Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
a happy or two
Book art I can appreciate. Maybe I will do this someday with the thousands o' books I plan on having.
Help from grandad. Side note: I love this website in general.
Help from grandad. Side note: I love this website in general.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
HOLY CRAPOLA LAWS ALMIGHTY
There are TWO sequels to Into the Land of the Unicorns that I DID NOT KNOW ABOUT. HOLY CRAP.
Backstory, for those who do not understand how important this is: When I was 7 years old, I read Into the Land of the Unicorns by Bruce Coville and was totally enamored of it. I thought it was dead spectacular. I thought it was so dead spectacular, in fact, that I drew illustrations for it, wrote a letter to Bruce Coville, and mailed them off to him. (Side note: I remember those illustrations and they were. . . by a seven-year-old. Really obviously by a seven-year-old. Though I did carefully draw all the scales on the dragon with my markers. Even then I was obsessed with detail. [Maybe that was impressive?] I was also convinced that the unicorns had blue manes and tales, which I can't explain.)
Here's the thing: He wrote me back. The one and only author I have ever written to wrote me a personalized letter back thanking me for my illustrations and telling me more about his book. The letter was also not patronizing -- i.e. I recall finding it later and re-reading it and still being impressed. This response did not shake my utter love of the book (obviously) and I devoured every other book of his I could find with equal abandon. The second book, Song of the Wanderer, didn't come out until I was in high school, and I was delighted to find that it was quite as excellent as the first (and longer, which is a bonus in a good book.)
Sadly, I'm not sure that letter survived the flood. But it is a nice memory, and I can always get another copy of the book.
some other things + cold enough
to wear a scarf, so I have broken out the gorgeous pashmina that Barb gave me last Christmas. Of my dozen scarves (and the five or so I brought with me -- ha, the joke's on me :P) it's tied with the orange-gold-cream-pink scarf I bought at Maya on Newbury Street for the position of my favorite, though its weight makes it a slightly more functional garment. (Somewhere in the folds of this scarf is my Fenway House button, but I can't find it, which should tell you how voluminous it is.) (Though not quite this voluminous.)
The other things?
1. I have decided that I am a competent traveler.
For some of you, to read this may seem silly, but it feels very odd to me to declare myself competent in almost anything. Except, I don't know, baking cookies or something else equally non-threatening. Who's going to argue with me about that? Especially if they might get some cookies.
But really -- I think I'm competent. It involves some advance preparation; I'm not a spur-of-the-moment person. But I don't feel particularly bad about that. I do what I need to in order to feel comfortable. I am a "calculated risk" person. I feel like that's no bad thing.
I decided this after contemplating upon this summer, but also last summer. I think I have finally "gotten over" the stress that is flying. (Admittedly, I say this with some caution, since a 16-hour+ lots-o-checked-luggage intercontinental flight marathon is in my near future.) It doesn't freak me out to pack a bag one night, take the taxi/subway to the airport the next morning, spend the following day navigating a new (sometimes large) city, sleep in an unknown bed (usually in a room with other people, also sleeping in their own unknown beds), spend another day navigating, take a different subway back to the airport, and fly back. I am good with directions (somehow this is odd to type; I think that the general knowledge is so inundated with the idea that women must be spatially helpless and directionally challenged than it seems bizarre for me, a woman, to claim competence in this area), in that I can read and remember a map, and once I have walked a route, I generally remember it forever after. Sure, I spent 20 minutes being lost here and there, but never so much that I can't right myself (or at the very least backtrack.) I can also usually get a sense of relative directions fairly quickly (maybe in a weekend, maybe longer than that) -- a general sort of, "Well, if I walk in this direction I will run into this landmark; if I walk in this direction I will run into this landmark; the thing I want is sort of in this direction." I don't think the fact that I can't reliably say anything like, "We need to go NORTH" rather than "We need to go THIS WAY" makes me less competent.
3. This is interesting. Sort of. Primarily I like it for giving me this quote, ‘Love is the extremely difficult realisation that something other than oneself is real.’
4. At some point in the near future I want to put my favorite moments from Coraline, as it was a very pretty movie, and possibly from the Hellboy movies as well.
Monday, September 27, 2010
sketches
Posting these here too. . . they looked pretty awful on Facebook. Admittedly, my photography last night at 1:30 AM probably left something to be desired.
Attic of La Pedrera.
La Sagrada Familia observed from a bench. . .
Plaça Rei, watching them set up for Sunday's festival whilst waiting for the city history museum to open. Done while listening to a sound check done on bagpipes.
Part of the city history museum. Smaller shrine within the Palace Chapel built in the early 1300s.
Chapel at large.
Fun Dali drawing at the CaixForum.
can we please declare a moratorium
on the use of the metaphor "cute = edible" for babies? Please, for the love of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, STOP SAYING crap like, "I could just EAT HIM UP" when referring to a chubby baby, "All the better to nibble on," when referring to babies' legs, or any of that gross business. It's worse than dead baby jokes, because those are supposed to be creepy.
Ugh.
Ugh.
wrote this last night, but the internet was angry
Got back from Barcelona about an hour ago. It was good.
Random thoughts:
1. At the beginning of the summer, when I started reading feminist blogs, I came across a lot of articles about being catcalled, hit on, or otherwise treated aggressively by men in public spaces. I remember reading those articles and feeling -- I don't know -- puzzled -- even wistful -- because I had no experience with that sort of event. I guess that I hit an optimum crux in the U.S. at the ideal point of "lives in the right sort of town" and "average-looking enough." Now, thanks to Granada, (a little bit) Madrid and Paris, and especially Barcelona, I can relate. And I can now understand why this type of behavior pisses most women the hell off. Maybe there exist men who yell at you on the street who are actually trying to pay you a compliment. Maybe. These mythical beings have not yet been located. The majority, regardless of what words they actually use, are saying, "I see that you are woman, I see that you are smaller than me, and I want you to know that and be scared." It has fuck-all to do with how you look -- Spain is filled with gorgeous women, and I'm sure not one of them. It has everything to do with who men think they can get away with intimidating.
Moral of this story: Not that many men-type people read this blog, but do not ever catcall a woman and expect her to be flattered. If you don't realize you just made a veiled threat, you're a moron. If you don't care, you're a monster. Either way, you are shit and I want nothing to do with you.
(Side note: I become really unreasonably angry when someone approaches me -- particularly a young man -- with a clear intent to take advantage of me in some way -- pickpocket, scam, whatever. I haven't quite gotten a reign on this yet.)
2. I don't draw like an architect. I sketched for a cumulative 3-4 hours on this trip mostly inside museums. It was fun and somewhat less stressful than trying to navigate the streets of Barcelona (or any city where pulling out a map or looking lost and confused makes you a big fat target.) I even broke out the measure-proportions-with-the-pen trick for increased accuracy. For me, these drawings were pretty good. But I've seen how "real architects" draw (and artists/artisans that "real architects" adore) and what I do isn't it. I draw in pen because I draw for myself, and I want the drawing to last. Architects seem overjoyed by the fuzziness a pencil brings to a page. I tend to get wrapped up in details; architects care about overall form. I use feathery, piece-y lines to make my way around an object; architects use stronger contours. (That was made worse this trip by the fact that my pens were running out of ink.) I can't draw a damn line straight because my hands shake. I also press really hard on the pen, whereas most architects have a light touch. (I generalize, of course.) My drawings are -- what would be a good word? -- coarse. Not bad, per se, but coarse. I feel to a certain extent that I hid behind some natural talent (not a lot -- I've encountered people who are drawing savants before) during college, such that I never really developed my skills past mediocre.
To some extent, this is irrelevant -- I'm going to keep practicing drawing in any case. It just makes me feel . . . grim. Sketchbooks chock full of spur-of-the-moment vignettes of my travels that capture the "spirit of a place" are not in my near future. Sketchbooks with a few pages of heavily labored-over drawings are a fact of the present. . .
3. I'm starting to hate parks, such as Montjuic (park on the hill in Barcelona.) They're like game reserves for predators who hunt people. (I didn't have a bad experience in Montjuic; the lack of visibility on the streets that cut through just freaked me out.)
4. The most famous buildings in Barcelona (at least, based on an MIT architecture education) were both kind of "meh" for me -- Sagrada Familia and the Pavilion by Mies van der Rohe. Sure, I liked them (would have liked the latter more if it had been open), but they didn't fill me with glee. I liked la Pedrera, an apartment building (hah! how spectacularly inelegant that sounds compared to the reality) designed by Gaudi, and the Museum of the City and its excavated Roman ruins the best. Oh! The roof of la Pedrera! In spite of all the chain link to keep us from falling to our deaths, it was wondrous.
5. Unexpectedly I felt less jumpy on the winding streets of the Ciutat Vella, the medieval portion of Barcelona, than on the straight and wide avenues of L'Eixample, the 19th century development, though my guidebook assured me it should be the other way around in terms of where bags are usually snatched. I haven't quite figured this out yet, but I think it has to do with the number of friendly-looking people around -- there were a lot of pairs of men in L'Eixample (who set off the "POTENTIAL MUGGERS" alarm in my sad little brain), but way more young women, families with small children, and elderly people in the Ciutat Vella.
6. PALM TREES IN A CLOISTER.
7. I hate frosted flakes. They mixed them in with my corn flakes this morning, though it was complimentary so I probably shouldn't complain.
8. I LOVE DONER KEBAB. I had two from the same place. They were 3.50 euros apiece. Each one was a delicious pocket of toasted sesame pita bread stuffed with diced tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, lettuce, cabbage, roast chicken, and yogurt sauce. Words do not describe how tasty this was.
9. Catalan pronunciation makes me indignant for some reason. This makes no sense, as English has possibly the worst spelling-to-pronunciation relationship ever. However, the straightforward pronunciation of Castilian (Spanish) doubtless set me up for a disappointment. Batllo = pronounced By-oh. Oy.
10. I bought what I think is a bracelet at the cathedral. It was next to the rosaries, which I know you're not supposed to wear as necklaces, but this, though it has a repeating pattern of crosses and perchance is supposed to be used as a modified rosary, has an elastic band, which makes me think it is a bracelet. Maybe.
11. They were singing the mass when I visited the cathedral. They didn't kick out the tourists (like in Sacre Coeur in Paris) but they did have the front of the cathedral roped off (not like Sacre Coeur) so we had less opportunity to be annoying. Also they had television screens broadcasting the priest behind the choir so the back of the cathedral could watch the mass too, which I thought was very clever.
12. There were three blonde college-age American guys sitting next to me on the train to the airport, two of whom ended up on the same flight as me back to Madrid. I eavesdropped unashamedly on their conversation and found out they went to school in St. Louis. They actually mentioned Creighton whilst chatting. It felt weirdly nice to sit and listen to Midwestern English for a bit.
Random thoughts:
1. At the beginning of the summer, when I started reading feminist blogs, I came across a lot of articles about being catcalled, hit on, or otherwise treated aggressively by men in public spaces. I remember reading those articles and feeling -- I don't know -- puzzled -- even wistful -- because I had no experience with that sort of event. I guess that I hit an optimum crux in the U.S. at the ideal point of "lives in the right sort of town" and "average-looking enough." Now, thanks to Granada, (a little bit) Madrid and Paris, and especially Barcelona, I can relate. And I can now understand why this type of behavior pisses most women the hell off. Maybe there exist men who yell at you on the street who are actually trying to pay you a compliment. Maybe. These mythical beings have not yet been located. The majority, regardless of what words they actually use, are saying, "I see that you are woman, I see that you are smaller than me, and I want you to know that and be scared." It has fuck-all to do with how you look -- Spain is filled with gorgeous women, and I'm sure not one of them. It has everything to do with who men think they can get away with intimidating.
Moral of this story: Not that many men-type people read this blog, but do not ever catcall a woman and expect her to be flattered. If you don't realize you just made a veiled threat, you're a moron. If you don't care, you're a monster. Either way, you are shit and I want nothing to do with you.
(Side note: I become really unreasonably angry when someone approaches me -- particularly a young man -- with a clear intent to take advantage of me in some way -- pickpocket, scam, whatever. I haven't quite gotten a reign on this yet.)
2. I don't draw like an architect. I sketched for a cumulative 3-4 hours on this trip mostly inside museums. It was fun and somewhat less stressful than trying to navigate the streets of Barcelona (or any city where pulling out a map or looking lost and confused makes you a big fat target.) I even broke out the measure-proportions-with-the-pen trick for increased accuracy. For me, these drawings were pretty good. But I've seen how "real architects" draw (and artists/artisans that "real architects" adore) and what I do isn't it. I draw in pen because I draw for myself, and I want the drawing to last. Architects seem overjoyed by the fuzziness a pencil brings to a page. I tend to get wrapped up in details; architects care about overall form. I use feathery, piece-y lines to make my way around an object; architects use stronger contours. (That was made worse this trip by the fact that my pens were running out of ink.) I can't draw a damn line straight because my hands shake. I also press really hard on the pen, whereas most architects have a light touch. (I generalize, of course.) My drawings are -- what would be a good word? -- coarse. Not bad, per se, but coarse. I feel to a certain extent that I hid behind some natural talent (not a lot -- I've encountered people who are drawing savants before) during college, such that I never really developed my skills past mediocre.
To some extent, this is irrelevant -- I'm going to keep practicing drawing in any case. It just makes me feel . . . grim. Sketchbooks chock full of spur-of-the-moment vignettes of my travels that capture the "spirit of a place" are not in my near future. Sketchbooks with a few pages of heavily labored-over drawings are a fact of the present. . .
3. I'm starting to hate parks, such as Montjuic (park on the hill in Barcelona.) They're like game reserves for predators who hunt people. (I didn't have a bad experience in Montjuic; the lack of visibility on the streets that cut through just freaked me out.)
4. The most famous buildings in Barcelona (at least, based on an MIT architecture education) were both kind of "meh" for me -- Sagrada Familia and the Pavilion by Mies van der Rohe. Sure, I liked them (would have liked the latter more if it had been open), but they didn't fill me with glee. I liked la Pedrera, an apartment building (hah! how spectacularly inelegant that sounds compared to the reality) designed by Gaudi, and the Museum of the City and its excavated Roman ruins the best. Oh! The roof of la Pedrera! In spite of all the chain link to keep us from falling to our deaths, it was wondrous.
5. Unexpectedly I felt less jumpy on the winding streets of the Ciutat Vella, the medieval portion of Barcelona, than on the straight and wide avenues of L'Eixample, the 19th century development, though my guidebook assured me it should be the other way around in terms of where bags are usually snatched. I haven't quite figured this out yet, but I think it has to do with the number of friendly-looking people around -- there were a lot of pairs of men in L'Eixample (who set off the "POTENTIAL MUGGERS" alarm in my sad little brain), but way more young women, families with small children, and elderly people in the Ciutat Vella.
6. PALM TREES IN A CLOISTER.
7. I hate frosted flakes. They mixed them in with my corn flakes this morning, though it was complimentary so I probably shouldn't complain.
8. I LOVE DONER KEBAB. I had two from the same place. They were 3.50 euros apiece. Each one was a delicious pocket of toasted sesame pita bread stuffed with diced tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, lettuce, cabbage, roast chicken, and yogurt sauce. Words do not describe how tasty this was.
9. Catalan pronunciation makes me indignant for some reason. This makes no sense, as English has possibly the worst spelling-to-pronunciation relationship ever. However, the straightforward pronunciation of Castilian (Spanish) doubtless set me up for a disappointment. Batllo = pronounced By-oh. Oy.
10. I bought what I think is a bracelet at the cathedral. It was next to the rosaries, which I know you're not supposed to wear as necklaces, but this, though it has a repeating pattern of crosses and perchance is supposed to be used as a modified rosary, has an elastic band, which makes me think it is a bracelet. Maybe.
11. They were singing the mass when I visited the cathedral. They didn't kick out the tourists (like in Sacre Coeur in Paris) but they did have the front of the cathedral roped off (not like Sacre Coeur) so we had less opportunity to be annoying. Also they had television screens broadcasting the priest behind the choir so the back of the cathedral could watch the mass too, which I thought was very clever.
12. There were three blonde college-age American guys sitting next to me on the train to the airport, two of whom ended up on the same flight as me back to Madrid. I eavesdropped unashamedly on their conversation and found out they went to school in St. Louis. They actually mentioned Creighton whilst chatting. It felt weirdly nice to sit and listen to Midwestern English for a bit.
Friday, September 24, 2010
my favorite internet meme
Okay, not my favorite. But one of my favorites!
I love "Bunway Airlines," which shows up with some frequency on I Can Has Cheezburger. It brings back fond memories of playing with stuffed animals with Leslie and Erin at Grandma Dyer's -- Friar Bill the Canadian goose Beanie Baby, proprietor of Friar Bill Airlines, and Private Bryan, a rabbit in overalls with bendy ears that could be styled in thousands of ways.
I love "Bunway Airlines," which shows up with some frequency on I Can Has Cheezburger. It brings back fond memories of playing with stuffed animals with Leslie and Erin at Grandma Dyer's -- Friar Bill the Canadian goose Beanie Baby, proprietor of Friar Bill Airlines, and Private Bryan, a rabbit in overalls with bendy ears that could be styled in thousands of ways.
a note to myself
Probably it's noticeable that I use this blog as much to keep notes for myself when I find something cool as a broadcasting device.
So, a note to myself: OK Go remains cool, several years after the infamous treadmill video. More evidence of coolness.
On the theme of videos. I watched this one without sound. At first I thought the guy was wearing a tan colored trench coat; when the camera zoomed in more I could identify his uniform and felt kind of weepy.
So, a note to myself: OK Go remains cool, several years after the infamous treadmill video. More evidence of coolness.
On the theme of videos. I watched this one without sound. At first I thought the guy was wearing a tan colored trench coat; when the camera zoomed in more I could identify his uniform and felt kind of weepy.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
things I feel guilty about
1. In all the time I have been living in Madrid, I have taken out the communal trash in my apartment once. It always seems like someone does it before I ever think of doing it -- showing that my tolerance for filth is much higher than average.
In my defense, I have bought all of the toilet paper for the last three months, the hand soap, and the dish soap. This comes out to a total investment of. . . er. . . 15 euros on my part. I'm not sure if I am making my case better or worse.
2. Despite the fact that they are a preppy, shallow, overpriced company, that does not make clothes for people shaped like me, I love J. Crew. I love their stylists. I love a lot of their products. I insist to myself that I'm just "studying their catalog so I can find things like these elsewhere for less," but will I actually do that? No. Probably not. But I still enjoy flipping through.
I love these shoes. These shoes + skirt + gray opaque tights = yes.
A selection of the "fall looks" from the website. What do I like? Skillful use of neutrals. Heels with socks. Structured jackets -- LOTS of them. Gray opaque tights. Textured skirts. Sparkles in an otherwise very plain ensemble. Skinny jeans that I imagine I could wear without looking like . . .unnnh maybe the Venus of Willendorf. 
More fall looks. . . I also really, really like their menswear section. The two hats and bracelet are from the men's category. I also love the middle dress.
less psycho thoughts on Barcelona
O Internet, how excellent you are! Yesterday I started researching the upcoming jaunt to Barcelona (unfortunately a surfeit of information probably led to yesterday's outburst of paranoia); this morning I read most of the section in my Lonely Planet (skipping the bits that sounded boring and the beach stuff -- it's too damn cold to go to the beach. Also, what on earth would I do with my stuff while I was there?)
(My big upturn in mood today may have to do with the fact that I felt really overwhelmed by all the not-so-great possibilities when I got home from work yesterday and so went to bed at 8:30 PM. Since I woke up at 6:30, that makes. . . uh. . . ten hours of sleep. Yes, I am refreshed. Also I checked and found that a locker-with-lock is INCLUDED in my hostel in Barcelona, which also makes me more optimistic.)
Wikitravel has the basics on Barcelona, including some on the different districts, such as Ciutat Vella (Ciudad Vieja, OR Old City argh I will never get a hold on one language before another one sneaks up and bites me), the medieval quarter, and the 19th century development L'Eixample. (Catalan is somewhere between French, Italian, and Spanish, as Catalonia is sort of equidistant between all there. I'm going to guess it has more Spanish loanwords than loanwords from the other two, just because it's been dominated by Spanish-speaking governments for 200 years or so.)
The best of the safety information I found is this. I'm always a little worried about being mugged (but I can avoid deserted areas), and I'm still specifically worried about having the strap on my bag cut, the bottom slashed, or my pocket slashed (not the least because I personally doubt that someone could slash the pocket on my close-fitting jeans without slashing me too. I'm not sure whether this means it's less likely to happen or that I should be glad I've had a tetanus shot recently.) But the rest of the precautions on this list are all things I do anyway or things that won't be super difficult to do -- like keeping an extra copy of my passport and remembering to go inside a store or cafe before checking my maps. (Apparently "undercover police" is a common scam, so I looked up what the Barcelona police actually wear -- they look just about like Madrid police.) (Moral of story, in all of the scam/distraction thievery explanations: There is usually not a good reason for someone you don't know to initiate contact with you.)
The best of the safety information I found is this. I'm always a little worried about being mugged (but I can avoid deserted areas), and I'm still specifically worried about having the strap on my bag cut, the bottom slashed, or my pocket slashed (not the least because I personally doubt that someone could slash the pocket on my close-fitting jeans without slashing me too. I'm not sure whether this means it's less likely to happen or that I should be glad I've had a tetanus shot recently.) But the rest of the precautions on this list are all things I do anyway or things that won't be super difficult to do -- like keeping an extra copy of my passport and remembering to go inside a store or cafe before checking my maps. (Apparently "undercover police" is a common scam, so I looked up what the Barcelona police actually wear -- they look just about like Madrid police.) (Moral of story, in all of the scam/distraction thievery explanations: There is usually not a good reason for someone you don't know to initiate contact with you.)
Also in a preparatory mindset, I think I will go ahead and buy the Barcelona Card. The convenience of included transportation is nice, and I see at least four or five attractions included on the list that I want to visit.
I've determined what sorts of transportation are available from the airport (barring construction like in Paris :P, but then they had replacement shuttle buses), though I still have to check out a map of said airport a little more carefully (I'm okay familiar with the Madrid airport by now, but not so much with others. Ugh Charles de Gaulle and Heathrow. Ugh ugh ugh.) There are a lot of good maps online, including some of the Barcelona metro, though when it's all said and done once I'm somewhat oriented Google Maps is still about the best thing ever.
I've determined what sorts of transportation are available from the airport (barring construction like in Paris :P, but then they had replacement shuttle buses), though I still have to check out a map of said airport a little more carefully (I'm okay familiar with the Madrid airport by now, but not so much with others. Ugh Charles de Gaulle and Heathrow. Ugh ugh ugh.) There are a lot of good maps online, including some of the Barcelona metro, though when it's all said and done once I'm somewhat oriented Google Maps is still about the best thing ever.
On a more pleasant note, I'm also organizing what attractions I expect to be able to see. La Pedrera, also known as Casa Mila, by Gaudi. (I accidentally included Casa Amattler on the list of Gaudi-designed houses, but it's actually by someone else.) Casa Batllo, as aforementioned. Museum of the City, which includes some Roman ruins. The reconstruction of the Barcelona Pavilion (on the edge of the big park Montjuic or "Jewish Mountain." Apparently people think there used to be a Jewish cemetery there?) And maybe, perchance, if I have time, a vintage store. Sadly, I would like to go to Montserrat and the Dali museum, but I don't think I will have time.
Total aside: Why does it seem like I'm the only touristy person I know who goes to the grocery store for food? Guidebooks talk about cheap places to eat, but they almost never tell you to just go to the grocery store and buy a pastry or a sandwich. I do not understand this.
Other total aside: Someone told me I should eat doner kebab while in Barcelona. I am really looking forward to this, actually. The most delicious thing I ate in Granada was from a kebab place -- a big pita full of yogurt, chicken, and random veggies. Mmmmmmm yummy. Also it was 5 euros for that and a drink and some (admittedly mediocre) fries, so pretty cheap. (It makes me sad that the tastiest ice cream I have had in Europe so far was from the Haagen-Dazs (sp?) down the street from where I work.)
Monday, September 20, 2010
thoughts on Barcelona
I'm a bit worried about Barcelona, as it is the "pickpocketing capital of Europe." (I'm not actually quoting that, I just read some articles and made up the name.) Thus follows my anxious mutterings and ideas about this city. It is not necessarily logical stuff, though there may be the occasional logical thoughts thrown in there for variety.
Sadly certain measures are not available to me; I am not, for instance, going to buy a pickpocket proof bag with hidden metal mesh in the strap and fabric. My canvas bag will have to do.
Madrid: Yes, I Love Thee
Struggling to think of blog post titles, obviously.
I have figured out a route -- a nice, well-populated, spacious, sunny route, for walking and bouncing. Shown above. It is about 5 miles (4.9-5, depending on detours), and I walked it three times this weekend.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
I was thinking to myself
jeez, I have a headache. What is up with that? I slept plenty.
And then I remembered. . . I've been drinking caffeinated pop. FUCK I'm addicted again.
And then I remembered. . . I've been drinking caffeinated pop. FUCK I'm addicted again.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
am keeping up
with New York Fashion Week. . . sort of.
Vera Wang. I like #s 5, 12, 13, and 42. Overall the vibe is a bit too femme and swishy for me, but the experimentation with textures is eye-catching.
this is what I'm doing
More or less. (I just typed "more of less," and I think it was a Freudian slip.)
All of these take direct inspiration from other pieces that I've found on the internet. . .
I spend a lot of time cursing AutoCAD and 3DS Max.
oh, the awesome
So cute!
I will admit that I am somewhat swayed by the fact that I think Juan Carlos I (current king of Spain, and I believe these two little girls' grandfather) is a pretty cool guy -- he played a really pivotal role in ushering in democracy after Franco.
I will admit that I am somewhat swayed by the fact that I think Juan Carlos I (current king of Spain, and I believe these two little girls' grandfather) is a pretty cool guy -- he played a really pivotal role in ushering in democracy after Franco.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
also I have a theory
My theory is that you can grow to love any city if you spend the summer there. Given enough light and heat, any city becomes more beautiful. I say this because all of my city loves -- Boston, Tokyo, a fledgling crush on New York and Paris (and probably Madrid when I leave, we shall see) -- started in the summer.
I don't know if this is a latent evolutionary desire for warmth and ease of finding food that leads me to love this season, or just the natural impulse of someone who has spent seventeen years on the schedule that says summer is the time of really truly being, but most of my giddy memories are edged in light.
I don't know if this is a latent evolutionary desire for warmth and ease of finding food that leads me to love this season, or just the natural impulse of someone who has spent seventeen years on the schedule that says summer is the time of really truly being, but most of my giddy memories are edged in light.
more good stuff + things I long for
Good stuff:
I remember reading about this and shuddering. I read somewhere else that mining is no longer considered the most dangerous occupation, but I still think it's a job sent directly from hell.
A model blog filled with . . . model-y stuff. You know, clothes and travel.
What the hell is this? I don't know, but it's kind of entertaining.
A blog, mainly about details and vintage things.
Here are my options at TU Delft. I'm leaning toward Architectural Engineering.
I need to get back with studying Japanese. (Well, and studying Spanish. Dammit, how is it that Elizabeth Gilbert was able to achieve fluency in four months?)
This makes me feel so confident. Barcelona is #1 on the list of places to get pickpocketed. On the up side, Madrid is #3 and Paris is #4, and for the most part I have been doing okay there.
Things I am longing for.
1. Driving myself on a highway with none too many people with country music on the radio.
2. Oyakodon at the 500 yen place.
3. Naoshima outdoor art.
4. The Christian Science Center plaza.
5. Family Mart [my favorite convenience store in Japan] pastries, noodles, and chicken.
6. Newbury Street.
7. The back alley behind Fenway.
8. The vet clinic, particularly the alley behind it.
9. An English-language public library.
10. Being able to put stuff on my walls.
11. B*Goods, the Shaws on Boylston, the Whole Foods behind Fenway.
12. Making the loop around the Fens, passing by the MFA, and thinking that I could go in any time I felt like it, really.
13. Baking. (Mom, we are going to have to do some negotiation about this when I get back.)
14. Cheese curds. (This one is all Mary Beth's fault.)
15. The Boylston Street Borders and H&M.
I can't really describe my desire for the people I love as a longing at this point. Maybe because I know I can call them up if I really need them. Sure, I crave physical contact like nobody's business, and face-to-face conversation where neither my partner nor I are scrambling for words. But when I miss a place, I can't just call up my favorite street on my cell phone and say, "Hey, how's it going? Can you give me some details about what it feels like to be where you are, just so I don't miss you too much?"
I remember reading about this and shuddering. I read somewhere else that mining is no longer considered the most dangerous occupation, but I still think it's a job sent directly from hell.
A model blog filled with . . . model-y stuff. You know, clothes and travel.
What the hell is this? I don't know, but it's kind of entertaining.
A blog, mainly about details and vintage things.
Here are my options at TU Delft. I'm leaning toward Architectural Engineering.
I need to get back with studying Japanese. (Well, and studying Spanish. Dammit, how is it that Elizabeth Gilbert was able to achieve fluency in four months?)
This makes me feel so confident. Barcelona is #1 on the list of places to get pickpocketed. On the up side, Madrid is #3 and Paris is #4, and for the most part I have been doing okay there.
Things I am longing for.
1. Driving myself on a highway with none too many people with country music on the radio.
2. Oyakodon at the 500 yen place.
3. Naoshima outdoor art.
4. The Christian Science Center plaza.
5. Family Mart [my favorite convenience store in Japan] pastries, noodles, and chicken.
6. Newbury Street.
7. The back alley behind Fenway.
8. The vet clinic, particularly the alley behind it.
9. An English-language public library.
10. Being able to put stuff on my walls.
11. B*Goods, the Shaws on Boylston, the Whole Foods behind Fenway.
12. Making the loop around the Fens, passing by the MFA, and thinking that I could go in any time I felt like it, really.
13. Baking. (Mom, we are going to have to do some negotiation about this when I get back.)
14. Cheese curds. (This one is all Mary Beth's fault.)
15. The Boylston Street Borders and H&M.
I can't really describe my desire for the people I love as a longing at this point. Maybe because I know I can call them up if I really need them. Sure, I crave physical contact like nobody's business, and face-to-face conversation where neither my partner nor I are scrambling for words. But when I miss a place, I can't just call up my favorite street on my cell phone and say, "Hey, how's it going? Can you give me some details about what it feels like to be where you are, just so I don't miss you too much?"
some random fun stuff
The DKNY show from this year's NY Fashion Week. I approve. I am a scarf aficionado.
From IOWA! The first soldier to receive a Medal of Honor non-posthumously since the Vietnam War.
This is a cool camera. Although I saw a better one in the boutique at the Pompidou Centre. . . sigh.
Amusing, if not particularly useful. Illustrated recipes!
Also, Eat Pray Love was totally a beach book: Pleasant, fun, and insubstantial.
From IOWA! The first soldier to receive a Medal of Honor non-posthumously since the Vietnam War.
This is a cool camera. Although I saw a better one in the boutique at the Pompidou Centre. . . sigh.
Amusing, if not particularly useful. Illustrated recipes!
Also, Eat Pray Love was totally a beach book: Pleasant, fun, and insubstantial.
desperately
want to blog about the Paris weekend, because it was beautiful and I felt like I was being filled up to the top of my skull with joy and hunger.
But I did so much, and saw so much, and had a million fragmented thoughts, so I really don't know when that's going to happen.
In the meantime ---
I am eager to be home, and eager to be away from home.
Things I want to accomplish before I leave Spain:
1. Go to at least one mass in Spanish.
2. Go to the student exchange night at J&J Books at least once.
3. Enjoy my trip to Barcelona. Do not spend too much, and do not worry too much.
4. Enjoy my trip to Venice. Ditto.
5. Finish my portfolio.
6. Put up all my photos.
7. Go to the Palacio Real and the Thyssen (that's not right, but it's an art museum and I know what I mean) Museum in Madrid.
8. Finish the books I have left: A Passage to India (I've got about 200 pages left), Middlemarch, and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. (Is that all? There might be one more.)
I think I can handle that. I hope.
But I did so much, and saw so much, and had a million fragmented thoughts, so I really don't know when that's going to happen.
In the meantime ---
I am eager to be home, and eager to be away from home.
Things I want to accomplish before I leave Spain:
1. Go to at least one mass in Spanish.
2. Go to the student exchange night at J&J Books at least once.
3. Enjoy my trip to Barcelona. Do not spend too much, and do not worry too much.
4. Enjoy my trip to Venice. Ditto.
5. Finish my portfolio.
6. Put up all my photos.
7. Go to the Palacio Real and the Thyssen (that's not right, but it's an art museum and I know what I mean) Museum in Madrid.
8. Finish the books I have left: A Passage to India (I've got about 200 pages left), Middlemarch, and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. (Is that all? There might be one more.)
I think I can handle that. I hope.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
batteries
are "pilas." not batterias.
in related news, dear convenience store worker, please don't make me feel stupid when there are approximately five other convenience stores within similar distance.
in related news, dear convenience store worker, please don't make me feel stupid when there are approximately five other convenience stores within similar distance.
Friday, September 10, 2010
HA boarding passes secured
Avoiding the panicked evening run to the Internet cafe in Puerta del Sol. . .
Finding the way
Finally, I have submitted my second Threadless design:
Finding the way.
The timing is somewhat inconvenient, as I will be gone without internet access for the next three days and unable to beleaguer all and sundry to go vote on it. However, I shall hope for the best and ask those who are kindly inclined toward me to check on the Threadless website again tomorrow.
Thanks muchly. . .
incidentally
When I get home, I want to institute a book-a-week policy. I.e.: I will read one book every week.
Why. . .? Because I love to read. Because I always need more knowledge. And, cynically, because nothing sets me apart from my peers other than how much effort I make to be interesting.
Why. . .? Because I love to read. Because I always need more knowledge. And, cynically, because nothing sets me apart from my peers other than how much effort I make to be interesting.
ugggggggggh scholarships
I need money.
You see, next year (September 2011) I had been planning to go to graduate school. And -- gasp -- I had been planning to do it in the UK (most preferably.)
The most conservative estimate of how much this is going to cost me is about $35,000 a year. It goes up from there.
I need money.
Thus, I have been hanging out in websites like this, this, this, this, this, and (God have mercy upon me) this.
Altogether, it makes me pretty nauseous. I had mysteriously decided somewhere along the way that my three extracurriculars (give or take) and 3.4 GPA were none too shabby. Where did I get that impression? I do not know. I don't think it's going to do me much good in this round of begging. . .
P.S. I'm insecure, so I'll note that this is my GPA in "real world" terms -- not the MIT 5-point scale.
You see, next year (September 2011) I had been planning to go to graduate school. And -- gasp -- I had been planning to do it in the UK (most preferably.)
The most conservative estimate of how much this is going to cost me is about $35,000 a year. It goes up from there.
I need money.
Thus, I have been hanging out in websites like this, this, this, this, this, and (God have mercy upon me) this.
Altogether, it makes me pretty nauseous. I had mysteriously decided somewhere along the way that my three extracurriculars (give or take) and 3.4 GPA were none too shabby. Where did I get that impression? I do not know. I don't think it's going to do me much good in this round of begging. . .
P.S. I'm insecure, so I'll note that this is my GPA in "real world" terms -- not the MIT 5-point scale.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
random happy links
Design Sponge City Guides. I am pleased.
The Madrid Guide is pretty interesting, though it kind of makes me glum that the Real Basilica de Francisco el Grande is listed as a 'beautiful neoclassical cathedral' and a tourist attraction; I was mugged in the garden that belongs to the Basilica. Meh. However, I found two places I want to visit from this guide: Cantaro, a ceramics shop, and the Círculo de Bellas Artes.
Next up for reading: Paris guide. Unfortunately I shan't be shopping much on this trip. . .
The Madrid Guide is pretty interesting, though it kind of makes me glum that the Real Basilica de Francisco el Grande is listed as a 'beautiful neoclassical cathedral' and a tourist attraction; I was mugged in the garden that belongs to the Basilica. Meh. However, I found two places I want to visit from this guide: Cantaro, a ceramics shop, and the Círculo de Bellas Artes.
Next up for reading: Paris guide. Unfortunately I shan't be shopping much on this trip. . .
do you ever
read something absolutely hilarious at work and then cover your mouth and think about pinching your nose and then hope it just sounds like you're breathing really loud when you expel air really hard through your nose because you're laughing?
anyway.
Hyperbole and a Half. Go read some old entries.
Also, Paris this weekend. O_O
anyway.
Hyperbole and a Half. Go read some old entries.
Also, Paris this weekend. O_O
Monday, September 6, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
oh hemingway
I still want to read A Moveable Feast and For Whom the Bell Tolls. I just hope that he doesn't try to write any more cardboard female characters in either, and instead focuses on his strengths, like scenery and soldiers.
(So: A Farewell to Arms was interesting. Intriguing. Questionable.)
Also I went to Segovia and had a nice time, but then I came home after only about four hours because my right knee was shaking really hard from going up and down the tower in the Alcazar. Sigh.
(So: A Farewell to Arms was interesting. Intriguing. Questionable.)
Also I went to Segovia and had a nice time, but then I came home after only about four hours because my right knee was shaking really hard from going up and down the tower in the Alcazar. Sigh.
Friday, September 3, 2010
question
does it count as being lonely if you only want specific people? I'm okay being alone -- I just miss some people. Case in point: I could probably use some conversation with someone physical. But, frankly, my desire to converse is far superseded by desire to sleep, which is why I haven't gone out after 8:00 PM any of the nights this week (and those excursions were to the grocery store.)
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
problem
well, a small one.
There are certain words that for some reason I cannot spell in American English.
1. Catalog. I always type catalogue. Always.
2. Plow. I always use plough.
3. Glamor. Glamour. . . just seems more normal.
I do not have issues with color, license, or any host of other words. . . but those ones throw me.
There are certain words that for some reason I cannot spell in American English.
1. Catalog. I always type catalogue. Always.
2. Plow. I always use plough.
3. Glamor. Glamour. . . just seems more normal.
I do not have issues with color, license, or any host of other words. . . but those ones throw me.
SQUEEEEE I WANT TO LEARN MORE LANGUAGES
Linguistic food for thought.
It seems that rice is cheaper than pasta: one bag provides something like 10-12 servings for 70-80 cents, whereas one bag of pasta is 5-6 servings for 40-50 cents.
It seems that rice is cheaper than pasta: one bag provides something like 10-12 servings for 70-80 cents, whereas one bag of pasta is 5-6 servings for 40-50 cents.
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