Today i tackled a major part of this year's Christmas shopping. I had a good idea for my bro and sil, and after running the options past my mom, have theirs done. Nice, useful, and relatively eco-friendly. (Relatively.) I had a great idea for my mom, and my dad, and got most of it done today too--knew what i wanted, walked in the shop, walked out, and assembled them tonight. Fun, useful, and nothing that will clutter their house.
I like shopping like this, like my dad, who goes to grocery stores armed with a list compiled from their adverts and comes home proud, hunter-gatherer style. Seeing the opposite:--folks wandering around dazed, picking up doodads, trifles and powerfully-scented bath soap ensembles, asking their partners three aisles down: "What about this for Murgatroid?"--makes me sad. Giving gifts is supposed to be fun. Gifts are supposed to be meaningful, not an obligation to give, nor a dollar amount to match, nor getting Murgratroid everything s/he wants.
And, while i think the Advent Conspiracy is a good thing, and that less is more, and love that my bro and sil share the philosophy/theology that used books are just fine, i also agree with Oscar Wilde:"Where there is no extravagance, there is no love, and where there is no love, there is no understanding."
So, while my gifts will never match the extravagance of his, i think there's little harm in celebrating God's extravagant gift with a little splurge of my own for those i love, if the gift i give honors God and respects what he has made.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Quote of the day
Reading Phantastes at lunch on Friday (my lunch buddy was gone and well, anyway, it was about three when i finally went to lunch), i stumbled upon this jewel from George MacDonald:
"Past tears are present strength."
Thank goodness. Thank God.
And now, on to good reading that's been piling up for the past quarter, with much more pithy wisdom to learn.
"Past tears are present strength."
Thank goodness. Thank God.
And now, on to good reading that's been piling up for the past quarter, with much more pithy wisdom to learn.
Friday, November 28, 2008
I needed this:
"Our season of life—whatever it is—is no barrier to having Christ formed in us. Not in the least."
John Ortberg, The Life You've Always Wanted
I needed that reminder in the face of what has felt like much misunderstanding and obliviousness. Well-intentioned misunderstanding, but none the less painful...and this quote, along with a good cry and hug from my mentor and a hug and hot cocoa from my mom, has been balm.
Thank you, God.
Thank you, God.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
When someone listens
Sometimes i don't write anything here because what i want to say belongs in my journal, away from sentient eyes. For example, i've been feeling rather snarky and ungracious lately. There's enough of that out in the world; it can be relegated to paper with less harm. Kie, i wish i could take back some of the things i said this week and even more of what i thought.
Sometimes i don't write anything because i've been too preoccupied, too rushed, and too busy to notice the little graces that God has hidden around me. This week, though, i saw golden big-leaf maple leaves glowing against a dying ash tree, fresh bobcat tracks and scat, an ancient oak tree born within two hundred years of Jesus, two hawks wheeling over a hill in Pomona, and red, festive toyon berries wherever i look: the world is beautiful.
And sometimes i don't write anything because someone has been my journal and listened to everything i had to say. Now i don't need to say it anymore.
Sometimes i don't write anything because i've been too preoccupied, too rushed, and too busy to notice the little graces that God has hidden around me. This week, though, i saw golden big-leaf maple leaves glowing against a dying ash tree, fresh bobcat tracks and scat, an ancient oak tree born within two hundred years of Jesus, two hawks wheeling over a hill in Pomona, and red, festive toyon berries wherever i look: the world is beautiful.
And sometimes i don't write anything because someone has been my journal and listened to everything i had to say. Now i don't need to say it anymore.
Monday, October 13, 2008
I am...
...relearning how to Formally Write after years of one-page response papers whipped out in an hour.
...spending time with friends when i should be reading or doing research.
...slowly learning how to be more organized and efficient.
...hunting down references for things i learned long ago but can't remember from where or whom.
...wishing i was an aunt, instead of borrowing other people's nieces.
...spending time with friends when i should be reading or doing research.
...slowly learning how to be more organized and efficient.
...hunting down references for things i learned long ago but can't remember from where or whom.
...wishing i was an aunt, instead of borrowing other people's nieces.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Rain
It's not supposed to rain in September, but as i drove north on the 605 yesterday clouds hid the summit of the San Gabriels and i could see rain falling in the canyons. The weather became terribly muggy and then boom! Thunder--barely distinguishable from the semi-trucks that growl past the office on the 210--and rain at the office. I didn't get to play in it, didn't get to drive in it, but i did love the smell as we left the office for a site visit.
:)
And that will be it for a while--school has hit hard and i'm going to use more productive ways to unwind this year, like practicing my violin or quilting or going for a walk, instead of reading blogs and the news for hours. Toodles!
:)
And that will be it for a while--school has hit hard and i'm going to use more productive ways to unwind this year, like practicing my violin or quilting or going for a walk, instead of reading blogs and the news for hours. Toodles!
Friday, September 12, 2008
Moral dilemnas
Granted that the best thing is to say yes when one should say yes and say no when one should say no, what is the lesser of the two evils below?
1. Say yes, and then go back on one's word once realizing the thing should not be done?
2. Say yes, and follow through even though one shouldn't have said yes?
1. Say yes, and then go back on one's word once realizing the thing should not be done?
2. Say yes, and follow through even though one shouldn't have said yes?
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Pathways
This is part of Cuthbert's Way, a old path to a cave in which monks hid when they were fleeing Lindesfarne. They wanted to take Cuthbert's bones to Durham, where they wouldn't be desecrated by invading Vikings. The purple-colored stuff is heather, and sheep were munching up there among the heather and huge bracken ferns. Brown cows (and some black cows) were in the fields on either side of the public footpath. And, to give you an idea of the scale, the reddish-brown plants on either side of the foot path were about four feet tall.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Aidan
If i ever have children, and if one of them is a son, and if my husband (if i ever marry) thinks it's a good name too, (and there are probably other caveats) i'd like to name a son Aidan.
Yesterday was the first day of my holiday in England. While validating my rail pass at Kings' Cross station today, the ticket agent asked if i was here on holiday. Yes. Traveling alone? Yes--the best kind, i said. Which isn't entirely true--i can think of a few people that i'd like to have here with me. A few. But it is green and soothing and there was a thunderstorm last night that i got to walk in and two people--one a older woman that i helped at the Dublin airport--have already called me "Love". I love it!
A friend teased me about coming to England, "where the paled-skinned people live", he said. I laughed and retorted that he travels to places where he blends in, too. I blend in here, at least until i open my mouth, but i also like the cosmopolitan feel to London. At the same time, the neighborhood in which the hostel sits is a real original multi-use neighborhood. There are people there from all over the world--mostly speaking English in British accents, too--there are shops along the main street but private parks at the back, and people walking to and fro on their ways to work or the tube station.
After checking in and dropping off my bag at the hostel, i headed off to Westminster. That part of London is lovely: the golden stone of Parliament, the gilded gonging of Big Ben, the gorgeous glass and iron Westminster tube station, the cobblestone crosswalks. And the bridges crossing the Thames--it's no Seine, but it's still a nice river, with enormous ancient London Planetrees lining the walls. All it needs is places to sit along the bridges, but perhaps that would be considered a hazard, while Paris is hardly ever bombed.
Westminster Abbey is closed to tourism on Sundays because it is an active place of worship. However, a free organ recital is offered at 1745 each Sunday and the public is welcome to any of the services. I knew there was a service at 1830 and found out about the recital when i got there--it was amazing! The organists are world-class, the organs are massive, and the sound resonates through the sanctuary. I slouched down in my seat, rested my head against the back of the chair, and studied the ornate stone ceiling as music flooded the place.
The evening service followed immediately. Most people left--some even left in between movements of the recital--but even local parishioners go to the service so it wasn't touristy. The Sunday evening services are like devotionals, sort of. There are hymns--we sang Be Thou My Vision and several other recognizable melodies--and then lessons from a saint's life. Aidan, the Scottish monk who brought Christianity to northern England, died on 8/31 in 635 and so he was the saint for today. It was interesting--some people knew church things, like how to do congregational readings and the Lord's Prayer. Others didn't but participated and figured it out (they give you a program with good notes). Then there were those who were obviously tourists who said "yes" they were going to the service when really they wanted to sneak in on Sundays. Those were the people who left in between movements of the recital or half-way through the 30 minute service. :( On the other hand, if you're going to have minimal exposure to Christian theology and hear a smidgen of a story about a saint, Aidan isn't a bad choice. He didn't do any crazy questionable miracles--he's recognized as a saint because of his humility and because by all accounts, even his enemies', he lived what he preached. :)
Yesterday was the first day of my holiday in England. While validating my rail pass at Kings' Cross station today, the ticket agent asked if i was here on holiday. Yes. Traveling alone? Yes--the best kind, i said. Which isn't entirely true--i can think of a few people that i'd like to have here with me. A few. But it is green and soothing and there was a thunderstorm last night that i got to walk in and two people--one a older woman that i helped at the Dublin airport--have already called me "Love". I love it!
A friend teased me about coming to England, "where the paled-skinned people live", he said. I laughed and retorted that he travels to places where he blends in, too. I blend in here, at least until i open my mouth, but i also like the cosmopolitan feel to London. At the same time, the neighborhood in which the hostel sits is a real original multi-use neighborhood. There are people there from all over the world--mostly speaking English in British accents, too--there are shops along the main street but private parks at the back, and people walking to and fro on their ways to work or the tube station.
After checking in and dropping off my bag at the hostel, i headed off to Westminster. That part of London is lovely: the golden stone of Parliament, the gilded gonging of Big Ben, the gorgeous glass and iron Westminster tube station, the cobblestone crosswalks. And the bridges crossing the Thames--it's no Seine, but it's still a nice river, with enormous ancient London Planetrees lining the walls. All it needs is places to sit along the bridges, but perhaps that would be considered a hazard, while Paris is hardly ever bombed.
Westminster Abbey is closed to tourism on Sundays because it is an active place of worship. However, a free organ recital is offered at 1745 each Sunday and the public is welcome to any of the services. I knew there was a service at 1830 and found out about the recital when i got there--it was amazing! The organists are world-class, the organs are massive, and the sound resonates through the sanctuary. I slouched down in my seat, rested my head against the back of the chair, and studied the ornate stone ceiling as music flooded the place.
The evening service followed immediately. Most people left--some even left in between movements of the recital--but even local parishioners go to the service so it wasn't touristy. The Sunday evening services are like devotionals, sort of. There are hymns--we sang Be Thou My Vision and several other recognizable melodies--and then lessons from a saint's life. Aidan, the Scottish monk who brought Christianity to northern England, died on 8/31 in 635 and so he was the saint for today. It was interesting--some people knew church things, like how to do congregational readings and the Lord's Prayer. Others didn't but participated and figured it out (they give you a program with good notes). Then there were those who were obviously tourists who said "yes" they were going to the service when really they wanted to sneak in on Sundays. Those were the people who left in between movements of the recital or half-way through the 30 minute service. :( On the other hand, if you're going to have minimal exposure to Christian theology and hear a smidgen of a story about a saint, Aidan isn't a bad choice. He didn't do any crazy questionable miracles--he's recognized as a saint because of his humility and because by all accounts, even his enemies', he lived what he preached. :)
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Interesting random things on the road, not roadkill
Today on the way to work, a white sedan sported a bumper sticker that read "Fragile: Don't hit me!" Said sedan proceeded to tailgate each car ahead of it, zip between lanes without using a signal, and slam on its brakes when the tailgated car had to slow--this was on the fringes of rush hour, mind you. I half laughed and half hoped someone hits the Fragile person and that the Fragile person is shown to be entirely at fault. Crazy!
There was a pick-up truck on 210 West. At first i thought it looked odd simply because we were going around a wide curve in the road. Then, as the road straightened out, the pick-up did not. It jogged down the road like a loping dog, the rear axle a good 8" to the left of the front axle. I got out from behind it as soon as i could!
There was a pick-up truck on 210 West. At first i thought it looked odd simply because we were going around a wide curve in the road. Then, as the road straightened out, the pick-up did not. It jogged down the road like a loping dog, the rear axle a good 8" to the left of the front axle. I got out from behind it as soon as i could!
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Thievery
Have you noticed errant shopping carts lately? They seem to have gone amok, breeding like rabbits. There were five carts between Whittier Blvd and La Forge (the light that's an entrance to the shopping center) a few weeks ago. I bet it's one of the side-effects of the gas prices going up--instead of driving a block to the grocery store, why not make off with a cart? It can be conveniently dumped in an alley or on the lawn in front of an apartment building, and ta da! I just committed a minor crime for the price of 1/4 gallon of gas!
What's up with this? Stealing shopping carts has got to be among the tackiest crimes a person can commit, and i've seen all walks of life making away with them. Will people desist now that gas prices are slowly descending? It's not like it costs us nothing--the cost is indirect, like the store paying insurance on damage to vehicles from shopping carts and paying to collect its carts, a cost which they pass along to us. Then there's the social capital costs from tackiness and an appearance that no one cares, which isn't good for neighborhoods.
Some of my favorite crimes:
A family walking away from a store: woman, man, three kids around age 9-14. Kids carrying nothing, man carrying one bag, woman pushing cart with about 5 bags. They could've distributed that and carried it easily.
Members of the Greatest Generation: This one really bothers me. I mean, i can understand my reckless, whatever fellow Gen-Xers or Gen-Yers making off with a cart (okay, i can't. The shame!) But i can't understand how people who saved the world in the second war to end all wars with moral high tones (even if it wasn't completely that) can stoop to STEAL a shopping cart. I understand that rising gas prices are tough on a fixed income and that a frailer sort of person might not be able to carry a lot. But, there are these inexpensive little wire frame wheeled carts that carry groceries--why not get one of those? I've seen other older adults with them.
Then again, maybe it is simply showing the insides of us for what they really are. The Greatest Generation, after all, raised the people who raised hell during the 70's. Maybe we only follow the law when shame keeps us in check. I enjoyed the information in Tom Brokaw's book, The Greatest Generation, but i don't think any one--or any generation--has perfect morals & motivations.
Overall, i think the shopping cart thing is a sad commentary on us and i'd much rather be in a guilt culture (i'm guilty whether caught or not) than a shame culture (hey, as long as you can get away with it, it's not wrong). Heaven help us.
What's up with this? Stealing shopping carts has got to be among the tackiest crimes a person can commit, and i've seen all walks of life making away with them. Will people desist now that gas prices are slowly descending? It's not like it costs us nothing--the cost is indirect, like the store paying insurance on damage to vehicles from shopping carts and paying to collect its carts, a cost which they pass along to us. Then there's the social capital costs from tackiness and an appearance that no one cares, which isn't good for neighborhoods.
Some of my favorite crimes:
A family walking away from a store: woman, man, three kids around age 9-14. Kids carrying nothing, man carrying one bag, woman pushing cart with about 5 bags. They could've distributed that and carried it easily.
Members of the Greatest Generation: This one really bothers me. I mean, i can understand my reckless, whatever fellow Gen-Xers or Gen-Yers making off with a cart (okay, i can't. The shame!) But i can't understand how people who saved the world in the second war to end all wars with moral high tones (even if it wasn't completely that) can stoop to STEAL a shopping cart. I understand that rising gas prices are tough on a fixed income and that a frailer sort of person might not be able to carry a lot. But, there are these inexpensive little wire frame wheeled carts that carry groceries--why not get one of those? I've seen other older adults with them.
Then again, maybe it is simply showing the insides of us for what they really are. The Greatest Generation, after all, raised the people who raised hell during the 70's. Maybe we only follow the law when shame keeps us in check. I enjoyed the information in Tom Brokaw's book, The Greatest Generation, but i don't think any one--or any generation--has perfect morals & motivations.
Overall, i think the shopping cart thing is a sad commentary on us and i'd much rather be in a guilt culture (i'm guilty whether caught or not) than a shame culture (hey, as long as you can get away with it, it's not wrong). Heaven help us.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
I will not elope
I used to say i wanted to elope. Quite recently, in fact, i made that comment. I don't mean it, though, at least not in the sense i guess most people take it to mean: dissing the families and thumbing noses at convention while giddily absorbed in the temporary insanity that passes for love. To paraphrase Benedict in Much Ado About Nothing, when i said i wanted to elope, i didn't really think i will ever get married. And if i do marry, i mean i don't want hoopla. My brother tried to have a simple wedding and it was NOT. It was lovely. It was not simple. My grandparents eloped: my grandfather was just out of the army, they didn't have the money for a ceremony and pre-marital counseling wasn't the thing, so off they went to Nevada. (Note: not Vegas). Funnily enough, my step-grandmother and her first husband also eloped and for similar reasons. All was well when they returned. No hard feelings. Happily ever after until death did them part.
Today's wedding was nice and sweet. The bride and groom are a lovely couple and relatively low-key: no bridezilla here. (Nor bridesmaidzilla, which i have also seen!) The photographer even remarked that in 25 years of shooting weddings, he's never had such a cooperative bridal party. It was still more work than i'd like, if i ever have a wedding. Coordinating music, being on stage as me and not as an actress, getting the flowers there, explaining directions to an...interesting...limo driver, coaxing a small boy in a tux to walk down the aisle with his sister and to not swing the pillow, finding out that the brother had accidentally taken the best man's boutonnière--things like that are not my cup of tea. I don't want a wedding.
But, i don't really want to elope either.
Fortunately, there is no need as of yet to solve this dilemma.
Today's wedding was nice and sweet. The bride and groom are a lovely couple and relatively low-key: no bridezilla here. (Nor bridesmaidzilla, which i have also seen!) The photographer even remarked that in 25 years of shooting weddings, he's never had such a cooperative bridal party. It was still more work than i'd like, if i ever have a wedding. Coordinating music, being on stage as me and not as an actress, getting the flowers there, explaining directions to an...interesting...limo driver, coaxing a small boy in a tux to walk down the aisle with his sister and to not swing the pillow, finding out that the brother had accidentally taken the best man's boutonnière--things like that are not my cup of tea. I don't want a wedding.
But, i don't really want to elope either.
Fortunately, there is no need as of yet to solve this dilemma.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Transitioning work
I've been very blessed to have mostly enjoyed most of my jobs. Sure, there were days at Disneyland that i never wanted to see cotton candy again, and days where guests drove me nuts (like the lady who pitied us working on Christmas day as she bought something from me. Sure. Real sympathy that was.) I learned good service skills there and at Nordstrom; learned how to type rapidly, fix copy machines, and manage small accounts as an admin assistant for a print shop; learned a lot about everything from life to graphic layout from working at a church.
Teaching--high school or older adults--is exhausting but rewarding, and i thought i loved my current job (teaching older adults) until i began the Forest Service job. Then i learned what loving a job really is. Usually these two-hour classes leave me drained, my voice has been hurting a lot the past few weeks, and the constant demand to prepare for the upcoming lesson is a like a small stone in a shoe during a long hike. Landscape architecture for the Forest Service, in contrast, leaves me energized and ready to work way past the time to go home! I have the day off tomorrow and i wish i didn't; i've gone in on a few weekends; it's all i can do (illegality is the main barrier) to not bring work home.
It is not without anxiety, however, that i realized next week is my last full week with the older adults. I don't want to tell them: i want to just disappear. I know that's not healthy, not for them or for me, but i hate goodbyes, i hate disappointing people, i hate making people sad. I've known them for two years and some of them feel like quasi-grandparents. I've seen their ups and downs and many of them have few visitors. They'll have a new teacher, but i will miss seeing them and they say they like my class most. The cynic in me doubts that; the soft-heart in me, somewhere in there, mourns. If only i'd have time to visit once in a while--but i know i won't, not really, not realistically.
:(
Teaching--high school or older adults--is exhausting but rewarding, and i thought i loved my current job (teaching older adults) until i began the Forest Service job. Then i learned what loving a job really is. Usually these two-hour classes leave me drained, my voice has been hurting a lot the past few weeks, and the constant demand to prepare for the upcoming lesson is a like a small stone in a shoe during a long hike. Landscape architecture for the Forest Service, in contrast, leaves me energized and ready to work way past the time to go home! I have the day off tomorrow and i wish i didn't; i've gone in on a few weekends; it's all i can do (illegality is the main barrier) to not bring work home.
It is not without anxiety, however, that i realized next week is my last full week with the older adults. I don't want to tell them: i want to just disappear. I know that's not healthy, not for them or for me, but i hate goodbyes, i hate disappointing people, i hate making people sad. I've known them for two years and some of them feel like quasi-grandparents. I've seen their ups and downs and many of them have few visitors. They'll have a new teacher, but i will miss seeing them and they say they like my class most. The cynic in me doubts that; the soft-heart in me, somewhere in there, mourns. If only i'd have time to visit once in a while--but i know i won't, not really, not realistically.
:(
Monday, July 28, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
Amazing
Today my car died in traffic and cost me nearly a paycheck to get repaired, and i was told by my mother and by a registered nurse that i should get myself to a doctor within 24 hours. I was late to work and had to work late to make up for it. A friend had to pick me up, take me to my car, meet me at my apartment, and then meet me at my parents' house so i could drop off my mom's car.
It was a long day.
In some books, it might have qualified for the moniker, "bad day". On the other hand, though, i woke up refreshed and made it to the first job on time. When my car died--in traffic--it began acting strange just before the freeway onramp and so, THANK GOD, i was not in the second lane at 65+ mph when it kerplunked. I'd have been toast. And, after waiting and trying to get it to start through three green lights, a jogger stopped and wonderfully offered to push me out of traffic. He was so nice; i need to pay it forward. I was beginning to panic. I called Triple A and everytime it connected me to a person, it hung up on me. But, they called back and got a tow truck guy there. A policeman stopped to make sure everything was okay. My mom was able to pick me up--i broke down near her work and her work was back on my way to my second job--so i was able to get to my second job, even if i was half an hour late. And it was only half an hour late. The free towing covered all but a mile to my mechanic, who was able to squeeze my car in and get it fixed. I have it back. And fine, i'll go to urgent care tomorrow as soon as i wake up, i promise.
So, it wasn't such a bad day after all. I'm alive. I could ask: hey, if God could provide a person to push me out of traffic and let my car die before i got on the freeway, why couldn't He keep it from dying altogether? But, see, i don't think God often intervenes to change the laws of physics. If He did, they wouldn't be laws and we wouldn't be able to see the marvelously complex and simple beauty of His creation and the consistency and justice of Him. I don't treat my fuel pump as well as i should. The car breaking down was due to come. I'm just grateful He doesn't make me learn my lessons any harder than they need to be.
It was a long day.
In some books, it might have qualified for the moniker, "bad day". On the other hand, though, i woke up refreshed and made it to the first job on time. When my car died--in traffic--it began acting strange just before the freeway onramp and so, THANK GOD, i was not in the second lane at 65+ mph when it kerplunked. I'd have been toast. And, after waiting and trying to get it to start through three green lights, a jogger stopped and wonderfully offered to push me out of traffic. He was so nice; i need to pay it forward. I was beginning to panic. I called Triple A and everytime it connected me to a person, it hung up on me. But, they called back and got a tow truck guy there. A policeman stopped to make sure everything was okay. My mom was able to pick me up--i broke down near her work and her work was back on my way to my second job--so i was able to get to my second job, even if i was half an hour late. And it was only half an hour late. The free towing covered all but a mile to my mechanic, who was able to squeeze my car in and get it fixed. I have it back. And fine, i'll go to urgent care tomorrow as soon as i wake up, i promise.
So, it wasn't such a bad day after all. I'm alive. I could ask: hey, if God could provide a person to push me out of traffic and let my car die before i got on the freeway, why couldn't He keep it from dying altogether? But, see, i don't think God often intervenes to change the laws of physics. If He did, they wouldn't be laws and we wouldn't be able to see the marvelously complex and simple beauty of His creation and the consistency and justice of Him. I don't treat my fuel pump as well as i should. The car breaking down was due to come. I'm just grateful He doesn't make me learn my lessons any harder than they need to be.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Hmm
I have a pen pal.
It's kind of weird to have a pen pal at this age. When you're a little kid, it doesn't seem to matter much who the person is. You just write them about your day, your pets, and your siblings and they write back in a similar vein. Then it ends.
This is a little different, and one can easily be deceived into thinking one knows this correspondent. I'm easily reminded that the written word was invented to convey the spoken--and i have no idea how my pen pal would speak. I've met pen pals before and been sorely disappointed--the voice i imagined reading the letters was not at all the voice that truly existed and spoke. I didn't like the real voice. Maybe that was because of the fantasy set up by mere written correspondence, but i think a true part of it was that we weren't really friends. We didn't really know each other. We knew what we thought was the other, but it wasn't us.
Anyway, now i accidentally have a pen pal. I wonder how long it will last, and if we will be friends in person ever. How strange.
It's kind of weird to have a pen pal at this age. When you're a little kid, it doesn't seem to matter much who the person is. You just write them about your day, your pets, and your siblings and they write back in a similar vein. Then it ends.
This is a little different, and one can easily be deceived into thinking one knows this correspondent. I'm easily reminded that the written word was invented to convey the spoken--and i have no idea how my pen pal would speak. I've met pen pals before and been sorely disappointed--the voice i imagined reading the letters was not at all the voice that truly existed and spoke. I didn't like the real voice. Maybe that was because of the fantasy set up by mere written correspondence, but i think a true part of it was that we weren't really friends. We didn't really know each other. We knew what we thought was the other, but it wasn't us.
Anyway, now i accidentally have a pen pal. I wonder how long it will last, and if we will be friends in person ever. How strange.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
On panicking
My bank was closed this weekend.
This past week, my boss and i drove many miles to the picnic area from the office and back. I drove once, because he needed to eat breakfast. Then he drove back, and he's driven ever since. I think it alarmed him that i swerved for animals, dead or alive.
Nah, i know it alarmed him, because he mentioned it Friday. "Y'know how you swerve for animals in the road?" he said. "And panic? What if there was oncoming traffic?"
There wasn't, i replied. In split seconds i notice there's no oncoming traffic and there's a dead squished thing that i don't want splattered on the car or thunking under me, and i swerve. I've never hit anyone in street traffic and i avoid running over things then too.
He thinks--and rightly--that i should train myself to swerve to the shoulder or at least get the creature under the undercarriage of the vehicle, not avoid it altogether. I need to work on my panic reflexes.
AND SO DOES THE REST OF THE COUNTRY. Yeesh, people, have you never read the fine print of the FDIC? Have you not studied the Great Depression and learned about the safety nets installed so that people losing their life savings in banks doesn't happen again? Do you know that banks closing and stock prices crashing are self-fulfilling prophecies and YOUR panic is part of what sets them off and makes them come true? I understand there were some less than wise decisions made by the bank, and that its share prices fell. They had a plan to maintain liquidity, though, and that was ruined by people panicking and withdrawing funds: funds that were insured. They couldn't have been lost. And now the entire thing is dead.
Arg.
EDIT: Today, the idiocy continues. I agree there was probably greed involved in the bank's collapse, but that is no excuse for idiocy (or for signing something to get a house. What about personal integrity?) Where are the brains of people who waited in line today, saying "I'm going to take my money out, if it's still there." OF COURSE it's still there! That's what the FDIC has been saying in print, on the phone, and online all weekend! Arg.
This past week, my boss and i drove many miles to the picnic area from the office and back. I drove once, because he needed to eat breakfast. Then he drove back, and he's driven ever since. I think it alarmed him that i swerved for animals, dead or alive.
Nah, i know it alarmed him, because he mentioned it Friday. "Y'know how you swerve for animals in the road?" he said. "And panic? What if there was oncoming traffic?"
There wasn't, i replied. In split seconds i notice there's no oncoming traffic and there's a dead squished thing that i don't want splattered on the car or thunking under me, and i swerve. I've never hit anyone in street traffic and i avoid running over things then too.
He thinks--and rightly--that i should train myself to swerve to the shoulder or at least get the creature under the undercarriage of the vehicle, not avoid it altogether. I need to work on my panic reflexes.
AND SO DOES THE REST OF THE COUNTRY. Yeesh, people, have you never read the fine print of the FDIC? Have you not studied the Great Depression and learned about the safety nets installed so that people losing their life savings in banks doesn't happen again? Do you know that banks closing and stock prices crashing are self-fulfilling prophecies and YOUR panic is part of what sets them off and makes them come true? I understand there were some less than wise decisions made by the bank, and that its share prices fell. They had a plan to maintain liquidity, though, and that was ruined by people panicking and withdrawing funds: funds that were insured. They couldn't have been lost. And now the entire thing is dead.
Arg.
EDIT: Today, the idiocy continues. I agree there was probably greed involved in the bank's collapse, but that is no excuse for idiocy (or for signing something to get a house. What about personal integrity?) Where are the brains of people who waited in line today, saying "I'm going to take my money out, if it's still there." OF COURSE it's still there! That's what the FDIC has been saying in print, on the phone, and online all weekend! Arg.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
So clueless
So, someone thinks i'm naive. I know i'm naive. Then again, i think i reached the peak of cluelessness this past week when i unthinkingly gave someone my phone number. Why did i do that? Because he asked. Not being practiced in turning down requests for my phone number, and because he seemed like a normal person with perhaps business/networking reasons to telephone, i gave it to him. I didn't think it was a date or anything like that.
I D 10 T ERROR.
Because he called at least three times between when i gave it to him and the evening of that same day even though he knew i was working and proceeded to call a total of 12 times, plus a text message, plus even calling my BOSS and asking them to get a hold of me, in the next three.
Y'know, if he'd left one message that afternoon, i might have actually returned the call. Checking my messages after work and discovering three in five hours freaked me out just a teensy bit.
The next man who asks for my phone number will have to have references and go through psychological testing before i give it to him!
I D 10 T ERROR.
Because he called at least three times between when i gave it to him and the evening of that same day even though he knew i was working and proceeded to call a total of 12 times, plus a text message, plus even calling my BOSS and asking them to get a hold of me, in the next three.
Y'know, if he'd left one message that afternoon, i might have actually returned the call. Checking my messages after work and discovering three in five hours freaked me out just a teensy bit.
The next man who asks for my phone number will have to have references and go through psychological testing before i give it to him!
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Not by works
I'm trying to do too much and not doing most of it well.
For example, i forgot to make a phone call today. Not only forgot to make it, but forgot i was supposed to make it. Make that two important phone calls.
I need to learn to start saying no and not picking up things simply because they are enjoyable. When doing too much, nothing is enjoyable anymore and i become undependable. I don't want to be that person.
Here's to change. In August.
For example, i forgot to make a phone call today. Not only forgot to make it, but forgot i was supposed to make it. Make that two important phone calls.
I need to learn to start saying no and not picking up things simply because they are enjoyable. When doing too much, nothing is enjoyable anymore and i become undependable. I don't want to be that person.
Here's to change. In August.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Frustrations of misperception
Last week my new boss was explaining how office relationships operate--"We have to like each other in order to work together, but we can't be friends at work"--confusing things like that. Negotiating what that means with the help of an engineer, somewhere later in the conversation he said, "Don't worry. I've got you pegged."
As laughingly i related this to a friend, she said, "Oh no, you're hard to pin down. He's in for some surprises." She's an insightful friend, and while she's probably aghast at me sometimes, she has known me several years in various shades so what she says is probably true.
That said, it drives me bonkers that in some ways i feel like my new boss--of a week and a half--knows parts of me better than some do who should know me better.
It's bad enough that i usually feel like a gangling fourteen year old without someone thinking i still am that person. And yes, i do act goofy, i don't act my age--but heck, i pay my rent, hold down two jobs, earned two degrees with a third in process, and i'm paying--or promissory noting--my own way through. I've lived in Africa on my own and traveled around the world alone, attended a variety of social situations and handled myself quite okay, and while i second guess everything, i can make good decisions. Sure, i have fears: I hate making telephone calls; i get a little stage fright. They hardly cramp my style.
I hate those pointless arguments-in-germ of "You are this way". If i say that isn't accurate, and they repeat it, "Yes you are", it's crazy to mention it again. If i live down to their expectations that's stupid, but it's equally twisted and unhealthy to drive myself to prove them wrong.
Grrr, grrrr, GRRRRR. What is the God-honoring response here and how will i ever find the grace to do it!?
As laughingly i related this to a friend, she said, "Oh no, you're hard to pin down. He's in for some surprises." She's an insightful friend, and while she's probably aghast at me sometimes, she has known me several years in various shades so what she says is probably true.
That said, it drives me bonkers that in some ways i feel like my new boss--of a week and a half--knows parts of me better than some do who should know me better.
It's bad enough that i usually feel like a gangling fourteen year old without someone thinking i still am that person. And yes, i do act goofy, i don't act my age--but heck, i pay my rent, hold down two jobs, earned two degrees with a third in process, and i'm paying--or promissory noting--my own way through. I've lived in Africa on my own and traveled around the world alone, attended a variety of social situations and handled myself quite okay, and while i second guess everything, i can make good decisions. Sure, i have fears: I hate making telephone calls; i get a little stage fright. They hardly cramp my style.
I hate those pointless arguments-in-germ of "You are this way". If i say that isn't accurate, and they repeat it, "Yes you are", it's crazy to mention it again. If i live down to their expectations that's stupid, but it's equally twisted and unhealthy to drive myself to prove them wrong.
Grrr, grrrr, GRRRRR. What is the God-honoring response here and how will i ever find the grace to do it!?
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Ambition...
...I don't have much. Grabbing a bite to eat this week, one of my new colleague-supervisors asked why i wanted that job, and i didn't have a good answer: because it sounded fun?
I REALLY need to take that First Peter admonishment to heart about having a good reason for my hope, and everything else, and think more and be caught off guard less!
Because it is a good deed sort of job, one that can do some public good. Because i want to help be a good steward of the few open spaces left around Los Angeles, and help keep the natural resources (that includes views) open for people to enjoy and have a place to let off steam from the city. Because i need experience and i can't see myself surviving as an intern in an Irvine-corporate kind of firm. Because i don't want to design housing tracts. Because i needed a second job for the summer. Because my immediate supervisor is a great person, whom i already respect, and i could tell i'd thrive working for him. Because i want to be involved in habitat restoration. Because i want to be able to work outside sometimes. Because i hope it could maybe turn into a permanent job in the future and i wanted to be a ranger when i was a little girl--not to steal my supervisor's job, but to work alongside.
Because this is my Father's world. Because Christians should have remained on the forefront of the environmental movement as a God-honoring means of obeying His mandate to tend the earth and rule over it as His regents, and a means of loving their neighbors, instead of abdicating their responsibility and cowering in enclaves of anti-nature or acting like King John à la Robin Hood.
That's all. To be promoted is to be stuck managing people or dealing with even more politics in Washington. I'd rather be outside in the dust and the mountains, sniffing pine trees to see what species they are, cataloging old fire pits, figuring out how to preserve a view when re-opening a picnic area, researching light fixtures, tagging along as the geeky side-kick, and learning a ton.
I REALLY need to take that First Peter admonishment to heart about having a good reason for my hope, and everything else, and think more and be caught off guard less!
Because it is a good deed sort of job, one that can do some public good. Because i want to help be a good steward of the few open spaces left around Los Angeles, and help keep the natural resources (that includes views) open for people to enjoy and have a place to let off steam from the city. Because i need experience and i can't see myself surviving as an intern in an Irvine-corporate kind of firm. Because i don't want to design housing tracts. Because i needed a second job for the summer. Because my immediate supervisor is a great person, whom i already respect, and i could tell i'd thrive working for him. Because i want to be involved in habitat restoration. Because i want to be able to work outside sometimes. Because i hope it could maybe turn into a permanent job in the future and i wanted to be a ranger when i was a little girl--not to steal my supervisor's job, but to work alongside.
Because this is my Father's world. Because Christians should have remained on the forefront of the environmental movement as a God-honoring means of obeying His mandate to tend the earth and rule over it as His regents, and a means of loving their neighbors, instead of abdicating their responsibility and cowering in enclaves of anti-nature or acting like King John à la Robin Hood.
That's all. To be promoted is to be stuck managing people or dealing with even more politics in Washington. I'd rather be outside in the dust and the mountains, sniffing pine trees to see what species they are, cataloging old fire pits, figuring out how to preserve a view when re-opening a picnic area, researching light fixtures, tagging along as the geeky side-kick, and learning a ton.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Lunch break
As i sat in my car, under the trees, eating my lunch and listening to the radio, yellow flowers drifted down in the light breeze. They landed all over my car outside and in: some fell through the sunroof or the window and landed in my hair and the seats. Then i noticed a flower that wasn't falling down--it was moving horizontally and up, and ta da! It was a butterfly! :) I don't know what kind it was, but it looked a bit like a swallow-tail, as bright yellow as the flowers of the Tipuana tipu tree.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Flight
My not-so-little brother is in town for the week and it's nice to have him around. He makes great dinners on the grill, buys decent beer, treated me to coffee, and convinced me to try smoking a cigar.
He did not make a convert.
He's a pilot. The life of a pilot is not all glam--he's had to move several times in the past three years, shared houses with several people and welcomed others who use his place as an occasional crash pad, and now he's on reserve for many years to come (that's if his airline stays in business during this economic whatever-it-is). Being on reserve means a completely unpredictable schedule. Believe me, having been a substitute teacher, an unpredictable schedule makes having any sort of life nigh impossible. He had a nice little life before upgrading to captain, plus people with whom he enjoys having a life.
We were talking the other day as he drove me home from our parents' house about how we're both feeling an urge to bolt. One point in his favor about a pilot's life vs. a grad student's life: he can request a base change and move while keeping his job. He probably won't, but if the draining situation in which he finds himself becomes more than he wants to handle, he does have an escape route and, he says, little to bind him to the place. I, on the other hand, know i am supposed to be here for now, but i sure am fighting a desire to bolt. I'm not sure Italy can come soon enough!
Someone asked me the other day if i was planning to go back to Africa as a landscape architect. When i got home, i realized my reply was sorely lacking something along the lines of the Book of Esther: God was implied (from my side) but i didn't overtly mention Him. I should have. My reply was: i'm not planning anything. I'm open to it, but i'm not planning. I thought i knew what i wanted my life to look like, and while it was right for a time, i was wrong about having that be the rest of my life. Did i misread what God wanted me to do? Maybe. Maybe not.
So, i am not planning my future, but i am listening and watching my feet. I don't really want to see more than a few footsteps ahead right now; i don't really want to know what is coming and i doubt i'd get the picture anyway. A responsible life--do justly. love mercy. walk humbly with my God.--that should be enough preparation for whatever is to come, i think. Here is where i am, and where i belong, for now. I am a graduate student. I have two years left.
So why do i want to run away so much?
He did not make a convert.
He's a pilot. The life of a pilot is not all glam--he's had to move several times in the past three years, shared houses with several people and welcomed others who use his place as an occasional crash pad, and now he's on reserve for many years to come (that's if his airline stays in business during this economic whatever-it-is). Being on reserve means a completely unpredictable schedule. Believe me, having been a substitute teacher, an unpredictable schedule makes having any sort of life nigh impossible. He had a nice little life before upgrading to captain, plus people with whom he enjoys having a life.
We were talking the other day as he drove me home from our parents' house about how we're both feeling an urge to bolt. One point in his favor about a pilot's life vs. a grad student's life: he can request a base change and move while keeping his job. He probably won't, but if the draining situation in which he finds himself becomes more than he wants to handle, he does have an escape route and, he says, little to bind him to the place. I, on the other hand, know i am supposed to be here for now, but i sure am fighting a desire to bolt. I'm not sure Italy can come soon enough!
Someone asked me the other day if i was planning to go back to Africa as a landscape architect. When i got home, i realized my reply was sorely lacking something along the lines of the Book of Esther: God was implied (from my side) but i didn't overtly mention Him. I should have. My reply was: i'm not planning anything. I'm open to it, but i'm not planning. I thought i knew what i wanted my life to look like, and while it was right for a time, i was wrong about having that be the rest of my life. Did i misread what God wanted me to do? Maybe. Maybe not.
So, i am not planning my future, but i am listening and watching my feet. I don't really want to see more than a few footsteps ahead right now; i don't really want to know what is coming and i doubt i'd get the picture anyway. A responsible life--do justly. love mercy. walk humbly with my God.--that should be enough preparation for whatever is to come, i think. Here is where i am, and where i belong, for now. I am a graduate student. I have two years left.
So why do i want to run away so much?
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Enduring repercussions
In class we've learned about these nifty things called bioswales/bio medians/vegetated swales. Instead of a boring asphalt median painted green, a median is slightly concave and lined with cobble on the outer edges, then planted with appropriate species. (Imperial Highway between Santa Gertrudes and La Mirada Blvd is a great example, as is Temple Ave between the 57 exit and Valley.) A swale is a similar thing--any depression intended to channel water. Instead of a concrete-lined ditch, it could be planted with reeds or grasses or other plants that can handle occasional inundation.
These designs serve several purposes: they're much more attractive and that is good for people. They slow down, clean up, and absorb water before it hits the storm drains ("No dumping, drains to ocean"). That's important because most of the storm drain water around here goes straight to the sea, which is why i get so ticked when i see people toss fast food trash out their window. It's incredibly unpleasant to step on a crumpled plastic straw at the beach. Our storm drain system also is old: it wasn't designed to handle run-off from the plethora of housing developments that have sprung up like mushrooms in an over-watered lawn, so a bioswale slowing down the water (and absorbing some) allows a more appropriate flow rate into the system.
Another important function of these design features is phytoremediation, or plants cleaning up pollutants. Tire bits worn off by friction, brake linings, fluid drips, and other gunk is washed off parking lots and streets by rain and by any other water that runs down the street (like the people who water the sidewalk and the street when watering their grass. That would be your neighbors, of course, not you.). All that gunk also ends up in the ocean, just like your (sorry: their) straws. Not good. Not good for the ocean, not good for all the little fishies that swim in the sea, not good for me who eats fishies, not good for anyone who likes going to the beach. So, a bioswale's plants absorb a lot of those pollutants. Huzzah! Everyone thinks we've found a solution to pollution! Have the plants take care of it!
Wrong.
For one thing, while there are species that can handle this sort of environment, they are often not the prettiest plants to start with. Think crows and starlings and pigeons: sure, they can handle cities. I'd rather see a cardinal, an oriole, or a phoebe, personally. On top of that, if they are seriously polluted, these plants end up with growths and infections: a kind of plant version of cancer. They also die faster. Big deal, you say. So a plant dies. Trick is, these plants that have been absorbing all those pollutants don't deactivate those pollutants: they just contain them and keep them out of our water supply. That's great, but it doesn't solve the entire pollution problem. When bioswale plants die (or have to be pulled out and replaced) that plant has to be treated as toxic waste. Because it is. Plants, like us, are what they eat.
So, it's a good idea to have bio medians, but they are far from a magic bullet. If we pollute, and we do, there are things we can do to mitigate the effects of pollution: there are better and worse ways to pollute. We cannot undo the damaging effects completely though.
Like other aspects of life.
These designs serve several purposes: they're much more attractive and that is good for people. They slow down, clean up, and absorb water before it hits the storm drains ("No dumping, drains to ocean"). That's important because most of the storm drain water around here goes straight to the sea, which is why i get so ticked when i see people toss fast food trash out their window. It's incredibly unpleasant to step on a crumpled plastic straw at the beach. Our storm drain system also is old: it wasn't designed to handle run-off from the plethora of housing developments that have sprung up like mushrooms in an over-watered lawn, so a bioswale slowing down the water (and absorbing some) allows a more appropriate flow rate into the system.
Another important function of these design features is phytoremediation, or plants cleaning up pollutants. Tire bits worn off by friction, brake linings, fluid drips, and other gunk is washed off parking lots and streets by rain and by any other water that runs down the street (like the people who water the sidewalk and the street when watering their grass. That would be your neighbors, of course, not you.). All that gunk also ends up in the ocean, just like your (sorry: their) straws. Not good. Not good for the ocean, not good for all the little fishies that swim in the sea, not good for me who eats fishies, not good for anyone who likes going to the beach. So, a bioswale's plants absorb a lot of those pollutants. Huzzah! Everyone thinks we've found a solution to pollution! Have the plants take care of it!
Wrong.
For one thing, while there are species that can handle this sort of environment, they are often not the prettiest plants to start with. Think crows and starlings and pigeons: sure, they can handle cities. I'd rather see a cardinal, an oriole, or a phoebe, personally. On top of that, if they are seriously polluted, these plants end up with growths and infections: a kind of plant version of cancer. They also die faster. Big deal, you say. So a plant dies. Trick is, these plants that have been absorbing all those pollutants don't deactivate those pollutants: they just contain them and keep them out of our water supply. That's great, but it doesn't solve the entire pollution problem. When bioswale plants die (or have to be pulled out and replaced) that plant has to be treated as toxic waste. Because it is. Plants, like us, are what they eat.
So, it's a good idea to have bio medians, but they are far from a magic bullet. If we pollute, and we do, there are things we can do to mitigate the effects of pollution: there are better and worse ways to pollute. We cannot undo the damaging effects completely though.
Like other aspects of life.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Listening
Lately i've realized i am not a good listener, unless i consciously enter a situation in listening mode, which is not often enough. Often a question will come to mind when the conversation is long gone, but second-chances don't always come along. I also no longer ask many good questions of profs or situations--i've become a rather passive learner. The two are not unrelated, i think. Passive learning isn't terribly effective compared to active learning, and it's lazy. Not listening is self-centered and rather lazy too.
Walking home from the library today, a strange bird cry echoed across the street. Santa Gertrudes is a bit like a canyon at that spot--tall, sound-reducing ficus trees (honest they are--i know vegetation supposedly doesn't really reduce decibels but these suckers do) on one side of the street, screening a tall department building, and rows of apartment complexes on the other. I looked up and saw a crow. It was not the sound of a crow. Then i saw a pigeon-colored bird with a striped tail and intelligent head--some sort of hawk! On my street! In the middle of city-like suburbia! It landed on a light pole and began plucking its prey. I hope it was pigeon. Where did that hawk come from? What species is it? Where is its nest? How will it survive the annual tree lopping around here? Does anyone else cheer for the hawks instead of the pigeons?
....
One of my students told me last week that he was moving to Colorado. Thinking he was probably going to stay with a different grown child, i asked, When? His reply: Not sure; we'll go when the company tells us it's all set up.
Oh. That was my first clue that Jack* is slipping. He has Alzheimer's, but other than forgetting random vocabulary his case has always seemed mild. Today he told me he was moving to Oregon: his mind is slipping from the present into the past, when he was an engineer for a mining company and traveled frequently. I've heard that crossing these stages goes quickly, that the decline worsens exponentially. I've seen that happen with T and J. Oh, God. Please not Jack.
Sometimes i hate my job.
*Not his real name, of course.
....
One of the warm-up activities i do for work involves trivia about historical events: This Week in History. I like it--i love history--and my students like it since their memories function rather well about the past. Last week we learned that Ingrid Bergman was rare in that she refused to glamorize her name when she came to work in Hollywood. All these movie folks with normal, tidy, every-day sounding names--so many of them had other names, the truly every day names. How much of my perception of reality is accurate, and how much of it is a constructed image? I don't watch tv, i rarely watch movies, but i do read and listen to the news, and there are billboards, novels, stories, fairy tales....John Wayne's real name was Marion Michael Morrison. Bob Hope was Leslie Townes Hope. Why couldn't they keep their real names? Was it because those names were froo froo? But what if those manly men had performed with froo froo names--perhaps it would have changed that perception of those names? Doris Day was Doris Kappelhoff. Why change that?
Walking home from the library today, a strange bird cry echoed across the street. Santa Gertrudes is a bit like a canyon at that spot--tall, sound-reducing ficus trees (honest they are--i know vegetation supposedly doesn't really reduce decibels but these suckers do) on one side of the street, screening a tall department building, and rows of apartment complexes on the other. I looked up and saw a crow. It was not the sound of a crow. Then i saw a pigeon-colored bird with a striped tail and intelligent head--some sort of hawk! On my street! In the middle of city-like suburbia! It landed on a light pole and began plucking its prey. I hope it was pigeon. Where did that hawk come from? What species is it? Where is its nest? How will it survive the annual tree lopping around here? Does anyone else cheer for the hawks instead of the pigeons?
....
One of my students told me last week that he was moving to Colorado. Thinking he was probably going to stay with a different grown child, i asked, When? His reply: Not sure; we'll go when the company tells us it's all set up.
Oh. That was my first clue that Jack* is slipping. He has Alzheimer's, but other than forgetting random vocabulary his case has always seemed mild. Today he told me he was moving to Oregon: his mind is slipping from the present into the past, when he was an engineer for a mining company and traveled frequently. I've heard that crossing these stages goes quickly, that the decline worsens exponentially. I've seen that happen with T and J. Oh, God. Please not Jack.
Sometimes i hate my job.
*Not his real name, of course.
....
One of the warm-up activities i do for work involves trivia about historical events: This Week in History. I like it--i love history--and my students like it since their memories function rather well about the past. Last week we learned that Ingrid Bergman was rare in that she refused to glamorize her name when she came to work in Hollywood. All these movie folks with normal, tidy, every-day sounding names--so many of them had other names, the truly every day names. How much of my perception of reality is accurate, and how much of it is a constructed image? I don't watch tv, i rarely watch movies, but i do read and listen to the news, and there are billboards, novels, stories, fairy tales....John Wayne's real name was Marion Michael Morrison. Bob Hope was Leslie Townes Hope. Why couldn't they keep their real names? Was it because those names were froo froo? But what if those manly men had performed with froo froo names--perhaps it would have changed that perception of those names? Doris Day was Doris Kappelhoff. Why change that?
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Technology-dependent woes
My laptop is dead. Or dying. How blog i thus, you ask? House-sitting for my parents, on their desktop computer, taking a mini break from reading articles in preparation for a highly intimidating telephone interview with a renowned landscape architect for a research paper. Why did i request an interview with said person!? He is a principal at a huge firm. Designer of award-winning gardens. Busy important man. Very gracious to agree to an interview. I will learn a lot reading published material and in the interview, but I AM A GOOF (e.g. i have to put on my grown-up hat for this interview and that takes much effort), i hate telephones, and i'm second and third guessing pursuing this avenue. Panic! I don't want to shame my school. Or me.
And now my laptop won't start. Thankfully, i backed up everything 10 days ago. Miserably, that doesn't include last week's work or photos. And my parent's old desktop is fine for word processing and web browsing, but it doesn't have the Adobe Creative Suite that i need to finish presentation boards, nor Sketch-up to make models (because i can't adequately draw them yet), nor Autocad to load base plans for a final project due in two weeks...their computer can't handle all that software, not to mention their lives involve going to bed at nine in the evening and mine involves studying/working/(goofing off) until midnight, and in a different town. Mooching off their computer won't work. People did this work before computers, but now, well, i need mine.
Panic panic...ha. That reminds me of the cover to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
And now, to avoid panic, i am going to return to reading articles and hope my brothers have an idea of what to do. I've replaced the motherboard on a desk top before, walked through it on the phone by my techie brother, but i think a laptop is over my head. I can read. Reading i do well. Back to reading...
EDIT: Thanks to some techies from church, it is working again. Believe me, i am backing up much more often.
And now my laptop won't start. Thankfully, i backed up everything 10 days ago. Miserably, that doesn't include last week's work or photos. And my parent's old desktop is fine for word processing and web browsing, but it doesn't have the Adobe Creative Suite that i need to finish presentation boards, nor Sketch-up to make models (because i can't adequately draw them yet), nor Autocad to load base plans for a final project due in two weeks...their computer can't handle all that software, not to mention their lives involve going to bed at nine in the evening and mine involves studying/working/(goofing off) until midnight, and in a different town. Mooching off their computer won't work. People did this work before computers, but now, well, i need mine.
Panic panic...ha. That reminds me of the cover to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
And now, to avoid panic, i am going to return to reading articles and hope my brothers have an idea of what to do. I've replaced the motherboard on a desk top before, walked through it on the phone by my techie brother, but i think a laptop is over my head. I can read. Reading i do well. Back to reading...
EDIT: Thanks to some techies from church, it is working again. Believe me, i am backing up much more often.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Tempers and temperatures
When it's hot, very hot, people seem to be more irritable. (I particularly notice this as i drive along Colima and the 60 freeway.) Earlier this week, discussing the weather, someone told me that one theory about this behavior is that people become at least mildly dehydrated and heat sick. Some side effects or symptoms of dehydration are irritability, irrational behavior, delusions, all that jazz.
How strange, because those are also the symptoms of hypothermia. Isn't it slightly paradoxical that opposite temperature extremes have similar symptoms? On the other hand, maybe it isn't so strange--it is still about body temperature.
At any rate, all you drivers out there, DRINK MORE WATER!!!
How strange, because those are also the symptoms of hypothermia. Isn't it slightly paradoxical that opposite temperature extremes have similar symptoms? On the other hand, maybe it isn't so strange--it is still about body temperature.
At any rate, all you drivers out there, DRINK MORE WATER!!!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Strange nostalgia
When i was a little kid, sometimes after music lessons my mom would take us to get a cheese danish (and a cup of good coffee for her) at an infamous fast-food joint. I vaguely remember these events. I remember putting my stockinged feet on the traced feet of a music folder to have proper violin posture; i remember the wood and glass doors of the old building; i remember my lesson partner, Leslie; i remember that my teacher had incredibly long brown hair. I vaguely remember tree-lined streets, with metal grates around the roots of the trees, and brick (or are they stone?) townhouses with steps up to the front door. I remember yummy cheese danishes, or at least yummy in the sense of high sugar and fat content.
Today i had a feeling of nostalgia for a cheese danish, but alas, said infamous fast-food joint no longer sells cheese danishes. When did that happen?
Today i had a feeling of nostalgia for a cheese danish, but alas, said infamous fast-food joint no longer sells cheese danishes. When did that happen?
Thursday, May 15, 2008
You can eat this
To clarify: You can eat whatever you like...and you may well suffer for it. These, however, you can eat and they won't kill you or make you sick (unless, of course, you're allergic or someone used foliar pesticides or systemic fertilizer, in which case, ja, they just might make you pretty ill. Then again, so might cookies containing enough preservatives to make a mummy. If it's going to be death by food, i choose death by educated experimental browsing).
Day Lily, Hemerocallis sp. One of my classmates thought it was gross. I liked it. I find it tastes like pale celery lightly sautéed in butter, with a slight wasabi or peppery aftertaste. Try the buds just as they begin to show color. You can eat them raw (rinse them off first) or lightly sautéed with garlic, and added to a green salad. They're planted all over Southern California: usually yellow but sometimes the rose or orange varieties, although i'm not sure it's legal to harvest from the median strips. It would be the epitome of pitiful to be smashed by a car while living off the landscape; and have you seen what they spray along the sides of roads!? Ick. Eat them from your neighbors' yard and leave the medians alone.
Detail of Feijoa sellowiana. Photo courtesy of my classmate, I.F. Pineapple Guava, Feijoa sellowiana. Deliciousness! I haven't tasted the guava fruits yet because they haven't ripened, but i love guavas and expect to enjoy these. (Probably a result of growing up in the tropics, that one is; guava trees also make good climbing). Not only is this a gorgeous tree, but the flowers on this plant are edible and they taste yummy, like a light fruit sorbet. I think they'd be good on high quality vanilla ice cream, one that was smooth and creamy, with chocolate sauce optional--it had better be good, not wimpy Hershey's. I bet the flowers would also be good in a fruit or garden salad. Mmmm.
Day Lily, Hemerocallis sp. One of my classmates thought it was gross. I liked it. I find it tastes like pale celery lightly sautéed in butter, with a slight wasabi or peppery aftertaste. Try the buds just as they begin to show color. You can eat them raw (rinse them off first) or lightly sautéed with garlic, and added to a green salad. They're planted all over Southern California: usually yellow but sometimes the rose or orange varieties, although i'm not sure it's legal to harvest from the median strips. It would be the epitome of pitiful to be smashed by a car while living off the landscape; and have you seen what they spray along the sides of roads!? Ick. Eat them from your neighbors' yard and leave the medians alone.
Detail of Feijoa sellowiana. Photo courtesy of my classmate, I.F. Thursday, May 8, 2008
Quote of the day
"The cure for too-much-to-do is solitude and silence, for there you find you are safely more than what you do. And the cure of loneliness is solitude and silence, for there you discover in how many ways you are never alone." — Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy
Mt. Calvary Monastery, here i come. Once i'm done in June with the too-much-to-do that is school, that is. ;-)
Mt. Calvary Monastery, here i come. Once i'm done in June with the too-much-to-do that is school, that is. ;-)
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
How does my garden grow?
For starters, i don't have a garden. I live in 320 square feet and no patio. But if i had a garden, or a yard, i would use some of this wunder stuff:
I think this is Sweet Vernal Grass, Anthoxanthum odoratum. It's edible, tastes sweet, and it smells nice.
This also smells nice, like vanilla. It's called Vanilla Grass (ta da!), Heirochloe odorata. Here it has been whacked for transplanting, but it grows taller than this.
Homesick sounds
This isn't New Land Road.
It's better, actually; it's the road from Batouri to Yaounde.
Looking up case studies and having actual, solid references would be a good thing for a graduate student to do, but at the moment i'm studying children and play: aromatic therapy gardens will have to wait. I believe "them", however; the scent of freshly cut grass reminds me of my dad mowing the lawn on Saturdays in Pennsylvania and getting all scratchy as i played in piles of freshly mowed grass, cardamom reminds me of Christmas (and now it reminds me of baking Christmas bread with contents of two Republic of Tea Cardamom Cinnamon sachets since i couldn't find cardamom anywhere in the market in Cameroon), violets remind me of my mother and of the funky plywood bathroom shelves in Cameroon where she kept a tiny vial of Yardley's Violet Perfume. I can see that when i smell violets and almost reach out to touch the maroon painted wood and the contact paper lining.
Personally, though, sounds trigger memories as much as scents. I hear a sound, and it takes me somewhere like a summons i cannot disobey. I never know what they are until i hear them--it's not like i can think up a sound memory or many others. For example, last week i ran into a former student--someone i did not remember until i saw her face, and then all these memories about student teaching flooded back. A bit disconcerting it was, and i don't want to know what else is in there.
Anyway, back to sounds. Lumpy railroad tracks intersected my route to work this afternoon, a different way due to an errand. Keys rattled against the steering column as my car wobbled slowly across (slowly because all the raised pick-ups ahead of me had slowed down). My keys rattled, clack cling clack, then silent again.
Cameroon: I heard that sound every time i got a ride to school or market or home. The road was full of deep ruts and cars wobbled slowly as they drove lest an axle be wrenched or a rock scrape the underbelly of the car. Last time i heard that sound was as a passenger, driving out on New Land Road toward the airport, to leave.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Oh, to be this brilliant
This evening some of the second and third year grads and one of the department's former profs met in Pomona to see James Turrell's Skyspace. I didn't go to the gallery with them earlier in the afternoon because i needed more alone time than the weekend afforded, but (after getting lost) i did arrive in time for the evening display.
I didn't take my camera.
I'm going back.
I didn't take my camera.
I'm going back.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Learning to draw
This week was Modules Week at school. It's a bit like a working spring break. The department brings in emeritus profs and professionals from the community to share their expertise in one-week intense classes. I took drawing--drawing as a means of seeing landscape.
Once i upgrade the memory on my laptop, i'll upload a sketch to show what i learned this week. A long way to go until i'd want to display drawings to anyone, but my prof taught us (me) enough to recognize shadows and light, the shape of things, to remember perspective. I'm proud of my blind contour California poppies, and the gesture sketches of guest speakers. I think i'm still better at diagrams than at anything close to realistic, but Italy should cure that. ;-)
It feels like learning to drive: all those things to think of: rear view mirror, side mirror, space cushion ahead, scanning, shifting gears, watching for stale greens & pedestrians; and now driving is like breathing. Maybe, if i practice enough, drawing well will become like that and perspective, diminishing scale, detail, light, shadow, and contours will be more automatic.
On the other hand, i drive 300 sorry miles a week, and i don't think drawing time is going to come close!
I also learned: Collages are an effective way to create perspectives. Legs are really hard to draw. And do not inhale cobalt blue!
Once i upgrade the memory on my laptop, i'll upload a sketch to show what i learned this week. A long way to go until i'd want to display drawings to anyone, but my prof taught us (me) enough to recognize shadows and light, the shape of things, to remember perspective. I'm proud of my blind contour California poppies, and the gesture sketches of guest speakers. I think i'm still better at diagrams than at anything close to realistic, but Italy should cure that. ;-)
EDIT: Here is a page of the gesture sketches.
They're rough, but hopefully the action or stance of the person is readable. Few eyes because they always look angry when i draw eyes!
They're rough, but hopefully the action or stance of the person is readable. Few eyes because they always look angry when i draw eyes!
It feels like learning to drive: all those things to think of: rear view mirror, side mirror, space cushion ahead, scanning, shifting gears, watching for stale greens & pedestrians; and now driving is like breathing. Maybe, if i practice enough, drawing well will become like that and perspective, diminishing scale, detail, light, shadow, and contours will be more automatic.
On the other hand, i drive 300 sorry miles a week, and i don't think drawing time is going to come close!
I also learned: Collages are an effective way to create perspectives. Legs are really hard to draw. And do not inhale cobalt blue!
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Good Lord, deliver me
From the cowardice that dare not face new truths,
From the laziness that is contented with half-truth,
From the arrogance that thinks it knows all truth,
Good Lord, deliver me.
- Kenyan prayer
From the laziness that is contented with half-truth,
From the arrogance that thinks it knows all truth,
Good Lord, deliver me.
- Kenyan prayer
It's been an interesting few months. At the moment, i'm feeling a bit like Judas. We tend to vilify him, but i bet Judas thought he was doing the right thing. (Not that his motivation absolves him.) Maybe he feared Jesus was really going to accept the acclaim of the people and be a puppet king to the Sanhedrin, and if Judas was a Zealot, well, he'd have thought it was better Jesus be dead. Or maybe he hoped to force Jesus' hand into striking down the Roman dogs with the power of the Almighty when they came to arrest him. Who knows? But i feel a bit like a traitor. Although i did what seemed wisest and best, and it still does seem wise and best, nonetheless it is unpleasant. I was in over my head. I still am.
I'm by no means going to go hang myself and spill my guts in a field.
On a related topic, honest it is: Last week i faced a weakness i didn't know i had. It was a good reminder to be humble: i'm susceptible. It was also a great reminder of God's graciousness in that He provides a way out of every temptation, a way that doesn't involve succumbing to it. The way out in this case meant not getting as close to the temptation as is technically allowed. Heck, allowed by almost any measure! But i can resist from here (and it's not running away). Get any closer though and i may not. I don't care to see how close i can get: the risk/reward is not worth it. [EDIT: I know, i know, "resist the devil" and "flee temptation". I backed up enough that it counts as fleeing; no temptation from this distance. ;-) ]
Is it legalism to say i'm going to stand back here, or is it self-preservation? Is it folly to think that i can resist something, or is it wisdom to recognize a weakness? And lastly, with permissible things, what about the laws of Nature? If i step into a busy street, i'll probably be hit. If i step off a building gravity still applies (with messy consequences!) and even Jesus didn't throw himself off the temple. Who am i to think those laws will not apply to me, even if breaking them isn't wrong in itself? I choose the sidewalk. I may still be hit by a car but that will not be my fall. I can handle that. Escaping the messiness and pain of life is not what i expect: causing a little less of it is.
The kingdom of heaven is not come, even when God's will is our law: it is come when God's will is our will. While God's will is our law, we are but a kind of noble slaves;
when his will is our will, we are free children.
- George MacDonald
when his will is our will, we are free children.
- George MacDonald
I want to be like Jesus. I want to be like him because he called me to be, because he is worth it, and because if i really believe he was a good man and a good teacher (let alone God himself) it makes absolutely no sense to not do what he said. I want to be the kind of person who is transformed from the inside by his Spirit so that i can obey. I mess up, i fall, i am not perfect, i have no expectations of being so this side of heaven but i DO believe that Jesus is not a cruel task master who gave us harder rules than Moses did without any help to meet them! I think he means for us to be transformed so that we can be more like what he said. We're to be learning citizenship just like we would in a cross-cultural setting.
"Sin is the best news there is, the best news there could be in our predicament. Because with sin, there's a way out. There's the possibility of repentance. You can't repent of confusion or psychological flaws inflicted by your parents--you're stuck with them. But you can repent of sin. Sin and repentance are the only grounds for hope and joy....You can be born again."
- John Alexander
- John Alexander
Amen.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Botanical garden field trip
This past Friday, we went on a field trip to a huge botanical garden that specializes in California Natives. I had a heydey with photos. Unfortunately, having to learn the names of everything takes half the fun out of it--i'll remember the water needs, colors, and growth habit, and maybe one name, but it's taking the pudding out of me to remember both common name and latin name of all these suckers! Quiz on Monday!
This is a variety of Native Iris, Iris douglasiana. It's also sometimes called Douglas Iris, and comes in colors from white with yellow lines to deep indigo blue and purple. There are some cultivars that are golden and frilly: cultivars, however, tend to not be as hardy and vigourous.
Here is a golden one.
This is Louisia. It's an alpine plant from around the timberline in the California Sierras. I have to look up the rest of the name because i misspelled it in my sketchbook. :( Edit: This is Lewisia cotyledon.
Want to plant California natives in your garden? The Rancho Santa Ana Botanical Garden specializes in them and has plant sales a few times a year. Tree of Life Nursery is also a good source. I'm learning about other nurseries on a few upcoming field trips. Ask your local nursery about native plants--they attract birds and butterflies too.
I love the desert
I have to learn the names of most of these anyway, so once i have, i'll come back and label them. For now, they're here for you to enjoy, whoever you are.
I love how the new leaves are wrapped so tightly that even after they unfurl, the imprint indicating their close proximity to the other leaves remains.
It rained a while ago, so all the cacti were in bloom.
This isn't a cactus but it was blooming too.
Another blooming cactus.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Small world
One of my classmates is kind of from a country i lived in for a year for boarding school. His mother is from a town that my family went to every year up in the highlands. He recognized the name of the school in Nigeria and i recognized the name of the town in Cameroon. Weird. Kind of neat.
I guess it's not really a small world, though, because we don't know anyone in common.
I guess it's not really a small world, though, because we don't know anyone in common.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Once again...
...i need more sleep.
I'm not sure what it is, this aversion to sleep, but i am convinced it will soon wreak havoc on my graduate career unless i get it under control. It makes me forgetful. It makes it nigh impossible to wake up on time to get to school with breakfast in my tummy. Make that: get to school on time with breakfast in my tummy. Or get to school on time at all. And it makes me forgetful.
We had a field trip today to the Huntington Library and Gardens and I FORGOT MY CAMERA! My precious, which i hardly know how to use because it can do everything except make dinner. It would have been helpful to have today because the gardens were in glorious spring bloom.
The (third ever in 100 years!) director gave us a death-march paced tour of the Desert Garden, Japanese Garden, and Chinese Garden because our design studio project this quarter is to brainstorm ideas for one of those. He told us some of his ideas and visions, gave us history of the estate and the individual gardens, and was a delightfully informative host. I look forward to many more (free! yay! whew!) visits to research use, topography, and come up with ideas. (And to take photos.)
The estate is intended to still feel as though it was someone's private estate. When Huntington bought it, the land was a working ranch with oranges and peaches, and the site of one of the first commercial avocado groves in California. Little of that remains, but the gardens are at a personal scale in many ways (personal if you were a multi-millionaire), and have the funky charms and idiosyncrasies of a 100-year-old private garden. Many of the cacti and succulents in the Desert Garden were collected by the Huntingtons and the first garden superintendent; the Japanese garden has elements requested by Mrs. Huntington, and the Chinese Garden is brand spanking new but only the first phase is complete--there are about 10 more acres to develop. The Japanese Garden needs renovation, not in least because a lovely old tree died this past year and everything under it needs shade which it won't have for many years, and a new bonsai court is in progress for sun-loving bonsai, and a tea garden is planned. And for the desert, which i love, most of the paths are closed to the public because of steep terrain, unstable footing, and very prickly plants with little regard for path delineation.
I haven't decided which of the three to focus on this quarter, but at the moment i'm leaning toward the desert. It isn't truly a desert garden the way the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix is, but it's a world-class collection of plants begun in the early 1900's. And, learning a lot about solitude this past year, i've become more attracted to the desert as a place of weakness as well as a place of strength. There should be places of drama where plants explode in color and texture, as well as places of subtle discovery to reward those who sit and study. The desert kills or it woos--it depends on if one insists on rushing through headlong or realizes the wisdom of yielding to forces much greater than oneself.
I'm not sure what it is, this aversion to sleep, but i am convinced it will soon wreak havoc on my graduate career unless i get it under control. It makes me forgetful. It makes it nigh impossible to wake up on time to get to school with breakfast in my tummy. Make that: get to school on time with breakfast in my tummy. Or get to school on time at all. And it makes me forgetful.
We had a field trip today to the Huntington Library and Gardens and I FORGOT MY CAMERA! My precious, which i hardly know how to use because it can do everything except make dinner. It would have been helpful to have today because the gardens were in glorious spring bloom.
The (third ever in 100 years!) director gave us a death-march paced tour of the Desert Garden, Japanese Garden, and Chinese Garden because our design studio project this quarter is to brainstorm ideas for one of those. He told us some of his ideas and visions, gave us history of the estate and the individual gardens, and was a delightfully informative host. I look forward to many more (free! yay! whew!) visits to research use, topography, and come up with ideas. (And to take photos.)
The estate is intended to still feel as though it was someone's private estate. When Huntington bought it, the land was a working ranch with oranges and peaches, and the site of one of the first commercial avocado groves in California. Little of that remains, but the gardens are at a personal scale in many ways (personal if you were a multi-millionaire), and have the funky charms and idiosyncrasies of a 100-year-old private garden. Many of the cacti and succulents in the Desert Garden were collected by the Huntingtons and the first garden superintendent; the Japanese garden has elements requested by Mrs. Huntington, and the Chinese Garden is brand spanking new but only the first phase is complete--there are about 10 more acres to develop. The Japanese Garden needs renovation, not in least because a lovely old tree died this past year and everything under it needs shade which it won't have for many years, and a new bonsai court is in progress for sun-loving bonsai, and a tea garden is planned. And for the desert, which i love, most of the paths are closed to the public because of steep terrain, unstable footing, and very prickly plants with little regard for path delineation.
I haven't decided which of the three to focus on this quarter, but at the moment i'm leaning toward the desert. It isn't truly a desert garden the way the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix is, but it's a world-class collection of plants begun in the early 1900's. And, learning a lot about solitude this past year, i've become more attracted to the desert as a place of weakness as well as a place of strength. There should be places of drama where plants explode in color and texture, as well as places of subtle discovery to reward those who sit and study. The desert kills or it woos--it depends on if one insists on rushing through headlong or realizes the wisdom of yielding to forces much greater than oneself.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Seeing my fears come true...to someone else
Several former students and colleagues live and study in Southern California, and even though we only live an hour from each other, i'm not too good about keeping in touch or reconnecting. Actually, i'm horrible at that, but that's a story for another day. Today we met up in Point Loma and Mission Beach to hang out and share a meal.
We were going to swap out to take group photos, but a passing motorist offered to take our pictures for us. How nice! :) Here we are--i, of course, am the one with wild hair.
Because carpooling was not an option, i took the train down and back. I've taken the train late at night several times, and even though it probably isn't the wisest thing, it's never alarmed me to be waiting alone at the station in the dark. What i DO fear is sleeping through my stop. It's not like an airplane where everyone has to get off at the destination, nor do conductors wake up passengers. One late night--the train was to arrive after midnight--the lulling clack clack and gentle sway sent me deeply asleep in between stops, even though they were only about 12 minutes apart. I kept starting awake, fearing i'd slept through Fullerton, especially since the train only stopped for a moment or two. If i missed Fullerton, there were no other south-bound trains to catch from further up. It would be Union Station for me, or calling someone at one in the morning, oh boy.
Well, tonight those fears were realized. The guy seated diagonally from me slept soundly through Santa Ana. I felt sorry for him. That stop was announced loudly, several times! If i'd known he was getting off at Santa Ana i'd have tried to wake up, but two stops later, even the conductor had to shake him. I think he was going to have to go all the way to Union Station and catch a train backward. :(
Because carpooling was not an option, i took the train down and back. I've taken the train late at night several times, and even though it probably isn't the wisest thing, it's never alarmed me to be waiting alone at the station in the dark. What i DO fear is sleeping through my stop. It's not like an airplane where everyone has to get off at the destination, nor do conductors wake up passengers. One late night--the train was to arrive after midnight--the lulling clack clack and gentle sway sent me deeply asleep in between stops, even though they were only about 12 minutes apart. I kept starting awake, fearing i'd slept through Fullerton, especially since the train only stopped for a moment or two. If i missed Fullerton, there were no other south-bound trains to catch from further up. It would be Union Station for me, or calling someone at one in the morning, oh boy.
Well, tonight those fears were realized. The guy seated diagonally from me slept soundly through Santa Ana. I felt sorry for him. That stop was announced loudly, several times! If i'd known he was getting off at Santa Ana i'd have tried to wake up, but two stops later, even the conductor had to shake him. I think he was going to have to go all the way to Union Station and catch a train backward. :(
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Whaddayaknow...
30 is the new 50. I received an invitation to join AARP today!
When i called to be taken off the mailing list, i asked about this mix-up. The operator said you can be as young as 18 to join AARP. How strange.
Good thing i've come to terms with 30; this would have put me over the edge a few weeks ago!
When i called to be taken off the mailing list, i asked about this mix-up. The operator said you can be as young as 18 to join AARP. How strange.
Good thing i've come to terms with 30; this would have put me over the edge a few weeks ago!
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Spring is sprung
I enjoy Spring. I enjoy all the seasons, but i love spring flowers greatly. My mom planted sections of the backyard by color (some annuals, some perennials, some things in pots).
We vigourously trimmed the wisteria and it finally bloomed! My mom thinks threatening to dig them out makes plants cooperate. :)
The orange section: there's an heirloom tomato, red salvia, and golden lilies planted nearby.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Willy-nilly lack of reason
Between taking classes and teaching classes, i drive nearly 300 miles a week. I hate that about my lifestyle, especially at $3.53/gallon, but it can't be helped for the moment and i make recompense by walking to church, the library, the grocery store, and the post office.
Driving that many miles and hours without a cd player or functioning tape deck in my car, the radio is on a lot. Usually it's tuned to stations with few commercials: public radio, e.g. but even that has blurbs and sponsors and senseless adverts.
If i hear one more blurb from Flex Your Power (and i'm so miffed, i won't deign to hyperlink) about how much energy we'd save if Californians replaced all their inefficient washing machines, dish washers, dryers, and water heaters, i'll scream. Better yet, i'll write my favorite radio stations and Flex Your Power, although i doubt it will accomplish much. IT WILL NOT SAVE THE WORLD to chance your water heater. Sure, it'll save some energy. It will not, however, address the energy used to make the new whatever, the energy to ship the new whatever to the store and then transport it to your house, or the energy to haul away your old whatever. Worst of all, where on earth do they propose to put 16 million old water heaters, dryers, washing machines, and dish washers? Throw the thing out when its useful life is completed, wrap insulation around it, only run full loads--there are better ways to save water and energy. We don't have enough planet to dump old things just because there's a new and improved thing. Prime agricultural land in California has already been paved over. We shouldn't waste any more.
This lack of logic also goes into the marketing of hybrid cars. They do, in certain driving conditions, use less gas. That's no excuse to ship older models overseas or to Mexico, or to dumps or scrap lots. Then there's the whole issue of their toxic batteries.
We could have a grand standard of living--people did in the 1920's and 1950s and thought they were at the height of consumerism--while consuming much less, and that includes so-called eco-friendly stuff too. Just because it's called "green" by the manufacturer does not make it green, and using more than one needs is far from green.
Rant over.
Except, oh, did i mention hearing news about a California legislator's brilliant idea to raise oil taxes by 8%? As if gas, and everything transported by gas (= almost everything), hasn't increased in price enough? Close the loopholes about yachts already, and give us better public transit, and then i might re-elect someone who proposes an increased oil tax. Over my dead body if i'd vote for him before that.
Driving that many miles and hours without a cd player or functioning tape deck in my car, the radio is on a lot. Usually it's tuned to stations with few commercials: public radio, e.g. but even that has blurbs and sponsors and senseless adverts.
If i hear one more blurb from Flex Your Power (and i'm so miffed, i won't deign to hyperlink) about how much energy we'd save if Californians replaced all their inefficient washing machines, dish washers, dryers, and water heaters, i'll scream. Better yet, i'll write my favorite radio stations and Flex Your Power, although i doubt it will accomplish much. IT WILL NOT SAVE THE WORLD to chance your water heater. Sure, it'll save some energy. It will not, however, address the energy used to make the new whatever, the energy to ship the new whatever to the store and then transport it to your house, or the energy to haul away your old whatever. Worst of all, where on earth do they propose to put 16 million old water heaters, dryers, washing machines, and dish washers? Throw the thing out when its useful life is completed, wrap insulation around it, only run full loads--there are better ways to save water and energy. We don't have enough planet to dump old things just because there's a new and improved thing. Prime agricultural land in California has already been paved over. We shouldn't waste any more.
This lack of logic also goes into the marketing of hybrid cars. They do, in certain driving conditions, use less gas. That's no excuse to ship older models overseas or to Mexico, or to dumps or scrap lots. Then there's the whole issue of their toxic batteries.
We could have a grand standard of living--people did in the 1920's and 1950s and thought they were at the height of consumerism--while consuming much less, and that includes so-called eco-friendly stuff too. Just because it's called "green" by the manufacturer does not make it green, and using more than one needs is far from green.
Rant over.
Except, oh, did i mention hearing news about a California legislator's brilliant idea to raise oil taxes by 8%? As if gas, and everything transported by gas (= almost everything), hasn't increased in price enough? Close the loopholes about yachts already, and give us better public transit, and then i might re-elect someone who proposes an increased oil tax. Over my dead body if i'd vote for him before that.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Fullerton
These are from my self-directed field trip yesterday afternoon. As i walked around taking photos i was sure someone was going to ask me what i was doing: one of my classmates nearly got arrested while measuring Pershing Square. Alas, i must look harmless. No one asked me anything.
This is the North-bound side of the Santa Fe Depot. Many a time i've scampered here to take the metro or train into Los Angeles! The depot was built c. 1930 to replace the Victorian Depot, which was built in 1888. That one was wooden and looked a lot like the station where Anne of Green Gables waits for the Cuthberts. This one is Spanish Revival. I like it. The benches, ceiling, and lighting fixtures inside are grand, even if it's just a small station.
This is the Chapman building, one of the tallest in downtown Fullerton. I've read that it's supposed to echo the style of Chicago's sky scrapers, since Chapman hailed from that city. Note how the building is only 5-storeys--apparently, that's a Fullerton historic area ordinance currently being challenged. This and the Landmark Plaza building are two of my favorites on Harbor Boulevard. I also really like the Villa del Sol building, which used to be the California Hotel.
This was the Union Pacific Railroad Depot. It used to be at a different site but was moved here around 1980 and became the Old Spaghetti Factory. The structure is largely intact, although many of the furnishings are different. An evening manager nicely showed me around a few weeks ago and he knew a lot about the building.
Fullerton has spiffy modern architecture too, like a Streamline Moderne home and a futuristic car wash. I like well-done buildings from that era, like Neutra, but i must admit a weakness for Spanish Revival.
Fullerton has spiffy modern architecture too, like a Streamline Moderne home and a futuristic car wash. I like well-done buildings from that era, like Neutra, but i must admit a weakness for Spanish Revival.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
It is Lent...
and i haven't yet put away my Christmas decorations. Fortunately, being lambs, lions, and three angels, they will work for Lent & Easter too.
But i really should put the reindeer away.
But i really should put the reindeer away.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
At a loss for words (sort of)
To write or not to write...to write of the banal seems, well, banal; yet to write of the deep is too much self-disclosure. Nonetheless, here we go:
I am not often enough at a loss for words, but it has been a rough week. There's much more than circumstances inducing my misanthropy, but by the grace of God that was actually going better the past two days until today. Perhaps misanthropy isn't the right description: it's been more dismay and despair, with an unhealthy dose of disgust thrown in. At any rate, after a good conversation and prayer with my mom, it had toned down to mere dismay.
Driving home from work, a boy on the service street next to me rode his bicycle around a cul-de-sac. He wasn't straddling the bike--he had his hands on the handlebars and one foot on the seat. Where was the other foot? Up in the air behind him! :) It made me smile and laugh, and fortunately, since it was a red light, i made eye contact with him and gave him a thumbs up. His face glowed into a grin. It was a fun moment, and it again made me thankful for God's grace and His enabling me to think graciously of my fellow humans.
But in general, it's been a rough week in that category, and there have been a couple whammies this weekend. (I went over to my parents to borrow a shovel today, but when my dad opened the door, i said what i really needed was a hug and started crying.) People are fallen. We are silly, selfish, stupid, shameful, and well, sinful. Including me. I don't like that i can't change me, and i don't like that i can't really make a difference in small or large things around me. Only God can do that, and He, for reasons best known to Himself, lets us do silly and/or sinful things. We do not love Him with our whole hearts, and we certainly do not love our neighbors as ourselves.
"If you fall, fall forward", an old boss often said. (A friend said, "That's tripping." I think she's right. I trip a lot!) So, feeling dismayed because i'd been disgusted again (which is a symptom of being non-gracious, i think), i went looking for words to talk to God and found this prayer. It addresses to God's good and capable hands all the things that have flustered or dismayed me this week.
Driving home from work, a boy on the service street next to me rode his bicycle around a cul-de-sac. He wasn't straddling the bike--he had his hands on the handlebars and one foot on the seat. Where was the other foot? Up in the air behind him! :) It made me smile and laugh, and fortunately, since it was a red light, i made eye contact with him and gave him a thumbs up. His face glowed into a grin. It was a fun moment, and it again made me thankful for God's grace and His enabling me to think graciously of my fellow humans.
But in general, it's been a rough week in that category, and there have been a couple whammies this weekend. (I went over to my parents to borrow a shovel today, but when my dad opened the door, i said what i really needed was a hug and started crying.) People are fallen. We are silly, selfish, stupid, shameful, and well, sinful. Including me. I don't like that i can't change me, and i don't like that i can't really make a difference in small or large things around me. Only God can do that, and He, for reasons best known to Himself, lets us do silly and/or sinful things. We do not love Him with our whole hearts, and we certainly do not love our neighbors as ourselves.
"If you fall, fall forward", an old boss often said. (A friend said, "That's tripping." I think she's right. I trip a lot!) So, feeling dismayed because i'd been disgusted again (which is a symptom of being non-gracious, i think), i went looking for words to talk to God and found this prayer. It addresses to God's good and capable hands all the things that have flustered or dismayed me this week.
O God, you made us in your own image and redeemed us through Jesus your Son:
Look with compassion on the whole human family;
take away the arrogance and hatred which infects our hearts;
break down the walls that separate us;
unite us in bonds of love;
and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth;
that, in your good time,
all nations may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
May it be so. May it be so in me.
Look with compassion on the whole human family;
take away the arrogance and hatred which infects our hearts;
break down the walls that separate us;
unite us in bonds of love;
and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth;
that, in your good time,
all nations may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
May it be so. May it be so in me.
"Prayers and Thanksgivings: Prayer #3". From The Book of Common Prayer. New York: Oxford University Press, 1990.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
On the road
It seems i've been on the road a lot lately: field trips, commuting to school, commuting to work. I think it brings out the worst in me, highlighting how far there is to go to be like Jesus (or how little i walk with him). Sure, people drive like maniacs, selfishly endangering others on the road; people are gratuitously attracted to other people's trouble (aka rubbernecking); but even though these conditions are true, i don't think Jesus would condone the dark thoughts i have toward my fellow commuters! :( Today's rainy conditions on the 60 were a good test of my attitude, and it mostly failed. This is how i felt:
And these are some of the places i've been on the road: the 60 is much less attractive so it isn't here:
Highway 133, from Laguna Beach field trip. The dark smudge is a ding in my windshield, a result of not-so-courteous sharing of the road with gravel trucks.
A foggy day at the Philip Raines Rest Stop field trip on Route 99.
And these are some of the places i've been on the road: the 60 is much less attractive so it isn't here:
Highway 133, from Laguna Beach field trip. The dark smudge is a ding in my windshield, a result of not-so-courteous sharing of the road with gravel trucks.
A foggy day at the Philip Raines Rest Stop field trip on Route 99.Sunday, January 20, 2008
Over the Grapevine
Two field trips in one week! Friday's field trip was much longer than Monday's--we went to the Philip Raines Memorial Rest Stop on Highway 99 in the Central Valley. It's near Tulare in the middle of the bread basket of California, which is quite possibly the bread basket of the world. (Except, of course, they don't really grow much grain. It's more a cows, fruits and veggies kind of place.)
This is from just north of the Grapevine in the minuscule hamlet of Grapevine. We tried to get to Grapevine but we got stuck in the on-off ramp vortex, so the parking lot of the Don Perico restaurant it was. Isn't it lovely how the hills frame the amber waves of grain? (By the way, that is tule fog, not haze or smog.)
Most of the birds at rest-stops were crows and starlings although i did hear one phoebe and one hummingbird. These guys looked like they were waiting for something tasty from the vending machines, but i think they were going to be a long time waiting. People didn't get much out of the vending machines--i don't think ice cream or even potato chips sell well when it's 40 something degrees out (F), and definitely no picnics going on either.
This is from Southern California Edison's AgTAC center, free demonstrations of energy efficient and cost-saving ideas. They have this cool sample wall, roofs and windows, so you can feel the difference from insulated houses, roofs, and windows, and they also have demonstration crops because 20-30% of the energy used in CA is used to move water: irrigation, drinking water, sewage. If you can grow crops with more efficient and effective irrigation, you save money, water, and energy. This is a corn field. Did you know they are graded by laser!? Tractors with lasers!
One way they've found to increase the yield from stone fruit trees is to prune them to grow like this. That's because you can plant them closer together--12 feet apart by 6 feet apart, instead of 12 x 12. Each arm of the V gets sunlight too, instead of having the center of the tree produce wood and twigs but no blossoms.
There were many trucks, oleanders, and tumbleweeds along the way, as well as fields and fields of grapevines. Flat land, and mirky with winter fog, it was a long drive but nice to see a different side of California. It's quite a different place up there.
And on that note, i am SO glad i don't have to go to Las Vegas next Friday. The undergrads are going to the Springs Preserve, which i would like to see, but it would be another crazy long day, not so fun. Instead, i'll go standby (Yay brother who will make captain in a month!) over spring break.
And on that note, i am SO glad i don't have to go to Las Vegas next Friday. The undergrads are going to the Springs Preserve, which i would like to see, but it would be another crazy long day, not so fun. Instead, i'll go standby (Yay brother who will make captain in a month!) over spring break.
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