You are currently browsing the monthly archive for November, 2008.
Maybe it’s all this chatter about my school days, but this morning, I was remembering Weekly Readers. Does this ring a bell? Are they still around? No doubt a quick search of the Internets could answer this question. Hold on.
Answer: Yes, it is.
But I digress. The whole point is that I’ve decided to start a weekly reader of my very own with the hopes that I will not be committing any sort of trademark infringement. The selections with be entirely subjective as the joy of a blog as you know means having complete editorial control, but I like to think it might justify the embarrassing number of hours I spend during the week absorbing random information while I should be working and allow you to do the same.
And so without further ado, I present The WTOS Reader, Volume 1, Issue 1.
General Interest: The Art of Translation [NPR], For anyone who loves books, nerdy things, or Les Miserables.
Current Events: Obamaism [New York], Want to relive November 4, 2008 over and over? I do.
Essay: The Chelsea Affect [Granta], Because Arthur Miller was brilliant and funny (and wrote more than The Crucible).
Cookery: A Great Relief [Orangette], Not everyone gets to make the Thanksgiving turkey. I would settle for biscuits being my Thanksgiving trademark.
Book Reviews: Graphic Tales [Bookslut], I’ve already owned up to my love of young adult fiction, but aside from Persepolis I’ve never taken the next step into young adult graphic novels. Now I want to.
Hibernation requires only a few supplies:
(a) your choice of hot apple cider or hot chocolate
(b) a really fantastic blanket (preferably of the wool and plaid variety for maximum hibernation satisfaction)
(c) a subscription to several glossy magazines
(d) a cabinet full of soup cans
(e) good books
Actually, hibernation can go pretty well for a while with only (e). And this print reminded me of how hibernation-worthy Italo Calvino can be.
[artwork by Janice Jong]
Me: [channel surfing...pause]
Her: Wait! Is that Degrassi?!?!?!
Me: I have no idea what you’re talking about?
Her: The Canadian teen soap opera–Degrassi!
It was. And it was awesome. I have a whole new perspective now on Sunday morning television after 2.5 hours of Canadian high school drama… and maybe the tiniest twinge of nostalgia.
I am rarely hit with a strong wave of much of anything for my teenage years. Not that mine were stuff of teen television dramedies. Far from it. But they were a time of confusion and searching and more than a few bad haircuts.
But every now and again, I feel myself pulled back into that world. Going back wouldn’t be so bad if I could go back knowing what I know now, I tell myself. It was kinda nice having my place in the world clearly defined, my place at the lunch table always saved: freshman, sophomore, junior, senior, varsity softball, student council, etc. I now float somewhere between the post-college years (although still in college) and the pre-married years (although not ready to get married), not quite sure where I belong sometimes. The labels are still there, but they no longer have such clear meaning.
In truth, I know I don’t really want to go back. And in greater truth, I quite like this in-between life I now lead. But it’s nice to know that there are high school volleyball games to attend that bring back rose-colored memories of Homecoming dances, bus rides to away games, and Friday nights spent playing Tony Hawk or chatting at Coffee Cartel. And I’m coming to terms with the fact that I will never get over my weakness of young adult fantasy with strong, teen, female characters (thank you, Tamora Pierce). And judging from my sheer adoration of the Dutch movie Dunya & Desie this weekend, I still have a soft spot for films about teenage friendship as well.
Hello, Memory Lane. It’s been a while…
There’s a light at the end of every tunnel. This is a lesson history has taught us time and time again. Even when that tunnel is filled with papers and hours at the library and deadlines and 12-hour road trips and not nearly enough sleep, we tell ourselves that the light is there, just around the next bend. This has been my mantra for the past week.
Meanwhile, life is still busy teaching me lessons, such as that it’s hard to see the light when you have your head down, trying to protect yourself the tiniest bit as you march into the onslaught.
So today, I’m picking my head up, looking around, and noticing that maybe things are quite as bad as I’ve been making them out to be. Here is what I’ve seen to make me smile:
One more free pass to the European Film Festival!
Breakfast: Chocolate chip cookie bars with coffee.
Dresses! [via unruly things]
Summer library science seminars in Oxford and Prague.
An hour or two in my near future at Teaism with a dear friend…
… to be followed by free hot chocolate at TangySweet.
Soup, soup. [via angry chicken and kitchen sink]
Previews for Slumdog Millionaire.
It’s starting to look a bit brighter already…
I’ve been fumbling around for the words to describe my November 4, 2008 for the past ten days. And it’s only now that I realize that somewhere in there, life went on. Life went on without me compulsively checking pollster.com. Life went on without injecting a steady stream of news commentary into my life. And even friendships based primarily on election talk for the past two years have managed to go on in their own way.
I still will write about that day, but it will be with more perspective now. For so long November 4 was the end and the beginning wrapped up in one. But on November 8 I looked on as a friend of over 20 years was married to his high school sweetheart. On November 11, I watched a dear friend coach a team of high school girls to a state championship. The following day, I skipped through the rain to laugh and talk with new friends over beers, remembering how lucky I am. Soon I will be headed home again for the holidays, for family. And on November 28, I will stand up at my cousin pledges her love and loyalty to her fiance.
Life, indeed, goes on. Amazing.
I’m blogging like crazy as there won’t even be exit polls to discuss for another hour and a half. Must. Fill. Time.
Awesome, thematic prints: here and here.
A not-so-thematic but still fantastic dress. [from kimenna]
This bit of project inspiration from design*sponge.
Fall scented candles. [from blisscandles]
And my latest etsy purchase [from kateszabone]…
For a family with a daily newspaper subscription and our very own police officer, we have not always been the most civically minded of folk. But today. Today is different. Our country is different. And I am different. For the past several weeks, months, maybe even year, I have hounded my family. I have forced them to read articles and e-mails, listen to me cry and plead, and even deal with the blowback of a letter to the editor I sent to my hometown newspaper. I wanted them to see things my way. I wanted them to care about the same issues I care about.
Around 10 am today, my little brother sent me a text:
You should be proud of me. I voted.
Suddenly, it didn’t matter who he voted for. It didn’t matter what made him go out this time when he hadn’t four years ago. I didn’t ask. He had voted. He had exercised one of his greatest rights as a citizen of this country.
And I am proud.
Gray skies and long lines were cancelled out by free coffee and cookies. No one complained. No one really said much of anything. This was a somber occasion. This was too big for little jokes.
I had only been there for five minutes–coffee in hand–when the silence was broken. He was probably late 20s, early 30s, baggy pants, baggy jacket, Yankees hat. He bounced out the doors of the school:
“I voted! Whoo! I voted!”
The words echoed off the brick buildings. I think the sun peeked through a little.
I hope you voted, too.
