Morning in (Mostly) Black and White.

Portland Winter

This is for all my lovies who used to live here and miss it.

[lower MacLeay Park, Forest Park]

[My backyard, early January snow]

[Mt Hood, from my car on the 205 bridge]

Wacky Friday

Today feels like a Dr. Seuss opposite Wacky Wednesday sort of day.
But rather than shoes having wings, baby carriages moving on feet and fish wearing hats, I heard a rooster crowing at 10am in Gresham, went to school on a Friday, found a parking spot on campus, discovered something called "Milk enriched candy", went outside without a coat and was warm, and saw a girl in Nordstrom with a Chihuahua puppy (oh wait, that's normal).
It all just feels rather odd.
Now I'm going to go eat lunch. At 3:22. And that's normal.

It's Thursday

It's Thursday evening - night, rather - and I have been a terrible blogger. I come home after a long (but not busy) day at school/Josh's apartment, check out what's been happening this week in the wonderful world wide web only to find that most of my friends have been posting all sorts of interesting posts (thanks). I have not.

In other news, it was cold and foggy today - usually my favorite weather, but not when combined with air conditioning. What does conditioning have to do with making the air cold, anyway? When I think of conditioning, I think of stuff that makes my hair soft and shiny, or people complaining of sore muscles after sports conditioning - not blowing cold air on people's heads and making them shrink into their coats and blow on their fingers, trying to restore enough feeling to continue taking notes.
Let's call it air misery from now on, k?

Art and English

"The Great Figure"

Among the rain
and lights
I saw the figure 5
in gold
on a red
fire truck
moving
tense
unheeded
to gong clangs
siren howls
and wheels rumbling
through the dark city


"This is just to say"

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold


by William Carlos Williams

What I Learned

My Linguistics professor tried to impress on me the importance of writing down the cute little things that kids say. I generally forget, but yesterday I heard something so cute I just had to write it down.

Henry, age 3, and I were looking at some hidden pictures and were looking for a highly stylized caterpillar - looked something like a bent saw. I said to him, "Okay, we're looking for something with spikey, jagged lines." He stares intently at the page and repeats, "Spikeabee, jaggalee lines!"

So I came home from work yesterday having learned two new adjectives which I am fully planning on using from now on.

Something About

One thing I love about spending quality time with my dearest loved ones is laughter. It is not often caught, as usually whilst laughing, no one is steady enough in body or mind to take a half way decent photo.

I love these.

New

-New blogger
Yes, I converted.

-New hair
Well... new color at least.



















-New photos
I haven't gotten the good ones from the boys yet, but these are pretty rad.








































-New paint
This is for Pamela: check out how freakin rad your old room now is.

The End (of Winter Break)

Yes, the end has come. What clued me in? There have been many reminders. Josh, for one, has verbally mentioned the sad fact more than once today.
Other hints involved getting up, getting dressed and leaving the house, with lunch, at a decently early hour; walking around downtown in the rain; sitting through lectures, trying to decide if it's worth it to start a conversation with the person next to me; mentally visualizing my planner to fit in the homework and work; missing calls and having no reception; using my brain.
There is no denying it: winter quarter is here, allegedly bringing snow and cold weather to distract us from homework.
I will wear my Wellies.

The Process of Writing “The New Year's Blog”

I walk determinedly into my room, not taking care to shut the door behind me. I put my popcorn and water on the floor next to my bed, grab Stuart, clear the clothes to the back of my bed, and sit. I open Window's Media Player and My Photos, in case of inspiration blockage. This moment has been long awaited and long shirked.

The shirking began probably a week ago. “Mm. I should probably write a New Year's blog. So much work. Later...”. Then on New Year's day: “I should probably think though 2006 and consider what could go into a New Year's blog. Or... sleep”.
Today was worse. The mental nagging continued as I wandered around the streets of North Portland and the Pearl with friends from near and far, looking at sculpture lamps, mixed media with resin, robots on the Burnside Bridge. In conversation I heard that two of my friends had posted lovely and interesting New Year's Blogs. Crap. This was almost worse than being behind on my Christmas cards (which I did mail... January second). To make matters worse, the topic of New Year's resolutions came up over superb espresso in Albina Press. Oh dear. I haven't come up with a good one of those, either. And here we are, four days into the new year. Last year's was to not steal music. (For the first time in my life I kept a resolution. So this year's had better be good.) Reading more and shopping less were mentioned: beneficial, yes, but no cigar. More reading is not good – I have to do it anyway. Less shopping is surely not an option. There's always the classic “more exercise” or “be healthier”, but that's just normal aspirations – not special or specific enough for New Year's. Vowing to climb at least once a month would be cool, but finances and health are too sketchy to be relied upon, putting too many constraints on that option. I thought of choosing to not watch TV or something along those lines, but that involves unnecessary and difficult social awkwardness, an idea of which I like of about as much as taking a science class – oh wait, I am. Emily said she was hoping to read more biographies of good Christian people. Something spiritually enriching would be smart. I could try reading more Christian books... but extra reading for an English/Art History major is kind of a bad idea. Abbie wants to “wear more art”. I could take that to mean sew more, but I will probably do that anyway. I might take it a step further and learn to crochet, maybe. Daveo resolved to “blog more”, which, obviously, I have done a pretty good job on with the exception of the last few weeks. I considered resolving to be more nice, patient, generous and/or considerate. But that's not quantifiable enough. Or maybe I just didn't want to.
Nothing seemed worthy, so I laid off thinking about it.
Later this evening, as I stood in the kitchen making popcorn and talking to my mom, I tried to think of what I could resolve to that would be that I could put a time frame on (as in, daily, weekly, monthly), would be enriching, something I don't already do, and something that would be remotely possible. Then I remembered that on Sunday, Dave had challenged us to read the whole Bible in 2007. Perfect. A resolution at last.

Now for the blog. What to do, what to do.
I open my photo folder for inspiration. Photo blog year in reviews are cool. I have my photos organized by year, season, and events in which I took a lot of pictures.
Winter: Snowboarding. Christmas.
Spring: Josh's visit. Spring break.
Summer: South Carolina. Mt Vernon. Ft Stevens. Canada. Schreck's visit.
Fall: Halloween. Thanksgiving.
Winter so far: Christmas in the South. (Soon to add: Adventures with Daveo.)
What does that show me about the year in review? That my life revolves around Josh, traveling and holidays, and that winter comes twice a year. We all knew that.
I could write a “best of/worst of”. Too much work. I could write a “what I did this year essay”. Boring. So here I sit, eyes growing dry and bleary as I type and ponder, taking the occasional break to chat with my sister or look around the room and wonder at how I can continue to misspell “occasional” and have to spell check right click fix it.

Maybe I'll just leave off at 800 words, sit back and start my year off relaxing with my Wodehouse Companion, plotting how to read all 92 of his books as soon as possible, and let you look over the last 12 months of blogs in the archive if you really want to know how my year was.

A Little Weird

An unusually, uncharacteristically long amount of time has passed since I last posted. Perhaps this is due to the nature of my schedule (I'm doing what today? Wait, when will I get on the internet?), or the sheer mass of my schedule. Let me give you a sampling of what has been going on:
-4 parties
-multiple shopping days
-7 work days (6 were in a row)
-5 friends in town (Rosie, Em, Jelly, Daveo and Pamela)
-3 batches of Christmas goodies
-lots of movies (recommendation: Night at the Museum)
-1 snowboarding trip
-1 trip to the coast
-1 drive down Peacock lane
-1 morning of sleeping in (today)
It has been a fantastic first three-quarters of Winter Break - a little crazy, breathless, but fun.

Actual Christmas Break

From my experience, the title of Christmas break needs a few more words. Something along the lines of "Christmas might Break you". The season is pretty insane: gifts, lines, money, food, baking, eating, wrapping, singing, parties, plans, driving, working extra hours, snowboarding, hugging, decorating, opening, inviting - all as much fun as a snowday. If only all that fun could be one day at a time, rather than crammed into three weeks of exhaustion - all piled on right after finals. Oh, the brutality.
But like it or not, that's the note on which we start the season. A season that's supposed to be full of tranquility, remembrance, love, sharing, sitting by the fire, contemplating the "reason for the season". And here we are: tried, burnt out, broke and annoyed. But this year, before my attempt to try to give and love and contemplate, God gave a little something to me: a vacation in South Carolina.

A New Favorite

...Christmas song
(Thanks to Sufjan Stevens)

Come on! let’s boogie to the elf dance

tie up your boots
jump off the ladder
pack up your clothes
nothing’s the matter
mistletoe hangs up in the bedroom
your sister’s bangs, she cut them herself

santa is here
sleigh bells are ringing
twenty one elves
they are all singing
kmart is closed
so is the bakery
everyone’s home watching tv

santa claus is coming
hear the banjos strumming
santa claus is coming
hear the banjos strumming

chestnuts and fire
holly and hay
jesus and mary
what a great day
evergreen tree covered in snow
tower of babel tower of glow

there’s a m_______????
and there’s a ________????
they give us good gifts
like mittens and socks

hijack a snowplow
clear out the streets
tell all the neighbors
there’s cookies to eat

get up off the floor and get in the shower
there’s a lot to shout about
santa claus is coming to town
he’s got the greatest gifts around

away in the manger
no crib for a bed
little lord jesus lay down his sweet head
the stars in the sky look down where he lay
the little lord jesus asleep on the hay
the cattle are lowing the baby awakes
little lord jesus, no crying he makes

Questions of Deliciousness

On feeling unwell and in the mood for something hot to drink, I decided to attempt a "hot chunky drink", as Rosie dubbed them so long ago. Creating these with out a steam wand is not quite the best, but I figured I'd try.

Cranberry-Raspberry juice
Frozen blueberries
Honey
Blender
Microwave

It was almost a Bibo hot drink. But not quite. I can't remember, but I am pretty sure there were three ingredients in that drink. Apple juice and whole cranberries? I remember the Fuji (Rose and I have had equal reproductions from the Energy Bar). I remember the Pike's Peak (easy - hot chocolate). I remember the Mt Vesuvius! But what was the cranberry-blueberry one?
My memory plagues me.
At least my taste buds are satisfied.

Inspired by Emily

I thought, after reading Emily's blog, that I ought to create a projected Winter Break reading list.
I took one look at my bookshelf, crowded and chaotic like an airport at Christmas, and scratched that idea. I think I might just close my eyes, spin around, pin the tail on the donkey style and grab a few - who knows what I might come up with. Or maybe I should just finish things I've non-commitedly picked up (and put down) over the past six months.

As for books not on my shelf... This list appeared out of notes taken during Borges and Calvino:

"Earth, Sea" trilogy Ursula Le Guin
Anything by Ursula Le Guin
Kafka
Kant
"The Periodic Table" Primo Levi
Zamyatin
Brodsky
"One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest"
"Slaughter House Five"
Georges Perec
R. L. Stevenson
J. G. Ballard
Octavio Butler
"Stars 'n Bars" William Boyd
"Slowness" Milan Kundera
"Popular Music from Vittula" Mikael Niemi
"Stolen Spring" Hans Scherfig

I'm wondering... has anyone read any of these? School leaves me feeling terribly illiterate.

Good Ol' Traditions

Note: This was not the tree we chose. I liked it and thought it looked like a Martian tree. We got a normal one.
I like hot chocolate and family.
And trees.

Kisses

That poor little froggy needs a kiss like this:

Overflow of Excitement

Mt Hood Meadows:
TUESDAY 11/28 5:00 AM
BASE AREA TEMP 12
NEW SNOW
PAST 24 HOURS 8 "
BASE SNOW DEPTH 6 Feet
MID SNOW DEPTH 7 FeetTimberline:
November 28, 2006, 7:35 am
Sky Snowing
Temperature 11º
Wind 5-15 MPH W
New Snow 6"
Base Depth at Lodge 83"Ski Bowl:
November 28, 2006
Time: 9:30AM
Temp:24 degrees in the base/16 on top
Wind: calm
Skies: Snowing
Conditions: Early season powder!
Depth: 65" at midway
Last 24 Hours: 4"

Why am I not there???

What It Is.

At risk of sounding narcissistic, inappreciative, simple or whatever other terms you might have for this small thing, this Thanksgiving I am thankful for smells.
And all that goes along with them.

People.
Food.
Shampoo.
Hugs.
Paper.
Blankets.
Celery.
Familiar.

Dreams

Ugh. I have had so many dreams this week. There had been something of a dry spell recently, but now the dreams are back in force, like spiders at Christmas time. Not that they've been bad, but...
I want my sleep back.

Miscellaneous Me

Confirmation

That I do have the best job in the world. (Or at least one of the best.) (The best for me.)

Job uniform: Whatever is comfortable, movable, warm and that I don't mind getting dog hair, spit up, snot, etc, on.

What I actually wear at work: A bright pink princess dress, a pink cowboy hat, a fir collar and a scarf around my face. -OR- A hideous orange lace dress, a light pink tutu for a collar, and a brown scarf around my head and face.

Faaaantastic. Tonight at work me, a six year old girl and two four year old boys ran around a house in Ramona Quimby's neighborhood, trying on various guises and breaking out of jail. And then switching to playing dad and kids.

Yes, I get paid to do this.

Book.

If on a winter's night a traveler
Italo Calvino

You must buy it.
You must read it.
You must love it.

Mood to Complain.

Things I dislike:

Tables and graphs in articles.
Having to go to the bathroom.
Having cold hands and feet.
When my eyes burn.
How my room never stays clean.
Cutting my thumb on a soupcan.
Not having a new Harry Potter movie to watch for a long time.
Not being able to hang out with Lita this weekend.

Please don't think me ungrateful - I have loads of things I do like and am not having a bad day. I just all of a sudden realized a lot of things I don't like.

In the Rain

peripatetic \pair-uh-puh-TET-ik\, adjective:

1. Of or pertaining to walking about or traveling from place to place; itinerant.
2. Of or pertaining to the philosophy taught by Aristotle (who gave his instructions while walking in the Lyceum at Athens), or to his followers.
3. One who walks about; a pedestrian; an itinerant.
4. A follower of Aristotle; an Aristotelian.

I think I am peripatetic. I wander and work, wander and study, wander and take pictures. It's nice.

Who Needs 'Em

I sit in my chair, looking down four stories to the bricks, and wonder: Why does anyone ever pay $2 million for a playground? All these kids really need to have fun is a paved/bricked/cobbled area, covered in leaves and leftover rain.How different these steps look with college students utilizing them. Standing, talking, rushing. Whatever happened to sliding, running and laughing?

Fall Study

Artificial and Natural VegitationHalf and Half

Favorite Colors

What Dreams

People sometimes speculate or throw about theories regarding dreams.
If you have a favorite, have a go at this:

I was at a birthday party for this girl I know - it was as slumber party. For some reason her mom was in the living room with us (it was supposed to be her mom, but she actually was, in real life, the mom of another of my friends). And Josh. After a lot of boring details, it came to about 3 or 4am, and there was a knock on the door. The side door. And who might it be but John Kerry, trying to break into the house. BUT - he did not in any way resemble John Kerry, but rather, Benjamin Clark-Mitchell. Yes. Ben/John breaking into the house. Somehow we made him go away, but that is not important so I don't remember. The curious part is the Ben as a politician / politician as a robber part.

Hypochondri-Anatolia

Well, Stuart has a little glitch and freaks out. I think he's a hypochondriac. No big heart attack or anything. Good grief. But no matter, I'm still just happy he works. Silly thing.

As much as I complain about all the papers and assignments I have, it really is quite wonderful learning all the things I'm learning. Today I have immersed myself in Turkish history and culture. Very enjoyable. Since 4 years ago when I took the Western Survey (Art History) I have been interested in Turkey. In the first section of the survey I was introduced to the Haghia Sophia.
In a word: amazing.
It sparked my interest in Turkey, if nothing else but to make me put Istanbul on my top 5 places I would really like to go. It was built in the Justinian era, under a (somewhat) Christian rule. It was rebuilt in part due to earthquakes, and added on to due to the course of history, but it is still primarily the same as it was when it was built. This place is huge. And beautiful. I love the thought that something so beautiful, powerful, massive and inspiring was built for my King. As is the unfortunate destiny of so many beautiful places of worship, it has been reduced to a mere museum. Like Turkey itself, the Haghia Sophia has experienced a kind of ridiculously diverse history, and, as a museum, stands for a little bit of everything with the Bible as an insuppressible foundation.

Fingers and Toes

I was pondering the phenomena of how inactivity seems to lower one's body temperature when I realized I had slightly wet socks on, leftover from my brief stand on the corner of Broadway and Hall in the pouring rain. I walked into my room to remedy this misery, but forgot my mission, distracted by the cold, and put on my hot pink fleece pants instead. And grabbed a second mug of SpiceTea. This worked for a bit. Until I decided to post pictures and write a paper. Typing always leaves my fingers frozen. Hm. Still cold er.
Then my mom came in and announced the heater hadn't been coming on and the house was 60 degrees. Ohhhhh.
My socks are still wet.

Eek!

[I would fix the red eye on these photos, but I don't have a program for it on my parent's computer, and.... sadly, Stuart is rejecting his heart transplant and is currently in a coma. Or, at least, refusing to turn on. (It goes something like this: compaq screen, bluescreen, windows screen, black screen with words, compaq screen, black screen, windows screen, blue screen... you get the picture.)]

But!
There it is: proof of a fantastically fun party. I was impressed greatly by my friend's costuming abilities.
Amazing.
Rad.
Amazlingly rad.

Surreal

I hopped on the bus at a different stop than usual, a good third of the way down the line. I walked to the back, as is my good citizenry custom, and promptly engrossed myself in Under the Jaguar Sun. The timing of the line already disoriented, I lost myself in a London of the 1950s or '60s. Sensing myself emerged from the forest of cement and glass and steel, I glanced up to find myself on the bridge, face turning first to one window then the next in unison with all the other passengers, all surprised at the sunset. Sunsets are always beautiful from the bridge, even if they are invisible, smothered by clouds or purpled by smog. This evening's was circular - hence the looking around occurring as I looked up. All around the city was a darkish pink ring. A sunset for all people, no matter the easterly direction of their window or movement. A sunset everywhere you looked. It gave the particular sensation of being on the most western edge of the world.
I fell into my book again in hopes of finishing it before I reached my stop. So engrossed was I that I almost didn't make the connection between my location in the line and the necessity of pulling the yellow cord.
Upon getting off, the world shifted again, not to the most westerly point of all points, but to the place where all bus 8s converge. Three busses in a row stormed by: 8, 8, 8.

Happy Sigh

I just had to turn up my music to hear it over the rain. Such a lovely mix of soothing sound.

In the Name of Homework

"For quite a while already, a procession of motorbikes and cars and bicycles and children had been following the tree that was moving about the city, without Marcovaldo's becoming aware of them, and they were shouting: "The baobab! The babobab!" and with great "Ooooh's!" of wonder they watched the yellowing of the leaves. When one leaf dropped and flew off, many hands were raised to catch it in fight."

-from "Marcoaldo, or The seasons in the city", Italo Calvino

*Kronk Scared Face*

You get a weird variety of results when you search the library catalogue for "veil".

Dia de Ecuador

Today felt like Ecuador day. You know those days that feel themed? Like the stars aligned and there was a cosmic theme party? Well, today I found out that one of my classmates grew up in Ecuador and Costa Rica. And I was wearing my beautiful, soft alpaca scarf from the amazing Pamela Joy. So that's only two things, but still, nothing else was really consistently interesting today - except that for the second day in a row my second class of the day was cancelled. And I'm watching my second documentary of the week. Maybe I was wrong and it was "Seconds Day".
Oh well.

"Seven months after President Bush, flanked by a "Mission Accomplished" banner, declared the Iraq war over, British Journalist Sean Langan singularly chronicled events and interviewed parties on both sides of the war. Along with footage of suicide bombers and various battles, Langan's gripping documentary features interviews with both resistance fighters and American Troops, providing a unique perspective of the war from both sides."

This is what I am watching for homework right now. I had an assignment to choose a documentary on the Middle East and write a response to it. Most of the documentaries I came across were just war ones and looked rather unpleasant and, how can I put it - propaganda. But then I found this one. So far it is interesting and thought provoking.
I don't like war, but I like documentaries.

Now I Know.

I could be a political strategist:

It won't work.
People will die.
There will be an uprising, perhaps a coup d'etat.
People will blame others.
There will be a huge World Bank debt.

And I request a salary of $1.2 million per annum with 2 months vacation.

Thank you.