meet me there in the blue

(the player won't work, so click on the title to hear the song)
so jo brings up a good point.
i struggle for a way to describe a spiral that winds outwards, that gets bigger instead of smaller.
surely, this is a fault of my vocabulary.

jo offers "concentric circles" and i wonder to myself what the best way to represent my walking in circles would be.

here are concentric circles:

while in my mind my original thought looks something like this:

but what if it's really like this?

in a crowd it's hard to spot him. or: she's a single face in the crowd.

for a long time i wanted to be a passionate personality. the kind of person who defies ambivalence, those people who embody the law of excluded middle.
“she’s the kind of person that either you love her or you hate her. there is no middle ground.”
the appeal of igniting such fervent responses was very keen. "any reaction is better than no reaction," i thought.

i have spent much of my life being invisible.
even my friends would sign my yearbook: “ you’re so smart. and quiet.”
at maximum, that’s all anyone ever knew about me.
at rock bottom were the boys in 7th grade who when i answered a question stared at me in disbelief: “you can talk?! i thought you were mute.”

i grew to hate being called smart. i grew to hate the number “34” (which is now only ever presented to my remembrance by one Julia who knows i hate it and forces it upon me merely to annoy.)
i am smart. school is my thing, it’s where i feel most comfortable. i like being smart. but i hated being categorized by that.

nowadays, the more people i meet, the more i recognize the fall in their face, the disbelief, the twinge of guilt or almost panic when i say, “i (too) went to brighton.” the bottom here was my friend, and i do mean friend, who said, “well, you must’ve become a lot more hip since then, haven’t you?”
to which i firmly replied, “no.”

in response to a different question, i don’t think i am any more myself now than i was in high school. i’m just more evident (as myself) to other people now.
how this happened i don’t rightly know.
it took a long time, a lot of self-doubt and subsequent shoring up of self-esteem. some of it was at the cost of social acceptability, i gave up on caring and was thus liberated to do whatever i wanted. and discovered i enjoyed my own company immensely.

taken under the wing of a disenchanted socialite, i learned how to navigate the shallower waters of sociability and make my “idiosyncrasies” more accessible to my peers.

now i have become a harmless eccentric, still widely unknown, but smiled upon indulgently when forced on people’s notice.
people recognize my purse or my shoes, and then associate them with me months later. this i don’t mind. it’s much better than being known merely as smart and quiet.

as i started becoming aware of different personalities around me, i found myself repeatedly attracted to the people you either love or hate. i would think of damon albarn telling me that "anonymity can cost; it's never cheap or cheerful." and think he was right. think he was singing my own feelings on the matter. i used to think of 10000 maniacs singing “your silence is my greatest fear” and think that it would be better to be hated because at least they knew who you were.
but i no longer wish for that.
i can’t take the hatred.



and, come to think of it, i don't think i could handle the attention very well either. i like the anonymity after all.

nature is a language, can't you read?

today i walked around the mbh instead of through it.
this is the one luxury i have allowed myself in the recently more humane temperatures we have enjoyed.
i'm conscientiously not getting too comfortable.
after all, you know what they say: "don't plant tomatoes until there is no snow on the oquirrhs."

as i walked along, i heard the pine cones opening in the trees.
i didn't like it.
i felt like they were talking about something i didn't understand.

staff only beyond this point

so today my boss took me and seyran on a field trip.
you know how we're doing some major renovations here?
well, they've finished a little bit so they took reshelve out of what they call "the 1968" and moved them upstairs into the new bit. i don't get to move cause my office is already in a little temporary structure within "the 1995".
however, i DO have to drop off carts of books to reshelve/marking every day so today i got to go inside the new library!
now, i'll be honest, it wasn't a revelatory experience, but there are lots of windows and it looks like there will be a door on the south side of the 3rd floor. that'll be nice.
the really best thing is that i got to go where you can't go because I WORK AT THE LIBRARY!!!

the fact of the matter is: it's tuesday and i'm tired.

Mystery in the Time of Certainty: or, i can't leave this title alone because i didn't write it and i think the person who did was making fun of me

why do i feel so much more conspicuous and ridiculous when i pace than when i walk in circles? pacing is a socially acceptable way to pass time, stay warm and assuage frustration and impatience. walking in circles invariably connotes insanity.
and yet, the abrupt about-face is still much too much for me to bear and i always give up on the pace before i even get to the end.
i like the continuous movement of a circle. and sometimes i like to watch and see if i will ever be able to stop gracefully.

today, as i found my circles contracting and then widening once again, i asked myself, if you must go in circles, is it better to walk in big circles or small ones?
on the one hand, if you walk in big circles, you feel as if you're going somewhere, you're making progress. and you get to see more.
but, on the other hand, if you stay in a small circle, you don't feel nearly so bad when you wind up back where you started from; you haven't wasted as much effort, and somehow the futility is lessened.
or does it matter at all whether the circles are big or small? maybe you're just killing time while you wait for a train to take you somewhere else entirely.

and so, for the sake of momentum,

i felt decent about this weekend.
i felt like i finally did stuff i planned to do. i maintained a brief semblance of priorities and discipline.
and now, 10 o'clock on sunday night, i'm realizing how far behind i still am, what a mess my room is, and that i haven't got my lessons planned for this week.
i panic to determine when and how i will get this all done and i realize there's no hope.
how do i get out of this cursed rut?!

la pa'hacer

1-finish the italian
2-start amazing adventures of kavalier and clay and read horace kallen
3-start flight to canada and beloved
4-rewrite test for chapter 4
5-switch books, order books and write master syllabus
6-visteach
7-put away laundry
8-put away cds
9-eat?
10-sleep?

and that's just by tuesday

certain people i know

it's saturday. i'm not gonna lie. i stayed up too late cause i was having too much fun.
it's good to have jana back. it's like there's a void finally filled.

ic was good. and more than jana, i saw liza (happy 23 !), joey, steph, cameron, valerie, lindsay, carly, cate and gus (blast from the PAST) and i met rachel who (or whose parents) know my aunt and uncle in vancouver. (don't even get me started on my canada obsession.)

but the real reason i sat down to write is because i want to draw your attention to two very awesome people. (located on the right, there, but as i said, draw your attention...)

1-my super-dee-duper awesome sister liz who studies of the violin in boston and has quite the firey red head: http://thisbetheorchid.blogspot.com/
2-my best friend allison who exceeds even all the awesomeness inherent in the word and is currently residing much too far away in preston, england: http://alinlovelyland.blogspot.com/

enjoy. i know i do.

hidden treasures. or: one man's trash...

i worked at the library today.
i work at the library almost every day.
today i was going about my business as usual and just as i pulled the final volume of the jahrbuch der osterreichischen byzantinischen gesellschaft my eye was caught by something unusual: there was something wedged between the shelves.
i was further intrigued by the metallic glint of what i saw.
feeling it my duty as a library employee, i carefully reached in and removed the can of nalley original chili con carne with beans and placed it on the blue re-shelving shelf as i do with everything i find out of place.

i continued my work, this time working my way through vizantiiksii vremennik (i'm told that is the romanization of the cyrillic), and the chili con carne with beans (note: "con carne with beans" not "con carne y frijoles" there is an important distinction between food items that can be left in spanish and others, like beans, which must be translated for the good of the public) was soon followed by campbell's chunky chicken noodle soup and healthy choice chicken with rice soup.

now, in my mind there can be only 3 reasons why there would be a cluster of canned foods in the DF 501's:
1- someone thinks they are funny/i am on candid camera.
2- some campus group is either planning or recently held a scavenger hunt in the library. the canned goods would suggest a service project of some sort.
3- somewhere there is a very paranoid librarian. it is true that you cannot eat in the library. but, however much like superhumans they may seem, even librarians need to eat. most offices will furnish a small refrigerator and microwave fulfill this need for sustenance, so why would you store your canned goods in the stacks? well, as i see it, someone's been stealing someone else's lunch and someone's taking back a little of their own.
or perhaps it's a rogue student. they find themselves passing most of their days and lives in the frigid corners of the library and think to themselves, "i need a good, hearty, warm meal.i'd really like some chili. but i don't want to lug around a can of chili all day... i know! i'll keep a can in the stacks for when i get hungry. then i can run to a local microwave and warm my soul."
the only flaw in this explanation is that there are no local microwaves on the u campus. sure, there are microwaves, but you have to have some kind of an in to get at them. (maybe you work at the library, maybe you work at the union, maybe you know katie register, maybe you happen to be in the mbh when the classroom with the microwave doesn't have a class, maybe you have the magical powers to make the microwave in the osh turn on [and off.]) and if you don't, there's no way anyone's lugging a can of chili from the library to the institute just for a hot lunch. goodness.
but i digress.

why are there soup cans in the stacks? perhaps we should take a closer look at the cans themselves.


these are all top of the line name brands (note: not just campbell's chicken noodle, campbell's CHUNKY chicken noodle. there's a difference. you just go to the grocery store and check.)
these are not soups to be trifled with; obviously our culprit has a healthy appetite.
we have at very least 3 meals here, so this is not just a one-time fling. oh no. (unless it's a group... someone not working independently... but there's such a greater risk of discovery when you let other people in on the secret...)

based on the location within the library (mstkone/mst1asr) i would say this is a quiet student, if student it indeed is. the first floor is significantly more empty and the hushed sanctity of library silence is rarely, if ever, broken, even by turning pages.
you can often tell the academic pursuits of a student based on where they choose to study, i, myself, usually seek out the P call numbers in whatever library i may find myself.
this particular section is where france becomes greece.

a world traveller, perhaps, someone resourceful enough to think of hiding food and rebellious enough to do it in the library.

if you think about it, it's a brilliant plan. i mean, it's kind of a good place to hide things. who reads books in cyrillic anyway?

no one would ever find your secret stash.
unless they were paid to go through books no one reads... (like me)


as i sit down to finish writing, my brother-in-law says something that reminds me that the library is undergoing major renovations and slc is undergoing major freezing-too-cold-out-your-mind temperatures and i think perhaps he is right and someone without another home is living in the library. perhaps the cans came from a food bank or homeless shelter. and maybe this joke isn't so funny after all.

stupid f series

so, did you know that the umfa is my birthday?

(in case you missed it, allow me to enlighten you:

=
)

not that i have any particular affinity for the umfa above other museums, but still, any museum is "cultured" and besides, it's much better than having like, say...an office max for your birthday, right?

i mean, that would be like being told you're a brown crayon.

9months old. lookie at me!

better to stew in discontent than to admit we’re wrong

december 30, 2006.
it's a red -letter day.
today is the day we drove to denver to see andrew bird and devotchka.

some said we were foolish; mother nature is a fearsome force to be reckoned with.
who were we to challenge her?
but we were smiled upon and here i present to you a record of our success.

despite what others might have you believe, we took only calculated and reasonable risks. we gave ourselves 14 hours to do a 7.5 hour drive. in order to do this we started early.

here we are venturing into the cold at 5am:

and here we are shivering out there in the dark:
and here we are, piled into the back of t.r.'s car:


as instructed (888.wyo.road), we expected "dry pavements" for most of our way through wyoming.
roads weren't bad at all, in fact, proving all the nay-sayers wrong.

we made ourselves comfortable, grateful that t.r. was driving, and enjoyed the scenery.

the mundane scenery of wyoming:


we listened to andrew bird.
first weather systems, then mysterious production of eggs. then joey pulled out the bowl of fire:

ren's a bit of an andrew bird novice so we gave her an introductory briefing.
then, just to be fair, we enjoyed a little devotchka(!) and i promptly fell asleep.

i awoke to joey and jeni arguing about the validity of such shows as what not to wear and split ends. rennie passed out the rolls and cheese and we discussed the most likely places to steal mustard.

the back seat was a little cramped so we got out to stretch our legs and play a short round of chinese fire-drill meets musical chairs. you might say i lost.

cramped quarters and road trip food:



in good time we made it into denver, recognize the famous skyline?

we headed directly to the d.a.m., having been informed that it was free.

aren't we artistic?


we saw the sights of denver, well those that we could get to, and decided to dump our stuff and meet our hosts.
so we headed down to aurora.

here's a look at the treacherous, blizzard-beset roads:


we had to park a couple of blocks away and walk in, but it gave me a chance to demonstrate the usefulness of my new pink snow boots:


the funks entertained us until it was time to head over to the "historic" venue.










andrew bird is, as it were, a gem.
andrew bird can make the very absolute worst day of your life happy and worthwhile.

devotchka ain't bad either. (plus, we decided, much more condusive to understandable dancing.)

here we are rocking out at the show:

sunday morning took us south again to the springs and here the roads were a little more sketchy. but we made it and saw my lovely sister and brother-in-law and my fat kitty-nieces.

kitty-nieces:


we decided against another night out and headed home in the early afternoon.
the ride home was slightly more onerous (the way home always is) but we made the best of it by sleeping most of the way.

the dull drive home:

happy new year, kids!

and she doesn't know why that she runs, but she runs

cats, i'm not so sure about this...

my family rocks the casbah: part 1

in no particular order, my family rocks the casbah. today's installment features my brother-in-law jordan on trombone.

Let's talk about Jordie as a trombonist.
He is currently a Bachelor of Music, though married to my sister Lizzard-breath. In Spring of 2007 he will become a Master of Music in Trombone performance, which degree will be conferred upon him by the Longy School of Music in the self-same Boston of Massachusetts.

Jordo plays with the Rhode Island Philharmonic and the Brockton Symmphony and has played with the Utah Symphony, OTS, Longitude, Synthesis, SLCJO, SLAJO, the salsa band Son del Callao and more! He has lots of fancy teachers with funny names and even, I hear, bought himself a smallish trombone.

He has played in Russia, Finland, England, Boston, SLC, Provo, Long Beach and all over the Northeastern US including places like Interlochen, Avery Fisher Hall, The Wolf Trap, Chautauqua and Tanglewood.

He records stuff and composes stuff and is generally awesome musically. A great music-guru both for jazz and if you dig Mahler.

In his official bio he is referred to as Mr. Jacobson which cracks me the up.

Now let's talk about Mr. Jacobson as a regular guy. He grew up in Provo, as a child he was in the same church ward as my other rockin' brother-in-law, Chris.
He wasn't born there, though, he was born in Mt. Plesant, Michigan. He has many of the siblings, of which he is the youngest. He has nieces and nephews, all of which are adorable (and one of which looks like Jord in miniature.) They call him "Jord" and "a tease" we call him "Little Jordie" because he's overly tall and dwarfs my sister (6'4" to 5'4") and because that's what Chris' mom called him from way back when.
As a child, Jordan was a sweet young thing, once found in the back of an elementary school classroom chanting "BO-RING, BO-RING," much to the chagrin of his teacher.

Jordan is crazy cool. He talks to me while i wile away the hours on the cold and unfeeling internet. We compare notes about working in the library and some such. He makes the rockin' awesomest korean food (and teaches me too!) and he has the entire city map of boston memorized so he can tell you how to get anywhere at anytime with any kind of a point of orientation. this is quite a skill. and useful too!

anyway. that's jordo.

you are invited.

guess what! on Vimeo
i love parties.
and my sister. thanks for guesting on the invite, jen.

you know...for kids!

my kitty-nieces came to visit. this is their first trip to utah.
agnes and i tried to camera dance today, but she wasn't into it. she'd much rather explore.

man, i wish i was indian

but not for the marriages. obviously.
is that really what you thought?

for the dancing.
and the clothes.
and the being lovely.
and those ROCKIN accents.
and the food!
oh the food!

strangers on a train

two girls talking on the train:
"are you married?"
"no, not yet."
"do your parents have someone in mind?"
"they are looking."
"so do you have to do the whole arranged marriage thing?"
"well,..."
"we do."
"my parents wouldn't mind if i chose. but i don't want to choose."
"yeah. i think if you pick, i don't know, you'll pick the wrong one, probably. you can't trust guys."

i wish i was indian.

...can't wait until you can't wait 'til you unsubscribe. i'll be a lonely scribe

so i'm not the best about posting interesting stuff regularly
but i'm not trying to get rid of you. i'm not.

i was going to say i don't know why i try. but i know perfectly well why i try.
as to why i talk to you as if you were really there, i don't know.

i've ruined myself. too much homework leads to sleepless and wasted nights, putting off the much craved sleep until the weekend. then the weekend comes and i can't sleep.

i have big plans. always. but, while i never consider myself to be ambitious, my eyes, as it were, are always bigger than my proverbial stomach of free time.

i did try to get rid of the busy-ness of the blog. but there is a part of me that misses the polka dots.

and the blobbyfarm badge. i'll get that back.

it's funny. i'm running in circles. but ever contracting circles so i end up spiraling and eventually you will find me spinning on a dime in my kitchen. hmm. remember country dancing and my favorite step? yeah. like that. but probably just by myself. did you know my mom once called me little black sambo? it was kind of strange.

Don't you wish you were going to this?

me too.
if only i had the moneys.
bummer.
if you're anywhere near boston in the upcoming week, go. and liz is playing on wednesday.
i'm so bummed! (that i can't go, not that they're playing. obviously.)

graphics courtesy of christopher lynn:

Christopher Lynn, Director

Gallery of Contemporary Art

University of Colorado at Colorado Springs

P.O. Box 7150

1420 Austin Bluffs Parkway

Colorado Springs, CO 80933-7150

office: 719.262.3504

fax: 719.262.3138

http://www.galleryuccs.org