One Year

One year ago tomorrow I left Mississippi for the Pacifical Northwest.

Amazing.

Some days it feels like I just got here. Other days it feels like I have been here for years. And often Mississippi feels like a whole different lifetime and world. And I mean that in a good way.

I realized yesterday I have had this blog for almost three years. I started it after going to a workshop where I got all excited about starting a library-related blog. A few weeks later my dad died and the focus of the blog changed quickly. Several times in the following two years I almost deleted it. I felt like I was exposing too much of myself during a very private, personal struggle. I would post things and then delete them. Or start them and then never publish them.

But now, looking back, I am really glad I stuck with it. I was able to document my life during a tough time, to document my life living in a place I kind of understood. I documented my move across the country. And now I'm kind of digging this whole blog thing.

So, one year ago today, I took pictures of Sweet Pickles' bathroom. I met the cleaning ladies I hired to clean my place and chatted with them while they swept up three years worth of cat hair. I watched the weather non-stop because I was worried I would hit nasty storms in the Arkansas Delta or the Missouri Bootheel. I met Frenchie for lunch one last time. I think we went to Newk's. The night before we went to Ajax so I could get fried pickles one last time.

And then the next morning, bright and early, I left a note for Sweet Pickles on his kitchen table, and I dove out of town about 6:30 in the morning, beginning the biggest and longest road trip I have ever been on.

My last May in Mississippi.

In Transition Part I, Mississippi to Iowa.

In Transition Part II, Iowa to Wyoming.

In Transition Part III, Wyoming to Montana.

In Transition Part IV, Montana to Washington.

My Love of Facebook

Facebook gets a bad wrap and there has been a certain amount of backlash lately. But I adore it. Not just because it is a great way to waste a significant amount of time. It's a great way to keep up with friends I've left and to reconnect with old friends. I've blogged about that already, so I won't go on about that any more... other than to say I keep finding more people from college and high school in this area and that is cool.

Yesterday I met a Facebook friend for coffee. This isn't someone I just bumped into on Facebook, this is a person who, at one point in my life, I probably saw every day. We went to junior high together. But combined with her being younger than me and the fact that I have blocked out most of my school-related life prior to senior year, I didn't remember her. We both live in the same town. We've been commenting on each others pages for some time, so I finally asked her to meet for coffee.

We met at a local coffee shop and we closed the place down (which for this coffee shop it 6pm). It was great. She almost brought her Junior high yearbooks (7th and 8th for her, 8th and 9th for me). I had flashbacks to my eighth grade picture where I was sporting the Midwestern overly-permed girl mullet. I don't remember my 9th grade picture, but I am fairly sure I still had the Midwestern girl mullet--I had that haircut until sophomore year.

What was weird was that here was this person I had never met face to face yet we had memories of the same things and people. Some were school specific (friends, school plays), some were town specific (the Parkade, The Hill, local small towns), some were state specific (Chuck Long, Hayden Fry, and while Lute Osen didn't come up, he would be another one; if you don't know any of these people, then you are not from Iowa).

I told her about this blog and given our mutual love of the Interwebs, my guess is that she will read this (hi!). But it was enjoyable and entertaining. Not to mention the fact that I got to lust after her iPhone and dream about the day that I will get one (hopefully soon).

On a similar topic, last weekend I met some old acquaintances from high school who were in the area on vacation. I had class with both of them (they are married now but didn't date in high school--I don't think), but I don't think I would've ever have called them good friends or anything. I also found out that he and I went to elementary school and junior high together, and I didn't even know it. I'm hoping he didn't take my surprise that we rode the bus together as a personal snub. Like I said, I have blocked out most of my formative years. But it was cool seeing them, catching up on what is going on back in Iowa.

So, here's to Facebook for allowing me to reconnect with a part of my life I pretty much forgot about. It's been fun. It almost makes me want to my next high school reunion.

Almost.

Rocket Man

I am an avid listener of public radio. Even in Mississippi I suffered through Mississippi Public Broadcasting. The cut-outs in signal, the broadcasting of two shows on top of each other, the repetition of the same shows back to back. Why? Because I love the national programing.

I have my favorites. Wait Wait Don't Tell Me. Whad'ya Know (which KUOW in Seattle doesn't broadcast), Car Talk. And I passionately hate some programming, like anything done by Garrison Keillor (man, they love him up here; KUOW plays that craptastic show at least twice every weekend).

One show I don't listen to as much as one might think is This American Life. I like it. I subscribe to the podcast. But I rarely get around to listening to it. This morning I was a little slow getting out of bed, and I don't have to be anywhere until this afternoon (manicure followed by coffee).

Today's This American Life was a rerun where they looked at the lives of people who place classified ads in the local paper. The one segment that really caught my ear was Act Three: Musicians Classifieds. They went through the ads and put together a band. The band would be together for one day and would record one song. They had people from all over the music genre map and there were a few things that just didn't seem like they could fit. And they had a violinist who was in anger management.

They went into the to record Elton John's Rocket Man. And you know what? It was amazing. It was one of those things where I stopped everything I did to listen. I got goosebumps. Maybe it was the narrative that went with it--how within a few minutes these people clicked and played like they had always been playing together. It worked, and it worked well. I had hoped they had a copy of the song I could purchase, but I don't see it on their site. Because I would have paid the 99 cents to iTunes to get a copy. You can stream it here.

This episode is seven years old now. I really want to know what happened to the people in the band. Did they ever find a band? Did they ever decide to play together again? Was it just a one-time thing where Jupiter was in Mars and the star aligned just right?

I need to know!

You Know What Summer Means?

It's almost football season. Yes, it is time to talk about football. Already. Pre-season starts in August, and that is only a couple of months away.

Why else is it time to start talking about football? Because today I secured a ticket to the Packers' season opener against the Bears. For face value. FACE VALUE. That's like $60. For Packers' tickets. Season openers. Against the Bears. Televised. Y'all, I am past the point of excited.

A friend and I had narrowed the choices down to three games: Bears, Vikings, or Lions. The Lions? I know we could beat them. The Bears? Oldest rivalry in the NFL. I have some respect for the Bears. It's the season opener. It fits better with my schedule. We're on the quarter system so classes don't start until the end of September. The Vikings? Those bastards are evil. And the whole Favre-playing-for-the-Vikings thing hasn't been settled. And if Favre does play for the Vikings (it would be stupid for all parties involved), I would love the chance to boos, hiss, and swear at him when he walks into Lambeau, but I don't think I could stomach it. Honestly. When I say I am a hardcore Packers fan, I mean it.

I bought my plane ticket and one leg will be first class. Thank you frequent flier miles. I had considered using the free ticket to go back down south to see some friends, but the Packers and Lambeau won out. The ticket isn't completely free, but with my frequent flier miles I could fly both ways coach or one way coach and one way first class for the same amount. I went with the second one.

So... this was a good way to end the week. I've had a shitty couple of weeks. The work situation hasn't improved a whole lot. The two people I spend most of my time with are both leaving this month for different jobs. One is heading down to New Orleans. She's a complete and total Yankee, so I have been giving her some advice and tips (you will never have to open another door again; central air will be your best friend; find a native Southerner to act as your trusted cultural interpreter; and so on and so forth). But I go from having a small support system to having zero support system. Why is this important? Because I work in the most dysfunctional place I have ever set foot in. I don't want to go into details so just trust me on this. With these two other people leaving, some have speculated that I would be next. I told one person if the market were better, I would probably be back on it.

But would I, really? I don't know. I've thought about it. I love this area, and I love living here. I am trying to think long term with the job and remind myself that organizations can change with the arrival of new people and the retirement of old people. And when that happens, it can change surprisingly fast. However, hiring new people is difficult given our current budget... I try to stay positive. But if you have ever spent more than two minutes around me, you know that seeing the silver lining isn't one of my strong points.

So, until then, I will focus on my trip to Chicago for ALA next month, on a possible trip to Portland to see some friends and hopefully drink several days into oblivion, and, of course, the Packers.

The cat also known as Fatass.

Alexsi...




This is postworthy because he weighs 21 pounds and is bigger than most small dogs. And by small dogs, I mean smallish medium-sized dogs. And he can curl all 21 pounds into a box used to ship shoes (I found a pair of discontinued vegan Danskos on eBay).

Mike Watt is the Man

I saw Mike Watt last night. Mike Watt was one-third of the Minutemen. Mike Watt is the Mike Watt mentioned in History Lesson Part II ("Me and Mike Watt played for years").

Watt is touring with his new band, The Missing Men. I haven't paid much attention to Watt's solo stuff, really, but he's still a punk rock legend. And he still flies the We Jam Econo flag. There is a line in the song History Lesson Part II that sums up the entire DIY movement: Our band could be your life. The Minutemen always supported people to start bands. D. Boom was this big beefy guy and Watt was a tall skinny guy fron San Pedro. If they could start a band, anyone could. Pick up an instrument and see what happens. "Start your own band" was a common motto.

I had some concerns going in. This is Mike Watt. I love, and I mean love, the Minutemen. Some people accused Watt of selling out. I think one of his later bands signed on a major label. He sold a Minutemen song to a car company for a commercial. (He did it to help out D. Boon's dad. Boon's dad was ill and the money he earned from the royalties was deperately needed. Boon had been dead for years, so Watt thought it was a way Boon could help his dad from the grave.) Would I be disappointed? Would I want to hear someone who isn't D. Boon sing a Minutemen song? Would they pull out the Minutemen?

I wasn't. I did. They did. And you know what? It was great. They rocked the whole set hard and fast--as one would expect from someone like Mike Watt. There were times it got a bit jam bandy for me, but they were still damn good. Watt was all over the little stage. The other guitarist was older, the drummer, who was awesome, was front and center, young, and awesome. They did pull out some Minutemen songs. Ask me which ones and I wouldn't know since I gave up memorizing song titles a long time ago.

I'm glad I went. Every time I go to a live show I am reminded why I love live music--especially in a club. It's intimate. They music is so loud that the bass line makes my clothing move (I love that). And then there is the people in the crowd.

I forget how hipster this town is. It's a mix of hippie and hipster, actually. But this club was hipster. If I'd had my camera I could have supplied Look at this Fucking Hipster with a month of photos. Lots of skinny boys in skinny jeans wearing blazers and headbands. Lots of girls in skirts with spiky hair, lip rings, retro cameras, and lord know what else. Several drunks--one older dude with some badly bleached hair was being a dick and came close to starting a fight. I can honestly say I enjoy old aging drunk hipsters over the chatting sorority girls and fraternity boys who went to shows down south. I expect fights. I expect stupidity. What I don't expect is girls in cocktail dresses gossiping with their friends.

Leaving the club we had to weave our way through the twenty-something hipsters gathering outside the club. An a friend of mine said, "Some places put Chinese dragons at the entrance of their establishments. Some put barely legal girls with cigarettes and cell phones." Awesome.

Anyway... Mike Watt was amazing. He is still jamming econo. They still broke down all their own instruments. They still play fast (the set lasted a little over an hour). He still thanked everyone for being there, supporting him, and being part of the experience. And at the end he yelled, "Start your own band!"

Nice to see that some things never change.

Censorship

What is censorship?

Let me put on my librarian hat for a bit.

Scenario: A grad student in a subject area approaches the subject librarian to ask why the library holds a certain journal. She says the journal in question is racist. It's an academic, peer-reviewed journal, but she says that is used to shield the racist thought behind the journal. The librarian looks into and decides the journal does have racist undertones. It's not flat-out propaganda, but it seems questionable. What do you do when the student asks why the library is spending money on a racist journal? Do you cancel it? If you do, is it censorship?

To me, it goes against everything we stand for. It goes against everything an academic institution stands for. Our job as librarians is to present information in a non-judgmental manner. It is our job to present information that covers all sides. It's not our call to say an opinion is right or wrong. I purchase all kinds of things I find personally distasteful and offensive. I purchase items I don't agree with. I have my opinions and I share them regularly (ask anyone), but when it comes to presenting resources and ideas? No.

Let's add another layer to this. If a librarian used this example--an example from another school--as a reason to discourage students from using this journal, is that wrong? Is it censorship? Is it academically dishonest? Would you, as a librarian, say anything about it? Speak up and call it censorship?

Our role as librarians and educators means exposing students to differing opinions and ideas--even if they are offensive. It's up to the individual to decide what is right and wrong, not ours. But is telling someone not to use a source censorship? Or is it some outdated sense of protectionism? The idea that the "common man" is too stupid to decide what is right and wrong; therefore, the smart people, the academics on the hill, need to shield them from this information.

Thing is, while I think the first instance, the canceling of a journal because a librarian disagrees with it, is so very wrong and is censorship, plain and simple. The second idea, discouraging use of a source because you find it wrong, is downright offensive. It offends me as a person and as a librarian. But more than that, it is an offense to all of our users because it assumes they can't tell right from wrong.

Anyone else have an opinions on this?

My Next Favorite Blog

Awkward Family Photos.

My two current favorites: The Rear Window and Bon Family Blowout.

Randomness

Best South Park Quote: "Look, nobody likes having to rise to a challenge, but competing against other people and getting in their faces and saying 'Ha ha, I'm better than you' is part of life. "

My new favorite bumper sticker: "What the fuck is wrong with you people." I don't know what it was for or who it represented, but I don't really care.

Worst (or best?) We Are the World Cover

Tired

My mom was here from last Wednesday until this morning.

We had a great time and I look forward to her coming back. But I am exhausted. We covered a lot of ground while she was here. We spent one afternoon in Seattle, another day putzing around town, and another in Vancouver (where we may have spent longer but there was a Canucks game that night, and the last thing I wanted to do was get stuck in Canadian hockey traffic). The last day, though, was really amazing.

We went whale watching.

When we began to make the plans months ago, Mom wanted to whale watch. I did some research and found out there is such a thing as whale season. We settled on a time and made plans. But, it turns out whale season where I live starts next weekend. Other areas--like places on various islands and Canada--are running now. But in my town? No. At the last minute I found a guy based on Orcas Island (Outer Island Expeditions) who ran whale tours year round. After a lot of finagling and changing plans, we nailed down a time and location.

He picked us up on a beach on Lummi Island. It was plain cool. He just pulled right up and we climbed on the boat. I had no clue that could be done. We spent three and a half hours on the water, most of them at the base of the Straight of George. The J Pod of residential Orca whales was in the area and in no hurry to go anywhere. There were between 30 and 40 whales. They would pull together in a group, they would spread out. They jumped. They slapped their tails. Simply put, it was amazing.

Mount Baker

Earlier when I talked to Beau, the captain, he asked what our goal was for the tour (Outer Island tries to personalize each trip). Mom wanted to see whales, and I just wanted to get out on the water. We got both. We could hang out on the back end of the boat (I don't know what it's called in boating terms). We could climb up on the very top (the view was amazing). While out on the water we had spectacular views of the whales, but we also had a clear views of Mount Baker and the Canadian Cascades.

Whales with the Canadian Cascades in the background


Whales and Canada, Part II

I've heard people talk about how incredible it is to whale watch and they speak of it in almost hushed tones. Now I understand why. I could have spent all day out there, standing on the boat just watching the wildlife and taking in the view.

It was one of those days that reminds me why I live here and why I love it. Now I can't wait until I get another chance to get back out on the water.

I took some fuzzy video with my digital camera. It is far from perfect, but you can see the whales in motion.

The Last Year of my 30s

I have officially entered the last year of my 30s. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I has so happy to say good bye to my 20s. But my 30s? I've liked my 30s. I like being 30-something. I'm not sure how I feel about 40-something. But, yes, I am officially 39. And it seems very odd.

I stretched my birthday out over several days. A friend and colleague made me vegan red velvet cupcakes and brought them to work. I was surprised at how many people had never had red velvet before. And my friend kept referring to the frosting as Spackle (he had to use Tofutti "cream" cheese). But they were good. And RED. Always awesome.

I had an appointment for a haircut and color on Saturday. What was supposed to be a trim turned into a major cut when my stylist said, "So, I've been thinking about your hair..." And we cut at least four inches off giving me an inverted bob. I've had this cut many times as it is what I call my "safety cut," but this turned out really well. I was iffy at first, but I'm diggin' it.

I went to dinner that night with a couple of friends. We went to one of the fanciest places in town where I announced to the waiter that it was my birthday and I intended to drink. And I mean drink. I started with a margarita. It was fine and all, but I think they forgot to add Tequila. I moved on to the blood orange martini. And not only was it pretty, it was good, and they definitely added liquor.

Blood Orange Martini

So... this place has a rotating menu and they had a few vegetarian options--one that could be made vegan and one that couldn't, plus, they could make me something not on the menu (tempeh and quinoa). I went with the item on the menu. Simply put, it was tempeh-stuffed celery root over pureed truffle potatoes with roasted cauliflower and a mushroom rus. Butter was substituted with olive oil. And you know what? It was awesome. Also, by this time I was on drink two if not three, so almost anything starchy would have tasted good. I also had a salad with ginger candy and a balsamic vinaigrette. Also excellent.

Tempeh-stuffed celery root with pureed truffle potatoes, roasted cauliflower, and mushroom rus

There weren't any vegan deserts on the menu, but they brought me some peppermint sorbet over ginger candy paired with some warm blueberries. I don't think I would ever think to put any of those things together, but it was yummy.

Peppermint Sorbet and Warm Blueberries

We had a good time and made plans for a road trip to Corvalis, Oregon so one of my friends could find a place to live (she is leaving us for another job) along with future plans to meet in Portland in the next year to celebrate the completion of her third Masters degree.

After I got home I watched Grease 2 (it was on TV; dear god, what a terrible movie) and drank a half a bottle of Three Buck Chuck. The cats decided they needed to eat about 7:00 this morning, so the raging hang-over I woke up with reminded me why I don't drink like that anymore.

But, I had a good birthday. I was reminded why I don't think I ever want to leave the West coast and that hippie towns, despite their overabundance of dreadlocks, do indeed rock.

Next year for my birthday? Vegas.