Pacific Time

Although I've been trying to keep a sleep schedule suited to a responsible adult rather than a college freshman, I've had some trouble, mostly because my work habits are those of a college freshman, and I'm most productive at night. So I made a compromise with myself, and try to wake up at 9 or 9:30. This means, however, that I'm usually eating breakfast when NPR here switches to Diane Rheam, and her cadre of verbose, know-it-all, and occasionally belligerent callers. And there's nothing so demoralizing about being home during the day as feeling like, by virtue of my schedule, underemployment and tendency to lean preeeettty far left (and to occasionally tend toward the know-it-all myself) that I belong to their ranks. Plus, I miss most of Morning Edition. So I've found a solution: KCRW, the Santa Monica public radio station that provided most of soundtrack to my mornings in college - with news and music rather than batty opinionators. So at 10, I usually make the switch from radio to computer, and, apart from the weather and traffic, which involve a lot of talk about smog and the 101, it matches up nicely with my experience. Now, it occurs to me that, since I often go to sleep around 1 -which would is a perfectly reasonable 10 out west, maybe I just have jetlag?

Windy City

The radio says we're getting 30 mph gusts - for the many-eth time since I moved back. I don't understand why this doesn't seem to happen in the summer. It's so common - and so uncomfortable - in the winter - every one of the ones I've experienced in DC has included at least one windstorm strong enough to knock newspaper boxes over. And every time, I vacillate between appreciating the wildness that it hints at - there isn't much of that here - and feeling ornery and short-tempered because I can't stand the cold that it carries with it. However, except when it's actively windy, I almost completely forget about it - and so, I think, do most people, because when you think about DC adjectives, do you really think of "windy?"

And You Will Know Us by Our Trail of Squeeling Children

Every day around 11, the preschool near my house takes its kids out for a walk - I know this because I can hear them from halfway down the block. They're all linked up on this rope - like a tow-rope on the bunny slope (or so I hear) - as far as I can tell, they aren't tethered to the rope, but instead have to hold on. And they do. And oh, do they ever chatter as they're doing it. It is, frankly, adorable. But I get the feeling that it's less so from the ground level perspective of the teachers who have to keep them going at a walking pace. . .

In other childlike news - I just threw a liiittle bit of a tantrum trying to re-lock the lock by my parking space. It's a stupid stupid system and far more trouble than it's worth - particularly when the lock doesn't seem to be in the best of shape. And with 40 mph wind gusts knocking around all of the trash cans in the alley, there was only so much of it that I could stand before stomping around and swearing abundantly. Maybe a touch embarrassing, sure, but the jumping up and down with frustration was kind of satisfying.

Maybe Not a Cure Exactly, But Also Maybe Not an Illness Exactly

When I was little, I had chronic sinus infections, which subsequently led to a penicillin allergy, which became evident during a very rough couple of weeks in fifth (sixth? how have I forgotten? I'm not that old) - since then, I've been a bit better - actually, I haven't been totally taken down by sinus trouble since Senior year of college, when I managed the pretty disgustingly astonishing feat of a double ear infection/sinus infection combo that actually made my face swell up a little. The doctor at the student health service was reluctant to give me antibiotics. I disagreed. I won. But, I have been known to have these lame runny nose/sinus headache combos that knock me around a little every time the weather changes dramatically in short periods of time. I'm not sure if this is a cold or some kind of allergy to change, but I treat them, mostly, with decongestants in the morning, salt water sinus rinses, seaweed salad, effervescet vitamin C tablets, and all of the expensive juices I usually avoid because of their high sugar content. At some point, I also look for spicy food.

I've been ensconced in one of these things since Friday or Saturday, and I've added a new concoction to my treatment - a cocktail of grapefruit and cranberry juices, with a little bit of seltzer. It's just sour enough to remind me that there's a word beyond my slightly dulled senses. However, it was only tonight - when I seem to be about done, but for lingering pressure under my eyebrows and some fatigue, that I returned to the standby of my previous residences in Washington - the veggie pad sew at Raku in Dupont. I know exactly why I didn't get it earlier (it's $12ish and no longer a short walk from where I live), but man was I ever missing out. I'm not going to say I'm better, but for the ten minutes it took me to eat dinner, I sure felt like I beat the system and won back the loyalties of my sinuses.

Sorry About the Burned Quinoa

But thanks for being nice about it, guys. At the time, I thought I had maybe overcooked some squash, but I learned last night - when I went back for leftovers - that it was a more widespread problem. Next time I'm in charge of the veggie substitute, I'll do better. I can't say I'll match Tweaks' mashed potato triumph, but I will improve.

I Met Ira Glass Today

And it was awesome.

He also talked, and took way more questions than the bookstore approved of. That was better. The last question was about whether he had learned any universally applicable lessons about people - he said he liked them. Then he said something about what reporters' attitudes mean about the work they produce, and it was great. Really. He also did a magic trick.

When I met him, I said something about this cemetery that's in one of the episodes from the first season of the tv show and asked if it was the one 5 minutes from where I grew up - it was not. And then we had this back and forth about the "treesy" nature of the midwest and how in fact, this cemetary is special and my fourth grade class went on a field trip there . . . and then I felt like everybody who follows the show probably feels when they meet Ira Glass - either you went for the thing that was so much like what you think he'd think was interesting that you feel like a brownnoser, (except in some weird twisted failing at hipness way, not the usual way), or you didn't, and you totally regret it. Because that kind of self-consciousness seems so much a part of the show, except, you know, it's bigger than that and the stuff that's so great is the story-telling and interesting-ness in a completely unhip, liking people way. And I really should have just thanked him for the videos on story-telling (see below). But I didn't. And I have a feeling there are 50 other people doing the same weird self-conscious thing as I am. And there's some comfort in that. Similarly, I feel like there are other people remarking on the crowd - the die-hards who got there at 5 for the 6:30 event, and the way that they seemed to be pretty much who you'd expect -mostly white, ages mid-20s to maybe mid-50s, quiet and reading until he came up, then really excited to laugh at his jokes, and ask questions about particular episodes (which, ps, he answered, unfailingly, in specifics, which makes me wonder if the nature of editing radio and tv itself, the enthusiasm of audiences for specific shows or the fact that all of the stuff is around to review - somehow combines to make it easy to remember specifics, or if he just has a really effective memory - I remember very little of the things that I have easy electronic access to - i.e. phone numbers and which clips I've already summarized in a given week - so it seems extra-impressive), with a lingering sense of writerly hunger/knowing-ness for his shop talk. . . on blogs and over PBRs around town even as I type this. And I'm a little curious about how their analysis compares with mine, but I'm also kind of not - one thing about being a radio fan is that you usually find others LATER. It's not something I am prone to listen to with company, but I am definitely partial to favorite-episode recaps (the Breakup show was a recurring conversation topic last year).

In the end, I got my booked signed to me AND got him to take a picture with me. And I don't regret either. Even though I love the idea of giving signed books as presents - actually I think a lot of the meaning of a signed book only really comes when it's handed off - a personalized note from the author, even if it's just your name and their illegible scrawl, seems more significant from someone else - they were there with the author, they thought of you, and gave up their one-book allotment for your reading pleasure and long-term appreciation - but your own name - plus the phoot - a little odder, a little more like you're learning from Gadsby's mistakes and daring the party guests to check to see if your books' pages have been cut.

But at the same time - so what? Sure, it might be a little strange, but the artifact of the whole deal - sometimes it's just worth it. Plus, I couldnt' think of anyone who would want that more than me. So, I came to the conclusion that I am the one who wants a signed copy of the book Ira Glass edited (because a signed dvd or I guess more accurately, dvd cover - just doesn't have the same resonance).

What the hell. Happy belated-graduation to me. And he likes people. So he's probably used to it, right?

The Tao of Ira

So Ira Glass has this series of video instructions about storytelling and reporting. I haven't seen all of them, but I feel like this is a pretty good one - and advice I know I need to follow. Perhaps first by writing more blog posts, since I definitely fit the having good taste part already.

Taking it to the Streets

The weather was nice today, so everyone was out:
-maybe a dozen mask-wearing protestors outside of the Church of Scientology - they had signs saying things like "Scientology is evil," - which seemed pretty self-explanatory, and a German flag - I have no idea what that was for. If anyone else does, please enlighten me.

-a girl on U Street who was saying "I can't wait to put up my 25 Things" referring, I imagine to the Facebook phenomenon, thereby illustrating the non-randomness of the exercise - and, as far as I am concerned, egregious misnaming, but also the appeal. People like to share things about themselves, and it's more fun when other people do it too, right? (This does not, however, mean that I will necessarily be joining the exercise - plus, picking the 25 people to "tag" seems like a bit of a chore, and sort of unnecessary when everyone you're friends with can see what you write anyway).

-"Are we going anywhere specific, or are we just walking," - this was also said on U Street, by a gentleman in his 60s or 70s to the women in his four-person party. Good question. And the way he said it, maybe sliiiightly partial to the "somewhere specific," but mostly curious about what everyone else was thinking, because, it's just good to know, right? If you're wandering, your approach is different than if you have a goal in mind.

I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down

I'm still a big fan of my gym's pool - mid-day, especially when it's really cold outside, it's not crowded, and it gets plenty of sun, and is, if anything, a touch over-heated, so it's really quite pleasant. Which is important when it comes to swimming back and forth in the deeply uncreative space of demarcated lanes and 3 feet, 6 inches of water. However, about a week ago, I noticed that, among the list of the standard pool rules - shower first, no running, no diving, no unaccompanied children, there is a ban on anyone with "communicable diseases or open sores," as well as a rubber-pants requirement for the incontinent. Of course, for as much as no one runs, dives or lets their children run wild, I know that not everyone feels the same way about the necessity of showering that the rules imply or years of heavily-chlorinated hair have taught me, the rule is unenforced. And I am extremely suggestible. So I assume that these rules, too, are apt to be ignored. And, much the way that contemplating my former pool's location near London Bridge and its plague pits made me surpress the occasional shudder there, I again have to fight the reflexive "yuck," usually around the 20th lap. So I wonder, would it be so much to ask for some counter-image? Maybe a poem? I'm not asking for an underwater speaker playing old episodes of Radio Lab (though that would be nice, as long as it isn't the show about the worm in the guy's head) but, some minor distraction could go a long way.

Moving, Working, Shopping, Zinning

I moved again on Saturday. It was an easy one - 8 blocks, half of the stuff only had to be sealed into boxes, rather than packed, and I had good parking on both ends. HOWEVER. This is starting to get old.

And yet.

Immediately after unpacking, I found myself shopping. For clothes, for a Euro-style electric kettle, for a hypothetical convection toaster oven, for equally hypothetical baking pans and storage containers and books. . . even though that's just more stuff to move next time (and I'm not being cynical here - I'm moving again in 7.5 weeks, max) - not to mention stuff that my semi-employment doesn't really endorse buying. So I managed to keep it to 4 shirts - all on sale- all relatively compact, and said kettle -not on sale, not compact, but completely necessary for working in the morning, given the way I make coffee (slowly), and the fact that my kitchen does not appear to be heated. Except that all I want to do is buy a food processor and a set of ramekins and a barrister's bookcase to house my collection of heavy (in both senses) reading material.

Which leads me to an aside which I'll be revisiting soon - this is my third sublet this year, and I happened onto it after visiting 6 places - I have a little bit of a routine, and a little bit of an awareness of the ways that, while most group houses look and function more or less alike, some places have 5-burner heavy duty chef's stoves and umm no heat in the kitchen, and others have 3 fridges - and everyone gets less than a full shelf, while still others have salad spinners and ovens without doors. Most of them, however - and unlike my first apartment - have microwaves.

Moving on - moving put me behind on work, though I'm not exactly sure why - I had plenty of time to do work in the hours/days leading up to and preceding the move, but I didn't do it. And there's been a lot of news the last couple of weeks, so I've had almost normal-length work days since Sunday - only I started at 6pm on Sunday, continued Monday from 8-1 and then again from 10-1 am, then today from 9-noon. Except that for half an hour of Monday, I was making coffee. The kettle really saved me some time. Anyway - these hours look eerily like grad school ones, and I really don't think it's a good idea to get into working the way I did there - I was often grumpy because I felt like I was behind - or just didn't sleep enough - and it was not unusual for me to forget what day it was.

Last night, I had planned to see Howard Zinn, who was speaking at Busboys and Poets - maybe a 15 minute walk from my house, but at 5:45, considered not going because the temperature seemed to be dropping and he was going on at 6:30 - maybe I was too late? But then I thought, "hey, how many people REALLY want to see Howard Zinn?" There was a block-long line when I got there at 6:10. And obviously, I was at the end of it. And I stayed, plotting with the guy next to me about how to make it inside without, of course, cutting anyone in line - to no avail. But then the staff set up speakers outside - and as he got to the stage I could kind of see the side of his head (he was just inside between two big windows - so at one point I was only about 8 feet from him, just, on the other side of a wall). It was cold, but not too cold - though the temperature very obviously dropped about halfway through. The talk was mostly about what do do now that President Obama is in office - and his point was fairly simple, and pretty good -remember he's a politician and keep pushing him to do what you elected him to do. At the end, someone told him that we were out there (I think the someone was the owner of the restaurant, but I couldn't tell because I don't know what the owner sounds/looks like and I sure couldn't see him even if I did know what he looks like), and he turned to the window and started talking to us about how we were crazy to stand outside in the rain and cold (he didn't know it wasn't raining), but someday we'd be allowed into the restaurant, instead of being oppressed by the dining class (he didn't say it exactly that way, but pretty close). And that was great. Really great. Almost as great as the block-long line (after the doors had closed!) for a lefty in his 80s, whose best-known book was first published almost 30 years ago. Then at the end he brought up some people he had worked with in SNCC in the 60s - when, as someone near me said, he was only "kind of old," and they talked about some happenings in March for reflecting on the Movement, and I decided that I need to read A People's History all the way through. It's a heavy book, but I hope to at least buy it used.