First I was sick,
then I started learning guitar.
Next came Z's birthday and now I'm hustling to get ready at work and at home to go on a trip to Point no point with my fantastic friends C and T from the NC.
It's going to be awesome. And probably colder than here.
Things currently being worried about/worked on for the move...
how/whether to move newts
our book collection
how crazy it is that time moves ever onward.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
"So you all know that what you've come to see is a nature documentary not a sports film."
I've been sick since Wednesday but on Saturday I dragged my ass with Z to the 36th Legislative District Caucus to attempt my civic duty as an Obama delegate. I was short of breath and coughing and spitting and generally disgusting and by the time we made it there I was certain that my next stop would be the emergency room. Because Z was an alternate we made sure that there were enough Obama alternates to cover me before he drove me to Capitol Hill to see the doctor. There were. We got in the car and I started wondering AGAIN...
Could I make it to the movie?
About three weeks ago I was walking to a bar when, through a window of a locked up coffee shop in the U District, I saw a poster with the face of Zizou and some dates. I imagined that I would forget to look it up, so I called Z and told him "It says Zidane, A 21st Century Portrait and April 4-6th." The next day we bought tickets. Until about an hour before the movie played I was still unsure about whether I could make it/stay awake/avoid coughing all over the person next to me. (The doctor gave me an albuterol inhaler to open up my bronchs, which was the only thing that assured me that I could, in fact, breathe through the whole show.) There's no telling when we'll get to see a screening of this incredible film again, and I'm so glad I went.
The quote in the title is from the Board member of the NW Film Forum who introduced the show. But I'm getting ahead of myself. As we walked up to the place (which is ordinarily pretty full up with folks who look like "film people" and other people dressed in black) there were people in Real Madrid jerseys and other football gear. It looked more like the George and Dragon on a Saturday morning than an arty film house. Everyone was on the phone telling the people that they were meeting that the show was sold out. I glowed smugly as we coasted into the Will Call line. The screening room was also filled with men, mostly, who looked unsettlingly sporty for the venue. I imagined they were almost hooligan-y. A group in the back kept trying to start a CLAP CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP like we were at a stadium.
The story of the film is that it's an experiment and it's a different way to watch a football game. I think it attempts to give us some insight into what the difference between a player's perception of a game and a viewer's perception. Basically, the filmmakers shot one Real Madrid match (the usual cues are missing, and I don't know enough about la ligue to recognize the opponents) by only filming Zidane with 17 HD cameras. This means that we very rarely see the ball, and we simply watch all of the moments in the game that don't make it into the highlight reel. This is difficult to describe, particularly to anyone who doesn't watch soccer.
We (American soccer fans) often say that watching soccer takes a longer attention span, that the action is more continuous and therefore at a different pace than other spectator sports. This film shows that playing professional soccer takes a longer attention span still. We see only the world through Zidane's apparent reaction to it, through how it changes his game face. It was very Zen, very beautiful and like nothing I've seen. Absent are commentators, the pregame to remind you of which individuals are playing, the time clock, replays or other onscreen reminders to let you know the details of the game. I wasn't even certain of the score until I checked with Z on the way out!
Most of the film is growing obsessively familiar with the smallest details, Zidane's squint, his gait as he wanders from open place to open place on the field positioning constantly. Early on, there's a little bit of action... he gets the ball, burns through a defender or two and passes it on. Nobody in the sold out crowd made a sound (though we were clearly all football fans (the clapping guys started calling out ZIZOU! ZIZOU! when the lights went out) and appreciated the beauty and skill on the screen) that was it. We were collectively silent for the rest of the film. A crowd of people, who I imagine have no shame about yelling and berating screens anywhere else, watched our first football match in silence. I believe that if we'd cheered for that initial moment, we'd have made noise through the whole thing.
The sound of the film may account for that. We heard the players run on the turf like horse, heard Zidane's hand scrape his stubbly head to wipe off sweat, and more than anything heard the voices of the fans in the stands as a player does. There is a brilliant soundtrack by Mogwai that complements the sort of Nature Documenatry sounds of a "footballer in the wild". All in all, it was unlike anything I've ever seen, and I'm grateful I went.
sniff.
cough.
Could I make it to the movie?
About three weeks ago I was walking to a bar when, through a window of a locked up coffee shop in the U District, I saw a poster with the face of Zizou and some dates. I imagined that I would forget to look it up, so I called Z and told him "It says Zidane, A 21st Century Portrait and April 4-6th." The next day we bought tickets. Until about an hour before the movie played I was still unsure about whether I could make it/stay awake/avoid coughing all over the person next to me. (The doctor gave me an albuterol inhaler to open up my bronchs, which was the only thing that assured me that I could, in fact, breathe through the whole show.) There's no telling when we'll get to see a screening of this incredible film again, and I'm so glad I went.
The quote in the title is from the Board member of the NW Film Forum who introduced the show. But I'm getting ahead of myself. As we walked up to the place (which is ordinarily pretty full up with folks who look like "film people" and other people dressed in black) there were people in Real Madrid jerseys and other football gear. It looked more like the George and Dragon on a Saturday morning than an arty film house. Everyone was on the phone telling the people that they were meeting that the show was sold out. I glowed smugly as we coasted into the Will Call line. The screening room was also filled with men, mostly, who looked unsettlingly sporty for the venue. I imagined they were almost hooligan-y. A group in the back kept trying to start a CLAP CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP like we were at a stadium.
The story of the film is that it's an experiment and it's a different way to watch a football game. I think it attempts to give us some insight into what the difference between a player's perception of a game and a viewer's perception. Basically, the filmmakers shot one Real Madrid match (the usual cues are missing, and I don't know enough about la ligue to recognize the opponents) by only filming Zidane with 17 HD cameras. This means that we very rarely see the ball, and we simply watch all of the moments in the game that don't make it into the highlight reel. This is difficult to describe, particularly to anyone who doesn't watch soccer.
We (American soccer fans) often say that watching soccer takes a longer attention span, that the action is more continuous and therefore at a different pace than other spectator sports. This film shows that playing professional soccer takes a longer attention span still. We see only the world through Zidane's apparent reaction to it, through how it changes his game face. It was very Zen, very beautiful and like nothing I've seen. Absent are commentators, the pregame to remind you of which individuals are playing, the time clock, replays or other onscreen reminders to let you know the details of the game. I wasn't even certain of the score until I checked with Z on the way out!
Most of the film is growing obsessively familiar with the smallest details, Zidane's squint, his gait as he wanders from open place to open place on the field positioning constantly. Early on, there's a little bit of action... he gets the ball, burns through a defender or two and passes it on. Nobody in the sold out crowd made a sound (though we were clearly all football fans (the clapping guys started calling out ZIZOU! ZIZOU! when the lights went out) and appreciated the beauty and skill on the screen) that was it. We were collectively silent for the rest of the film. A crowd of people, who I imagine have no shame about yelling and berating screens anywhere else, watched our first football match in silence. I believe that if we'd cheered for that initial moment, we'd have made noise through the whole thing.
The sound of the film may account for that. We heard the players run on the turf like horse, heard Zidane's hand scrape his stubbly head to wipe off sweat, and more than anything heard the voices of the fans in the stands as a player does. There is a brilliant soundtrack by Mogwai that complements the sort of Nature Documenatry sounds of a "footballer in the wild". All in all, it was unlike anything I've ever seen, and I'm grateful I went.
sniff.
cough.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Air.
Yesterday, I knew I was getting sick when I woke up. I had tickets to Cabaret, though so instead of going home to bed like I should have, I stayed out until about 11. Then I broke with my practice of never going to work sick. Today was "spicy work" one of my favorite traditions in our group, and I really didn't want to miss it both because I love it, and because everything would have been harder for my co-teachers.
We planted window boxes today. As I coughed and sneezed my bleary way through the morning, many different people said "Kendra, are you sick again? I think it's this building." Our new building is fantastic, but it has a climate control system that means that the windows don't open.
There was a table set up with boxes and organic soil and plants from my local organic fertilizer and plant store (might miss that in Boston). Kids in my small group were asking questions. One in particular didn't get it.
"Where will you put the window boxes?"
"Over there on the window sill."
"Where will the plants live?"
"In the dirt in the box."
"How will they live there?"
"We'll take turns watering them."
"But the windows don't open."
"Yes, that's true."
"But how will they live? Plants need sun and water and AIR to live and the windows don't open!"
Aha. I assured the kid that if there's air enough for people there would be air enough for plants as well. And I looked meaningfully into the eyes of the other adult in the room and coughed.
We planted window boxes today. As I coughed and sneezed my bleary way through the morning, many different people said "Kendra, are you sick again? I think it's this building." Our new building is fantastic, but it has a climate control system that means that the windows don't open.
There was a table set up with boxes and organic soil and plants from my local organic fertilizer and plant store (might miss that in Boston). Kids in my small group were asking questions. One in particular didn't get it.
"Where will you put the window boxes?"
"Over there on the window sill."
"Where will the plants live?"
"In the dirt in the box."
"How will they live there?"
"We'll take turns watering them."
"But the windows don't open."
"Yes, that's true."
"But how will they live? Plants need sun and water and AIR to live and the windows don't open!"
Aha. I assured the kid that if there's air enough for people there would be air enough for plants as well. And I looked meaningfully into the eyes of the other adult in the room and coughed.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Laurie -1 Guy in the Chai House - 0
Overheard Saturday Midday at Mr. Spot's Chai House:
Guy is first tapping away at his laptop, then greets a friend. The friend comes over to say hi, and they chat, after awhile, Guy loses interest in friend and becomes more attentive to his video poker game.
Guy is standing, leaning over glaring at his laptop.
"Stop betting Laurie. Stop betting. Oh, Laurie, come on, I'm not betting for nothing. Laurie, don't do it Laurie, you don't have it. We both know you don't have it. Throw your cards in Laurie. There's no way I'm bluffing, I can't afford to bluff. You don't want a standoff. Stop betting. Laurie!" There's a pause. Then
"Oh! Laurie you bitch!"
The friend mumbles a question. Poker guy responds.
"There's a lot of ways to win a game like this. A show down is one way. Yeah, I could probably go all in and win a in a show down. But I don't want to win in a show down on this one. Oh, Laurie!"
I glanced over at the guy's screen. Laurie's avatar had long blonde hair, blue eyes and a white cowboy hat. I wondered if she's a real person or just a computer player.
Oh Laurie!
Guy is first tapping away at his laptop, then greets a friend. The friend comes over to say hi, and they chat, after awhile, Guy loses interest in friend and becomes more attentive to his video poker game.
Guy is standing, leaning over glaring at his laptop.
"Stop betting Laurie. Stop betting. Oh, Laurie, come on, I'm not betting for nothing. Laurie, don't do it Laurie, you don't have it. We both know you don't have it. Throw your cards in Laurie. There's no way I'm bluffing, I can't afford to bluff. You don't want a standoff. Stop betting. Laurie!" There's a pause. Then
"Oh! Laurie you bitch!"
The friend mumbles a question. Poker guy responds.
"There's a lot of ways to win a game like this. A show down is one way. Yeah, I could probably go all in and win a in a show down. But I don't want to win in a show down on this one. Oh, Laurie!"
I glanced over at the guy's screen. Laurie's avatar had long blonde hair, blue eyes and a white cowboy hat. I wondered if she's a real person or just a computer player.
Oh Laurie!
Sunday, March 16, 2008
And all I got was some feathers in my hair...
Sundays are my favorite day of the week. They always start with a walk to the Farmer's Market. If I'm early enough, I get eggs, if I'm not I've got to wait until next week. I stop at Anselmo's for onions and potatoes every week, and at Growing Things when I need soap. I stop and listen to some Bluegrass on the sidewalk and taste the cheese before I buy it.
The next stop is for coffee or tea at one of my favorite spots. I've headed to Floating Leaves with my friend David a couple of times in the last month, and I often go to Nervous Nelly's (Where they know my name and my drink, and assume I want toast with cheese and egg.)
Today, I decided to head to the Chai House instead. When I first moved to Ballard Mr. Spot's Chai House was one of my homes away from home. The first day we had keys to the place, actually, I went out in search of some sage and prayer flags for our new home and I found myself at the Chai House buying both, and a Ruby Tuesday (Chai, no milk, pomegranite syrup, juice of a whole lemon and some cayenne pepper. Yummy.) Since we decided to move away from Seattle, I'm occasionally wracked with nostalgia and fondness for my adopted city. Unlike when we left the Northeast (I always knew I'd be traveling back for friends and family.) I'm not sure when I'll be able to make it back here and how often.
There I sat, knitting on the couch, gazing at the really bad art on the wall, sipping my Ruby Tuesday (fantastic for the immune system) and spacing out.
The incredibly competent barista with a subtle jerry curl kind of mohawk asked a woman who appeared to be a customer to cover for her. A few minutes later I happened to look at the people in line. They had snow in their hair! It wasn't warm today, but not cold enough for snow by at least 20 degrees! I looked outside... nothing. I looked back at the growing line and realized that they had feathers in their hair. Like, goose down. In fact... there was a young man with what looked like a pillow under his jacket. ? I looked outside again and discovered that feathers were blowing down the sidewalk, as if... as if there had been a pillow fight in the small park next to the Chai House. This is a bizarre thought to have, but the only solution to the evidence in front of me. The barista ran in, feathers in her mohawk and tagged out with her temporary replacement. I headed outside and sure enough there were a couple of pillows in sight, but a lot more hair full of feathers. In any case the entire park was FILLED with goose down. I wish I could have gotten a picture, but I'm sure some will appear in the next couple of hours.
When I got home, I googled "Ballard Pillow Fight" and found out that it was a "Flash Mob Pillow Fight."
I missed it! Something bizarre happened and I only got to see the aftermath! But really, the aftermath was more mysterious and lovely than witnessing the event without taking part would have been.
(In this one you can see the Barista in the sleeveless sweatshirt in the center.)
The next stop is for coffee or tea at one of my favorite spots. I've headed to Floating Leaves with my friend David a couple of times in the last month, and I often go to Nervous Nelly's (Where they know my name and my drink, and assume I want toast with cheese and egg.)
Today, I decided to head to the Chai House instead. When I first moved to Ballard Mr. Spot's Chai House was one of my homes away from home. The first day we had keys to the place, actually, I went out in search of some sage and prayer flags for our new home and I found myself at the Chai House buying both, and a Ruby Tuesday (Chai, no milk, pomegranite syrup, juice of a whole lemon and some cayenne pepper. Yummy.) Since we decided to move away from Seattle, I'm occasionally wracked with nostalgia and fondness for my adopted city. Unlike when we left the Northeast (I always knew I'd be traveling back for friends and family.) I'm not sure when I'll be able to make it back here and how often.
There I sat, knitting on the couch, gazing at the really bad art on the wall, sipping my Ruby Tuesday (fantastic for the immune system) and spacing out.
The incredibly competent barista with a subtle jerry curl kind of mohawk asked a woman who appeared to be a customer to cover for her. A few minutes later I happened to look at the people in line. They had snow in their hair! It wasn't warm today, but not cold enough for snow by at least 20 degrees! I looked outside... nothing. I looked back at the growing line and realized that they had feathers in their hair. Like, goose down. In fact... there was a young man with what looked like a pillow under his jacket. ? I looked outside again and discovered that feathers were blowing down the sidewalk, as if... as if there had been a pillow fight in the small park next to the Chai House. This is a bizarre thought to have, but the only solution to the evidence in front of me. The barista ran in, feathers in her mohawk and tagged out with her temporary replacement. I headed outside and sure enough there were a couple of pillows in sight, but a lot more hair full of feathers. In any case the entire park was FILLED with goose down. I wish I could have gotten a picture, but I'm sure some will appear in the next couple of hours.
When I got home, I googled "Ballard Pillow Fight" and found out that it was a "Flash Mob Pillow Fight."
I missed it! Something bizarre happened and I only got to see the aftermath! But really, the aftermath was more mysterious and lovely than witnessing the event without taking part would have been.
(In this one you can see the Barista in the sleeveless sweatshirt in the center.)
Friday, March 14, 2008
Metaphysical Poll
This is so fantastic and a perfect antidote for those of us who have spent way too much time staring at Geraldine Ferraro.
It's a place where folks post their dreams about Obama, Clinton and McCain. It's called the Metaphysical Poll because it's, like, where our subconscious can vote. It's also really fun to read. I had a dream about Obama early in the campaign, but can't find it in my journal, so I'll just have to spectate. Enjoy.
It's a place where folks post their dreams about Obama, Clinton and McCain. It's called the Metaphysical Poll because it's, like, where our subconscious can vote. It's also really fun to read. I had a dream about Obama early in the campaign, but can't find it in my journal, so I'll just have to spectate. Enjoy.
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