Inexplicable

I've decided to start a new blog.  If you want to keep readying my adventures, you can find me here:

http://tsneb.blogspot.com

So long, and thanks for all the fish

I think that mostly I exist to have the opportunity to quote books, movies, make obscure pop culture references, and sing songs.  So few things make me happier than when the title of a post falls neatly within that category AND is actually relevant to what I'm saying.

(Mischief Managed??  Possibly.  I may or may not have more shenanigans up my sleeve.  But I always loved the overt Harry Potter reference on the boat that often parked outside my window at work.)

This is my last day in Alaska.  Tomorrow is the first day of a brand new adventure, one wherein I plan to have more fun than basically ever.  I'll spend more time with my family, more time with friends, be better at my job, better at being spiritual... overall just more better.  I won't lose my temper, I'll start sleeping like a proper adult, and I'll acquire all those other skills that everyone thinks they'll automatically gain when looking forward to a new future.  It's called being hopelessly optimistic... and sometimes hopelessly deluded.

(The friendly neighborhood moose who liked to munch outside my window at work.  I have a very exciting window.  All the cool kids go there.)

But for now, I'm still here Alaska, and I'm surprised to find myself sad to leave.  After all, getting a job in the center of Seattle has basically been my goal in life for years.  Not to mention how much warmer it will be in the winter, and how much closer to family.

(McHugh Creek.  My favorite stretch of abandoned highway.)

But.  But, but, but.

(Fireweed.  When the blooms at the top blossom, you know summer is over and pre-winter is right around the corner.  Not fall.  There is no fall.)

This is the end of my fourth summer here, and I find that I've adapted neatly to all the bizarre little quirks such a remote location has.  I drive a lot more calmly than I used too.. I do a lot of things more calmly.  Don't get me wrong.  I still get excited, and I still worry, and I'll even lose my patience on occasion.  But I know how to rely on myself.  I know how to solve my own problems and make my own decisions.  I know I can make it on my own--even in The Last Frontier.  I know I can make friends and fall in love, and I know I can make mistakes too.  But just because a mistake happens, doesn't mean the world will end.  Quite to the contrary.  The world keeps happening, and I keep happening too.  I'm surprised to find that even though I avoided it like the plague, I did put down roots.  I didn't have a long-term apartment, and I didn't buy furniture, but I have friends.  I have surrogate families.  I have routines and activities.  Responsibilities even.  Favorite restaurants and coffee stands.  I have places I like to go to think.  I know which spots in the road to avoid because of potholes, and how to get places the back way to avoid construction.  I know that Simon's has the best key lime pie in the city, and no one makes better garlic-cilantro fries than Bears Tooth.  Moose's Tooth probably has the most exciting and delicious varieties of pizza ever.  And I'll miss eating at a place called Taco King (they deliver).  Taco King of all places!  

(This is what I always order at Bear's Tooth.  Rosemary Chicken Burger.  The garlic cilantro fries are a given.)

The best part about Alaska is I don't regret anything.  I went on the adventures.  I explored.  Saw the Iditarod and the Northern Lights.  Saw Denali and Seward.  Went to North Pole.  Camped, biked, fished, hiked, kayaked, canoed, flew and skiied over every inch I possibly could.  And it was beautiful.

(Not instagram.  Just a roadtrip-dirty windshield.  See.  That's how cool Alaska is.  You can take pictures like this through the dirty windshield of a moving car.)

So thank you Alaska, really.  And also for the fish.  It was rather delicious.

Douglas Adams, in case you're wondering.  From when the earth was going to be blown up in "The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy", and the dolphins left the planet, telling humans, "so long, and thanks for all the fish."

By Popular Demand

For Michelle.  Who requested it. The extended edition featuring deleted scenes. Hope this is what you were looking for!

...

"I don't want this anymore.

I want to wake up in the morning and help my kids get off to school.  I want to watch Good Morning America and take the dog on a walk, clean the house, do the laundry, make a million phone calls.  I want to call my mom in the middle of the day to chat just because I can.  I want to decide on dinner and bake things in the afternoon so the house smells delicious when people get home.  I want to be there when my other half walks through the door.  I want to sit down and have dinner with my family and talk to my kids.  Even when they're surly teenagers.  Because they'll be MY surly teenagers.  And at night when the kids have gone to bed, I want to curl up on the couch and snuggle with the love of my life.  And I want to sigh because even though it's difficult, life is so impossibly wonderful.

That's what I want.  Not this.  Not anymore."

Constantly Changing

Well.  Actually just math.  Which is lucky because I am a disaster in a science lab.  Just ask C.  So hold on to your turkeys kids, this one's going to be wild.

I'm not sure if I thought math made more sense when I compared it to life, or if life made more sense when I compared it to math, but either way helps me understand things better.

Every equation in math has factors, sometimes they are variables, sometimes constants, but an equation can't balance out unless the variable and constants agree on the answer.  Barring weird versions of math that don't count (hah! math counts :) ... yeah), when 2x=10 then the variable x is 5 based on the constants of 2 and 10.  But an equation with too many variables and not enough constants becomes difficult to solve for.  You can't arrive at numerical values for your variables in 2x+y=z.  Not enough known values.  So you end up with things like x=(y-z)/2 and y=z-2x.  No matter what they affect each other and the results, but you need more information to arrive at a numerical answer.

Life is the same way.  Some things in life are constant.  My family, my belief in God, the fact that I'm moving to Seattle next week, and knowing that I can still be friends with a handful of people that I don't live close to.  Right now, pretty much everything else is variables.  Am I going to like my apartment, will I make friends, will I like my new job, am I going to date someone in WA, am I going to date someone from AK, when will I have a dog, is my new company going to decide I am the worst designer ever and they shouldn't have hired me?  So many variables to solve for, and not enough constants.

Thou Shalt Not Covet

But sometimes I do.  Especially when it's the world's most adorable giraffe bangle that I've been lusting after for the better part of a year and is finally now on sale.

I think I'm going to finally buy my giraffe bangle.  I think it will match every outfit in my wardrobe, solve every problem in my life.  And cure world hunger.  And possibly even cancer.  It might even write the great American novel.  There's no telling how ambitious my bangle will be feeling, but it would definitely win all the cool tiles in the game of Life.  Even if I do have to pay for shipping and sales tax.  Which I think is bogus.  I mean, I'm going to have to just swallow the tax pill and get used to it I suppose... but paying for shipping is probably one of the lamest things in the world, especially when you do your purchasing from a shop that grossly inflates their prices anyway.  They can pay for their own shipping.

And as C says, you shouldn't have to pay shipping to end world hunger.

A serious case of the Wishy-Washies

While I have incredibly decided opinions about some things, with others I just completely fail.  For instance, A and I can never decide what we want to eat.  Ever.  And the situation only gets worse when we try to eat somewhere together.  We have created a bag full of restaurants that we like so when we need food we can just draw an option instead of having to decide on our own.  Which was a nice idea in theory--but in actual practice I think we end up often going through the entire bag before we find something that sounds good.

But the madness neither starts nor ends with food.  I think I've decided that from now on, 2012 should be referred to as 'The Year of the Wishy-Washies'.  Let's review the past 8 months, shall we:

I'm getting Married!

These are my colors.

Buy things.

Actually.  These are my colors.

Tell everyone I know.

10 versions of announcements.

Found the most perfect set of dishes ever.

Paper.  The linen textured kind in co-ordinating shades.

Actually--turns out I'm not getting married.

I should move to Washington.

Do I want those dishes, or do I like other ones more?

Definitely Washington.

New.  Friends???

I should stay in Alaska.

Washington.

Alaska.

I should date three boys at the same time.

Maybe actually none boys.

Okay, maybe one.

Or not?  Stupid triangles.

Washington.

Yes.  Washington.

What kind of dishes do I like?

Which is really the question, isn't it?  And if we're talking about dinnerware, we can't just look at 2012, sadly this saga has been going on since I started seriously looking at plate patterns in 1998.  When we were high schoolish ages, my parents would start buying things for us that we would need later on.  Dinnerware, pots and pans, silverware, etc.  So I started looking.  In fact.  I have looked at plate patterns at Corelle so many times, that I could not only tell you what new patterns were available and which had been dis-continued, but I can also refer to most of their patterns by name.

After putting it off for about 8 years, my mom finally gave me an ultimatum where-in I had two weeks to pick a plate pattern.  No more changing my mind.  Up til this point, the issue wasn't changing my mind so much as it was finding something I actually liked.  Now, my taste in material things has stayed rather consistent over the years even as styles change, which simply means that sometimes its easier than others for me to find things that I like.  Unfortunately--the creators of casual dinnerware didn't really catch up to my taste until about 3 years ago.  So I spent a really, really long time looking at floral, vine-y patterns that I < a fan of.  Regardless, I picked a pattern, and I have plates, and they're perfectly serviceable, and really not that bad compared to all the other plate patterns that were available.

(see? really not so bad.  Just a bit... floral. And pastel.)

But I still had a hand in the game, so to speak.  Every so often I would do the rounds, look at patterns, see what was available.  And when I was starting to register for things I found it.  The holy grail.  The most quintessential 'Stephanie' pattern that there could ever possibly be.

(Blue and white. Pattern mixing.  Perfect.)

But then Mom reminded me that I had never seen it in person, which laid the seed of doubt.  I started to wonder if they had the right weight and heft, if the picture was true to actual colors, and most of all if it would start to irritate me to have super pattern-y dishes.  I love patterns.  I am in love with color.  But I don't necessarily like for my colors and patterns to compete with my food.  It can only lead to a stomach ache.

So I thought.  And thought.  And thought and thought and thought.  And then I started thinking about how Mom has been pointing out fiesta-ware to me for years.  Literally.  Everytime we go through a dinnerware section in a store, either she or I will point it out.  For years.  Which led me to find this pattern.  It's not fiesta-ware, I think it's a more elegant answer to the question though.

(Noritake Colorwave.  In Turquoise, yellow, and grey.)

I particularly like how it's neutral where the food goes, and the exterior is matte instead of glossy.

Although it might be nice with some fun pattern-y things mixed in... just so it doesn't get boring.

Which I think actually makes me the wishy-washiest plate pattern picker in the history of dinnerware.

TAMTNEK: Music

I'm starting something new.  Things About Me That Not Everyone Knows.  It's pretty self-explanatory.  Mostly I'm doing this because I've been thinking about blogging again, and the only thing I never run out of things to say about is myself.  So lets call this an insight into an incurable narcissist.

Everyone knows that I am obsessed with music.  I love knowing the words, titles, tunes, artists, and back stories.  I love being able to sing along with just about anything from any decade.  I'll listen to just about anything, but I will almost always default to 80s, country, or 60s music.  Someone once decided to start calling me a jukebox.  I suppose it's not an incorrect comparison.

Some of you know that I love Simon & Garfunkel, John Denver, Journey and Heart, but not everyone knows that secretly I'm obsessed with Enya, David Bowie and Def Lepperd.  Or that L-S has gotten me fixed on the adorableness of One Direction.

(see... pretty adorable.  And British.  Which never hurts.)

I love to awkwardly dance, and I love to rock out.  One of my specialties is shoulder-dancing.  Super fun to do while holding the steering wheel.  Did you know that you use different muscles if you're going to shoulder-dance while keeping your steering straight?  It's a nice challenge.

My theory on listening to a song that I like (I came by it honestly) is if it was good once, it will be even better twice.  At full blast.  But no more than twice or you'll get sick of it.  But sometimes if it's really good I'll listen a third time :)

I think one of the best features of music is that in a truly good song you're communicating in emotion.  The words are already written, so for someone like me who fails at verbal expression, music is wonderful.  It's my way of proving to the world that Yes!  I do have emotions.  Even if you have to catch me listening to 'Nothing Compares 2 U' by Sinead O Connor to witness them.

Ode to the Ampersand

So, when I first got engaged, in that haze of post-engagement bliss D tells me to do whatever I want with the reception because he doesn't care and it's my wedding.

Which I thought was... weird.  Because actually it's a celebration of that one time that we BOTH got married... as in... to each other.

See?  And.  As in her and him.  Two people.

Regardless.  I have discovered over the years that even though boys say they don't have an opinion--usually they do.  They just don't know it until it's confronted by something they suddenly realize they absolutely hate.  Then there is most assuredly an opinion.

Keeping that bit of experience in mind, I decided to keep my future husband in the loop so no disasters occurred when his new-found opinion met my reality.  And sometimes I think it's sort of funny to send him a picture of something I would never use in a million years.  Like a farm cake.  Or the invitations that reminded me mildly of a pirate ship.

Don't worry Travis, I won't steal your birthday cake for my wedding.

Speaking of invitations, I'm picky enough that I decided it would just be easier to design them myself.  I started by looking at designs online and finding out what we liked and didn't like.  From these intel-gathering sessions I realized that my taste is a lot more ... off-kilter than his.  And that he hated monograms.  So with that in mind I set out to design the perfect invitation suite.

Llama love.  See?  Off-kilter.

I decided one day that I had just fallen in love with this concept of an invitation suite in my head.  A suite involving die-cut-esque graphics, letterpress, and mild-to-moderate snarkiness.  The piece de resistance was the announcement itself--designed to feature a giant ampersand.  I spent a solid two hours trying to find the perfect ampersand.  Once I found exactly what I wanted, I realized I didn't like the font that went with it.  So it took me another two hours to find fonts that I liked that still matched my ideal ampersand... and my chiropractor wonders why I have neck problems.

Regardless.  10 designs and several spirited debates later we discovered that, in fact, my future husband dislikes giant ampersands more than he dislikes monograms.

But that's okay.  Even if I can't have one on the invitation, you better believe I'm going to find the most obnoxious one possible to be in all our photos :)

Every photo there ever was.

Put me in rehab and call me addicted!

I am over-the-moon obsessed with Pinterest.

I would say it's the best thing since sliced bread... but it's not.  It's better than sliced bread.  It's also better than the automobile, science, and the invention of the alphabet.  It is basically better than everything that there ever was.  Except weekends.  I think those still win.

The funny thing is, I've had friends asking me for months if I have a Pinterest account, and I was always like, 'no... I'm never online.  I'll never use one..."  Lie.  That's like how I told everyone I would never get a blog because I don't have things to say.  Seriously?  How was I able to convince myself that I didn't have things to say?  And, really?  "I'm never online"?  When am I not online?!  Regardless.  I have a pinterest account now. And my life will never be the same.

Why is it so great you ask?  Can of worms=opened.

You can socially network without all that pesky socializing involved with other social networking apps.

It's really easy to pin things.  I like this photo.  Pin it.  Done.

After you pin something, you are informed that it was a Success!  And it has been spread to your followers.  Which is sort of two awesome things.  One--I'm a success!!  And two, I have followers.  Which should perhaps frighten some as to what kind of wacked up website this is that allows me to have followers...

I don't have to carry around my flash-drive full of images or make bookmarks anymore.  Don't worry, Pinterest will take care of it for you.  All in one aesthetically-pleasing layout.

(see: aesthetic... and yummy.  Who can argue with that?!)

When people who don't know you start to follow your boards... it makes you actually feel like you succeeded at life... or something like that.

Other people can pin things to your board!  So I don't have to do all the work planning my wedding, other people can find things for me.  (Did I mention I'm getting married?  I think it was eclipsed by the discovery of Pinterest.  But I'm getting married on August 4, 2012--be excited.)

I have a page full of aesthetically pleasing things to eat.  So when I don't know what to make for dinner, I just let Pinterest decide for me.  Thank you Pinterest!

I think every moment this weekend that I wasn't shoveling snow or going to the doctor... I was on Pinterest.  Pinning like a bandit.

But obsessions don't always last a long time with me.  We'll see where this one ends up in the long-term interest hierarchy.  My guess is somewhere below dogs and  above Tiny Tower.

Oh the weather outside is frightful

When people ask what it's like to live in Alaska, I typically respond with some variation on "it's really cold and really dark".

Which is completely and totally true.

But that's do-able.  I've lived other places that were really cold and dark, even to the point where I don't really see much daylight.  I've dealt with lake effect snow and howling winds, freezing rain and snow drifts that stay until April.  I've seen snow in June. And clearly it's not bad enough here that I left before my second winter.

But at the same time...  ho-ly wow.

Granted, these last few days have been comparatively mild with the warm winds blowing through (apparently they were hurricane-strength... so that's exciting), but before that we basically endured a month straight of "feels like" 5'F and lower.

I haven't been in the sun in weeks.  Or months.  And it's so cold that I can't really breathe.  So I try to find indoor activities.  But it does get kind of boring after a while.  A sort of 'cabin fever', if you will.

Maybe I should have known something was wrong when I got confused last week and had myself totally convinced that it was currently March.  I definitely should have known when the temperature bumped up to 15'F in November and I thought 'it was such a nice day out.'

But I don't think I completely clued in until I looked out the window today, completely unable to tell if the sun was rising, or setting.  Because it's all one motion.  With no daylight hours in-between.

Snipe.

Occupy Comment Boards

I love (read: am consistently totally floored) that there is something about a chat room/comment board that allows people a feeling of complete anonymity... and thus a total and utter lack of accountability.  Shocking what behaviors such a scenario can bring out (if I recall psych 111 correctly, psychologists call the effect 'de-individuation' [you know, that same thing that causes a spontaneous mob to form and encourage someone standing on a ledge to jump to their death] ).

For whatever bizarre reason, I ended up reading all the comments on an article about Gen-Y's who are currently unemployed.  I am consistently blown away by the inaccurate, uneducated, biased, heated remarks people feel the need to share in order for their meaningless existences to be validated.  And if they end up in a debate they can't win, or feel their life perspectives threatened, they can always stab back with an ad hominem argument and hope no one cries 'objection!'

Really?  Really now.  Let's try for a little bit of class.

Call me a devil's advocate (people usually do), but I find both sides make good points, and both sides are totally ignorant.  I could probably successfully argue either way, most of the time.

Truth is, I guess the truth is somewhere in the middle (as it usually is).  The government has problems, so do the people they govern.  Republicans have fundamental flaws, so do democrats.  We are both the product of our society and the cause of it.

Yes, I'm a slightly right-leaning Gen-y with a job.  That doesn't mean I automatically blame everything wrong in the world on the President and baby boomers.  It's not like the federal government is intentionally trying to sabotage the country... it's more of an incidental thing (I think... I would hate to find out I was giving them the benefit of the doubt only to be wrong).  It's not like the baby boomers are staying out of retirement out of a malicious desire to thwart the lives and careers of their children... mostly it's because the money they thought they had?  Yeah, turns out it's not there anymore.

And yes, there is something to be said for the theory that the mass over spending and debt accumulation typified by the baby boomers certainly didn't do us any favors.  Nor did the implied lessons of freedom from responsibility brought on by their catering to every whim.  Or the myth that "if we get an education and work hard we can live the American dream".  But I think their lives weren't so different than ours.  A boomer was born between '46 and '64.  Many of them grew up during one of the countries greatest financial booms, only to suffer economic turmoil right around the time they were graduating college and trying to make their way in the world in the mid-late 70s.  Luckily the 80s and 90s allowed them to, once again, enjoy the financial prosperity of their youth.  A Millennial was born between '80 and '00.  We grew up during one of the countries greatest financial booms, only to suffer economic turmoil right around the time we are graduating college and trying to make our way in the world.

Now if we're lucky, in five years or so we'll see the market turn around so we can once again enjoy the financial prosperity of our youth to raise our own children.  And can we honestly say that we won't follow the pattern our parents laid for us?

So am I guilty of making gross-over-generalizations?  Yes.  Often.  All the time everyday.  About most people and situations.  But I think just this once I want to be politically correct (or at least just plain correct... you know how I feel about politics).

It's that time of year

Admittedly, "that time of year" is essentially over in Alaska... but that doesn't stop me from loving it.

Fall is unquestionably my favorite season.  There is just something a little bit magical about those clear crisp skies and crunchy leaves, something that just feels right.  I'm pretty sure it was my favorite thing about living in Michigan.  Especially going on those long cross-country runs that ended at the cider mill.  Can anyone really top fresh cider and hot, home-made donuts?  I submit that they cannot!

Yum.

The clothes are even better!  You get to wear all those wonderful sweaters and jackets and layers... not to mention the beautiful colors.  All those over-saturated jewel tones paired with neutral wool and tweed that show up this season.
It's pretty freaking fantastic eh?

I think I've decided it's my goal in life to one day live somewhere with an extended fall--the longer the better.  Like Vermont.  Maybe.

Other fantastic things that Fall reminds me I'm obsessed with:

Caramel-apple cheesecake bars (seriously, these are like the best things ever)

Leather

Jumping in piles of leaves--did you know that the first time I remember jumping in a pile of leaves was our first fall in Michigan?  I was 12.

Horses, and barns of course--you ought to know those go hand in hand

New England... and also the northeast.  There is something about that area that has always felt just a little bit magical to me.

Heavy wool coats (especially in bright colors!)

Cowboy boots

I will go out of my way to jump on a crunchy-looking leaf

Leather knee-high boots (actually, this is more of a year-round sort of thing)

Running.  I don't know that I'll ever lose the whole cross-country association.

School

Football

Pumpkin bread (and cookies!)

Marvin, the Paranoid Android*

I feel life I've been experiencing writer's block, artist's block, building blocks, and block parties for months now.

I used to have all kinds of viciously snarky or deliciously off-the-wall things to pontificate on to the point of exhaustion from a-top my soap-box of pointlessness.

I miss those days.

Lately I've been coming to the realization that I become bored easily.  I guess I shouldn't call it a realization, so much as I've stopped trying to be in denial about it.  The best thing about these little epiphanies is they give me the chance to analyze myself to-death.

I feel like once my brain solves a problem once, it programs some sort of default solution into the memory mainframe, so when the same problems come up over and over again, all I have to do is run a certain program and voila.  Problem solved.  Instant boredom.  Again.

Superficially, this isn't a big deal.  I could just give myself more to do.... or something like that.

But I think that these behaviors are actually symptoms of a much more involved issue, with far-reaching consequences.  I'm working at my dream job, and I'm bored out of my mind.  Every time I get a new project I experience a little jolt of excitement.  "This is it."  I think.  "This is the project that is going to stimulate my creative juices and require me to actually work for once."  And then disappointment settles in like smog over LA county as I realize that I just have to draw up the same cubicles.  Again.  The only challenge comes when my computer decides it doesn't want to work and I have to figure out why, or if my clients ask for something impossible.  But then it's just disheartening.  Because despite my best efforts, impossible things are just like they sound.  But that doesn't stop me from trying.

I need variety.  I need a challenge.  It's like my brain has to be in a state of constantly changing stimuli, or it just shuts off.

I've tried researching, reading, writing, the outdoors, watching movies, playing games, picking up hobbies.......... and nothing.

Sometimes I make simple activities incredibly elaborate and difficult to accomplish just to have something to do.

I'm like an addict.  Constantly searching for more and more stimulation to stave off the restlessness and boredom.

But as boredom sets in, so does laziness.  Unfortunately, although the boredom is typically localized to a certain area of my life, once laziness gets its foot in the door it tends to take over the whole house.  It's all so plebeian and simple.  Why even bother doing anything anymore?

And thus we see why I need to stay busy.  Or perhaps go back to school.  Or change careers.  Or actually maybe just have a social life again.

*Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy.  If you haven't read it, do yourself a favor and put it on your to-do list.

Harold Hill Whiting's Obituary

Harold Hill Whiting's Obituary: The Deseret News

He will be missed.

Consolation Prize

I've always had a few ... unique... aspirations tucked away in my pocket.  I once went through a phase where it was my greatest ambition in life to be the automated voice recording on the phone.  Other goals have included things like, have a career in naming paint colors, or crayon colors, or be the person who decides on the theme all the street names are going to have in a neighborhood (did you know there is a neighborhood in Eagle River where all the streets are named after great racehorses?  That is who I aspire to be).

I haven't decided yet if I'm ashamed to admit this, but sometimes I think my favorite part of having a blog is getting to change the background.

This shouldn't be new information.  Just like my favorite part of The Sims is building people and their houses (do I ever actually play... answer=no), there is something about the color agreement of something well-designed that makes me feel at peace with my inner Martha Stewart. (Don't mock, you know you have one.)

So while we idle away the time until inspiration strikes and I actually blog about something, you can enjoy this new background.

Spring Break-Up

Funny Story... thought I posted this three weeks ago... whoops.

Lately, when it comes to blogging I have been somewhat less than inspired.  In fact, until my mother reminded me about it the other day, I had a little bit forgotten that my blog even existed.

Apologies.

For those who are unfamiliar, in Alaska the part of the year when its warm enough that things are melting, but cold enough to still be covered in dirty snow is known as spring break-up.  It is pretty universally agreed on as Alaska's least favorite time of the year.  But it didn't stop me from enjoying Alaska.  I a little bit love this place.  Except for the Winter deciduous trees (Which I have never been a fan of) it's actually quite lovely all year.  Even in the heart of winter.

Contrary to popular belief, there is still sunlight in Winter.  Yes, it rises at 11am and sets around 3:30pm... but there is still light.  I think all the whiners are just melodramatizing the whole situation.  And coming from the queen of melodrama, that is quite the accusation.

Besides, Winter in Alaska let me see things like the hoar frost (which I didn't know existed until I saw it.  I love learning new things about the weather), the Iditarod (which has been years in coming), and the northern lights (which are suprisingly un-photogenic).

I keep going back and forth on whether I want to stay for another winter.  Honestly, I really didn't mind the cold and dark--it was the lack of a social life that got to me.  After partying with people every night, hanging out with your last friend once a week is a significant change in lifestyle.  I plan to re-evaluate come November.

In an ironic twist of fate, I have a new responsibility with my church.  Basically, I do exactly what I do for my friends, for everyone.  Which involves a lot of delegating, planning, texting back and forth, spreading the word, and execution of flawlessly exiting activities.  But I found out this last week I'm in charge of a regional activity in July to which anyone in the state of Alaska ages 18-30 can attend.  Holy yikes.

But my friends are back, and people here think I'm awesome.  So thank you Alaska, and here's to another great summer.

Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here*

Like a bad made-for-TV-natural-disaster movie, crisis has struck the world.  With the 8.9* earthquake that hit Japan a few days ago--anything could happen.  Including the explosion of a Nuclear Reactor that was damaged during the quake.

Why is it always Japan?

Out of the Nuclear Disasters that have hit our planet, I'm pretty sure about half were in Japan.  With 10-story lizards, mecha-suit teams, and magical girls already rampaging about the city--do they really need another source of destruction?  The very thorough research says no.

Perhaps because of all their experience with their cities being destroyed by uncontrollable sources*, the Japanese people have shown the world order and calm in the midst of chaos.  If this same event had occurred in the US, I can only imagine the riots that would break out as we panicked.  Because we're Americans--thats what we do.  We think about ourselves and panic.

And now we've all convinced ourselves that nuclear fallout is coming and we have to take those silly pills.  As a preventative measure.

Really people?  Iodine?  That chemical can seriously mess you up.  Yes, if the worst happens it theoretically can help protect your thyroid.  But it's not something to be taken preventatively.  Yikes.

Maybe it's a generational thing.  I didn't grow up thinking in terms of bomb shelters, or that the ability to duck and cover under a nearby desk would save me.  I grew up with the knowledge of thousands of farmers getting cancer because they weren't informed of the fallout.  Think of it as a silent killer.  Stealthy, patient.  Takes its time but always gets the target.  Like a really well-trained ninja.  Not to mention the fact that if Nuclear fallout happens, there isn't much anyone can do.  About anything.

But if you want to feel better about nuclear arms--look no further:

Colbert: Better Know a Lobby

Consider me an official attendee of the: March to Keep Fear Alive

3/23 Update:  Good news America--the threat continues to dwindle.  You can stop with the whole rape, pillage, and plunder act.  (Why is it that in times of crisis its always called 'looting' and not stealing?)  At least for that whole nuclear thing.  But we may be just in time to start sharpening our pitchforks about the energy crisis.  Be prepared to join your local angry mob at a moment's notice.  I hear the plan is to take down local gas stations.

*Yes, that was a condemnation to Dante's 7th Circle

*Note: not a 9.0.  As a lover of integers, even numbers, and over-exaggeration, you can imagine how this must be killing me.  But technically the difference between the two is exponential, not .1.  To put it in perspective: the earthquake (8.9) rocked the earth at a force of approximately 380 megatons--the atomic bomb that struck Nagasaki (6.06) had a force of .021 megatons.  Just something to think about.  

*or because their entire society is built on the value of the many over the value of the one.  Y'know, either way.

Anglophiles Anonymous

C and I have a running joke, that whenever I do something that we both realize is beyond even my usual idiosyncrasies--I apologize and say I have a sickness (and it's incurable).

Ironically, my anxious and hypochondrial tendencies bounce off each other in a positive feedback loop--resulting in the melodramatic self-diagnosis that I worry about having a disease where one worries about having diseases.

Regardless.

Every year, about this time or so, I am struck with an over-whelming desire to go to the British Isles.  It's gotten to the point that I don't know if the "symptoms" of this peculiar disease caused it, or are the result of it.  But like so many other WAS' (like a WASP, but less affiliated to a specific region or religion) I feel the undeniable tie to Mother England.  I guess it's like SAD--but wanting England instead of the sun.

Now, don't get me wrong--I'm not about to go ex-pat (I'm a bit too American for my own good if you know what I mean), but that doesn't stop the waves of curiosity from crashing over me.

It doesn't help that a number of important holidays in the Isles happen between January and April.  Today, for instance, was St. David's Day.  Patron saint of Wales.  In observance, I wear all black with a bright yellow headband and belt (his flag see--yellow cross on a black field) and... my David's Day pin.  Should I admit I have this?  Or that I made it?  Shockingly, there aren't a ton of companies who carry leek products.  Not near as much commercial appeal as the kissing+alcohol+clovers that apparently means St. Patty's.  Yikes.  Also, who on earth decided that the Irish are infinitely more kissable than everyone else?  Anyway.  Leek+Daffodil=Wales.  Much more refined.  It's about all the country has left after a "long succession of the waves from which history is chiefly composed."

(My David's Day Pin--isn't it cute?)

Speaking of waves of history--in about a week or so I will suddenly decide it's a spectacular idea (and quite an essential one) to re-read one of my favorite books, "1066 and All That... a Memorable History of England, comprising all the parts you can remember, including 103 Good Things, 5 Bad Kings, and 2 Genuine Dates."  Gets me every time.  Williamanmary--getting the Orange to rule England was a very good thing.

Come St. Patrick's Day I'll be sure to wear orange with my green... let it never be said I don't play the diplomat.

Did you know that you can get a flight from Seattle to Heathrow for about the same price as Seattle to Anchorage?  Thats more bad for Anchorage than it is good for Heathrow though... yikes.

However, also at this time of year I celebrate a day that is basically the opposite of Britain.  On Fat Tuesday I celebrate the Polish way and eat Paczkis.  Catholic and Polish.  And fat.  Couldn't be further from Britain (or at least the Sloane Rangers).

The Confirmation Bias

I've decided I have impeccable timing.  Apparently I don't need to read the news--because if the last few weeks have been any indication, I know whats going to happen before it actually does.

I had a song stuck in my head.  I didn't know who sang it.  Or any words.  All I knew is it had a freaking sweet saxophone solo.  Using the reasoning that sax solos in pop music were big in the 70s and 80s, that narrowed my search.  After searching a few minutes on Google  I found it.  Because someone had posted an article literally five minutes before that the artist had died that morning.  I mean tragic that he died an all (that sax solo was genius) but seriously that I would be looking for it the day he died?  Odds?  Not super high.

RIP Gerry Rafferty

I was thinking all about knick-knacks and how they are the worst.  Me and C were talking about them, which led to my ranty blog on the subject.  Now when it got to the landfill section I felt inspired by the tidbit about Michigan.  It was a complaint that I remembered people having when I was there, so I looked it up before I posted it (Because making sure everything I say is PC has always been super high on my priority list) and ever so conveniently the first result for "michigan paid canada landfill" was a news article written the day before about how Ontario voluntarily agreed (how else would they agree?  We can hardly gag and tie them--literally forcing their hands to sign important documents... and even if we could we probably wouldn't waste the international incident on garbage.  Literal garbage.) to have some of their cities stop sending trash.  How serendipitous.  Apparently senators agree with me.  Or at least their constituents did and complained enough.  You say potato.

Also, that whole Prince William+Kate Middleton thing... One day my landlady was freaking-out excited at me about the whole thing.  We got to watch some hour-long special on the news about it.  Can I just say that I thought they already were engaged?  Had been for months?  But then I always forget that my life-long friendship with Kate allows me to know things like that far before the general public.  Or at least glancing at tabloid covers as I go through the line at the grocery store.  It's one of the two.

And iPhone?  I thought everyone knew a new generation would be coming out in the fall.  No.  Seriously.  Everyone didn't know?

*When we convince ourselves that outcomes, results, and all-out conclusions occur because of an illogical instance, and we choose to hold as evidence only instances where-in our theory holds true and ignore all others.  This is what psychology, logic, and a million other disciplines refer to as the Confirmation Bias.  However, courtrooms call it a case.  Feel free to apply whenever you think someone's argument may be using said bias.

Raspberry Beret

Confession: I have spent more than my fair share of time this last term in secondhand stores.

Really the only response to your look filled with disbelief and derision, is: I know, right?  I honestly can't even defend myself here.

That being said, it's one thing to buy an item here or there--practical jokes, white elephants, oddly-themed costume parties, (and some normal-themed costume parties)--but what's the deal with actually shopping there?  I know; budgets, blah blah blah.  But really?  Other than being used and smelly, the only thing that all the non-clothing merchandise has in common is that they're basically knick-knacks.

Knick-knacks (kk) have to be one of the more curious of human inventions.  With the exception of very few items, they serve no real function.  Have you ever seen anyone actually use a decorative spoon?  Answer=no.  So what's the point?  On the surface their sole purpose seems to be reminders of past experience.  But really, they mostly exist to prove to other people who hold stock in such things that the person who owns the kks is traveled, cultured... or at least has a lot of money.  All things we tend to respect as a society.  Seriously, the person who came up with the idea of selling commemorative junk... I don't know if they should be congratulated for their entrepreneurial spirit, or shot for their disservice to humanity.  

Regardless, we all seem to have them (myself included)

Visted Yellowstone?  Bought a t-shirt.

Washington D.C.?  WA Monument Spoon

Rushmore?  Mini ceramic replica

With every vacation your house fills with them.  As you slowly drown in your "collectibles" eventually everyone (with the exception of class 5 hoarders) will reach a point where they finally convince themselves they aren't betraying someone's memory by getting rid of the kks.

Unfortunately, at this point in the knick-knack life cycle, there aren't a lot of options.  Some people feel the need to share their old junk with people they don't know.  This is where garage sales came from.  There are not enough "why's" in the world to express my horror at this activity.  Its bad enough to buy your kks first hand on location, but to buy someone else's?  There is no nice way to say this.  Buying someone's knick-knacks is buying their old discarded junk.  It's meaningless, often broken, and usually not very attractive.  It was literally one foot in the garbage can before you decided to step in and rescue it.  Please note: items not purchased get donated, or sent to the landfill.  Which leads me to other kk relocation options.  

Donations?  Isn't this how I started the whole rant?  And it has the same problem as garage sales.  No one should want to buy other people's kks.  I just don't understand why this ever seems like a good idea.

Landfills?  For the less environmentally inclined.  Yeah--like we need more things in there.  Did you know that the State of Michigan gets paid to have other place's trash sit in their landfills?  Including places like New Jersey (The dirtiest state--which is ironic considering it's garden status).  And Canada.  Yes, for years Ontario cities have been trucking their trash to Michigan, causing the unfortunate nick-name "the Great Waste State".  

World... enough is enough.  It's time for an intervention.  

Enter the Knick-Knack Rehabilitation Program.  Take your used knick-knacks to a rehabilitation center.  The kind people there will restore the knick-knacks to their former glory (cough) and send those magnets and mini ceramic replicas back to whence they came. Where they can be resold at gift shops for a whole new group of suckers to buy into.  So, although homes will continue to be plagued by the stuff, at least the landfills will be emptier.  Plus you get the green credit of actually doing the whole reduce-re-use-recycle thing.  Repurposing and renovating is way more points on the social green hierarchy than donating.  (If you don't think there is a social green hierarchy... welcome to the bottom of the food chain)

Caveat: People with no money and college students (not necessarily mutually exclusive), have free-reign to buy things at second-hand stores,  just not knick-knacks... there's no reason for it.  Small children who have not reached the age of accountability are allowed to want knick-knacks, both new and used.  They don't know the difference.