Christmas roundup

Facts:

1) My family is totes cute when they're not criticizing my love for Barack Obama.

2) My grandmother is totes cute even when she IS criticizing my love for Barack Obama, in her favorite Christmas sweater.

3) My dad is totes cute, unconditionally.

4) My brother and I are way too rad for reality.  The addition of Daisy the Border Collie makes this snapshot mind-blowingly rad.

5) The fact that my mother bought me a harmonica for Christmas is also mind blowingly rad.

We've made a decision

After much heated debate about our post-New Years long-weekend destination, we kind of surprised ourselves and went with .... 

Barcelona!  I know, right?  Bit left field.  But I started thinking about Gaudi and the beach and not being in cold gray London and it just became apparent that I needed to trick Adam into wanting to go too.  Luckily, I think his (eventual) enthusiasm for the idea is (now) wholehearted and we have already planned a Kate v. Adam Street Photography Deathmatch.  I will win.  What I cannot guarantee is a victory in the battle of Kate v. Catalan because my romance-language brain can get behind Spanish, but "si us plau?"  Not so much.  One last highlight, especially for me, Ms. Christmas, is that Spaniards typically don't give gifts on Christmas Day, but instead on January 6th, Three Kings Day.  The night before, there is a huge celebration as the three kings arrive by boat to Barcelona and parade throughout the town.  Kings throw candy, kids get gifts.  We will be there and I will be giddy. 

  

And I'm thinking as I type this "Whose life IS this?" because 90% of the time, lately, my life just seems totally surreal.  It's nice though to feel the need to pinch yourself every now and again, just to check.

I've somehow lucked out.  Though I'd say my most lucky acquisition is a traveling partner who makes traveling even better than traveling.  A keeper.

   

Merry Christmas to Me!

I broke down and bought my camera last night.  Yay!  And for the record, I'm working three nights' worth of overtime to afford it.  WORTH IT.

Eureka!

You know, sometimes writing is a special kind of torture.  Those times when you can actually visualize the roadblock in your thought process but can't manage to get it out of the way?  When you start editing your words before they've even hit the page?  When everything you write makes you sound like you've the charisma of a friggin' piece of toast?  Those are the best times.

I've been entrenched in the world's worst (and most inconvenient) case of writer's block this past week.  Every time I sat down to answer the question "Why are you applying for this degree?" I was paralyzed with indecision.  I know why I want to do what I want to do, but I couldn't draw a connection between my past and my future.  

And then, all of the sudden, fifteen minutes ago, the clouds parted etc. etc. and it became completely simple.  Sublimely simple.  Now I can't stop writing.  It's GOOD.  I sound like, you know, a serious candidate!  Sweet relief!  

More to come.

HALLELUJAH. 

barry hussein

So remember a few weeks ago when i was complaining about this? Well, I was actually so annoyed that I fired off a snarky (but well argued) email to the event coordinator complaining about how impractical it is to ask "Generation Obama" for $100 ... two weeks before Christmas. I'm generally not this confrontational, I swear, but maybe I will be from now on because it totally paid off. Now I'm volunteering for the event, going for free and have a good chance of meeting the good Senator as a result. The historian in me has officially classified this as "BIG DEAL, A."

22 days!

Telling

Email exchange with Adam this morning: A: "Hey, your boyfriend's on the Drudge homepage." (I look at Drudge homepage) K: "Which one, Ahmadinejad or Obama?" A: "Brian Williams." K: "Oh THAT one!" Eccentric? Demented? I know not the best description for my taste in men. What really needs to be said here, though, is that this whole conversation started today because I woke up from a very vivid dream this morning in which Brian Williams traveled to my house to hang out where I proceeded to try and get him in the sack. Unfortunately he was not amused and hit on my sister instead. And the best part? We got to my house on a very special, hidden "Reporters' Railroad" with golden cars, available only to very special journalists. Brian was happy to give me a (non-sexy) lesson about the history of the rail cars for some reason, but was still partial to hitting on my sister instead of me. Part of me was not bothered, though, because in-my-dream Brian Williams was kind of a frat boy. I'm holding out for real life Brian Williams, who instead likes dogs, spray tans and his adorable elderly father. And is totes sexy and into me.

and because i can't wait to get back to the uk

i'll end a night of theraflu-induced-compulsive-blogging with this 26 days.

want/need

i am not satisfied by this blog template but far too distracted to do anything to change it right now. i needed to get that off my chest in case you were wondering. this evening i'm distracted by a certain felicitous moment which occurred last night as i got home from work. i've spent much of my free time this past week trying to find a way to adopt a stranger for christmas. my preference being that this stranger is the age/size of a youngish child who would otherwise be left off of the list. (i'm speaking, very specifically, about SANTA'S list here, people) lately i'm just blown away by kids: they're so incredible and wise and fragile and ... the potential! the thought of that being quashed by adult things beyond their control just makes me hurt. so i wanted to maybe, possibly, fulfill a wish, remind someone that his world is bigger and less scary than it may seem, and that someone somewhere is pulling for him. the problem? i couldn't find one! where were all of those giving trees i remembered were everywhere this time of year when i was a kid? we didn't have any clients this year to adopt and the ywca just wanted toiletries and canned goods (not that those aren't worthy needs). i was discouraged. and then i got home, opened my mailbox and found a newsletter from the seattle children's home, a local group that provides in-patient treatment for kids with severe developmental and learning disabilities (whose newsletter i have never, ever, seen anywhere, let alone in my mailbox, before yesterday). turns out they want people to adopt their kids for christmas. so 12 hours, two emails later, i have christopher. a 17 year old who loves art and music and who, an SCH staffer tells me, "could really use the extra support this time of year." he wants a discman and some new headphones and some books about drawing animals and cars and some pencils and nice sketchpads. so discman and books and pencils and sketchpads he will get. 'cause when i was 17, that's all i wanted too. and i didn't have things like poverty and disability looming over my head. i'm going to try and find these moments of felicity more often.

oy

i've reached a point where even the thought of graduate school makes me faint. not in swoony kind of way. in a my brain can't handle these options so will just shut down kind of way. is it odd that i'm feeling as if i don't know enough to go back to school? i'm paralyzed by this idea that i haven't yet paid my dues ... that another academe isn't going to solve the world's problems. i went from loathing my job (abusive boss) to loving my job (two incredible bosses + actual intellectual challenge) over the course of the last 9 months or so. aside from no longer being miserable for 8.5 hours a day, i've come to adopt this attitude that action (in regards to the things in this world that irk me most) is not really an option for educated people. my basic needs are taken care of, i'm safe, i'm (relatively) financially secure and (relatively) privileaged; not contributing to the greater good in some way is (i apologize if this sounds militaristic) just gluttonous, maybe even immoral. one of my bosses, who ran the state's largest legal services organization for twenty years (and, rumor has it, won a genius grant), said something to me the other day that stuck. i'll preface this by telling you that a favorite pastime of hers is harassing state legislators, in person, day after day, until they break down and give into her requests for things like increased funding for low-income legal service programs. anyways, she said to me, "katie, i've been doing this for twenty goddamned years and nothing has changed! i was walking down the street the other day and saw a woman walking her dog and wanted to grab her and shake her and yell 'there's no time for dog walking when so many people need our help!'" no i'm not about to start attacking dog walkers (except maybe with hugs) i know that i want a career that inspires in me that kind of passion. and i know that when i receive phone calls from people who are so incredibly disadvantaged (by their own actions, or, more frequently, by no fault of their own) and they don't even have the tools to comprehend how to start to help themselves, i forget about everything and help. i can't not help. so i've narrowed that much down: my education has been my saving grace, my golden ticket. i want to solve the world's problems by empowering people to change their world. i think this starts by educating them. and advocating for the education of those who can't advocate for themselves. that is what i want to do. that is my new mantra. writing that helped. you'd think i'd have learned that after 24 years. ugly betty is eating poutine right now. and i have some chocolate fig greek ice cream to attend to.

THE BEST!

My boss just sent me the following one-sentence email: "I think you are a magician disguised as a normal person." This is why she is my favorite person on earth.

As soon as I pressed "Post"

on that last post, I realized that I didn't even get to the part I planned to write about in the first place. I have three loves in my life (okay, probably many more): one fantasizes about jellyfish, one wears a cat suit, and the other is my piano. Probably the best gift I've ever received; I am a lucky girl. When I was a kid, and it was Christmastime, I would sit at the piano for hours playing carols. Now I find myself nearing my favorite season, without a repertoire of songs to play. I am dying for some Charlie Brown! Unfortunately, Seattle (for being the music-centric city that it is...or says it is) is seriously lacking in the sheet music department. Capitol Music closed last year. I have to go all the way to the 'burbs for my fix. Not cool! But I will do it for you, Vince Guaraldi! In the meantime, I've so totally fallen in love with Yann Tiersen and just about everything he has ever written for the piano. Oy. And since you're well acquainted with the other two, let me introduce you to my third love:

christmas time is here

I had every intention this evening of taking you on a virtual tour of my Christmas tree. Instead, I laze-d out and decided to lie on the couch and read "Atonement." I am reading "Atonement" because the movie is about to come out, looks totally hot, and I hate being "the girl who hasn't read the book." So, I'm sitting here reading the aforementioned hot book and it begins to get extremely hot. Hott, you might say/type. Flushed, I diffuse the situation by turning on the television. It is turned to "A Charlie Brown Christmas."* Woah. Suddenly the moment feels quite, um, inappropriate. The crucial lesson here being that when faced with the decision to choose between "A Charlie Brown Christmas" and some hot nudie scene of Ian McEwan's imagination, I will always, always choose Charlie Brown. This is because I love Christmas. So, back to my tree. I was taking pictures in preparation for the tree tour on my bazillion year old camera, which I haven't used since this time last year for the very same purpose, when I discovered some very old pictures of my cat. If you've not met her, you should; I'm quite in love with her and she will change your life. Last year was her very first christmas. I was having second thoughts about showing the pictures I found, but then though, fuck it. If you don't love cute, you are no friend of mine. And so I present, Olivine, aged 4 months. You can now die happy. And this one because, well, obviously. Right, the tree. Here's part. A kiwi from New Zealand. *It should, for some reason, be noted that when I turned on the tv, I was actually kind of secretly hoping Dancing With the Stars was on, because I'm fucking obsessed with Dancing With the Stars of late; and not so secretly kind of hoping that Marie Osmond will break her face mid-ridiculous-too-old-for-cute-uncomfortable-for-all-involved-hip-shake.

generation obama

i wake up to find an invite to a party with barack at the showbox sodo in my email. yes! there! let's gather together, "Generation Obama!" but wait, $100 a head? really? you're going to reach out to my generation (two weeks before christmas, no less) by charging them $100 to attend? really? honey, i don't know many people my age with an extra $100 to throw around whenevs. bummed.

pour moi? s'il vous plait?

"What the French strikers want to ignore ... are the economic facts of the end of the twentieth century: 'global capital,' the 'modern service-based economy,' the 'tough new competitive conditions of the twenty-first century,' all of which, the critics say, can be dealt with only by a more 'flexible' labor market. What the French feel is that for the past half century they have done pretty well by not facing reality -- or anyway, but facing it for one moment and then turning their backs on it for another, in a kind of endless inspired whirl through history. France is a uniquely lovely and supple place to live, and there is a reasonable suspicion here that the British and Americans and the Germans are trying to hustle the French into what is called a liberal paradise, but what no one here is quite convinced is so paradisiacal. Even Bernard Thibault, the secretary-general of the cheminots' union, said not long ago that he was willing to negotiate but that his bottom line was 'Citizens must never be transported like merchandise.' In France though, not even the merchandise is transported like merchandise." -- Adam Gopnik, Paris to the Moon, 1995 Paris, mon petit chou. You know I love you for your strikes. I love you for your love affair with the way things have always been. I love you for your complete disregard of the practical and productive in the name of the Good and the Fair. But, darling, how am I supposed to see you if I can't catch a train? I do hope all will be resolved before December 30th. Then we can celebrate the new year. Bonne Annee! For me? Please?

I need at least 10 good reasons I should not buy this camera

i can't live without one much longer and while my heart really belongs to the leica m8 it costs nearly 1/5 of my yearly income. and i like eating. in the meantime, i'll settle for the leica lens and pretend mine is just as pretty. but back to the task at hand: 10 reasons, people. TEN. I refuse to go on another vacation without a camera. sorry credit card.

babies and babies and babies, oh my!

baby velasco is on his/her way right this second, right over there! (i'm pointing across the street to swedish). i was just poking his/her head on saturday and in a few minutes it's going to be a real THING. babies fascinate me. my maternal instinct is growing (it was stunted there for a while). it's not full-blown "i want one!" phase yet, but i've definitely entered "oh yay! babysitting and baby christmas gift buying!" mode. i need to finish the baby blanket, like, yesterday.

forward movement

in other news: - i finally took my GRE and was kind of astonished to find out that my math skills are MUCH BETTER than my verbal. i've since read about the test a little more and discovered that's kind of the way it is for everyone, so not quite feeling so offended anymore. more importantly, i scored higher than the average scores for students in all of the programs to which i'm hoping to apply. that helps. - after travelling for two weeks and then intensely studying for the following two weeks, i've awarded myself a one week break before diving into the world of applications. this means that my evenings are now mostly divided between sessions of katamari, baby blanket knitting, and studying gluten-free flours. - oh yes, i've gone gluten-free. i think i've mentioned this, but am finding the gravity of this decision so immense in my daily eating that it deserves to be mentioned again. everything i love has goddamned gluten in it. on the bright side, i'm getting to experiment with brown rice flour and sorghum and spelt and my new bread machine ... and discovering that, with a little effort and creativity, gluten-free meals can taste pretty damn good. try my salmon burgers and you'll believe me. - i am cooking some amazing healthy food. my lack of knowledge about vegetables up to this point has been pretty appalling for a, well, vegetarian. embarrassing, i'd say. i just didn't really EAT them. now, they're really the BULK of what i'm eating and i can't believe i went without for so long. in fact, i'm comfortable admitting that i've actually got a bit of an obsession with vegetables at the moment. root vegetables and good old hearty winter ones in particular. last night i made delicata squash rings ... which are my new substitution for french fries. heaven. - i need a camera. and/or i need to reinstall photobooth on my computer. after a summer of one-after-another problems with my mactop, she's finally up and running again, new hard drive and disk drive in tow. she's even running parallels again, like a gem. the point here being, i want to start posting pictures of my alternafoood adventures, so that you'll actually believe that 1) i'm cooking and 2) they don't all look as horrible as they might sound.

a sudden burst of fall

when we left seattle for two weeks to fly to the other side of the earth, where flowers are nearly blooming and days are getting longer in preparation for summer, we missed the gradual introduction to fall taking place in the northern hemisphere. so when we returned, not only were we jetlagged for the first week, but we were waking up in total darkness (or two hours late) to scarf weather and bare trees. vacation was incredible, but i can't help but feel a little bummed that i missed out on my favorite part of fall: yellow leaves, sneaky chilly breezes on an otherwise warmish day. nearly a month later, i am still battling my sleep schedule ... but have acclimated to the chill and my new wool coat. i picked up the copy of "Paris to the Moon" that i've been meaning to read for the past year this morning because a new year's in paris is tentatively scheduled and i need to get in the mood. as if i need to really "get in the mood" when it comes to paris. i'm always in the mood. i've never felt more like home in a foreign place than i did in paris ... or france in general. so, really, reading someone else's love letter to the city is, well, just kind of gluttonous. but it's winter, right? i need to fatten up.

good food

I just enrolled in my first CSA this morning! I'm so excited! So from here on out I will be receiving bi-weekly boxes of fresh, organic, locally-grown fruits and veggies from Full Circle Farm. Food is becoming a bit of an obsession for me; I'm cooking real food for the first time ever and loving exploring with veggies and healthy alternatives. I've gone gluten, white potato, corn and sugar free (the last one gradually ... I crave) as an experiment. Am falling in love with the likes of spelt crackers and curried sweet potatoes and fresh beets. There is a whole world of activists who promote local, community-supported and sustainable agriculture, that I'd never tapped into before. The benefits for farmers and eaters alike are immense. You could argue that agriculture in any form is destructive to the earth, but when it's sustainable and allowed to follow natural patterns and cycles, it's a whole lot less severe. And we are what we eat. I've read "The Omnivore's Dilemma," yes, and you should too. If you're interested in joining a CSA here locally, King County has a great site!

New Photos!

While I don't have time to do anything but bake and watch Dexter and knit a baby blanket amongst all of this GRE studying (D-day is Saturday!), I did finally add links to new photos to my photo column over there. I know I know I said I was going to be writing more, but brain energy is now being harvested to remember words like "specious" and it's antonyms. argargargarg. I broke all of my rules this weekend and chowed on sugary gluteny things. Benefits? Long-term? None. Short-term? DELICIOUS.

kate gets hot via campaign mail

First line of the email I just received from the Obama campaign: "I'm just now leaving New York, and you've got me fired up." Of course I do, baby. Woo, lord. It's hot in here. Don't tease a girl Barack.

up up and away

IM GOING TO NEW ZEALAND IN ZERO DAYS. Can't believe it. If anyone is interested, this is what we'll be doing for two weeks: http://www.newzealand.com/travel/travel-planner/email-view.cfm/tnztp_uuid/47FF6326-B2F5-C6F7-5CA4D76AD0A8A00D Driving from one end to the other and around a little bit. I may or may not take part in "zorbing" but will fo sho be all over my bike-n-wine tour in Hawke's Bay. Mr. Death ma'amed our way into this house http://www.capesouthcottages.co.nz/pages/thecottage.php because we are bitches. I may not ever come back. Some other thoughts: 1) omfg could grey's anatomy be more retarded? no. "one of youre residents has been attacked and a BABY is MISSING." need I say more? no. 2) I miss my piano already. 3) In an attempt to get rid of all perishable food before vacay my dinner consisted tonight of crackers and boullion, frozen yogurt and chocolate cookies. none of which, I admit, is really all that perishable. don't tell my mother. 4) Tomorrow I will go to work for three hours and distribute "Katie's Job 101: A Manual for Filling the Void in 11 Easy Steps." And I'm not joking. That's what the cover says. It took me five hours to write today. I need a fucking raise. So Bon Voyage rainy Seattle! Viva raining New Zealand! I'll have a full report on whether or not Spring rain feels the same as Fall rain when I return. Oh yes, and I was going to bring back bottles of wine until I realized I could just buy them at Metro and save the suitcase space. Which means you're all getting Maori mud and hobbit huts instead. Excited? You should be!

my head is a box full of everything

So, two major updates: 1) I'M GOING TO NEW ZEALAND IN 15 DAYS to celebrate the wonder that is our favorite Kiwi, Mr. Cameron Death, before he leaves us for, um, Los Angeles. It is just now sinking in that we will be Cammy-less in a month which for me means a) there will no longer be Perez Hilton interludes in the Microsoft dinner conversations (I may not survive) b) I might actually start having to, like, hang out with my boyfriend and stuff c) no more night eating stories d) Seattle will be that much less tidy and scented-candled. In fact, Seattle might actually smell completely different without Cameron and his artillery of scented candles. God, it's going to be miserable. 2) My wonderful and financially irresponsible boyfriend bought me a PIANO for my birthday. A friggin piano! It's electric, which I had always kind of wondered about ... but friends, let me tell you, I am in love. She is beautiful. She SOUNDS beautiful. She also has a headphone jack (important when you live in a small apartment and your boyfriend is tired of hearing Chopin). The problem is, I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. I'm at work and all I think about is this piano. I just want to go home and play it. It was strange, the first night I got it I couldn't do a thing, and then the other night, all of the sudden, my fingers just REMEMBERED how to do it. And now I'm Pathetique-ing all over the place. I forgot how much I miss playing music! I did it for so many years and then didn't do it for so many years. It's very therapeutic. Oh yeah, there is also a 3) Keep your eye out for my fight with a fellow Seattlest writer about why Portland > Seattle. Should be up today or tomorrow. And then all of you Portland peeps best be chiming in. Support the homeland.

wtf

I KNOOOOOOW. it's been a long while. it's been a crazy summer. see pictures. more to come. now that fall is nigh and i will no longer feel guilty nesting in my apartment, the posts are gonna come more frequently. today is the first day of bumbershoot (which i have somehow missed every labor day for the past six years) and I'm goin' in style: con press pass. no lines! check out my bumbershoot diary (and other things) here: http://www.seattlest.com

snippets from seattle

so it's a little stuffy, but you won't hear me complaining about the sunshine. instead, here i am trying to make my own balcony (aka climb out the window); here are my tomato plants getting huge and fruity; here is what happens to a 1lb chocolate bunny when your apartment hits 90 degrees; here is my walk home from the grocery store. t'aint half bad.

a fighter

i like to think of myself as a pretty stalwart being. Someone with dukes! Someone who can fend shit off! My mother seems to think i am made of puppy sneezes and tissues, however, illustrated by the fact that everytime I leave the house, she tries to arm me with some sort of self-defense tool. It's usually mace, and it's usually attached to a keychain, but this last time she shook things up. Tried to pawn a small flashlight with the most godawful siren you've ever dreamed of hearing. There are at least 37 million reasons I don't take these things (come on, I live in SEATTLE. people aren't dangerous, they're just weeeeird.), not the least of which being, I am my usually own worst enemy. So much so that a few years ago when my aunt sprayed herself with her own mace, I was actually relieved that I hadn't done it first. The siren would have been a disaster. I would have reached for some trident in the middle of a harry potter movie, flipped that thing on and scarred a theater full of 7 year olds for life. Me hurting myself is way more probable than some skeeze waking up from his stupor long enough to steal my bus pass. Truth. "Olive, I don't appreciate it when you put your butthole on my hand." - Me, to my cat, just now Good night.

one fourth

in one 72-hour period, i lost the entire contents of my computer's hard drive (one and a half years' worth of pictures, writing, projects) and my boyfriend (one and a half years' worth of everything). and no, it doesn't feel apropos. it doesn't feel like a "clean slate." it feels, rather, empty.

oh memories

you know what i love about our current state of affairs? that it's worn me down to the point where i now look upon this fondly, as part of the "good old days" long gone are the days when our AG and the DOJ were just weird and slightly offensive; this is terrifying. does it feel like everyone in this administration has been giving us the finger for the past 7 years?

when bad things happen to bad people

you know, i'm not really into dancing on people's graves, but i can't help but comment on this. sorry jerry. this was obviously some sort of coordinated attack by the jews, gays, feminists, Teletubbies, pagans and ACLU. but what really gets me, is that there is now some sort of unspoken (or loudly spoken) decree that all republican presidential candidates need to issues statements on this. this guy was a radical, on-the-fringe hatemonger. these guys really need to pander to his fans? really? REALLY? there's something wrong there. this is about the time i need mike gravel to show up and call a bigot a bigot. old man has balls. (i'm pretty in love with mike gravel.)

growth!

you know, out of all of the million things i have to talk about today, including but not limited to us attorneys, uk work visas and brown rice, all i really want to talk about are my tomato plants. look how big they're getting! compare picture one (behind the dahlia) to picture two: and that's only been two weeks! i was so pessimistic, but it looks like they're going to make it afterall! boys are going to be big. yay for sunshine and the promise of cherry tomatoes. i'm also pretty in love with amy winehouse's 'i'm no good.' it's my running song tonight.

swoon

when i was a sophomore in college and whitney gould was trying to get in my pants via mixtape, i fell in love with what i knew then as "track 3" and what i know now as "change my life" by spoon. even as an old biddy now, it's one of my favorite songs. and spoon is right up there with messrs jagger, murdoch and stevens as the musical loves of my life. i went to see britt daniel last night and it was perfect. (he is a sexy devil. don't tell my boyfriend.) so it's sunny and i'm dancing in my chair to "nefarious" having a good old time.

the oprah effect

she can get millions of americans to read tolstoy and faulkner and now she's trying to get millions of americans to vote for my political boyfriend barack. aka barry hussein (i stole that from wonkette. i'm not that amazing.) this freaks me out a bit. i like to picture barack in two scenarios: 1) smoking a cigarette in some poorly lit library reading lincoln biographies. or 2) wearing next to nothing on the beach. holding hands with oprah and talking about souls and shit in front of a bunch of swooning cardigan-clad desperate housewives enthusiasts does not really fit into either of those. baby, you said you weren't going to do the hollywood thing, right? it's me and my $25 contributions you love, right? i need to ignore politics for a year. if i come back in may of 2008 and his campaign hasn't destroyed itself, i will be able to breathe freely again. no more showing up to debates about health care without a health care plan honeybunch. i'll see you next year.

the one pool where i'd happily drown

ah new york was a whirlwind. it was a beautiful weekend. seventy degrees and perfect. i walked my feet to complete disrepair. they hurt in every way imaginable. everytime i go to new york i do so with the hope that she'll sweep me off my feet. that something in me will wake and i will have no choice but to new york or perish. she is a great city. things happen there. people and taxis and art and money and food and clothes and ahhhh. but there's something foreboding about her. this constant feeling that if you turn the wrong corner, she'll swallow you alive. but you love her all the same. i'm listening to lcd soundsystem right now and the singer just said "new york's the greatest if you get someone to pay your rent." and i laughed. not much on earth rivals a stroll through the west village in the sunshine with a few cupcakes. adam is convinced the city won't survive the next few years. i like to think that's not true, but also think that probably adds to the eerie feeling. it's hard to be an "american" and not feel completely protective of new york. it is the most american place on earth. and not in a flag-waving post-9/11 god bless sort of way. people work so hard. you can feel the blood and sweat all over. it's exhilarating and exhausting in every second. i came home to seventy-five degrees and perfect. and my dahlias are blooming. it's a different world here. not better. just different. (i'll try and hassle adam into getting me some of the pictures he took.)

i don't want to talk about iraq

is it illegal to iron a flag? those look like they've been sitting in the bottom of my clothes hamper under wet towels for two months. i'm sending nancy pelosi one of those handheld steamers. cause geez, what good is a female speaker if she can't iron and stuff?

it's a hell of a town ...

found a message on my phone from adam this morning asking if i wanted to meet up with half of his london crew in new york this weekend. as if he needed to ask. unfortunately, we picked a bad weekend for a cheap getaway. what the hell is going on in new york this weekend? it took us all day to find an available hotel. but it's found! deal is done! nyc + me = tomorrow night! last time i was in new york it was a little bit of a whirlwind and i never really got my bearings. that happens when i don't get to walk my way around a new place. it was also february and ass cold. so i never made it north of the met. oh but this time harlem, this time columbia, i'll drop by. it's supposed to be sunny and 60s all weekend. hallelujah. nothing else is really on the agenda. i'm thinking some flea markets and some soho and some moma. and a nice sunshiny stroll through the park. also secretly want to go to the public library. ahhh. come on new york. second date? let's give it a shot.

it's here.....

SAM is about to open and all those skeptics and haters (you can include me in some of that) maybe need to giver her a second chance? $1 billion in new art. $1 BILLION! she's trying! and things like this this and this and this and the fact that the building is one big MOMA ripoff, give me hope! i mean nothing will replace my henry and frye, but sometimes you just want to go visit a pollock and spend a gazillion dollars on mondrian drinking glasses. i'm a sucker for a good museum gift store (National Gallery anyone?) though i will say, $13 admission? what are you, the EMP? not cool sam, not cool.

jackpot?

saturday we take the boat out, come back up to the marina parking lot and what do we find? someone has thrown out their 40+" samsung lcd television. we suspect the owners of the mega yacht a few slips over, who adam claims he saw pawing over a new big screen the other day. regardless, it is now in my apartment. so adam manhandles this thing for two days (parking lot to car to boat to cameron's car to my house), we plug it in and bravo! it works! for a minute! the lamp is blown. but cheap fix for a $2k television, right? worth it, right? $200 and I get a real television that can handle katamari damancy and some sexy setup with my macbook, right? RIGHT. so now i have this GIANT television eating up half a wall in my tiny apartment, that I refuse to give up on. REFUSE. just so you understand the severity of this bargain, let me explain my current television. in, say, 1994, my parents bought about ten of those giant black box mitsubishi tvs. i have been dragging one of them around from apartment to apartment since i was 18. now 13 years old, this bad boy is still kicking. i even have the original remote, if that gives you any inkling into how well i've cared for this thing. it is a perfect 2x2x2' cube. born before the days of dvds. baby doesn't have anything but a "cable in" and a power button. i've spent the last five years running a dvd player through a vcr, with the most elaborate speaker hook up you can imagine. it's time to let him fade away.... also samsung related: dudes, remember when you wooed me with your blackjack and convinced me that by bumping up its memory i could also use it in lieu of a new mp3 player? remember? also remember how you failed to tell me that no one on this planet sells a pair of headphones compatible with your special little headphone port? i do! you're on my shitlist.

doing

i was standing in our empty office eating my lunch, looking out the window and watching one of the school's gardeners carefully arrange twenty five or so plants in an empty flowerbed. sometimes (a lot of times) i think about quitting everything and adopting a trade like gardening. some trade where i can use my hands a create something. sit outside and dig holes and arrange fauna and understand the properties of potting soil. tactility. that's what i'm after. this is what happens to the dreams of a 23 year old woman when she spends too much time in a windowless office with only her excel spreadsheets to keep her company.

quiz

so last night we partook in some quizzing at the george and dragon. and i can admit proudly that i was the only one at the table who knew that it was jane seymour who played solitaire in 'live and let die.' in the end, we lost to some nerd wearing a scrunchi in his hair. cause he could identify an inverted and upside-down picture of hudson's bay. shove it, ponytail.

hank

so to finish my museum studies program i'm now doing a weekly blog for the Henry Art Gallery! check it out here: http://hankblog.wordpress.com i have quite an enormous crush on the Henry, so we can officially classify this as "kind of a big deal."

writing for real

i've been running around like crazy the past few days. i spent yesterday morning interviewing a reporter from the times. fantastic guy. anyways, i wrote a profile of him this morning. here i like constructive criticism! edit: link is fixed!

kiva.org

i was watching frontline last night and there was a short segment on a microlending organization called 'kiva.' grassroots, based out of san francisco, the company runs a (dare i say?) e-dating-style site that matches people over here up with entrepreneurs in third world countries through small business loans. they have incredible infrastructures set up within these countries so the money actually makes it to the people who need it, and the borrowers are held to their promises to pay back their loans. the company boasts a 100% repayment track record, and notes "In the past 30 years, over 100 million of the world's poor have received a micro-loan and demonstrated a >95% repayment rate." the frontline segment was fascinating. it focused primarily on one business owner in uganda and the effect of loans within her small community. the town as a whole gathers together to decide democratically who should and should not be allowed to apply for the loans. what's great, is that lenders are allowed to contribute as much as they want. so the effect is you have these communities of 15-20 lenders who have all banded together to help someone in uganda manage her peanut butter business, or a cambodian man expand his grocery store. and everyone receives updates. and everyone eventually gets their money back, to then invest in another venture. i'm certainly no econ expert, but from what i've read, microlending has made an enormous impact on communities across the world. when you take out the beaurocracy and the predatory lenders and make it a face-to-face transaction, money gets to people who can put it to use, empower themselves and their families, and in turn, build up sustainable communities. all of the industrial nations in the world had to start at some point with creative, resourceful, proactive and driven people trying to make the best of their resources. i am all about supporting this. visit their site kiva.org and find someone whose story resonates with you (ignore the initial dating-service-esque vibe) and let them borrow $25. man the internet is amazing sometimes.

thursdayfriday roundup

best thing about working for a jesuit university? paid catholic holidays! tgigf, or something. some tidbits: - if you live in seattle and haven't looked outside yet, do so. can you believe it? it's 75 degrees. i ran to volunteer park and back today at lunch, and my lungs didn't freeze. hallelujah! - you can't believe how difficult it is to give away free labor. i've been trying to pawn myself off to a local museum for the past month, to no avail. w-t-f. i'm a decent, cupcake-baking human trying to give you 30 hours of my time. W-T-F. - one of my colleagues gave me free tickets to a pnb dress rehearsal last night and i had the chance to see mark morris' 'pacific' from one of the best seats in the house...for free! when sharon cumberland ("blah i went to private school in italy blah blah antonio banderas fan club blah") made us watch a documentary on mark morris in sophomore brit lit class, i wrote him off, assuming that anything she recommended was full of pretense and assholishness. i was wrong. wrong wrong wrong. this dance was incredible. the staging was brilliant. the costumes were brilliant. the indian influenced dancing was brilliant. go see it: http://www.pnb.org tickets are cheap. - so i guess minis are back? i went shopping last weekend and bought what i thought were "tunics"/long shirts but was told by the fashion consultants on the today show this morning that short dresses are the cat's meow. and i mean SHORT. this is one of those timeless signs of getting older: the inability to wear anything in public that may accidentally show off my ass. i just can't do it anymore. - we are headed to pdx tomorrow afternoon and i couldn't be more excited to spend some time in my 2nd favorite city. speaking of pretentious assholes, there's an itsy damien hirst exhibit at pam which will be a top priority this weekend. if you don't know damien hirst, you should, even if he just makes you angry. he's an asshole. a brilliant, art-factory owning, i-copyrighted-and-then-sued-british-airways-for-using-colored-polka-dots asshole. love him!

wtf indeed!

i had low hopes for the morning until i stumbled across wonkette and found my east coast partner in sass. it's like thesuperficial for things that actually matter. and this video: no need to pay attention to anything but cheney. you don't even need to have the sound turned on. "We are going to have nightmares about this for a week. The Vice President is from a goddamn David Lynch dream sequence." i can't stop laughing.

a good man is hard to find

i had a wonderful weekend, beginning and ending with good friends, with some gourmet frito pie thrown in for good measure. kate is well. olive is well. no complaints can be heard from apartment 48. when i started this blog again, i was hoping it would force me to write about, synthesize, contemplate what the hell is going on in this world. i failed to factor in how truly depressing the state of the world is at this moment. staying informed has turned out to be a masochistic effort. i need some inspiration this monday morning. i immediately thought of sarah vowell, one because i missed her for the bazillionth time this weekend, and two because when i think of people with the most impassioned love/hate relationships with this country, i think of her. at one point, the full text of my favorite sarah essay "the nerd voice" was online, and i'm failing to find it right now. i found an excerpt i quoted in a blog years ago and it goes something like this: "I wish that in order to secure his party's nomination, a presidential candidate would be re­quired to point at the sky and name all the stars; have the peri­odic table of the elements memorized; rattle off the kings and queens of Spain; define the significance of the Gatling gun; joke around in Latin; interpret the symbolism in seventeenth­-century Dutch painting; explain photosynthesis to a six-year­-old; recite Emily Dickinson; bake a perfect popover; build a shortwave radio out of a coconut; and know all the words to Hoagy Carmichael's "Two Sleepy People," Johnny Cash's "Five Feet High and Rising," and "You Got the Silver" by the Rolling Stones. After all, the United States is the greatest country on earth dealing with the most complicated problems in the his­tory of the world-poverty, pollution, justice, Jerusalem. What we need is a president who is at least twelve kinds of nerd, a nerd messiah to come along every four years, acquire the Se­cret Service code name Poindexter, install a Revenge of the Nerds screen saver on the Oval Office computer, and one by one decrypt our woes." in my search for that, however, i ran across this again. and thought i'd share. it's lengthy and slightly dated, but if you strip off the time-specific bits, the meat of it will make your heart hurt. you can hardly believe it came from the mouth of a politician. for the lazies of you, this: "'We the people are--collectively--still the key to the survival of America's democracy. We--as Lincoln put it, "[e]ven we here"--must examine our own role as citizens in allowing and not preventing the shocking decay and degradation of our democracy. Thomas Jefferson said: "An informed citizenry is the only true repository of the public will." The revolutionary departure on which the idea of America was based was the audacious belief that people can govern themselves and responsibly exercise the ultimate authority in self-government. This insight proceeded inevitably from the bedrock principle articulated by the Enlightenment philosopher John Locke: "All just power is derived from the consent of the governed." The intricate and carefully balanced constitutional system that is now in such danger was created with the full and widespread participation of the population as a whole. The Federalist Papers were, back in the day, widely-read newspaper essays, and they represented only one of twenty-four series of essays that crowded the vibrant marketplace of ideas in which farmers and shopkeepers recapitulated the debates that played out so fruitfully in Philadelphia. Indeed, when the Convention had done its best, it was the people - in their various States - that refused to confirm the result until, at their insistence, the Bill of Rights was made integral to the document sent forward for ratification. And it is "We the people" who must now find once again the ability we once had to play an integral role in saving our Constitution. And here there is cause for both concern and great hope. The age of printed pamphlets and political essays has long since been replaced by television - a distracting and absorbing medium which sees determined to entertain and sell more than it informs and educates. Lincoln's memorable call during the Civil War is applicable in a new way to our dilemma today: "We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.'" i didn't link those two pieces by accident. say what you will about celebrity al and his oscar, but don't ever tell me the man doesn't have a great mind.

emotional support animals

a very odd conversation about donkey shoes at linda's last night somehow brought adam here this morning: pony reeboks which in itself is amazing. reebok pumps and "casual shoes" for miniature horses? case closed. i think if we focus on that though, we miss the true gem here: service ponies. service ponies! i want to see this in action! i want to see a horse open a door! i want to see a horse alert its owner that the phone is ringing! yes! i'm pretty determined right now to have the world's first emotional support polar bear. watch out.

oopsie daisy

i just realized i had this thing set so only people with google accounts could leave comments. that's fixed now! though my google account is like my third arm. mostly just to spite adam. okay not really. it's just the best.

they did what?

"City Police Spied Broadly Before G.O.P. Convention" "Activists are showing a well-organized network made up of anti-Bush sentiment; the mixing of music and political rhetoric indicates sophisticated organizing skills with a specific agenda." "This bicycle, having been built for the sole purpose of protesting during the R.N.C., is capable of spraying anti-R.N.C.-type messages on surrounding streets and sidewalks" somebody pinch me, cause it sure feels like i just woke up in shah-era iran, and the savak is running wild. 2003 was a frightening time, for sure. there was probably a legitimate fear of assembling a huge group of people who were pro-war in the middle of new york city. yes. we get that. but this crossed the line. last time i checked, this was still in effect: "Congress shall make no law...abridging the freedom of speech...or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances." and being a hippie or a loudmouth artist didn't warrant a police record. if you want to read a serious ramble about this, visit the Daily Kos

il pleut.

today is one of those early spring (not quite spring-like) days in seattle when i just have to throw my hands up and concede. the sun is nearly here. nearly. we get glimpses here and there; just enough to jog our memories and make us forget for a short time how goddamned miserable wet feet and frizzy hair are after 6 months. but. it's still raining. and today, i had to let it go, or perish. my windows are open. there is a warm and hopeful breeze. the rain does sound nice. olive is howling at the ceiling fan. earlier today she discovered crows and has not left her window perch since. one has just landed on the chimney across from my window. they are having a heated conversation. crow does not seem to be impressed by her ability to lick the back of her own neck. (a trick that will certainly never be lost on me) i moped my way over to elliott bay books this morning. as did every other seattlite escaping the weather. we do like our books and coffee over here. that is not a lie. picked up dave eggers' new book "what is the what," and am now taking my very first graphic novel for a spin: "persopolis" by marjane satrapi. will eventually get around to posting about the book i'm currently reading: "we wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families." it's infuriating. and has spurred an africa obsession in me. more on that later. the world is frightening right now, isn't it? i say this and realize that for 90% of the world's population, the world has been frightening for a long time. can't wait to be off the brink of everything. i just want sunshine and peace already. in the meantime, olive will nap and i will bake adam some scones.

conversation overheard on the bus today: girl: "i drove to work yesterday. i saw you walking to the bus stop on my way home." guy: "yeah, it was nasty outside last night" girl: "i thought about asking you if you wanted a ride. but my car is really dirty." guy: "yeah" girl: "...and i don't have automatic locks. so i would have had to like reach across and open the door to let you in." *silence for the rest of the bus ride* okay, so even if that happened to be the case, and this girl was feeling a little lazy, why on earth would you say that outloud? make up any other reason: brake failure, need to pee, dying grandmother, etc. not "eh, didn't really feel like stretching my arm out at that moment, so i left you to stand in the freezing rain." what would i do without public transportation?

damn it feels good to be an iranian president

"Iran to hit back at US 'kidnaps'" + "US Grants Visa to Iranian president" = say what?

you know, i spend time on the phone all day with people who spend years trying to navigate through ins. usually, if they are 1) a man, 2) from the middle east, their applications are "in review" forever. i am going to start suggesting to people that they start their own "death to america" campaigns and nuclear enrichment programs and throw out a few kidnapping threats. apparently that gets you a visa in days.

though i must admit, i've kind of had a thing for Ahmadinejad ever since that 60 minutes interview. he's kind of fuzzy and smiley and wears the same jackets as my grandfather. i bet he smells really nice. and he writes long, rambling letters to george bush. he writes letters! it's like kruschev all over again! and then he shrugs off everything and decides, "eh, i think i'll go visit the UN tomorrow." now that's the kind of delusion i like to see in my leaders.

and do i need to point out that he's bringing 71 people?

news war

it is no big secret that i am in love with pbs generally, frontline specifically. frontline's newest series "News War" is fantastic. best of all? you can watch all of the episodes online! and the online supplemental info is equally fantastic: interviews, reading lists, great articles, etc. etc. anyways, it's a four-part series, covering everything from the relationship between government & media & the public to confidentiality of sources; from the plame case to google news and non-traditional media outlets. it's been the impetus for my interest in journalism of late, and a valuable watch.

capitalism at its finest

"Chiquita Charged In Terror Investigation" for bananas? are we really that desperate for bananas?

writing

last night adam reminded me how much i used to write. at one point i was writing two, three times a day. we're not talking hemingway here: just writing. over the past year i've really fallen out of that habit. which has turned out to be a bad move. blogs have the tendency to be a bunch of self-indulgent twaddle. but there's something to be said about putting down your thoughts and inviting others to read. it's a small sort of risk, but a risk still. and risk is what i'm craving right now. it's been a rough couple of months. so much so my body has completely rejected me this week. i'm drained. my kitten olive goes in to be spayed tomorrow. she is lying on my chest right now pawing at my face. totally unaware. i am overcome with guilt. like i'm about to turn her over to the mob. i can't look her in the eye. if she comes home tomorrow with one of those cones on her head, my heart might just fall out of my chest. it is a good thing i don't have children at this point, because they would all be wearing lojacks.

whim

my parents are infamous for their whims: a trait i have (begrudgingly) inherited. several years ago, my dad assured us that his new pumpkin-orange ford ranger was his "going to jesus truck." four years, eight cars, three recreational vehicles and one house later, my dad is interviewing for his fourth "retirement job" and I am perusing seventeen different types of graduate programs with unabashed abandon. i'm telling you this in part because i believe (hope) verbalizing that i am conscious of my own flightiness will somehow diminish its recklessness. you know, 'a crazy person never thinks she's crazy' logic. at the same time, you will find me more likely to say "fuck it. i'm 23." now, than ever before. and i consider that one of my new favorite personality traits. this evening marked the beginning of a large west-coast retreat i have been preparing for over the past few months. our speaker tonight graduated from yale law school and spent six years writing about his classmates. luckily for him, his classmates were a group of law students who successfully sued presidents ghw bush and clinton, freeing several hundred HIV-positive haitian political refugees from detention at guantanamo in the early 90s. (they were also on npr this morning fyi: http://kuow.org/programs/weekday.asp). the story itself is fascinating, but i was struck most by one of the attorney's comments that the cornerstone of their success as students was the ability to ignore everyone else's conception of "what is possible." wow. i think our conceptions of "what is possible" oftentimes keep us from "what is ACTUALLY possible," and i'm certainly not immune. which explains why many of my whims remain whims. i am now thinking of seriously pursuing a degree in journalism. and will not rest until i've convinced myself that columbia is possible.

round 1

It's going to be a long two years.... Preamble: The amount of money spent on political campaigns in this country anymore is appalling. I remember a recent local campaign in which a candidate had to go into some gross amount of personal debt just to get a spot on the televised debate. The fact that presidential candidates have to pander to Hollywood bigwigs so they can pay their campaign bills makes my blood boil. Lowdown: Barack attended some Hollywood egofest fundraiser hosted by David Geffen and Spielberg and others at which Mr. Geffen took potshots at Bill and Hillary and then handed $1.3 million to Obama's campaign. (''Obama is inspirational, and he's not from the Bush royal family or the Clinton royal family. Americans are dying every day in Iraq. And I'm tired of hearing James Carville on television.'') This happened just a day after Obama spoke to a crowd in Las Vegas about getting away from "slash and burn politics" in Washington. Hill got hot and bothered about all of the above and called for a denunciation of Geffen's comments by the Obama camp: "While Democrats should engage in a vigorous debate on the issues, there is no place in our party or our politics for the kind of personal insults made by Senator Obama's principal fundraiser." (principal fundraiser??) Obama's camp responded: "We aren’t going to get in the middle of a disagreement between the Clintons and someone who was once one of their biggest supporters. It is ironic that the Clintons had no problem with David Geffen when he was raising them $18 million and sleeping at their invitation in the Lincoln bedroom. It is also ironic that Senator Clinton lavished praise on Monday and is fully willing to accept today the support of South Carolina State Sen. Robert Ford, who said if Barack Obama were to win the nomination, he would drag down the rest of the Democratic Party because ’he's black.’" SNAP! I've subscribed to Hillary and Barack's email lists more for entertainment value than anything. After receiving Howard Dean's rabblerousing emails for the past year from the DNC, I figured there would be some gold coming out of the Hillary camp. This morning I open up my gmail to find a heartfelt letter from Bill (picture of him lovingly embracing is wife included). "Thank you so much for your support. Hillary and I couldn't do it without you." One rough weekend and she's already pulled out the Bill card? I'm not going to even get into how insulted I am that less than a month after she's announced her candidacy, she's already whoring out her husband's popularity. Pull up your big girl pants, Hill. I'm against this time-wasting slander as much as the next person. Get on the television and give me your plan to save my country from its current course toward complete ethical, intellectual and physical annihilation; don't waste our time putting out press releases urging your competitor to apologize for some loudmouth in California who doesn't want to have sleepovers at your house anymore. And don't even pretend like if that same loudmouth handed you $1.3 million you wouldn't take it.