I just got back from yoga, and am enjoying that stage where I can feel every muscle that worked, which provides me with an odd sort of loose-limbed grace. Combine that with one of two mental states that usually occurs thereafter--either so fully open and relaxed that I'm taking in everything all at once and feeling no need to process it, or so completely focused and energized that I often go back to work and bang out half of the day's tasks in an hour or two--and it makes for a very fluid drive home. I'm experiencing the former state today, though this time I was able to free myself from the urge that often accompanies it--that of not wanting to break that state and focus on anything. But at the moment, I have a keyboard at hand, and everything's fine. This focus is an easy one for me--though of course, I'm not entirely sure if it's an appropriate state for clear writing. We'll see, I suppose.
This semester I decided to change to taking this class twice a week, and I'm glad I did.
Tonight, after finishing savasana and wrapping class with a "namaste" given and returned, I did an impromptu sarvangasana--a shoulderstand. Since I was already warmed up, I didn't even hesitate: I pretty much rolled back and went straight up, no prop, no nothing. After my teacher realized what I was doing, she called out a couple of tips, to which I adjusted immediately.
I feel the need to mention here that when I first started, I hated inverted poses like this. The first class where we were to try them, I asked the forthright question of "do we have to do these?" Not being impertinent at all: it was an honest question of if they're integral to a yoga practice. I wanted a good reason before I subjected myself to them. I was afraid of tipping over and hurting myself--and not unreasonably so, I might add. But now I love these poses. They change your viewpoint, and not just at the time.
I've also been remembering the changed viewpoint of when I practiced on the roof of a building in Indianapolis at sunset. Very dramatic, very memorable. Loved it. On that trip as well as others, I had brought along my Yoga Paws--mitts and sock bits that simulate a yoga mat without having one with you--intending to practice wherever I went: rest stops and hotel rooms and parks and mountains and streams. I only remember actually practicing at one rest stop, and both that and the rooftop bit were done without the Yoga Paws. So while helpful, they're probably unnecessary. I'd rather do the yoga than take the time to hunt down the accessory, because if the hunt takes too long, I might not do yoga at all. At that time.
But as some teachers and publications might tell you, while you might be "doing" yoga during a class or a session, it does become a way of life. Your practice extends to the rest of your time, to one extent or another. Just on the way home, I found myself adjusting my shoulders and arms to drive optimally without constricting muscles that I tend to coil too much. I've found myself unconsciously doing yoga adjustments while drying my hair, doing the Down-Dog tilt with my head upside down. After a long trip, Dad and others have seen me go into Tree Pose, Cobbler's Pose, Mountain Pose.
I sat down and made a list of all the poses I knew off the top of my head one day. It was impressively long, and rather amusing to read. Just some of the animalistically-named poses are fun: Fish, Camel, Cat/Cow, Sphinx, Cobra, Pigeon. I love Pigeon. Some people hate Pigeon. But to be fair, there's a lot of poses I find challenging that others don't, and vice versa. But I digress.
For the last six days, my voice has come in and out. No reason that I can discern. Grand-boss says I sound like Lauren Bacall. We tried to figure out a modern equivalent that prospective students might understand and came up short. But my point is that I asked Christine for any tips she might have for such. She gave a few and told me to try one. I did, and instantly felt things clear. While it's not magic, as Arthur C. Clarke said: "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." Working with the loosest definition of the term, yoga (and jin shin-jitsu, which is also a bit of what she showed me) is then technology.
From a simple expression about returning home from class to yoga as technology in less than 800 words, even allowing for meandering. Welcome to my brain.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
stadium ramblings
So on the way home from the mall today, after asking the good people of AT&T to look at my phone's battery--
(Which, as an aside, they could tell me nothing about. My first indication of something wrong was it dying unexpectedly on or prior to Valentine's Day and someone trying to reach me and quickly getting worried when I didn't answer and didn't return calls. I eventually figured that out when I reached work the next day to find voice mail at my number there. Kind of proves how much I check my phone, doesn't it? [As a note to the general public: I check my email far more often than I check to see if I've been called. If you can, try emailing before getting worried.])
I realized that you can see the stadium from the mall.
Let me repeat that. You can see the stadium from the mall.
Let me add that they're about four miles apart.
Given, the fact that it's a straight shot down the valley between the two may have something to do with that. And winter, so no leaves on the trees to block the view. Still.
I took it as kind of depressing, indicative of the tie between the area in general and the stadium in specific, both literally and metaphorically.
Admissions story time: recently, we got a caller who asked if Joe Paterno (our head coach, for those not familiar) had any sway in admissions decisions. I have no idea what the person who responded said, but the only commentary when it was brought up was that if the person was asking us, they certainly didn't have enough pull with JoePa to ask the favor in the first place. Even if it mattered. End of story.
Someone more enthusiastic about collegiate sports may have seen this as a good sign: an indication of the awe-inspiring colossus it's become around here.
I'm not that person.
I have boundless enthusiasm about some programs here. Others I'm less thrilled with. (Similar would be true of almost any institution I've been involved with, I might add.) On the up side, that means I should rarely become disillusioned--I'm quite realistic about the things I throw my weight behind. On the down side, some take it as cynicism. It's a tough call.
Speaking of cynicism, though: one current project is a two-disc mix CD set of songs that have been getting stuck in my head lately. One disc is the songs I can stand. The other I could go forever without hearing (and would, given my druthers). But because I'm just that kind, I'm passing both out together.
One could even think that speaks of balance. If they didn't know better.
(Which, as an aside, they could tell me nothing about. My first indication of something wrong was it dying unexpectedly on or prior to Valentine's Day and someone trying to reach me and quickly getting worried when I didn't answer and didn't return calls. I eventually figured that out when I reached work the next day to find voice mail at my number there. Kind of proves how much I check my phone, doesn't it? [As a note to the general public: I check my email far more often than I check to see if I've been called. If you can, try emailing before getting worried.])
I realized that you can see the stadium from the mall.
Let me repeat that. You can see the stadium from the mall.
Let me add that they're about four miles apart.
Given, the fact that it's a straight shot down the valley between the two may have something to do with that. And winter, so no leaves on the trees to block the view. Still.
I took it as kind of depressing, indicative of the tie between the area in general and the stadium in specific, both literally and metaphorically.
Admissions story time: recently, we got a caller who asked if Joe Paterno (our head coach, for those not familiar) had any sway in admissions decisions. I have no idea what the person who responded said, but the only commentary when it was brought up was that if the person was asking us, they certainly didn't have enough pull with JoePa to ask the favor in the first place. Even if it mattered. End of story.
Someone more enthusiastic about collegiate sports may have seen this as a good sign: an indication of the awe-inspiring colossus it's become around here.
I'm not that person.
I have boundless enthusiasm about some programs here. Others I'm less thrilled with. (Similar would be true of almost any institution I've been involved with, I might add.) On the up side, that means I should rarely become disillusioned--I'm quite realistic about the things I throw my weight behind. On the down side, some take it as cynicism. It's a tough call.
Speaking of cynicism, though: one current project is a two-disc mix CD set of songs that have been getting stuck in my head lately. One disc is the songs I can stand. The other I could go forever without hearing (and would, given my druthers). But because I'm just that kind, I'm passing both out together.
One could even think that speaks of balance. If they didn't know better.
Monday, February 05, 2007
cold!
The windchill here is -15 F. Remind me to write about how thankful I am for my serious down coat.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
weather, work
It's clear, beautiful and cold today. Nine degrees here. I see that it's seven where Dad is, thanks to Google being a helpful little monkey and showing it to me as soon as I open my browser.
I drove out to pick up CSA goods last night after work in blowing snow. Light on the highway, but you could barely (or in some cases, not at all) see the ranges. Mount Nittany I could see the eastern slope of, but the rest was entirely hidden. It's that sort of view that makes me love this place more in bad weather--I find that's when it's most magical in scenery, strangely.
I'm at work today, ostensibly running presentations, but we do have breaks between rushes of people, so I took a pause at my desk rather than standing all morning, eight to noon straight. I'll be back out there shortly, though.
I drove out to pick up CSA goods last night after work in blowing snow. Light on the highway, but you could barely (or in some cases, not at all) see the ranges. Mount Nittany I could see the eastern slope of, but the rest was entirely hidden. It's that sort of view that makes me love this place more in bad weather--I find that's when it's most magical in scenery, strangely.
I'm at work today, ostensibly running presentations, but we do have breaks between rushes of people, so I took a pause at my desk rather than standing all morning, eight to noon straight. I'll be back out there shortly, though.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
snow and squash
The sun's shining a lambent winter white through the clouds this morning, just over the mountains, hazy in the distance. We've had snow: piles of it, but intermittent, leaving us with less than an inch at a time. But it has finally stuck, and we find more each morning when making each trip in to work (and often back from work), hazardous with the stupidity of people not used to these conditions driving tons worth of steel and gas and combustibles.
Yesterday at 4:30 or so I ran into one of my colleagues leaving. Her husband is a meteorologist, and she told me that he had called and told her to leave work right then, since they were expecting a squall of white-out conditions between 5 and 6.
Of course, that was when I was leaving work. But right after I was told, I warned my next-door office neighbor here at work--the other writer, who's from New Jersey (south Jersey, as she states so emphatically). She just about panicked there in front of me. She hadn't had much experience with driving in snow: her area simply didn't get it much, and when it did, things just shut down because they didn't have the equipment to handle it. Then she came here for college, and didn't have a car here during her college career. It was only when she began working here (a year or two ago?) that she had to drive in snow.
If I could be so blunt, it's situations like this that contribute to the problem. It makes me glad I learned to drive in Wisconsin and had to learn how to deal with snow: at least now I feel pretty confident that I don't act like an idiot in it.
When I left, it was certainly snowing, and certainly slippery in spots, but absolutely nothing that should cause the tangle of traffic I had to deal with once I got to the main drag I was headed towards. People with plenty of room (and/or no one in front of them) cars and cars ahead of me (which I could see because of the hills around here) hitting the brakes hard whenever they felt the slightest bit of slippage, only making things worse for themselves. People so anxious to reserve their spot in the line of cars crawling along that they charge forward when the light turns even if someone else is fighting a skid during a right turn into their lane.
It made me late for yoga. I'm not bitter, just irked. Others were later than I, and I didn't interrupt since the instructor delayed for those who were stuck in traffic ridiculousness. Could be worse.
Snow aside, somewhere along the line, I got hooked on squash: it's become almost a comfort food for the winter--warm and sweet and filling. I blame our CSA for providing such awesome winter squashes, but we only get one every two weeks. I finally broke down and actually bought one from the grocery store yesterday--a butternut, and while it was good, it just didn't compare. I made my usual squash mess late last night: it'll probably last me a week, and I'll enjoy the heck out of it every time. It's basically cooked and mashed squash (is that redundant? mashed squash?), sauteed onions, toasted almond slivers, and ginger. I threw some carrots in last night's version, having remembered the fantastic carrot ginger soup from Stone Soup and how well that worked, and it worked in the squash dish as well. I think I'll continue to do that. The carrots and onions (as well as the squash, usually) all come from the CSA, and it's good to be able to put them all to a creative use.
Now I just need to figure out something to do with all the potatoes that we're getting. On the up side, I generally don't have to worry about them going bad.
Yesterday at 4:30 or so I ran into one of my colleagues leaving. Her husband is a meteorologist, and she told me that he had called and told her to leave work right then, since they were expecting a squall of white-out conditions between 5 and 6.
Of course, that was when I was leaving work. But right after I was told, I warned my next-door office neighbor here at work--the other writer, who's from New Jersey (south Jersey, as she states so emphatically). She just about panicked there in front of me. She hadn't had much experience with driving in snow: her area simply didn't get it much, and when it did, things just shut down because they didn't have the equipment to handle it. Then she came here for college, and didn't have a car here during her college career. It was only when she began working here (a year or two ago?) that she had to drive in snow.
If I could be so blunt, it's situations like this that contribute to the problem. It makes me glad I learned to drive in Wisconsin and had to learn how to deal with snow: at least now I feel pretty confident that I don't act like an idiot in it.
When I left, it was certainly snowing, and certainly slippery in spots, but absolutely nothing that should cause the tangle of traffic I had to deal with once I got to the main drag I was headed towards. People with plenty of room (and/or no one in front of them) cars and cars ahead of me (which I could see because of the hills around here) hitting the brakes hard whenever they felt the slightest bit of slippage, only making things worse for themselves. People so anxious to reserve their spot in the line of cars crawling along that they charge forward when the light turns even if someone else is fighting a skid during a right turn into their lane.
It made me late for yoga. I'm not bitter, just irked. Others were later than I, and I didn't interrupt since the instructor delayed for those who were stuck in traffic ridiculousness. Could be worse.
Snow aside, somewhere along the line, I got hooked on squash: it's become almost a comfort food for the winter--warm and sweet and filling. I blame our CSA for providing such awesome winter squashes, but we only get one every two weeks. I finally broke down and actually bought one from the grocery store yesterday--a butternut, and while it was good, it just didn't compare. I made my usual squash mess late last night: it'll probably last me a week, and I'll enjoy the heck out of it every time. It's basically cooked and mashed squash (is that redundant? mashed squash?), sauteed onions, toasted almond slivers, and ginger. I threw some carrots in last night's version, having remembered the fantastic carrot ginger soup from Stone Soup and how well that worked, and it worked in the squash dish as well. I think I'll continue to do that. The carrots and onions (as well as the squash, usually) all come from the CSA, and it's good to be able to put them all to a creative use.
Now I just need to figure out something to do with all the potatoes that we're getting. On the up side, I generally don't have to worry about them going bad.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Busy + holiday denouement
Have I mentioned that I'm busy? Right. Busy doesn't cover it.
Which, of course, means that I've fallen behind on several things. Most of the most urgent pieces of my work, though, have stayed on track, miraculously.
In any case, I meant to mention that photos from family holiday madness are up, and have been since just after New Year's. I also, of course, meant to email the family that asked for notification of when/where the photos were up, but misplaced the piece of paper with the list of email addresses until today. Which means that hopefully I'll email right after this.
Maybe I'll even let them know where this drivel is. ;)
Which, of course, means that I've fallen behind on several things. Most of the most urgent pieces of my work, though, have stayed on track, miraculously.
In any case, I meant to mention that photos from family holiday madness are up, and have been since just after New Year's. I also, of course, meant to email the family that asked for notification of when/where the photos were up, but misplaced the piece of paper with the list of email addresses until today. Which means that hopefully I'll email right after this.
Maybe I'll even let them know where this drivel is. ;)
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Busy, busy
So of course the day I decide to wear my new heels to work is the day that I walk out to find that snow has finally stuck overnight. I'm hoping this isn't indicative of the day to come.
But I doubt it. It's a relatively clear day, both in weather and in comparison to my meetings-filled Monday and Tuesday. No joke: yesterday I had meetings 9-12:30 and 1-4:30 straight. I used the half hour to dash home to find the wallet I'd forgotten there and to pick up the sushi I'd forgotten to bring with me (other J., I blame the sushi-craving squarely on you).
The afternoon meeting, if anybody cares, can be watched here: the Network of People meeting, meant to link IT throughout Penn State, though in reality another platform for horn-tooting much of the time. I'm not complaining: some of it was interesting and relevant. But I do wish I could have picked just the sessions that were.
Heels issue aside, I'm pleased with today's outfit. For me, it's smashing: gray pants with white, black, pink, and red pseudo-pinstripes; pink long-sleeved suiting shirt, white fuzzy cardigan. I wouldn't have been caught dead in it a few short years ago. But that was an extended anti-pink kick.
Which came up in a meeting yesterday. A department had sent out an invitation to a women in science program to prospective students--on pink paper, a choice I think the whole room agreed was a mistake. Not that we had any say: it was just a digression in conversation before the meeting really began.
In other work news, we're full steam ahead on the redesign, assuming it gets approved by the directors at the end of the month. And that my boss doesn't have a heart attack caused by the stress of having to work out where my workload goes once that becomes my primary project. We'll see how that goes, but I'm hopeful.
Outside of work, still busy busy. Some gaming, but mostly being behind on projects I need to turn my attention to: sending last Sunday's request list to the other DJ; working on creating new bylaws for the sorority I'm in; updating the contact information spreadsheet due to change in membership; planning for the game I run Friday; keeping up with the decant circle I'm running of BPAL scents; helping H learn the jewelry-making thing I do; celebrating a friend's unbirthday hopefully someday soon (today's his birthday, but he decided he didn't want to celebrate it today).
Busy, busy: but what else is new?
But I doubt it. It's a relatively clear day, both in weather and in comparison to my meetings-filled Monday and Tuesday. No joke: yesterday I had meetings 9-12:30 and 1-4:30 straight. I used the half hour to dash home to find the wallet I'd forgotten there and to pick up the sushi I'd forgotten to bring with me (other J., I blame the sushi-craving squarely on you).
The afternoon meeting, if anybody cares, can be watched here: the Network of People meeting, meant to link IT throughout Penn State, though in reality another platform for horn-tooting much of the time. I'm not complaining: some of it was interesting and relevant. But I do wish I could have picked just the sessions that were.
Heels issue aside, I'm pleased with today's outfit. For me, it's smashing: gray pants with white, black, pink, and red pseudo-pinstripes; pink long-sleeved suiting shirt, white fuzzy cardigan. I wouldn't have been caught dead in it a few short years ago. But that was an extended anti-pink kick.
Which came up in a meeting yesterday. A department had sent out an invitation to a women in science program to prospective students--on pink paper, a choice I think the whole room agreed was a mistake. Not that we had any say: it was just a digression in conversation before the meeting really began.
In other work news, we're full steam ahead on the redesign, assuming it gets approved by the directors at the end of the month. And that my boss doesn't have a heart attack caused by the stress of having to work out where my workload goes once that becomes my primary project. We'll see how that goes, but I'm hopeful.
Outside of work, still busy busy. Some gaming, but mostly being behind on projects I need to turn my attention to: sending last Sunday's request list to the other DJ; working on creating new bylaws for the sorority I'm in; updating the contact information spreadsheet due to change in membership; planning for the game I run Friday; keeping up with the decant circle I'm running of BPAL scents; helping H learn the jewelry-making thing I do; celebrating a friend's unbirthday hopefully someday soon (today's his birthday, but he decided he didn't want to celebrate it today).
Busy, busy: but what else is new?
Monday, January 01, 2007
year in review 2006
I wrote this year in review yesterday, so the time references may be a bit wonky. But in any case, here it is, somewhat edited since the original version was huge:
January
First started debating going to Convergence.
Got a beautiful gift from a beautiful girl (C.), who also randomly ran into someone I'd once worked the club gig with that month--only many, many miles away from the club in question. And I came up in conversation. Creepy.
Turned down a semi-regular who tried to offer me a hundred dollar bill to go dance with him while I was working at the club job. To that I responded: Can't leave the booth. Them's the rules. (But I did not say aloud what I was thinking: that I was just as happy to abide by them.)
Also had some difficulty juggling obligations, voluntary or otherwise (or once one, now become another). But also realized that I'm happiest when I'm manageably busy, though keeping a balance is key.
February
My namesake at work (for whom I changed my first name used there to a nickname, though I've since switched back) left. This made my stress level go nuts, as somehow or other we had to handle the same workload with one less person, and it was about three months until we got her replacement in--and that was actually fast for our office.
Made a couple of mix CDs inspired by the club job: one of pop nonsense and one almost purely composed of remixes. Mused that I'd have ridiculed myself for such a few years back.
Did a photo shoot with some friends that was a good time.
March
The avocado tree I keep at work officially became taller than me. Busy there. Busy busy busy. Which bled over into my personal life because if I'm drained at work, I don't feel like I have much energy for anything else after I'm done.
Had some aggravating printer issues, fixed by buying a new, relatively cheap inkjet. Which is just about to run out of ink, I might add. I should look up what cartridges it takes.
76 degree weather mid-month turned into snow blowing sideways the next day.
A bit later in the month, ran into my at-least-yearly hawk visit. Photographed hir in the tree outside, leading to one of my favorite photos when s/he took off.
Started to take more pictures again, after having mostly retired the macro series. Glad to get back to it, though.
April
Still appreciating my grand-boss. Finally visited Beaver Stadium for the first time, albeit at a time when it was mostly deserted, on assignment for work.
Trip to New Orleans: killer, in every way. Well, perhaps not the literal sense. Though it did kill my feet. Just not used to that much walking daily. Met up with fantastic friends, including an amazing host not pictured there, went to a few smashing concerts, saw some amazing places there. Saying that it was a life-changer seems so dramatic, but it was. The post-Katrina landscape made a big impact, along with the differing levels of recovery in different areas. But just being there and soaking in the place and culture to the extent I could (having a native guide, so to speak, helped incredibly) changed my perceptions. Expanded my thinking. I love that. And travel does it for me most easily. Just wish I could do it more.
May
An excerpt from my reflection on New Orleans after the fact, written in May: "Going back through photos from the neighborhoods I explored in New Orleans, I'm still at a kind of loss. . . .
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. . . . And they will. And New Orleans will get through this."
Very appropriately, I finished Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans? this month. And then started in on the writing about it, and cleaning up photos from the trip. Managed to post a few.
Our office's spring conference happened near the end of the month. More crazy busy ensued. Good sessions there, good connections. Killed video game zombies with my grandboss.
Switched physical offices, moving to the one next door with less sunlight but more quiet, and a tad more remote.
Learned a new weave in the bracelets I make, one result of which went to B. for Christmas this year.
June
Penn State's Web Conference and PACAC's conference (Pennsylvania Association for College Admissions Counseling) happened somewhere in here and were both pretty damn good, I might add. Excellent connections made at both, and a few outstanding sessions. Helpful. Motivating. I hung out with the keynote speaker from the former for awhile quite by accident (Jeffrey Veen of Google, if you're wondering).
My new compatriot at work arrived during this month somewhere before PACAC. A relief, though it didn't take all the pressure off of me, of course.
PACAC was at Hershey, PA this year, and as I said then: "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."
I also got to host long-time online friend C. for a few hours' worth of tour and dinner.
Hit up a Nine Inch Nails concert near Pittsburgh hereabouts.
July
Hit up the fourth of July fireworks from a cornfield with friends.
Conducted an experiment in eating local, which was a pretty resounding success.
Had a visit from another hawk, and got plenty of pictures this time.
Arts Fest and People's Choice, local art exhibitions, were nice diversions mid-month.
Spend a Summer Day, a five-day-long huge event for prospective students, happened near the end of the month. It makes work insane, and this year was no different. Though next year might be: we'll see how things develop. I do know, however, that we're adding another day to it.
August
Enjoyed my newly-fixed-under-warranty sunroof. A lot.
Went to Indianapolis for Gen Con and to meet up with a bunch of old college buds. Took a more-local friend with me, ostensibly as a birthday gift, but more so I could enjoy his company. Good times. Ended one day with a rooftop Sun Salutation during sunset in the middle of the city: very cool.
The initiation of the web committees happened this month at work, though they wouldn't form properly until the next month. Their tasks and effectiveness is also still in development, but I was immediately made co-chair of our public site's committee. Going pretty well so far.
More New Orleans posts went up this month, this time with more commentary. I like those posts best of all, I think. I got the main points I wanted to get out of my head onto the screen safely.
The worst DJ I'd ever worked with, behavior-wise, was let go this month. And things have only gotten better again, thankfully.
And then the students were back, making our little city's population explode over the course of a week or so.
September
Must've been really non-notable, and/or really busy, because I didn't write at all this month, it seemed like. I think I joined our CSA for fresh, local fruits and veggies this month. Though it may've been August. Or October. I simply don't remember.
Took a nasty fall at the end of the month, injuring my shoulder. My first major injury, it seemed like. I was in pretty constant pain for a good week, though nothing was broken or dislocated or anything.
October
Started making the soybean nonsense with supplies from our CSA. I still love that dish when I make it.
Got in contact with N, an old high school friend, again. A good touchstone.
The best conference I've been to yet, I'd say, happened near the end of this month: HigherEdWebDev. Some excellent sessions, good networking and comparison of institutions and practices, and lots of photos taken.
Had a fun Halloween season: dressed up as V from V for Vendetta at work, and helped with the costume contest at the club job.
November
Stress got upped again as our priority application date approached. This month was a virtual nightmare at work. I didn't have a whole lot to say.
Went with Dax and S. to her family's for Thanksgiving. Started making Danish stars (julestjerner) during the drive to and from the Philadelphia area.
December
Started out with the holiday party of the club job. Had some fun both dancing and taking pictures.
More work on the stars: perfecting the wax/glitter finishing technique. Spent some time over at Dax and S's, continuing out DVD-watching streak. Also took some photos of the resident kitties.
Put up more of my photos in my office, got some compliments. I still love that.
Online drama sucked up some of my attention in here. And near the end of the month, more craziness at work: "See also: We have ten fires. Please put them all out. Yesterday.
Strangely enough, though, it's going oddly well. I'm not panicking or stressing or anything. Just move to it, handle it, rinse, repeat."
Heard about a crazy proposed solution for global warming, which came up in a conversation with my ex, strangely enough, though I didn't hear about it from him.
I'm just back from the usual holiday whirlwind trip to Wisconsin. More on that if I have time. Met up with C. on the way there, and H. on the way back. Awesome to see them both.
Yesterday, celebrated S's birthday with fondue of both chocolate and cheese and an excellent gathering and conversation at Dax and S's. Tonight, working the club gig. It is Sunday, after all, and the days of the week stop for no man. Or DJ. Or light jock/customer service specialist.
You get what I mean.
January
First started debating going to Convergence.
Got a beautiful gift from a beautiful girl (C.), who also randomly ran into someone I'd once worked the club gig with that month--only many, many miles away from the club in question. And I came up in conversation. Creepy.
Turned down a semi-regular who tried to offer me a hundred dollar bill to go dance with him while I was working at the club job. To that I responded: Can't leave the booth. Them's the rules. (But I did not say aloud what I was thinking: that I was just as happy to abide by them.)
Also had some difficulty juggling obligations, voluntary or otherwise (or once one, now become another). But also realized that I'm happiest when I'm manageably busy, though keeping a balance is key.
February
My namesake at work (for whom I changed my first name used there to a nickname, though I've since switched back) left. This made my stress level go nuts, as somehow or other we had to handle the same workload with one less person, and it was about three months until we got her replacement in--and that was actually fast for our office.
Made a couple of mix CDs inspired by the club job: one of pop nonsense and one almost purely composed of remixes. Mused that I'd have ridiculed myself for such a few years back.
Did a photo shoot with some friends that was a good time.
March
The avocado tree I keep at work officially became taller than me. Busy there. Busy busy busy. Which bled over into my personal life because if I'm drained at work, I don't feel like I have much energy for anything else after I'm done.
Had some aggravating printer issues, fixed by buying a new, relatively cheap inkjet. Which is just about to run out of ink, I might add. I should look up what cartridges it takes.
76 degree weather mid-month turned into snow blowing sideways the next day.
A bit later in the month, ran into my at-least-yearly hawk visit. Photographed hir in the tree outside, leading to one of my favorite photos when s/he took off.
Started to take more pictures again, after having mostly retired the macro series. Glad to get back to it, though.
April
Still appreciating my grand-boss. Finally visited Beaver Stadium for the first time, albeit at a time when it was mostly deserted, on assignment for work.
Trip to New Orleans: killer, in every way. Well, perhaps not the literal sense. Though it did kill my feet. Just not used to that much walking daily. Met up with fantastic friends, including an amazing host not pictured there, went to a few smashing concerts, saw some amazing places there. Saying that it was a life-changer seems so dramatic, but it was. The post-Katrina landscape made a big impact, along with the differing levels of recovery in different areas. But just being there and soaking in the place and culture to the extent I could (having a native guide, so to speak, helped incredibly) changed my perceptions. Expanded my thinking. I love that. And travel does it for me most easily. Just wish I could do it more.
May
An excerpt from my reflection on New Orleans after the fact, written in May: "Going back through photos from the neighborhoods I explored in New Orleans, I'm still at a kind of loss. . . .
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. . . . And they will. And New Orleans will get through this."
Very appropriately, I finished Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans? this month. And then started in on the writing about it, and cleaning up photos from the trip. Managed to post a few.
Our office's spring conference happened near the end of the month. More crazy busy ensued. Good sessions there, good connections. Killed video game zombies with my grandboss.
Switched physical offices, moving to the one next door with less sunlight but more quiet, and a tad more remote.
Learned a new weave in the bracelets I make, one result of which went to B. for Christmas this year.
June
Penn State's Web Conference and PACAC's conference (Pennsylvania Association for College Admissions Counseling) happened somewhere in here and were both pretty damn good, I might add. Excellent connections made at both, and a few outstanding sessions. Helpful. Motivating. I hung out with the keynote speaker from the former for awhile quite by accident (Jeffrey Veen of Google, if you're wondering).
My new compatriot at work arrived during this month somewhere before PACAC. A relief, though it didn't take all the pressure off of me, of course.
PACAC was at Hershey, PA this year, and as I said then: "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."
I also got to host long-time online friend C. for a few hours' worth of tour and dinner.
Hit up a Nine Inch Nails concert near Pittsburgh hereabouts.
July
Hit up the fourth of July fireworks from a cornfield with friends.
Conducted an experiment in eating local, which was a pretty resounding success.
Had a visit from another hawk, and got plenty of pictures this time.
Arts Fest and People's Choice, local art exhibitions, were nice diversions mid-month.
Spend a Summer Day, a five-day-long huge event for prospective students, happened near the end of the month. It makes work insane, and this year was no different. Though next year might be: we'll see how things develop. I do know, however, that we're adding another day to it.
August
Enjoyed my newly-fixed-under-warranty sunroof. A lot.
Went to Indianapolis for Gen Con and to meet up with a bunch of old college buds. Took a more-local friend with me, ostensibly as a birthday gift, but more so I could enjoy his company. Good times. Ended one day with a rooftop Sun Salutation during sunset in the middle of the city: very cool.
The initiation of the web committees happened this month at work, though they wouldn't form properly until the next month. Their tasks and effectiveness is also still in development, but I was immediately made co-chair of our public site's committee. Going pretty well so far.
More New Orleans posts went up this month, this time with more commentary. I like those posts best of all, I think. I got the main points I wanted to get out of my head onto the screen safely.
The worst DJ I'd ever worked with, behavior-wise, was let go this month. And things have only gotten better again, thankfully.
And then the students were back, making our little city's population explode over the course of a week or so.
September
Must've been really non-notable, and/or really busy, because I didn't write at all this month, it seemed like. I think I joined our CSA for fresh, local fruits and veggies this month. Though it may've been August. Or October. I simply don't remember.
Took a nasty fall at the end of the month, injuring my shoulder. My first major injury, it seemed like. I was in pretty constant pain for a good week, though nothing was broken or dislocated or anything.
October
Started making the soybean nonsense with supplies from our CSA. I still love that dish when I make it.
Got in contact with N, an old high school friend, again. A good touchstone.
The best conference I've been to yet, I'd say, happened near the end of this month: HigherEdWebDev. Some excellent sessions, good networking and comparison of institutions and practices, and lots of photos taken.
Had a fun Halloween season: dressed up as V from V for Vendetta at work, and helped with the costume contest at the club job.
November
Stress got upped again as our priority application date approached. This month was a virtual nightmare at work. I didn't have a whole lot to say.
Went with Dax and S. to her family's for Thanksgiving. Started making Danish stars (julestjerner) during the drive to and from the Philadelphia area.
December
Started out with the holiday party of the club job. Had some fun both dancing and taking pictures.
More work on the stars: perfecting the wax/glitter finishing technique. Spent some time over at Dax and S's, continuing out DVD-watching streak. Also took some photos of the resident kitties.
Put up more of my photos in my office, got some compliments. I still love that.
Online drama sucked up some of my attention in here. And near the end of the month, more craziness at work: "See also: We have ten fires. Please put them all out. Yesterday.
Strangely enough, though, it's going oddly well. I'm not panicking or stressing or anything. Just move to it, handle it, rinse, repeat."
Heard about a crazy proposed solution for global warming, which came up in a conversation with my ex, strangely enough, though I didn't hear about it from him.
I'm just back from the usual holiday whirlwind trip to Wisconsin. More on that if I have time. Met up with C. on the way there, and H. on the way back. Awesome to see them both.
Yesterday, celebrated S's birthday with fondue of both chocolate and cheese and an excellent gathering and conversation at Dax and S's. Tonight, working the club gig. It is Sunday, after all, and the days of the week stop for no man. Or DJ. Or light jock/customer service specialist.
You get what I mean.
Friday, December 15, 2006
international color for . . .
As a side question, when there's green frosting on a dessert, what flavor do you assume it will be?
I'd say mint. Maaaaybe pistachio.
Someone who made desserts for our holiday party today decided that it stood for peanut butter.
I still think green should be the internationally-recognized dessert color representing mint.
I'd say mint. Maaaaybe pistachio.
Someone who made desserts for our holiday party today decided that it stood for peanut butter.
I still think green should be the internationally-recognized dessert color representing mint.
miscellaneous
Make that four people.
Too many projects at work due in too little time, not to mention other drama, are all collaborating to take me away from the projects I want to work on. Not to mention that virtually all of them are due by Christmas.
Though it doesn't feel like the season in question: yesterday I went to yoga in a t-shirt and exercise pants. Today I added a hoodie against the wind that had been kicked up by a dark cloud over head, but would sweat when the sun hit.
It's global warming, I tell you.
Too many projects at work due in too little time, not to mention other drama, are all collaborating to take me away from the projects I want to work on. Not to mention that virtually all of them are due by Christmas.
Though it doesn't feel like the season in question: yesterday I went to yoga in a t-shirt and exercise pants. Today I added a hoodie against the wind that had been kicked up by a dark cloud over head, but would sweat when the sun hit.
It's global warming, I tell you.
Monday, December 11, 2006
potential.
Recently I've been finding other people recognizing potential in me.
No less than three people in as many weeks have told me I should look into having my photography published. Two of these were prompted by the photos I recently hung in my office with three of these fantastic photo ropes. They hold four photos each, and right now I have the following posted: these four of office raptors, these four of Dax and Miss Halo, and these four macros of cats. People seem to like this and this most, and though my boss thinks this one's creepy, I like it.
Thursday after yoga, my instructor asked: "Were you a dancer?" To my "not recently, though I took lessons growing up," she pointed out that I evidently have great turn-out, though she said that can be taken to an extreme. She demonstrated the walk of a friend of hers, toes pointed outwards, to which I replied that I had a coach in high school who had a similar walk, though he was definitely not a dancer. (Mr. Waters, if you're out there, I apologize that this is how you came to mind most recently.)
On Saturday I nearly finished two pieces of jewelry: one bracelet and one choker, both in a half-Persian weave, but vastly different. The choker's a chunky dyed-aluminum in red and black, started while I was teaching Dax how to do it, and the bracelet's a dense silver and may turn into a gift if I'm happy with it. Both just need clasps to be completely done, but I need to make those first. I usually make a bunch at a time.
Yesterday my dad called to tell me about his finds at the Gem and Jewelry Show, and had to give away one of his Christmas gifts to get my address for a magazine subscription which may come very much in handy for the above.
In reading through my other magazines yesterday, I was struck by the work in American Photo: it sparked all kinds of ideas for new work of my own. And the potentiality of it (I don't mind if I created a new word there, I might add): it's this amazing expanding feeling. The almost measurable widening of horizons--it doesn't come around all that often, but I truly enjoy when it does.
Last night at the club I had a trainee. Before, I'd been told I'm one of the best trainers, but that may be a combination of having been there so long and having taught for years as well. In either case, the manager of the club stopped me on the way out to return a couple of the free passes he'd given me (basically, it works such that I get so many passes, put my name on the back, and when people use them, they get returned to me to give out again). He asked if the rumor was true that I was leaving soon. I told him I had no plan to, and he said that was good and returned the passes and gave me about double the number I'd originally had to give out again. Not sure one's a product of the other, but I took it as a compliment.
On a totally different note, an old, old friend from college contacted me recently. He's going through almost exactly the same thing I did a few years ago with his wife. They just separated, and he's working to solve his own problems, as opposed to purely working to get her back, and absolutely going about it the right way. It may be silly, but I was proud of him to hear that. Despite some errors along the way, he's still sensible, overall.
I talked with him on the phone yesterday for awhile. Definitely good to hear from him, and I was glad that my experience--however problematic, of course--could be of some use to others. I didn't give a whole lot of detail about my situation, but I certainly used it to give advice, however minor.
I also have as a major project the making of a few other things (they're surprises to some who read this, so I'm keeping details hush-hush), originally as a gift to an online friend, and I'm giving S. a few of them along the way. When she heard yesterday that the final product has glitter, she was all "they have glitter?" and wanted some of that type too. Another pleasing "I can make things that people enjoy"-type moment.
There's a few other potential projects I want to work on: my own fitness, learning more good recipes, that sort of thing. But the potential for all this is astounding, and I can't wait to start on (or finish) a whole lot of them. Looking forward to it.
No less than three people in as many weeks have told me I should look into having my photography published. Two of these were prompted by the photos I recently hung in my office with three of these fantastic photo ropes. They hold four photos each, and right now I have the following posted: these four of office raptors, these four of Dax and Miss Halo, and these four macros of cats. People seem to like this and this most, and though my boss thinks this one's creepy, I like it.
Thursday after yoga, my instructor asked: "Were you a dancer?" To my "not recently, though I took lessons growing up," she pointed out that I evidently have great turn-out, though she said that can be taken to an extreme. She demonstrated the walk of a friend of hers, toes pointed outwards, to which I replied that I had a coach in high school who had a similar walk, though he was definitely not a dancer. (Mr. Waters, if you're out there, I apologize that this is how you came to mind most recently.)
On Saturday I nearly finished two pieces of jewelry: one bracelet and one choker, both in a half-Persian weave, but vastly different. The choker's a chunky dyed-aluminum in red and black, started while I was teaching Dax how to do it, and the bracelet's a dense silver and may turn into a gift if I'm happy with it. Both just need clasps to be completely done, but I need to make those first. I usually make a bunch at a time.
Yesterday my dad called to tell me about his finds at the Gem and Jewelry Show, and had to give away one of his Christmas gifts to get my address for a magazine subscription which may come very much in handy for the above.
In reading through my other magazines yesterday, I was struck by the work in American Photo: it sparked all kinds of ideas for new work of my own. And the potentiality of it (I don't mind if I created a new word there, I might add): it's this amazing expanding feeling. The almost measurable widening of horizons--it doesn't come around all that often, but I truly enjoy when it does.
Last night at the club I had a trainee. Before, I'd been told I'm one of the best trainers, but that may be a combination of having been there so long and having taught for years as well. In either case, the manager of the club stopped me on the way out to return a couple of the free passes he'd given me (basically, it works such that I get so many passes, put my name on the back, and when people use them, they get returned to me to give out again). He asked if the rumor was true that I was leaving soon. I told him I had no plan to, and he said that was good and returned the passes and gave me about double the number I'd originally had to give out again. Not sure one's a product of the other, but I took it as a compliment.
On a totally different note, an old, old friend from college contacted me recently. He's going through almost exactly the same thing I did a few years ago with his wife. They just separated, and he's working to solve his own problems, as opposed to purely working to get her back, and absolutely going about it the right way. It may be silly, but I was proud of him to hear that. Despite some errors along the way, he's still sensible, overall.
I talked with him on the phone yesterday for awhile. Definitely good to hear from him, and I was glad that my experience--however problematic, of course--could be of some use to others. I didn't give a whole lot of detail about my situation, but I certainly used it to give advice, however minor.
I also have as a major project the making of a few other things (they're surprises to some who read this, so I'm keeping details hush-hush), originally as a gift to an online friend, and I'm giving S. a few of them along the way. When she heard yesterday that the final product has glitter, she was all "they have glitter?" and wanted some of that type too. Another pleasing "I can make things that people enjoy"-type moment.
There's a few other potential projects I want to work on: my own fitness, learning more good recipes, that sort of thing. But the potential for all this is astounding, and I can't wait to start on (or finish) a whole lot of them. Looking forward to it.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
rime, language, and direction
There's a thick layer of fog obscuring the base of the mountains this morning, leaving only the ridges exposed.
If you haven't been here before, you should know there are no peaks here: all the mountains here have been dulled by time and exposure. And glaciers, usually.
But this morning's fog also reached us far into the valley, leaving every car with a hard candy shell, including mine, as I commented to my grand-boss on the walk in from the parking lot. He laughed and theorized that when I went to try it, my tongue stuck to the windshield.
He's not feeling so hot, but he's good to riff with even when he's under the weather. And his under the weather is following my under the weather, and I really I hope I didn't pass what I had around the office.
There's construction in the lot next door to home, as well as on my way to work. All of their equipment was frosted with rime as well.
Yes, I just used "rime" in a sentence. And I did it without thinking about it, though it occurred to me to look it up afterwards, since it does sound like a made-up word. But no, according to Merriam-Webster's (my free online dictionary of choice since going to the Oxford English Dictionary takes about four extra steps, since it requires me to sign into my Penn State library account), it's "frost," or "an accumulation of granular ice tufts on the windward sides of exposed objects that is formed from supercooled fog or cloud and built out directly against the wind," and comes from Old English hrIm; akin to Old Norse hrIm, which explains why I probably like the word so much to begin with. Though the OED is a tad more precise: "Hoar-frost; frozen mist. a chill mist or fog," cautioning that "in scientific use rime is now distinguished from hoar-frost," and traces its usage from 725, though most of its examples are from the 1500s.
Today's etymology lesson brought to you by Anne's brain having been kicked into high gear.
Where I was originally going with this was that passing the construction (covered with rime, no less), this is the second day I've seen the Amish worker there: working in shirtsleeves but no coat, with his suspenders and straw hat.
More than once during my frequent stops to Amish open-air markets of their produce, baking, and preserving over the last few years, I've wished I learned German. Not just because I'm curious about what they say about us, though I'm sure there's a little of that: they do consider us outsiders, calling us "the English." One of the professors in the English department grew up Mennonite and will tell similar stories if asked. But that's not so much my concern--I kind of want to put them at ease as much as I can. They seem awkward with their customers (and I know this is a generalization), especially the older and the very young: strangely, the older teens seem most comfortable with their position and how to deal with the public, from what I've seen thus far. Though I suppose it's one family that I see most often, and it could just be them.
Given that I'm struggling to retain Danish, though, I'm not so sure learning German would've worked. When I was in Denmark, I took French. And boy, was that a doozy. I had already had a year of French, and this was the class's first year with it, so I was in essence going back a year, though language classes over there strike me as much more stringent than in the U.S.
In class one day early on, when I was still learning Danish, the African-born (Francophone) teacher turned to me and in English, asked me to translate a word into French. I answered immediately with the word in Danish, not realizing I had done so until I was told.
I don't want to say that's proof for sticking to one language at a time, but it does strike me as telling for me and how I learn languages, at least. Though I suppose it's different for dead languages: I don't think the same problem would have occurred if I'd been learning Old English at the time, and it didn't occur so much with Latin (which was another course taken at the time, I might add).
My grandboss has "Quo Vadimus" as a sign on his door, which means "Where are we going?" I rather wish I remembered enough Latin to be able to conjugate that into "Where have we been?" His is a noble sentiment, though I'd also argue that parts of this office could stand to learn from their mistakes (including myself).
And with that, off to a meeting.
If you haven't been here before, you should know there are no peaks here: all the mountains here have been dulled by time and exposure. And glaciers, usually.
But this morning's fog also reached us far into the valley, leaving every car with a hard candy shell, including mine, as I commented to my grand-boss on the walk in from the parking lot. He laughed and theorized that when I went to try it, my tongue stuck to the windshield.
He's not feeling so hot, but he's good to riff with even when he's under the weather. And his under the weather is following my under the weather, and I really I hope I didn't pass what I had around the office.
There's construction in the lot next door to home, as well as on my way to work. All of their equipment was frosted with rime as well.
Yes, I just used "rime" in a sentence. And I did it without thinking about it, though it occurred to me to look it up afterwards, since it does sound like a made-up word. But no, according to Merriam-Webster's (my free online dictionary of choice since going to the Oxford English Dictionary takes about four extra steps, since it requires me to sign into my Penn State library account), it's "frost," or "an accumulation of granular ice tufts on the windward sides of exposed objects that is formed from supercooled fog or cloud and built out directly against the wind," and comes from Old English hrIm; akin to Old Norse hrIm, which explains why I probably like the word so much to begin with. Though the OED is a tad more precise: "Hoar-frost; frozen mist. a chill mist or fog," cautioning that "in scientific use rime is now distinguished from hoar-frost," and traces its usage from 725, though most of its examples are from the 1500s.
Today's etymology lesson brought to you by Anne's brain having been kicked into high gear.
Where I was originally going with this was that passing the construction (covered with rime, no less), this is the second day I've seen the Amish worker there: working in shirtsleeves but no coat, with his suspenders and straw hat.
More than once during my frequent stops to Amish open-air markets of their produce, baking, and preserving over the last few years, I've wished I learned German. Not just because I'm curious about what they say about us, though I'm sure there's a little of that: they do consider us outsiders, calling us "the English." One of the professors in the English department grew up Mennonite and will tell similar stories if asked. But that's not so much my concern--I kind of want to put them at ease as much as I can. They seem awkward with their customers (and I know this is a generalization), especially the older and the very young: strangely, the older teens seem most comfortable with their position and how to deal with the public, from what I've seen thus far. Though I suppose it's one family that I see most often, and it could just be them.
Given that I'm struggling to retain Danish, though, I'm not so sure learning German would've worked. When I was in Denmark, I took French. And boy, was that a doozy. I had already had a year of French, and this was the class's first year with it, so I was in essence going back a year, though language classes over there strike me as much more stringent than in the U.S.
In class one day early on, when I was still learning Danish, the African-born (Francophone) teacher turned to me and in English, asked me to translate a word into French. I answered immediately with the word in Danish, not realizing I had done so until I was told.
I don't want to say that's proof for sticking to one language at a time, but it does strike me as telling for me and how I learn languages, at least. Though I suppose it's different for dead languages: I don't think the same problem would have occurred if I'd been learning Old English at the time, and it didn't occur so much with Latin (which was another course taken at the time, I might add).
My grandboss has "Quo Vadimus" as a sign on his door, which means "Where are we going?" I rather wish I remembered enough Latin to be able to conjugate that into "Where have we been?" His is a noble sentiment, though I'd also argue that parts of this office could stand to learn from their mistakes (including myself).
And with that, off to a meeting.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
all I want
All I want for Christmas is a garage. Scraping my car's windows every morning got old sometime in the last couple years.
And welcome to the worst of the pre-application date craziness: this is when students and parents start panicking about our November 30th priority date. Panicking means calls shoot through the roof, and virtually no one on the other end of the line is in a pleasant frame of mind. And now, of course, is when virtually the entire office takes two days off (Thanksgiving and the day after).
A word to the wise: if all of your materials haven't been received by us by Thanksgiving, you might as well kiss the possibility of being on time goodbye.
Perhaps that's too harsh. But five days (or four, depending on if you get the day after Thanksgiving off or not--we don't officially, but most people take a vacation day) is generally not long enough for standardized test scores or high school transcripts to reach us. And if you're having trouble with the password to your online application? It usually takes two days of back-and-forth emails for us to confirm your identity and then reset your password. I used to be the only one in the office officially handling those problems, I might add.
Are you sensing some stress here? Nah.
And welcome to the worst of the pre-application date craziness: this is when students and parents start panicking about our November 30th priority date. Panicking means calls shoot through the roof, and virtually no one on the other end of the line is in a pleasant frame of mind. And now, of course, is when virtually the entire office takes two days off (Thanksgiving and the day after).
A word to the wise: if all of your materials haven't been received by us by Thanksgiving, you might as well kiss the possibility of being on time goodbye.
Perhaps that's too harsh. But five days (or four, depending on if you get the day after Thanksgiving off or not--we don't officially, but most people take a vacation day) is generally not long enough for standardized test scores or high school transcripts to reach us. And if you're having trouble with the password to your online application? It usually takes two days of back-and-forth emails for us to confirm your identity and then reset your password. I used to be the only one in the office officially handling those problems, I might add.
Are you sensing some stress here? Nah.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Signs of Life
Forgot to mention: the book that I had a photo in the running for is out now, but my shot didn't make it. It's still a great collection--I bought a copy myself. You can pick up a copy of Signs of Life here, if you're interested. They're really close to making it to their publisher's top 100, and the profits go to two area service organizations. Check it out.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
update, schmupdate.
I know it's been awhile. It's been crazy lately, including work. 'Tis the season for admissions applications.
I feel like I spent less than an hour at my desk today, and I frankly wouldn't be too far off. At one point, I got back to the building after a cross-campus hike in the cold and wet only to turn around and leave it again about fifteen minutes later for another meeting. Though they fed us pizza there, so I can't complain too much.
It's been a cold, wet, miserable, and frazzled sort of day, and a sneezing on your paycheck while stuffing it in your wallet for your next run to the bank (nevermind the coincidence that you just went today before this one arrived) and trying to change out of your work clothes so you can make a quick entry, cook some quick stir fry, and get out to join friends for the night's plans sort of an evening. Which is what's going on now.
I made an amazing meal yesterday, courtesy of a link sent by S, who I joined a local CSA with for local, organic veggies. Which is actually making me cook more, which is good. And successfully! I was amazed at how well this turned out, given all the substitutions I made: shallots for the yellow onion, garlic powder for the fresh, chicken broth rather than veggie. I'm not even sure I used kale: I used whatever dark green leafy thing I got this week from the CSA, plus some tatsoi left over from last week's haul. How I managed to get everything coordinated so the sunflower seeds were toasting while the greens were simmering and the pasta cooking, after having started with cooking the edamame, I'm not sure, nor am I sure I'll ever be able to do again. But it's nice being in the zone in something I'm not so confident at.
On the other end, with something I'm more confident in, I tried the half-Persian weave in silver rather than steel over the weekend, and it turned out quite nicely, though I gave myself a blister on my thumb in the process.
I also recently spoke to N., my oldest friend. And it's funny how whenever we talk (which is rare), it turns out to be this intense summary and almost mini-therapy in that I talk about things I barely even think about, even though they're part of my day-to-day and have been for years.
I've been wanting to write but not having or wanting to sacrifice the time I need to do so. Frustrating. But even more frustrating is bit by bit trying to scrape and make sacrifices for a new computer--an expense I hadn't planned on until recently, when I realized I need to upgrade soon, given that this one's almost five years old, though I have made additions along the way.
Despite all this nonsense, I'm still happy. I've had a song running through my head for weeks now: a BT song whose chorus goes "simply being loved, loved, loved, is more than enough." And it is. I treasure my friends, whom I consider close enough to be family, both here and elsewhere. And I'll end there, because I desperately need to go and make dinner in order to join a few of them.
I feel like I spent less than an hour at my desk today, and I frankly wouldn't be too far off. At one point, I got back to the building after a cross-campus hike in the cold and wet only to turn around and leave it again about fifteen minutes later for another meeting. Though they fed us pizza there, so I can't complain too much.
It's been a cold, wet, miserable, and frazzled sort of day, and a sneezing on your paycheck while stuffing it in your wallet for your next run to the bank (nevermind the coincidence that you just went today before this one arrived) and trying to change out of your work clothes so you can make a quick entry, cook some quick stir fry, and get out to join friends for the night's plans sort of an evening. Which is what's going on now.
I made an amazing meal yesterday, courtesy of a link sent by S, who I joined a local CSA with for local, organic veggies. Which is actually making me cook more, which is good. And successfully! I was amazed at how well this turned out, given all the substitutions I made: shallots for the yellow onion, garlic powder for the fresh, chicken broth rather than veggie. I'm not even sure I used kale: I used whatever dark green leafy thing I got this week from the CSA, plus some tatsoi left over from last week's haul. How I managed to get everything coordinated so the sunflower seeds were toasting while the greens were simmering and the pasta cooking, after having started with cooking the edamame, I'm not sure, nor am I sure I'll ever be able to do again. But it's nice being in the zone in something I'm not so confident at.
On the other end, with something I'm more confident in, I tried the half-Persian weave in silver rather than steel over the weekend, and it turned out quite nicely, though I gave myself a blister on my thumb in the process.
I also recently spoke to N., my oldest friend. And it's funny how whenever we talk (which is rare), it turns out to be this intense summary and almost mini-therapy in that I talk about things I barely even think about, even though they're part of my day-to-day and have been for years.
I've been wanting to write but not having or wanting to sacrifice the time I need to do so. Frustrating. But even more frustrating is bit by bit trying to scrape and make sacrifices for a new computer--an expense I hadn't planned on until recently, when I realized I need to upgrade soon, given that this one's almost five years old, though I have made additions along the way.
Despite all this nonsense, I'm still happy. I've had a song running through my head for weeks now: a BT song whose chorus goes "simply being loved, loved, loved, is more than enough." And it is. I treasure my friends, whom I consider close enough to be family, both here and elsewhere. And I'll end there, because I desperately need to go and make dinner in order to join a few of them.
Friday, September 08, 2006
banner follow-up
Also, to follow-up on the mention of the abortion banner, here, Michael Bérubé also noted the absurdity of the thing, pointing out with some profundity what I couldn't quite come to grips with. It was also pointed out to me that the banner had been sighted in Pittsburgh a few weeks before. Is it a crusade targeting college students? No doubt in my mind.
have a thicker blanket.
Both yesterday and today the fog's been a morning greeting--this time even at home, not just campus. Yesterday it burned off beautifully, exposing sunshine and warm temperatures. Today it's too early to tell--I can't even see the field behind the office currently.
Yesterday evening as I was exiting the office, I bumped into a lady that works downstairs, with the office that does the programming for our administrative mainframe. Despite being a near-total stranger, conversation started right up--about the weather, of course, that being the easiest thing for strangers in the same geographic area to talk about. Then she brought up how beautiful the moon had been the night before. I mentioned that I hadn't been out to see it--it was full, right? (Knowing full well, as I do these days, when the moon is full--in no small part due to BPAL's release schedule. It's Chrysanthemum Moon according to their reckoning, based on Asian moons, and next month's full moon will be Kindly.) She agreed, then asked me if I was new to the building. I shook my head no and said I'd been here a year and a half (it's edging closer to two now, but I didn't point that out at the time). She kind of laughed, and said "oh, well that's new." And as we parted ways, headed for our respective cars, she waved and said "welcome to [the building]."
And our building is full of long-haulers. My grand-boss has been here for more than 20 years for certain, probably more than 25. Three people off the top of my head are about to retire in our Admissions Services and Evaluation Team. On the other hand, since I arrived in the office, we've hired a dozen people I can think of off the top of my head. I guess that makes for a relatively good balance of institutional knowledge and fresh input. These kinds of things have been increasingly coming to the forefront of my mind as we've been trying to form these committees, which should start their first meetings next week, we hope.
Unfortunately, navigating what they're going to turn out like and how they're going to operate is a lot like navigating the fog this morning--being never quite sure what might pop into view as you travel.
This morning, on the drive in, it was thick, thick, thick, until I hit one patch in the heavily wooded area I drive through, at which point it cleared up completely in this little bubble of stillness. And that was magic. A small kind of magic, certainly, but magic nonetheless: this pure, clear vision as woods pressed close, every detail perfectly visible, but the very distinct knowledge of when you have to enter the dimness again. And it hits in a wall, and then you're engulfed and straining to see clearly once more.
Welcome to the world of office politics.
Yesterday evening as I was exiting the office, I bumped into a lady that works downstairs, with the office that does the programming for our administrative mainframe. Despite being a near-total stranger, conversation started right up--about the weather, of course, that being the easiest thing for strangers in the same geographic area to talk about. Then she brought up how beautiful the moon had been the night before. I mentioned that I hadn't been out to see it--it was full, right? (Knowing full well, as I do these days, when the moon is full--in no small part due to BPAL's release schedule. It's Chrysanthemum Moon according to their reckoning, based on Asian moons, and next month's full moon will be Kindly.) She agreed, then asked me if I was new to the building. I shook my head no and said I'd been here a year and a half (it's edging closer to two now, but I didn't point that out at the time). She kind of laughed, and said "oh, well that's new." And as we parted ways, headed for our respective cars, she waved and said "welcome to [the building]."
And our building is full of long-haulers. My grand-boss has been here for more than 20 years for certain, probably more than 25. Three people off the top of my head are about to retire in our Admissions Services and Evaluation Team. On the other hand, since I arrived in the office, we've hired a dozen people I can think of off the top of my head. I guess that makes for a relatively good balance of institutional knowledge and fresh input. These kinds of things have been increasingly coming to the forefront of my mind as we've been trying to form these committees, which should start their first meetings next week, we hope.
Unfortunately, navigating what they're going to turn out like and how they're going to operate is a lot like navigating the fog this morning--being never quite sure what might pop into view as you travel.
This morning, on the drive in, it was thick, thick, thick, until I hit one patch in the heavily wooded area I drive through, at which point it cleared up completely in this little bubble of stillness. And that was magic. A small kind of magic, certainly, but magic nonetheless: this pure, clear vision as woods pressed close, every detail perfectly visible, but the very distinct knowledge of when you have to enter the dimness again. And it hits in a wall, and then you're engulfed and straining to see clearly once more.
Welcome to the world of office politics.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Welcome to Happy Valley--have a blanket.
Today, the second day of fall classes, dawned dull and cold and spitting. I was amused on my drive in to see a professor-type in suit and bow tie standing beneath a great black umbrella at the bus stop. I was even more amused to see what for the life of me seemed like flecks of snow hitting my windshield along with the sprinkles of rain.
The wall of fog I encountered as I drove toward campus further expanded my delight. Strange, I know, but I think we've covered that about me. In the case, it was a gorgeous, deep fog. Which slowed down traffic, of course, but that's the only down side.
Forget about my view of the mountains: on the way in, I could barely see the watertower I usually pass. On the corner of the intersection the stadium's closest to, I could barely see its struts, and couldn't at all see the other side of it.
Now that I'm in my office, once I look beyond the field and accompanying field house just outside my window, there's nothing beyond. If I crane back to see Pollock Halls, the closest are kind of visible, but the ones closer to the heart of campus are just--gone. Swallowed up. The world has been shallowed, the horizon brought in closer. No sign of Mount Nittany or the range it's attached to, much less the range beyond that.
While a nasty greeting for those from warmer climes, I find this comforting--as if the valley pulled around a nestling blanket for its new residents. I doubt they'll be as appreciative, but I have to admit that I love this.
The wall of fog I encountered as I drove toward campus further expanded my delight. Strange, I know, but I think we've covered that about me. In the case, it was a gorgeous, deep fog. Which slowed down traffic, of course, but that's the only down side.
Forget about my view of the mountains: on the way in, I could barely see the watertower I usually pass. On the corner of the intersection the stadium's closest to, I could barely see its struts, and couldn't at all see the other side of it.
Now that I'm in my office, once I look beyond the field and accompanying field house just outside my window, there's nothing beyond. If I crane back to see Pollock Halls, the closest are kind of visible, but the ones closer to the heart of campus are just--gone. Swallowed up. The world has been shallowed, the horizon brought in closer. No sign of Mount Nittany or the range it's attached to, much less the range beyond that.
While a nasty greeting for those from warmer climes, I find this comforting--as if the valley pulled around a nestling blanket for its new residents. I doubt they'll be as appreciative, but I have to admit that I love this.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
move-in, eating crow, and fanatics
Today is overcast. It has been for awhile. Students have been moving in for the past two days, and S.C. has exploded, population-wise, especially when you count all the parents either overnighting or making a weekend of it with the game and all, plus classes not starting until Tuesday.
I'm impressed every time. Things change so suddenly around here. I moved from a village that doubles in the summer to a small city that doubles whenever it's not summer. And they bring wonder to town, the students, as do their parents, oftentimes.
I'm trying to have a slow lunch after the bustle of the rest of my day--slowly sipping my jasmine tea until it cools enough to drink, writing this old school with the tiny pad and pen that fits into my wallet--an extremely useful gift from J.
I have to say I'm awfully fond of the colleague who stopped in my door yesterday to inform me that "I'm here to eat crow." There's little in my book that's more endearing than having the cajones to admit you're wrong.
He came down earlier that day to chastise me for making the incorrect call on a deferral and to correct the letter I'd had sent out that hadn't escaped our mail room yet. I told him that I thought I knew the policy and followed it, to the point of looking it up as I was doing it, but if I was wrong, I'd correct it. He had come back to let me know I'd done it all right in the first place, and he would have to correct his own incorrect call on the matter.
And he technically outranks me in this: both in which team he's on here (Admissions Services and Evaluation Team vs. me in the Communication and Customer Service Team), rank and title, and of course years of experience. I can't deny it feels good to be right here.
Circling around campus is a plane dragging a huge banner that reads "10 week abortion," with a phone number and accompanying graphic photo, in a size too big to mention. This is the first time I've seen this, though it may have been up before. The unfortunate bit is that from afar, I'd thought it read "10 week audition" and I couldn't see the photo, and then I'd craned to figure out what the auditions were for. The other unfortunate bit is that though I certainly can guess, it's not clear if it's an ad for a clinic that provides those services, or a protest against such.
There's a commonly-repeated saying to the effect that fanatics of any stripe make the reasonable members of the group look bad. On the other hand, I would argue, there are also fanatics that make the human race look bad.
Not that this is the worst offender. But even so.
But even despite that view, and despite the overcast sky, I'll likely drive home tonight with the sunroof open, as I have pretty much every day it hasn't rained since I re-discovered the beauty of having one.
I'm impressed every time. Things change so suddenly around here. I moved from a village that doubles in the summer to a small city that doubles whenever it's not summer. And they bring wonder to town, the students, as do their parents, oftentimes.
I'm trying to have a slow lunch after the bustle of the rest of my day--slowly sipping my jasmine tea until it cools enough to drink, writing this old school with the tiny pad and pen that fits into my wallet--an extremely useful gift from J.
I have to say I'm awfully fond of the colleague who stopped in my door yesterday to inform me that "I'm here to eat crow." There's little in my book that's more endearing than having the cajones to admit you're wrong.
He came down earlier that day to chastise me for making the incorrect call on a deferral and to correct the letter I'd had sent out that hadn't escaped our mail room yet. I told him that I thought I knew the policy and followed it, to the point of looking it up as I was doing it, but if I was wrong, I'd correct it. He had come back to let me know I'd done it all right in the first place, and he would have to correct his own incorrect call on the matter.
And he technically outranks me in this: both in which team he's on here (Admissions Services and Evaluation Team vs. me in the Communication and Customer Service Team), rank and title, and of course years of experience. I can't deny it feels good to be right here.
Circling around campus is a plane dragging a huge banner that reads "10 week abortion," with a phone number and accompanying graphic photo, in a size too big to mention. This is the first time I've seen this, though it may have been up before. The unfortunate bit is that from afar, I'd thought it read "10 week audition" and I couldn't see the photo, and then I'd craned to figure out what the auditions were for. The other unfortunate bit is that though I certainly can guess, it's not clear if it's an ad for a clinic that provides those services, or a protest against such.
There's a commonly-repeated saying to the effect that fanatics of any stripe make the reasonable members of the group look bad. On the other hand, I would argue, there are also fanatics that make the human race look bad.
Not that this is the worst offender. But even so.
But even despite that view, and despite the overcast sky, I'll likely drive home tonight with the sunroof open, as I have pretty much every day it hasn't rained since I re-discovered the beauty of having one.
Monday, August 28, 2006
current status and an ode to my uncle
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.
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.
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.
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