Four days on or near the water in Maine, seeing old friends was wonderful, although lacking cell phone coverage and internet for that period of time felt… unprecedented. It’s amazing how connected we’ve become in the last ten years that such a thing for so short a time can feel like complete alienation.
Weather was beautiful, and we enjoyed soft-shell lobster and haddock chowder and dodged lobster pot buoys and floated in the coves. Entertainment was decidedly lo-tech: board & card games and puzzles. I took about a gazillion photos, which I’m slowly fixing up for presentation. There’s a nascent flickr photoset:
Maine: Labor Day weekend 2004 in Meadow Cove, Boothbay and Ocean Point
… which will be added to as days go by.
Back in Seattle, with a cold, but happy and feeling rested. Read two books on the flights inbound & outbound: the first, which shall remain nameless, featured (I swear) three sentences on average per page. By the nearly intolerably verbose second act, there were a good number of sentences that lasted nearly a full page or longer. It ended, thankfully, before they extended, Ouroboros-like, beyond the bounds of the novel itself and back to the beginning. On the return I read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, which I thought affecting but very short.
I’m visiting Las Vegas for the first time this coming weekend, which is exciting but a little scary — overwhelmed, maybe, by Vegas-as-myth, Vegas-as-spectacle. Crossing fingers that I’ll be well enough to enjoy in full!
My whole life seems to revolve around boxes these days. At home, there are boxes coming in, nearly every day, due to some strange confluence of factors I don’t fully understand. There are packing peanuts too, but I Just Don’t Want To Talk About It Anymore (whoever invented packing peanuts should be shot). My workplace is moving, so there are boxes there too, sloppy specimens that shout, “Yuki made this!” — and, yes, the peanut guy’s fate goes double for packing tape’s inventor.
I feel like I once had a lot more to say. Lately, I sit down to write something down and end up with a headache. So I take the easy way out and post a photo or two, which can be nice, but on a regular basis probably as unsatisfying for you as for me.
Thing is, I can only do one thing at a time, creatively. If my mind’s in a visual mode, if I’m taking photos or drawing or painting, my writing shuts down. When I used to sing, I completely had no eye. I can’t even consider music or art when I’m writing and on a roll. Picture these as boxes, and well, my brain can only be in one at a time, and likes to get comfortable; these cycles last for weeks or months at a time. It’s not that I don’t want to be able to do these things simultaneously — I do, and it pulls at me because I want to do Everything All The Time — but haven’t figured out how.
So right now I’m clearly in a seeing world. I promised myself a couple months ago, when I got upped to a trial pro account at flickr, that I would prepare and upload at least one photo a day, which I’ve totally held to. I’m happy with the results, too, but truth is my fingers are itching to write. Two months to my thirtieth birthday; can I learn to juggle this late?
Anyone have any tips?
When I’m in visual mode it’s super-easy to start getting frustrated with my design skills, so naturally I’m contemplating a full makeover again. But first I’ll be trying to upgrade to Movable Type 3.1, so I may be quiet for a bit as backend stuff happens. Crossing my fingers!
Today I went and voted, because That’s What We Do (you did too, right?). Running for the Dem nomination for governor was someone listed as (and legally named, turns out) “Mike the Mover,” who apparently is something of a well-known character come election time. He ended up in third, ahead of three other candidates. I’d be scared, but I think we were scraping the bottom of the barrel at that point.
And yay for Deborah Senn: as a friend of mine says, if you’ve got big business scared of you, you must be doing something right!
Voting always makes me feel a bit queasy because filling in those little bubbles brings back all sorts of standardized test damage. Kept my thoughts centered by reminding myself that at least they’re not Diebold machines — now there’s a nightmare! — and tho my ballot was spit out three times by Mr. Scanning Robot, things turned out well.
Can’t wait ‘til November!