it ended with a chicken

tonight, during a blizzard, my father and I trussed a little five pound chicken and set it in a three hundred and fifty degree oven for two hours.  my mother and i made macaroni and cheese and prepared a salad.  is roasting a chicken an art? 

art is fundamentally the use of imagination to create something aesthetically pleasing.   But, if creativity is a human expression of life and if life is sustained with food then the preparation of a humble little chicken is indeed art.  

i am not terribly good at writing, or at photography, i can get by with a set of water colors but that is about it.  when it really comes down to it my creativity is best expressed with salt, pepper, and a myriad of other ingredients.  

tomorrow i turn twenty five and i am happy to report that while i have not perfected the art of the roast chicken, i have at least attempted in the last 6 months a number of new and exciting endeavors.  I feel like I know myself better today than i did last june, and i gather that is an art as well.  

la finetre

seriously, before any apartment building is updated with new ovens or linoleum or even caulking in the bathroom, please freaking install some double-pane windows.  these single pane buggers have got to go--they are literally sucking the heat i pay for right on out the window.

jobs i don't have, educations i didn't get

hello.

note: i am unemployed.  tack it on to the list of monumental changes that occurred this year.  

note: i am no longer in finance.  

note: i took the GRE.   When this test is taken, there is a box the test taker elects to check that then sends the test taker's scores to a bank from which graduate programs can recruit the adept.  

note: i want to study public policy.  

here is a list of programs that have recruited me thus far:

I-schools (read: libraries)

Business Schools (moving away from these at a perpetually increasing rate)

Masters in Teaching schools (pretty much hate kids)

Art programs (could be fun, but thus far my only artistic talent is lattice pie crust)

from this i have gathered that my scores are not so much appealing to policy programs, and therefore have decided will use my rather advanced analytical writing skills to persuade them that the GRE is a miserable measure of potential, and imply that because i am inept at math I am that much better at other things. 

like being annoyed and irritated that i have all sorts of time to think about this now.  come on, obviously, i would make an excellent bureaucrat.

no. 4

I did it.  I ventured, I veered, I hiked, I carried my own water through the wilderness to the Washington coast.  Cross number four off the list.  I saw the Washington coast and man was beautiful.  

Conversely, it was unsettling, and worth it in a backwards way.  I mean, it was incredible seeing something as monumentally gorgeous as the ever expanding horizon, the undulation of the ocean over the course of a day, and comprehending the vastness of the world I inhabit.  However, what really struck me is the realization that, really, backpacking just isn't for me.  I was hoping the trip would invigorate the dormant Montanan in me, but it definitely did not.  I like nature accessible in small doses on a monthly basis, in a familiar I know where my car is parked and that getting to it is easier than hiking three miles on slippery boardwalk way.  I like it in the there is no wild life near here that could/would stalk/eat me.  I like my nature to put me at ease instead of send me into an anxious fit.  

I don't blame the trip, really.  It was gorgeous and I did have an awesome time conversing, searching for petroglyphs and firewood, and cooking on the hot burning coals of the fire.  What I didn't love was getting up close and personal with a black bear, fearing that I would be chomped up by his enormous teeth, and being unable to let the encounter go and feeling unsettled for the remainder of the day/weekend.  Worse though, was feeling like I wasn't alone when I was alone.  You know the feeling, like twenty feet away someone lurking in the darkness has their eye on you, watching your every move.  My hair was constantly standing on end.  

My conclusion is this--I like nature, the easily accessible by car and foot, preferably without bears kind.  And I like it with a book and a picnic basket.  And I like it best when it can be reflected upon from the comfort of my very own bed immediately following.  Camper I am not, but appreciative of nature's beauty I very much am.    

25% of the things I love

1.  dried roses in a silver cup

2.  knowing no such thing as a silver spoon

3.  analog and digital

4.  rubics cubes

5.  correspondence, via thank you notes

6.  gold picture frames

7.  collections of pottery, boxes, window frames, dishes, and clear glass

8.  brown boots

9.  swing sets and slides

10.  polaroid

11.  hours with anne

12.  making pasties

13.  breaking tile and gluing it back together again

14.  vintage posters

15.  clean sheets

16.  color!

17.  painting and drawing

18.  aaron time

19.  chips and guacamole at senor moose.

20.  cashews

21.  really old buildings (you know, with character)

22.  oven roasted tomatoes

23.  earrings and cloisonne bracelets

24.  parasols

25.  being thoughtful of others 

lots of thinking

 the art of my existence is not trying to be as smart as everyone else, but being as smart as I am.  

personal history you say?

I have to write my personal history for my application to the University of Washington.
God, I'm stumped. What is my personal history? When it really comes down to answering this question in a way that is not only meaningful but representative of who you are it is pretty freaking daunting. There are so many aspects of my life that have shaped the person I am today. My best friends, my sister and brother, my parents and grandparents, the people I never befriended. The interactions with each of them has no doubt shaped the person I am at this juncture in my life. In many ways I think my statement should be intergenerational; I would love to discuss the influence of my great grandparents on their children and on their children's children and on to me. I mean, my values are derived from these people's personal experiences, but is their history my own? Somewhat, but not really. And if I talk about my friends and our relationships am I saying something personal? Not really. This gets back to the crux of my problem, how well do I know myself? The thing is, it is all connected and these histories matter.

So, where to begin?

no. 25

In an ongoing effort to address the topics of a list I wrote in June 2008, I will provide annecdotal evidence of those events here.  First, no. 25, Vote.

I cast my ballot in my second presidential election yesterday.  Watching previous elections I was of the understanding that these things are all night affairs.  Who is going to win, and when?  So, I was surprised by how soon after I arrived at my chosen election night party the decision was made.  I am not really sure how to communicate exactly what I feel.  I am totally elated, a thrill for the future is coursing through my body.  I feel electrified, that my voice matters, that the voices of my friends and family and fellow Americans were heard. 

Jessica's party was an absolutely fantastic way to celebrate the Obama victory.  The party was held at Dave's studio overlooking the intersection of 12th and Pike.  After several celebratory glasses of champagne, confirmation of election results, a conscession and acceptance speech, the party took to the streets.  We were not alone.  Thousands of people flooded the intersections and avenues of Capitol Hill to cheer, congratulate, and embrace their friends and loved ones.  Everyone's faces were aglow, people radiated in ways both unfamiliar and beautiful.  I will not ever forget the sheer joy I experienced celebrating this election with my good friends and my incredible community.  I have never in my life seen such genuine enthusiasm and good will.  Last night was incredibly memorable for me.  

As today turns into tomorrow and tomorrow into January 21st, my hope evolves.  I will leave the now and look toward inauguration, and hold on tight to the anticipation I have for the next four years.  I cannot wait to be part of Barack Obama's pledge to bring change to America, and to the world.  It is incredible to be part of this, absolutely and totally incredible.  

my future rests on a question like this

A shirt is sold at $150 for a 25% profit.  What is the whole sale cost of the shirt?

Obviously, I don't care, who pays $150 for a shirt?  

Things I'm good at

Approximately, seven minutes ago I ruined hard boiled eggs.  Before I go on a rant about my deficiencies in egg preparation, I will simply place blame my mother who hates eggs in every form and my sister who is allergic.  For me, eggs are fine, I neither love them nor hate them, but despite this, I'll tell you, when I fuck up a hard boiled egg or the yolk of the fried variety it really burns my ass.  Thanks, Ellen. 

On the upside, I have lots of skills that are wholly unrelated to eggs.  For instance, I am very good at spelling, and painting pottery, and making conversation, and finding interesting things on the Internet.  The latter contributes mostly to my current hobby, and potentially my greatest strength, not studying for the GRE, which is the topic of discussion today.  

Plain and simple, there are a lot of things I love.  Most, I love learning new things.  Tell me about something I've never heard of before and I will gladly sit in as your captive audience for as long as you like to go on about the said subject.  And after I'm done I'll do no end of research on the subject if I end up particularly engaged.  This why I think I'm an excellent candidate for graduate studies.  There is so much I want to have the opportunity to learn about, and the exciting and frustrating part is making the decision of exactly what discipline is the best match for my curiosity. 

The focus of the research I will eventually undertake as a graduate student will revolve around geographic and economic factors affecting populations in post-industrial American cities.   Think the decline and fall of rubber companies in Akron, Ohio and its affect on housing prices, or white flight and suburban dispersal in inner-city Detroit and its affect on the economic base, or consider the economic influence of stagnant community growth within single industry economies.  These are things I'm interested in understanding, and I find this research valuable as SO many American cities succumb to patterns such as these as a result of globalization and industrial decline in the United States.  

So, the question is, what program is the best fit for me?  Should I study Urban Geography and critically study the economic and social impact of economic decline on single industry communities, or should I study urban planning and master a tool kit to build better cities, or should I study public administration and compare and contrast methods for allocation resources to populations in post-industrial cities (person vs. place based tax distribution) to  develop a more efficient and effective economic foundation?  

Obviously, there is a place for me within all of these disciplines.  Right now it seems the only clear decision I've made is that there are three excellent choices with no clear stand-out.  Sure, it would be awesome to think critically and investigate geographies, but it would also be excellent to be a policy genius.  Clearly, I don't know how to go about making the decision; I don't know what to do.  

Except, maybe, pretend I'm really good at boiling eggs.

if this were pinball

Honest to god, I feel personally jilted by the American financial system and the longstanding policy of deregulation that has led us to this place, the place we find ourselves today.   It goes something like this:

Prey upon the poor and lend money to them because they have poor credit! and limited financial capacity! and need money! and then you can eventually raise their interest rates a 100% after four years! and you'll make out like a fat cat! 

except when those people with poor credit and limited financial skills can't make the payments with the increased interest rates, and since you already cut their loan up and sold it to the i-bank down the street for a hefty profit, it isn't the credit union calling for money, or even the state, it's the i-bank that bought it and obviously can only take the house, because it has some value.  but there is still a loss.

then just when the creditor can't pay (i.e. middle class Americans), demand capital and put unknown pressure on the financial system!  and leave hundreds of thousands of Americans without homes!  

Don't fret, those companies can just write their debt down.  No worries!

But then come September.  Recall January when there were 5 i-banks that existed, now down two a paltry September set.  And somewhere in the neighborhood of, oh, i don't know, 150,000 American jobs shit canned.  

And there you go, the short version of why America is what America is today.  Why McCain thinks the fundamentals of our Economy is strong.  And why I feel jilted.

It amazes me that the men and women who exploited so many poor Americans all of a sudden know what it's like to be on the short end of their trade. 

And the sad thing is, while I want not to feel bad for them, I can't, because I sympathize with all of them, and every other American who is also affected by the financial tumult we experienced today.  Because today something big happened, and it is going to grow even bigger over the next several months.  

You know what, this is the fierce urgency of now.  And it is about politics and policy, about rich and poor, and the ability to call ourselves Americans.  Americans who stand on foundations of our making and not the foundations of foreign making, because a foreign bailout leaves the greatest country in the world as insolvent as its banks.  

And that's scarier than I know how to imagine right now.  

from nytimes

To the Editor:

In her speech on Wednesday night, Sarah Palin said, “I guess a small-town mayor is sort of like a ‘community organizer,’ except that you have actual responsibilities.” I have some news for Ms. Palin about the responsibilities of a community organizer. I know something about it because my son Matthew is a community organizer; and in south Chicago, as it happens.

It’s true that he doesn’t have the responsibilities of a small-town mayor. He’s never had the responsibility to use authority and power to threaten to fire the librarian for not banning books that were incompatible with the mayor’s personal beliefs and tastes.

Instead, he works 12 to 14 hours every day organizing ordinary people to secure decent and affordable housing, safe working conditions and a living wage. He works long hours to help working-class people secure a better life and a safer community.

But Sarah Palin doesn’t consider that kind of work to involve any responsibilities. Apparently, her idea of responsibilities is using a position of power to push subordinates around. There’s a word for that kind of attitude: elitism.
Ned Jaeckle

people i hate

sarah palin.

worth a 1000 words

if you're at all interested in political figures and the photography of political figures, particularly barack obama and the photos of him from the 2008 campaign, you should check out this expose in the new york times.

stealth missions

these frames.  i have surreptitiously carried these frames out of my nana's basement over the course of the last year and a half.  every time i visit home i "clean the basement" for my grandmother and gather as many as i can fit in my suitcase without eliciting the suspicion of TSA, and bring them back to seattle.    she visited last weekend and was sort of stunned, and sort of amazed, and sort of thrilled that they were hanging on my wall.  it was weird.  

these along with a great many other things in my apartment are hers, or they were before i got my hands on them.  i usually ask in passing if i can take a few things with me when i leave, but these frames sort of just come along without permission.  she has buckets upon boxes upon baskets of them in the basement.  they sit next to old chairs, christmas ornaments, and boxes of food stowed away for a coming crisis.  these frames are part of the large collection of trinkets that i call my  joan-knacks, the things that remind me of her and her house; these objects are things that make her make sense to me.  they are the things that ensconce her walls, and her photos, and her pictures and paintings, they're the things she collects or keeps underneath her bed.  i explained the her i have in my head and why these frames are important to me.  she was sort of taken aback by the number of things i had in my apartment that looked "awfully familar," but she loved that they are part of my life now.  

as for the parasols, my love affair with parasols goes way back.  when i was little my aunt and cousin lived in the philippines.  jackie and molly would send me things from asia that they'd find in different markets.  one of my favorite gifts was a set of fantastic parasols.  petite umbrellas of dark burnished orange paper covered in ornate paintings of botany and asian characters.  i used to set them up on an old blanket in the living room while my mom watched china beach, a 1980's television show about Vietnam.  I would pretend I was in the philippines with Molly or that i too was in Vietnam.  What can i say, i have a thing for parasols.  They're part of my one childhood memory of actual imagination.  So, when aaron brought the orange one back from thailand last summer i remembered all of this and felt grateful.    

it isn't just reminiscing that i do with objects.  they just make my world make sense.  they are the small gifts given by friends, post cards from travelers, old photos curling at the edges, papers, letters, notes, measuring cups and surely gold frames and parasols.  

additionally

i am pissed at john edwards. 

i have a crush on michael phelps.

i spent the whole weekend watching movies. 

i also figured out my apartment's decor. 

got some snazzy new red flats

and i love truffles (the fungus, not the chocolate).  

glad i got that off my chest.  

also, taking the gre october...5th.  

still hate math.  

dearies

today i went to south center.  south center mall should only be visited on week days when there will be approximately 5,000 less people there taking up the oxygen you need to use for my favorite all natural anti-anxiety remedy--breathing.  that place is a cluster fuck.  period.

an old friend

lately, i've been reacquainting myself with myself.    

hello, julia, how are you?  good, but i'm tired.  i can't even form sentences anymore.  

i discovered this was a problem about two weeks ago when a friend of a friend said, "that was the most vague sentence i've ever heard."  how embarrassing.  i can't blame them, my mind is mush.  i'm busy these days.  so many facts, words, and topics swell in my head that i am experiencing a significant information overload and the first thing to succumb is my speech.  losing the ability to communicate is never favorable, and it is causing self doubt like no one's business.   so, in an effort to cleanse the head, i've been shedding and it feels very good.  

it all started about a year ago.  

i contracted something called who am I and where am i going, i'm almost 25 and i'm scared to death that i haven't figured all of this out yet disease.  instead of making decisions and moving toward something (the next step, the next place, etc) i've been wallowing in a safety net of sorts.  wallowing is nice for a while but then 12 months later you're in the same place you were when the mess started and you're no less uncertain.  

two months ago i decided that i needed to dedicate more time to myself.  two years out of college and i spend no more than one night every two weeks to myself.  i admit that i'm a person who loved interaction, but i recently realized exactly how draining it is.  committing so much of my time and energy to other people has left me totally void of any knowledge of myself.  last july, last november, last february i was not able to write a description of myself that didn't involve significant discussion of my relationship to other people as opposed to my relationship to myself.  

this is significant because in the last year i've grown more than i realized and did not stop long enough to understand the significance of that growth and how it has affected me.   so, in june i decided that there are things i want to do daily, weekly, monthly to help me get to know myself again, and without making it a priority it would not happen.  so, i decided to engage in activities in a time frame i designed for myself surrounded by the people who (without fail) support and encourage me in the direction i want to go.  i bought a new computer, a new camera, rented a new apartment, wrote a list of things i want to accomplish in the short and long-term, and i'm using these tools to enhance myself and sharing them with people i love.

the 25 before 25 is still ongoing, and i am happy to report that it has both inspired and motivated me to concentrate on the things that matter most to me.  i'm consistently photographing, i strive to say one good thing about myself or my surroundings every morning or evening, i am trying to cook more and be more inventive and imaginative in the kitchen and share the fruits of my labor with friends, i'm learning to let go and share more, i am engaging in creative endeavors, i'm diversifying the scope of people i interact with, i'm applying to graduate school, deciding the next steps in my life, and most importantly i am rediscovering the characteristics and qualities i love in people and things.  and all of this feels great.

i guess what i'm saying here is that i am happier than i have been in the last year; i'm the best version of myself I can be right now and for that i am incredibly grateful.  shedding all the muck from my mind will hopefully allow me to improve communication with others eventually, as for now i'm quite content communicating with myself.  

pardon my french

in honor of bastille day i will list some of the best ways to enjoy french culture in america:

-buy lavender; fill a clear milk jar halfway to the top and place 5 stems of lavender in jar and set on your table.
-go into your kitchen, make yourself cafe au lait, then put a four rounds of chevre on sliced baguette and toast, drizzle with honey and enjoy them with dressed greens
-before you leave work, go to your local patisserie and buy two orange macaroons to share with your best friend, boyfriend, or yourself.
-wear a beret!
-drink french wine with a wedge of brie and toast drizzled with pistou
-smoke cigarettes on your fire escape while drinking Perrier
-google an image of the statue of liberty and cherish your independence

voila, mes amis!

ugh

Rumor has it that the elevators in my building are the fastest on the west coast. I know this because at least four conversations about elevator speed occur in my presence every week. Perplexing. Why does the probability for awkward elevator conversations increase when elevators move quickly rather than more slowly? The only thing working in my favor is that the sinus infection haunting my head has rendered my hearing nearly obsolete. Never thought I’d say it, but thank you, mr. nose infection.

onward and upward

i'm writing this from inside my new apartment with the keys of my new computer reporting that i start a gre course tomorrow and assuredly stating that making the 25 before i turn twenty-five list was the greatest decision i've ever made in my life.  onward and upward!!

25 things to do before i turn twenty-five

i am making this list because i operate best with direction. i'm almost 25, there are a lot of things i want to do before then, not because i have to, but because i want to. i've got the resources so why not. so, therefore, i present, a list, of 25 things i want to do before i turn twenty-five.

1. apply to grad-school

2. live on my own

3. take a photography class

4. go to the pacific north west coast (oregon, or washington)

5. visit a new state

6. participate in a collective project or exchange

7. run a 5-k

8. visit another country

9. attend one cultural community event a month

10. buy a new computer

11. take one photo a day

12. perfect the skill of roasting chicken

13. teach myself to bind books

14. spend one day every two weeks entirely alone

15. say yes to the things i am interested in; say no to things I don't want to do

16. purchase produce at all of Seattle's farmers markets and make a dish from those ingredients

17. prepare, at least, four recipes from my gastronomic publications per month

18. go on a road trip without a specific destination

19. develop a green thumb by growing an amaryllis

20. write a letter to every person I admire letting them know why

21. draw a map of my favorite places in Seattle

22. amend my outlook; say one good thing about myself/my surroundings every day

23. conquer my fear of open water, start by swimming in lake Washington

24. improve my written communication

25. Vote.

the progressive politics of possiblity

yesterday hillary clinton suspended her campaign for president and announced her endorsement of and support for barack obama. i admit, i'm elated about this. i'm definitely happy for many reasons, but mostly I'm relieved that the democratic party can finally begin to coalesce and campaign against the republican machine. i know the primary season was long, and that some argue it was bitter and spiteful, but i think it was remarkable in that it actually didn't resort to the mud-slinging, swift boating that we've experienced in campaigns past; instead, every american eligible and willing to vote had the opportunity and most importantly, barriers were broken and glass ceilings were shattered.

i want to address clinton, the senator, the candidate, the woman. i want to acknowledge the grace with which senator clinton spoke about senator obama yesterday, her expression of commitment to his candidacy, and mostly how her efforts over the course of her campaign have given me quite a bit of hope.

senator clinton gracefully suspended her campaign yesterday and threw her full support behind senator obama and his campaign. i know it took her a long time to step aside, but for some reason it feels right that she did it on her own accord. her speech made it obvious that she has a commitment to the united states that is no less great than that of sen. obama. they are both exceptional leaders who want nothing but the best for this country and for its people. yesterday, she was eloquent and graceful in her speech, acknowledging senator obama's abilities and and qualifications, “I have served in the Senate with him for four years...in this campaign with him for 16 months...stood on the stage and gone toe-to-toe with him in 22 debates. i’ve had a front-row seat to his candidacy, and I have seen his strength and determination, his grace and his grit.” this is what i would expect from her, sen. clinton does not hate barack obama, she just ran a campaign the only way she knew how and her behavior was no less similar to that of any man who came before her.

i suppose, though, what really struck me about this was the time she took to acknowledge the remarkable feat she accomplished, she is a woman who ran for president of the united states of america, who won primary state victories, and engaged in the national political discourse as an equal of men. this is what i am proud of. she said,

"you can be so proud that, from now on, it will be unremarkable for a woman to win primary state victories, unremarkable to have a woman in a close race to be our nominee, unremarkable to think that a woman can be the president of the United States,” she said. “To those who are disappointed that we couldn't go all of the way, especially the young people who put so much into this campaign, it would break my heart if, in falling short of my goal, I in any way discouraged any of you from pursuing yours.”

i am the daughter and granddaughter of very strong women, who for much of their lives have fought against the patriarchy and misogyny that tries (has tried) to keep them from lofty aspirations or achieving their goals. i have heard about this from birth. i have been very confidently instructed in my own capacity and capability, often encountering surprise and resistance to my approach to the world. But, whatever. I am proud to see the endeavors of the feminist era finally manifest, opening doors and cracking open ceilings for me and the women and men older and younger than myself.

just because senator clinton didn't win the nomination does not mean she failed. she has successfully given me hope and proudly exclaimed that she has every right to make decisions on her own account (even the pesky decision of when she should step aside and let a man take center stage). and for that, i'm really very thankful.

i look forward to this campaign with hopefulness. i look forward to this campaign for the possibility it promises, for the hopefulness supporting its lofty, progressive platform of the politics of yes, we can! we, man and woman, finally, equally capable and committed to a new united states of america.

windowsills

tonight i walked over to aaron's house to help him pack up his things for his impending move. the walk was calm, and definitely a welcome change of pace from my usual thursday evening. i'm always surprised by the things i notice when i walk from the very urban capitol hill to the more residential central district. there are fewer people to be aware of and it allows me to pay closer attention to the things surrounding me. i love how i quiet down and breathe more when i'm walking through neighborhoods' quiet side streets, and I think about how much i miss having that solitude around me. i tend to regain a proper sense of equilibrium simply by seeing flowers crawling up the sides of fences, spindly, hollow trees and the detailed paint-jobs of the houses lining the blocks. and, i also notices, I sort of love seeing the peculiar knicky-knacky things people keep in their windowsills. one house had ten to fifteen varieties of blue glass in their front window sill, framed from the outside by four perfectly periwinkle seats arranged on the porch—it was such a happy sight. And then I kept noticing more and more another house had a collection of birdcages, and there were others with flowers, glasses, boxes and picture frames.

I’ve been looking around for a good photo project, and you know what, I think I’ve found it!

Florida

someone please tell florida to shut up.

"i got memory-burned by a doughnut"

aaron and i spent last weekend in portland, oregon. in six years living in seattle, i've never made the short commute south. how pathetic, i've been missing out. portland is great. it is filled with ever unfolding mysteries, more than should be possible in a gridded city of its size. but my, it is a treasure!

i think portland is the type of city where you could potentially be very disappointed if you don't get around. the downtown is beautiful architecturally and the buildings lend the city a lot of visual interest. the surfaces and materials are varied, the facades different, the colors pronounced, and the architectural details--moldings, windows, bays, build-outs--keep your eye darting and dashing to see everything possible. but, if you stay close to downtown you may face the unfortunate fate of never really having a chance to see what I believe is particularly special about portland--its neighborhoods.

I love neighborhoods and the variety they offer and portland has plenty of them. people in this city must be busy all of the time. i had the pleasure of seeing two different business districts in the hawthorne district. i sampled biscuits at pine state biscuits and then took a long tour of the Powell's Books dedicated to my favorite of the published medium--cookbooks! On our way over to the original Powell's Books, aaron stopped at the impressive burnside skate park built by some renegade skaters underneath the burnside bridge. the spot was the perfect place to observe an awesome creative community that has sprouted from their common love for skateboarding. afterward, i had the pleasure of wandering and winding through powell's books, which really is a city of books, and finding absolutely nothing to buy except an ice tea. for some reason, powell's just really overwhelmed me. A hop, skip, and a jump from their door was a venture through the Pearl District.

The pearl district was one of my favorite neighborhoods. The neighborhoods is under vast redevelopment. And when I say redevelopment I feel like adaptive re-use is a better description. their are so many industrial buildings that are being transformed into awesome commercial and residential spaces. And their are tons of really awesome parks interspersed that really lend a sense of intimacy to a neighborhood that could be very intimidating for pedestrians or residents. the sidewalks and street-scapes made me want to continue walking rather than run the other way. plus this entire space is connected with lightrail. it was mighty impressive. i hope that seattle's south lake union does borrow this model and bring its better points to the area.

i ate a lot of really delicious food including the very infamous bacon maple bar at voodoo donuts and mind-blowing chicken wings at pok pok. who knew chicken wings marinated in fish sauce, tamarind and palm sugar would result in the most deliciously caramelized poultry i've ever consumed in my life. After a long day of walking and an extended evening of drinking our hosts dan and vanessa brought us to a neighborhood a short walk away from their apartment. what they produced was a street that made my entire trip.

When I got to Mississippi Street the first thing I saw was a trailer selling waffle sandwiches. This neighborhood also boasts portland's only free porch. if anyone knows me they understand that porches and sandwiches are two of my reasons for being, so i knew that around the corner lie a treat. Mississippi Street is half houses and half commercial store front. Everything we walked past was charming, interesting, and a true part of the neighborhood's fabric. Sidewalk restaurants and coffee shops, a brewery, and adorable boutiques. I could have spent an entire day there photographing the contrasts between each building's store front. But i couldn't, because we were on a short schedule. Vanessa brought me to her favorite store, Flutter, and after a brief look through the beautiful compendium of vintagey estate sale-esque goods, and the purchase of a bird cage music box, we ran back across the street to join the boys for breakfast at Gravy. After a stroll through the Japanese Garden, aaron and i said good bye to our generous hosts and headed home.

I wish i would have had more time. But something about wandering through this city and seeing so many new things I got very sad about the state of my passport and the absent checks on my list of american cities visited. i realized just how much i love observing my surroundings, i want to see more. not just of portland, but elsewhere, too! ideas?

things

this weekend is seriously bi-polar.  yesterday was the most beautiful day i've seen in six months.  the temperature, the smell, the way the sun shined on my shoulders, goodness, it was so perfect.  and today, rain.  seriously, seattle, again, don't you get tired of this?

despite the weather's decision to muck-it-up, i've had a pretty fulfilling string of days.  friday after work i spent some quality time with the co-workers following a long week and to properly punctuate the evening aaron and i spent the remainder of the evening with his friends mike and eleanora.  we shared delightful conversation, many bottles of wine, delicious food, and songs around a table fit for four.  honestly one of the more memorable evenings i've had in quite a while.  

saturday i went with megan to david's bridal for a bridesmaid gown fitting.  david's bridal is a funny little franchise and it does funny little things to people who are normally of a joyful and positive demeanor.  following the fitting, we decided on brunch, i'm glad i recommended megan take the mlk exit off of i-5 north because what we discovered was an entire part of seattle we didn't even know existed.  following the lightrail path all the way to alaska junction where we turned right on rainier for a brunch of delicious herbed eggs and perfect cream biscuits at Geraldine's Counter.  If you're the brunch type, you'd be a fool not to try this place out.  it is perfection, complete with delightful bright fiesta-ware, sunny orange walls and lots of natural light.  Yay for Geraldine's!  

anne and i are in cahoots along with our cameras to launch a new web project to share our visionary perceptions of the world.  we still do not have a theme except that we're not incorporating faces.  so, i placed my order for a new cannon digital slr this morning and cannot wait to get started on the project, it's going to be fantastic.  the address shall be released shortly.  as for this week, i'm going to work incredibly hard on self-motivation during the work day, patient adherence to yoga instruction in the early evenings, and lots of adventurous vegetable cooking after that.  I think i'm in the mood for another lentil soup creation.  either that or some sort of recipe from my most recent gourmet magazine.  also, i'm getting on the grad-school wagon by reaching out to the far reaches of the world for advice.  if you have any please let me know!

i'll take toxic holes for $100, alex

you know, it is weird growing up with a toxic pit (basically) in your back yard. less than a mile away from my parent's front door is the berkley pit (as seen above). at more than a mile wide by a mile wide by a mile deep you get an idea of this problem's scale.

so, um, how do i apply to grad school and make it clear that environmental degradation isn't just a theoretical concept, but something that really affects people and communities? i wish i knew a creative way to express why i want to be a professional with the tools to honor the legacy of america's industrial history and the means to begin the process of mitigating the damage industry has caused to cities and towns, making life better for the people living there.

i'm getting constructive about how i'm going to approach this problem. i'm excited to write about this topic. from a personal standpoint, i have my story to offer. i have a lifetime of references to growing up in a community susceptible to the challenges of boom-bust industrial economies, the bi-yearly cancer scares among my peers, the annual lead testing for children exposed to (simply) dirt, etc. and from a political standpoint, i can explain how good policy has helped to revitalize dying communities, pay for environmental clean-up, create new and interesting jobs, and i can best attempt to explain how best practices can enable economic and community development in the future. oh, dear, so much work. such good work, though.

fifty million tissues

i got the flu last week. and by flu i mean everything that is traditionally associated with it the WORST of all seasonal afflictions. the sustained 102 degree temperature and constant exhaustion and the sore throat and muscle aches. i felt like the poster child for a night-quil advertisement. i'm better now, though. and aaron and i are going to butte on thursday and i couldn't be more pleased. home is my favorite of places and i'm excited for the chance to introduce another into the interestingness that butte has to offer. and to celebrate easter. easter is my most favorite of holidays because i LOVE my family's traditional egg hunt. yay!!

deliciousness

I have been spending a lot of quality time in my kitchen over the course of the last few weeks. For a long while I had an arsenal of about four or five totally dependable recipes that could hold their own in any situation. They incorporated the techniques and talents my mom bestowed upon me in her own kitchen. I got very good at chicken enchiladas, spinachy, savory lasagna, split pea soup with ham and swiss and jalapeno and bacon macaroni and cheese, just to name a few. But over the course of the last year I have become unreasonably obsessed with food. My favorite television station is food network, my favorite cable television show is top chef and my favorite online blogs update food related posts twice weekly.

The most fantastic thing about reading food related articles daily is the inspiration I have gathered and brought to my own kitchen. Instead of sticking with my mom’s recipes I feel better equipped to take some risks in the kitchen and experiment with new foods and new ingredients. I think my happiest moment was when I customized Ellen’s enchiladas by adding cumin roasted butternut squash and sautéed spinach. Combining those two new ingredients with feta under a blanket of rich red sauce I realized the potential of my food focus. Since then I have incorporated Arborio rice into my monthly repertoire, making a delicious oyster and cremini mushroom risotto with fresh thyme and parmesan. I have also enjoyed pan fried chicken breasts with a garlicky cannelloni bean mash, and the incarnation of a delicious honey balsamic vinaigrette to dress spicy greens.

All of these food discoveries in my kitchen have inspired me to keep better track of the things I cook and the methods I use to prepare them. I’m going to gather all of this information in a very charming little moleskin notebook for eventual incorporation a) gift baskets or b) the cookbook of my dreams (and, of course, submissions from others are always welcome).

Honey Balsamic Vinaigrette

2 T. Fresh from the comb honey (by fresh i mean relatively recently purchased at trader joes)
2 T. Balsamic Vinegar
3-4 T. Good Olive Oil (I "borrow" the olive oil my roommate brought back from Italy)
1/2 t. oregano

Whisk the vinegar and honey together until the honey incorporates itself into the vinegar, it should taste sweet. Add the oregano, crushing and releasing its flavors into the mixture. Slowly whisk the olive oil into the vinegar and honey mixture emulsifying the oil as you whisk. Voila! Serve over mixed leafy greens with walnuts with ackmak crackers and chevre on the side.

koolhaus and really bad window design

For the most part, I love the environment that surrounds me. That is why I started this blog. I decided I needed a place where I could be more expressive about the topic of place. I wanted to give myself a venue to discuss my surroundings and maybe learn a thing or two in the process. I realize I have learned less about my neighborhood than I anticipated and that I am more inspired by the people who surround me than the buildings I walk past.

The more that I think about it, I guess my love of physical place has never been about my adoration for the beauty of cornices and wainscotings or mullions and muttons or even the efficiency and effectiveness of architectural design. My interest always lies primarily in how architecture and interiors reflect the desires of the people who experience them. I am intrigued by why certain classes of people reside in certain types of houses—mostly the working class and their very charming worker cottages—and what this says about them and their values. I am enchanted by decrepit old buildings and the stories they tell, like the 100 year-old mai wah noodle parlor in Butte. In the kitchen of this noodle parlor, in front of the wok stations, are sunken divots of worn concrete where cooks once stood and tirelessly cooked noodle dishes. I like that place is not just about environment, but about people. I think the personal connection is sometimes missing in today’s discourse of architecture and physical place.

Design and architecture is about how people experience them. If we didn’t encounter and participate in our physical surroundings then we may fail to recognize the necessity of their presence in our daily lives. Sometimes I wonder if Rem Koolhaus designed the Seattle Public Library to illustrate the importance of architecture in civic buildings rather than just an ineffective deconstructionist building or developed his ridiculous “the generic city” theory to make people realize the importance of variety in city design rather than making claims that people are not loyal to place anymore. At least I hope that’s the case, otherwise…

What I’m saying here is that I realize structures are important, but I am more concerned about how they affect the people in and around them. I think that’s what I want to communicate about here as time goes on.

a man's boots

My grandfather is 92 years old and wears cowboy boots every day. His boots always come to mind when I think of him. He is a man that I always enjoy hearing talk about his life. His stories are about hard-work and the joy and pain that come with it. He has lived through the advent of the telephone, the great influenza epidemic of 1918 that killed his mother and many other Americans, the Great Depression, and several year-long labor strikes. But his stories are always up-beat with mentions of community dances and parties so people could share food during what he calls the hard times, he talks fondly of meeting my grandmother when, on a break from cattle herding, he rode up to her at a well and she offered him water, honing his talent as a miner, and meeting people that have become life long friends in those moments. I relish these stories and the insights he has because of these experiences. Believe me, I could talk for days about all of the collected memories we share, but now that the time I spend with him is less frequent I call upon my memory to remind me of them. When I do so, one image rushes to the forefront of my mind. That image is his boots.

As far as I know, his boots have made the rounds with him for about the last quarter century of his life—all the years of my life or maybe longer. The steps he takes in those shoes are the steps that are part of who I am. When I was little I watched him pull galoshes over them to shovel snow during the harsh Butte winters, I watched him leave paths of smushed grass when he watered the summer-length lawn, I watched him give my brother and sister “horsy rides” on the end of his leg when they were babies, I watched him take long morning walks in those after breakfast, and smash pop can’s under his feet on the concrete in the garage. I gather comfort from knowing that there is something as simple as a pair of shoes that make my grandfather make sense to me.

I like that the things I love so much today are pieces of my grandparent’s and parents lives before I knew them. My grandmothers’ earrings, pins, and plates, my grandfathers’ jeans, boots, and hats, my mother’s books, camera, and photos, and my father’s records, belt buckles, and t-shirts; I like that when I hold these things or wear these things I come to know them in a different way. I like how I get a better sense of them as an individual. I like that these things were loved by them and have become important to me and also hold the potential to become something special to someone else in the future. For me, the handing down of objects is part of the intergenerational fabric of my life, it keeps their history (and somewhat my own) current and alive. I like that. I like that history isn’t just the past because for me it as present as the boots on my grandfather’s feet.

yes, we can

Do you remember your first political instruction?

I do. It came, initially, when my grandfather decided I was capable of grasping the magnitude of party preference. I think I was seven. I must have been seven, because that was 1991 and it was leading up to an election year. He said, you, you’re a BICD, and don’t you ever forget it. Well, walking around saying that meant very little to me way back then. Who cares what a seven year old thinks? But now, now it matters. ‘BICD’ is roughly translated as “Butte Irish Catholic Democrat” and in a town like Butte where the holy trinity of Ethnicity, Political Affiliation and Religion makes the man-- a place where a seven year old girl's party affiliation is just as important as a 70 year old man’s.

Well, today I am just as much the BICD I was when I lived in Butte only an older, more educated Seattleite (who just happens to be admittedly less catholic). Regardless, why is this important? Well, my grandfather is one of the most instrumental political figures in my life. A man whose lessons and wisdom stressed community centeredness, an obligation to serve, a duty to others, loyalty to the collective, and an unwavering awareness of the potential of a life incorporating these values. He also happens to be a staunch supporter (still) of John Kennedy. And last summer I had a conversation with him about politics and about what I perceived to be a tremendous change on the horizon. And, fittingly, he told me a story…

“In the 1960s, I was an unemployed WWII veteran with five children and a mortgage. I was in need of something that made my life make sense, something that could lift me from the uncertainty and pressure of my responsibilities, something that would ensure a promising future for my family and for my community. I was ready to vote for change”

Last Christmas I was having a conversation with him about Barack Obama and he sat across from me and said, “have you noticed I haven’t said anything to you, now it’s your generation’s turn, I’m old hat, but you all want change.”

I left the room and walked into the dining room and climbed a ladder that happened to be there from an earlier venture into the upper closet. Tucked away in the back corner was something i'd nver seen before. Inside, tucked away, was a voluminous stack of newspapers from the 1960s that chronicled the campaign, election, inauguration, and assassination of JFK. I didn't know what to think and then almost immediately something really powerful washed over me, in onlya a mere few seconds, for the first time in my life, I think I understood what a movement meant to a person, I understood what it was like for someone to be part of a movement for change.

I want that feeling. I want to feel like I am part of something that monumental. That a political figure’s ability to change the course of history, to move the world with words, to bring together a polarized society in equality and equitability is possible. That feeling is important to me. And that assertion is the most profoundly certain I have been in quite some time.

I want to one day tell my grandchild that something really mattered, that I, too, was part of a movement. Like my rather inspiring grandparents, who you see flanking President Kennedy in the photo above.

sometimes even ballarinas get frustrated

a broken heart in a vacant lot

Lately I've been slightly more hesitant to venture out of my house to walk around my neighborhood. The recent capitol hill slaying and the university district attack have me on absolute edge. Unfortunately for me, and for a lot of women in my neighborhood, there is an unfortunate aura of fear blanketing the neighborhood and with it an assumed pressure to approach our environment with increased trepidation. Yes, violence often flourishes in cities, but something about these incidents seems uncommon for a city like Seattle and I refuse to accept the circumstances of urban life as an explanation for these events. These incidents seem different—senseless and unusual. It is rare to read stories about women like myself—college educated women, social workers—being stabbed to death or beaten with a hammer until unrecognizable. And what disturbs me is that there has yet to be an arrest in either case and there is an uncomfortable absence of updates in the local media. I'm sick of waiting around for an explanation and I'm sick of waiting around to feel safe.

As a person of the city, I it is my very strong opinion that I should not be afraid to walk to my local grocer after six o'clock at night, I should not have to feel obligated to assess my surroundings when simply walking around the corner for a cup of coffee, up the hill to my friend's apartment, or even when taking the bus to another neighborhood; simply being aware should be enough. And, as a woman, it is the age old challenge of my entitlement to that security that rushes to the forefront of my mind. My life is my own and I should not feel as though it is some commodity that can be bought or sold, it is not something anyone other than me is entitled to. I have a right to my security and safety and I have a right to expect that to be respected. And, furthermore, as a woman, I should not have to fear the person walking down the street behind me; I should not have to feel like a target in my own environment.

Safety will come with empowerment and until the ownership and dominion people have over their bodies is respected fear will permeate and there will be no resolution to the problem that is violence. The only thing I can do for myself is continue to navigate my environment with awareness. I mean, this city is my home, too, god damn it and I refuse to be afraid of it.

a tuesday favorite

I hope that someday the happiness in my life can be summed up with a photo like this. Enjoy this collection, it is fantastic.

dancing on smoke stacks

Twenty-six miles from my hometown is a little town called Anaconda, and in between the two is another little town called Opportunity. My grandfather likes to make this joke that goes, “what lies between Butte and Anaconda?” I reply, “What?” He delivers, “Opportunity.”

Way back in the day, we’re talking in the days before American Industry had to outsource portions of industrial procedure to China, Anaconda was home of the largest smelter works in the world. The stack itself is about 500 ft. tall and is one of the more remarkable structures in southwest Montana, and is the tallest masonry structure in the world. What is important about this stack is not its design or how remarkable the engineering of the structure is, but rather what once happened on top of it.

In 1919 a celebration was held to dedicate the smoke stack before the smelter operations began thus turning the stack into a glorified chimney. In the days before the scaffolding was removed a group of men and women climbed to the top of the stack and had a party. My great-grandmother was one of them. At the age of 19 she climbed a unbelievable 500 ft. and danced on top of the smoke stack, a story she relished telling until late in her life. This is what women of Butte did; this is what Julia Rafferty had done. She was a gilded-age flapper, a dancer, a college graduate, a teacher who drank Manhattans with dinner, a woman who never once wore pants, and perhaps most importantly a woman who so greatly feared growing old out of fear for missing an experience that she lived her life for the feelings of youth. I gather that she was one of my mother’s strongest influences--a feminist before the feminist age, yet a woman of tradition, insight and progress.

I think about my grammie today because my newest thing is to savor my time and live a life less rushed. I am realizing that I am incredibly young and still have so much to learn. Do you remember being young, I’m thinking of those post-adolescent college years here, and thinking that you know everything there ever was to know about life? Then one day you are surprised to find yourself in a car accident or keying your neighbor’s car or ruining your friendships over small disagreements and then all of a sudden realized you know nothing at all. Well, I have been there and I should not have been so naive to think they would stop once I graduate from college or got a real job because these moments just keep on presenting themselves. Yesterday I was discussing a few things with my mother and she got all “are you even thinking?” She started in telling me how much time there is in life, how many goals I have yet to attain, how many things I have yet to experience and I kind of had to stop and agree.

I mean, I want to think I know everything, but I don’t. I have so much yet to learn. And for the first time ever it felt good to make that realization. It felt good to realize exactly how young I am and how much I have ahead of myself. And it makes me sad to think about how little I’ve been expressing myself and how limited my experiences have been and how rushed I let myself feel. And how important it is to slow down and savor my youth.

I’m so wildly, deliciously young!! And I’ve got all sorts of things ahead of me. Good things. Things I think will be the most defining, wonderful moments of my life.

I think all I really needed was a friendly reminder and some calm encouragement from the mom department telling me that it’s okay to climb high walls and dance on buildings and try to see the things others will not ever see—to take advantage of the opportunities that come my way. And that it is okay to take risks and have experiences because I’m young and I have to learn it sometime. And in the long run it is those youthful adventures that will keep us young beyond our years.