wasn't the case--she would never do that, not in the way that most people think of haunting, anyway. Yes, she was in my mind a lot (still is), and yes, there were things left unresolved that make me sad even now, but she wouldn't deliberately haunt me. Though if anyone could, I'd believe she could. She was that sort--spiritual, connected, but ultimately practical. I'd believe that she'd hover, observe, sometimes take a gentle step to help (which sometimes I believe she has), but not haunt, not like all that's come to mean.
I miss her.
Outside this morning, trying to pin down the scent that evoked the memory, I drew in deeply, and though it still niggled at my mind, couldn't find it again. It had left as quickly as it had arrived, escaping me entirely. But I'm still dwelling on it, and all it had brought to mind.
There's so much I miss, but I'm also so glad for all I have. (Yes, I mean you, Dad, among many other things and people. I wish I could give you a hug right now. Much love. -A.)
I'm not kidding.
While I lived there, for part of the time I lived near a gelatin factory out in the country. The smells that came out of that place were fascinating: rotting fish and orange peel (which I found not as unpleasant as it sounds), and this tinge that doesn't smell quite like anything else, but other things sometimes smell just a little bit like it--enough to bring it to mind. That happened not half an hour ago.
My aunt (who was born in Denmark, as was my Dad) asked me after I got back if I missed the smell. She said the smell there is different than here, and she was right. I imagine it has something to do with the land being surrounded by water so closely (we all lived on Sjælland, one of Denmark's many islands, during our separate times there). I'm sure, though, that the Denmark she had in her scent memory is different than the one I have in mine--the time we spent there was separated by about fifty years, and even though Denmark is quite environmentally conscious, I'm certain development had an effect on air quality. At the same time, I'm reassured by that connection to her: that I recognized something in her land of birth that she remembered, and missed.
Shortly after she passed away, I moved here. In the early days here, I kept smelling her perfume, with no discernable reason for it to be in the area. She wore Pheremone, I believe, exclusively. I kept catching whiffs of it in hallways and stairwells across campus, once very powerfully in the stairwell of the building my office was in. I made an entry about it at the time, and someone commented that it seemed like I was being haunted by her. But I know now that wasn't the case--she would never do that, not in the way that most people think of haunting, anyway. Yes, she was in my mind a lot (still is), and yes, there were things left unresolved that make me sad even now, but she wouldn't deliberately haunt me. Though if anyone could, I'd believe she could. She was that sort--spiritual, connected, but ultimately practical. I'd believe that she'd hover, observe, sometimes take a gentle step to help (which sometimes I believe she has), but not haunt, not like all that's come to mean.
I miss her.
Outside this morning, trying to pin down the scent that evoked the memory, I drew in deeply, and though it still niggled at my mind, couldn't find it again. It had left as quickly as it had arrived, escaping me entirely. But I'm still dwelling on it, and all it had brought to mind.
There's so much I miss, but I'm also so glad for all I have. (Yes, I mean you, Dad, among many other things and people. I wish I could give you a hug right now. Much love. -A.)
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