Categories
confession hobbies technogeeky travel

blizzcon wins

Since getting married, I have been introduced to a new world: the world of conventions. And I have found, that I actually like them.

I think I like conventions because I am a bit of a hobby collector. I like to try out new things on a frequent basis. There are things I’ll never give up – like shopping – but there are others that come and go as my mood changes – like knitting or landscaping (that’s a mood I’m not likely to be in for awhile) or particular video games. And going to conventions lets me get a brief glimpse into a hobby, so I feel like I can add it to my list.

In my first married year, I went to a one-day Comic-Con in Baltimore. My second married year, I went to a 4-day Star Trek Convention in Las Vegas. And this year, I went to the two-day Blizzcon. While I enjoyed them all (though, admittedly, 4 days is WAY too much time to spend with fanatics), Blizzcon wins, hands down.

I have to concede that Blizzcon is hosted by Blizzard who makes millions and millions of dollars on their video games, most notably, World of Warcraft, which has 9 million subscribers who gladly pay $14.99 each and every month for the pleasure of playing. (yeah … I’m one of those 9 million …) The other conventions were hosted by … well, fanboys. People who just love comics or star trek sooooo much, and they have a deep desire, down in their hearts, to have a venue where all the fanboys of the world can come together and be all fanboy-ey. So there is definitely a money discrepancy that can’t be ignored. And, well, more money gets you better stuff.

Point one for Blizzcon: Ticket distribution. Ticket pickup was available the day before, or during any of the convention days. The Star Trek convention used this model as well. But Blizzcon split the alphabet up into about 30 groups, and had in essence, 30 lines. 30 minutes before the start of ticket pickup, my husband and I got into our line. Less than 30 minutes after ticket pickup officially started, we had our tickets (and swag bags). At the Star Trek convention, we got in line 30 minutes before ticket pickup officially started. The one line. When we finally got to the front of the line, hours later, the alphabet was split into a couple of groups, where 10 people were there to get us all squared away. It was a pretty miserable wait.

Point two for Blizzcon: Open space! The main stage was set up with thousands of chairs – but also wide open space to either side. There was wide open space around the food vendors. There was wide open space around the various booths. There wasn’t too much open space – but enough of it to accommodate the thousands of people as they wandered from one place to another. The vendor room at the Star Trek convention was overly crowded, and some booths seemed more like a personal garage sale than honest-to-goodness Star Trek Shtuff dealers. The booths that were expected to be busy didn’t have enough space – or cordoned off space – for people to line up in an orderly fashion.

Point three for Blizzcon: Staff! The staff walking around Blizzcon all had little radios. So they could keep up with what was going on. So they could radio for help if needed. They were well-connected, and if you asked them a question, they knew the answer. Or they could get it for you quickly. At the Star Trek convention, most of the staff didn’t know what was going on. If you asked a question, they didn’t know the answer. And they couldn’t point you in the direction of anyone who did. They were just people with pens hanging from their necks, carrying clipboards, who got in for free by volunteering to be staff.

Point four for Blizzcon: Not ridiculously priced food! The Star Trek convention was held in the Las Vegas Hilton. Complete with $2 Hilton candy bars and $4 bottles of water. Blizzcon was held in the Anaheim Convention Center. With $6 pizza and $1 candy bars. Maybe still a little overpriced, but not so much so that you find yourself going hungry in protest of serious price gouging.

Point five for Blizzon: Funny Humor. The Star Trek convention people made a Star Trek puppet musical that was supposed to be funny but was just plain odd and uncomfortable. The winners of the Star Trek movie contest had movies that were again, just … strange and mostly boring. The ‘movies’ and ‘promos’ that Blizzard put together were hilarious! And the winner of the ‘Comedy’ Blizzcon movie contest was a laugh out loud riot. I know not everyone shares the same sense of humor – and my own sense of humor is admittedly not exactly main stream – but I really didn’t get how anyone could find the Star Trek convention brand of humor … well, humorous.

Point six for Blizzcon: Gracious Hosts! Never, at any time, did anyone with a mic at Blizzcon get snippy with the audience. Never, at any time, were they anything but glad that we had come. Never, at any time, did they leave a sour taste in my mouth or make me feel like they were just grown up spoiled brats. I wish I could say the same for the Star Trek convention hosts.

So, there you have it. Blizzcon, with 6 points and Star Trek Convention 0. Some of the issues would be hard to fix without a lot more money – but the Creation Entertainment folks could certainly learn a lot from the Blizzcon book of entertaining. I understand that the first Blizzcon didn’t go off nearly as well as this last one – but they definitely learned from their mistakes to throw one heck of a party.

Categories
work

two year itch

I recently took a new job for the simple reason that I had been sitting in one place for too long. The work was challenging, the mission worthwhile, the customer hungry for what I had to offer, and the colleagues were among the best in the industry. But, alas, I suffer from a 2 year itch – and so it was time to go.

I opted not to send out a mass email to my coworkers, to thank them for an amazing 2 years, because I hate it when I get those things from people who just send them out to a group address, and I don’t even know who they are. I make fun of those people. But I didn’t want to just send it out to a list of people I made up, in case I inadvertently left someone off the list, and ended up hurting their feelings forever, which might cause them to run me off the road in a chance encounter 15 years down the line. And who likes being run off the road? Especially in the shiny new Lexus I’m sure to be driving 15 years from now.

So then I had the brilliant idea to thank my old colleagues in my blog! Then the 1 person who reads my blog might point it out to the 2 or 3 other people who actually care.

So here it is:

The last two years have been amazing. But, alas, I suffer from a 2 year itch, and so it was time for me to go. Also, there’s actually an unalterable law of the universe that if you have two female developers working in the same place at the same time, you risk planetary implosion. And, well, Teresa’s rock beat out my scissors …

It was a really hard decision to leave – it’s not every day that you have challenging work, supportive management, and the resources that you need to be successful as you fulfill a mission that has world-changing impact. And it’s especially not every day that you get to work with a team of people as great as you all are. Working on the team, you very much get the sense that it’s a hand-picked group of talent. And not only is everybody very skilled at what they do, it’s also a team who knows how to work together, who’s not interested in playing politics or fighting turf wars, and who was always willing to help me out when I needed it. And – well, you all know – I needed plenty of help. 🙂 There wasn’t hardly a day that went by that I wasn’t asking someone for something – whether it was for yet another explanation of what the 36 different IDs mean, or help with installing and configuring a tool, or getting clarification on how a particular process worked, or having files transferred from one network to another, or help in getting a a web server built, or … the list could go on and on.

I hate to be cliche, but it was truly an honor and a pleasure to work with you all. And I especially thank you for respecting me as a fellow human being, and treating me with respect. Thank you for being the kind of place I could climb under my desk to plug in a lamp, and not emerge to find that a crowd had gathered to gaze upon my upturned derrière. Even though it is 2007, there are still places that the gender war is still being fought – thank you for being a place where I could leave that particular chip on my shoulder at the door.

And a special thanks to my officemates: I had no idea that I could learn so much and work so hard, and simultaneously have so much fun and consume sooooo much chocolate.

So, thank you. I already miss you all, and I sincerely hope that I get the opportunity to work with you again in the future.

Categories
general complaints life

i fought the law …

hoa approved rock garden and the law won.

I recently did something so heinous, I can’t believe that I didn’t get a single comment on my blog about it. That’s right, I dared to build a Japanese rock garden in the raised flowerbed that wraps my porch. My porch. That’s attached to my house. The house that I bought.

I should have known it would be against the HOA rules. The Japanese have the dubious distinction of being one of the few races to be rounded up and relocated in this great country where all men are created equal. My neighbors recently brought to my attention an article in our local paper about rocks in the yard signifying the homes of swingers. I have to admit, I didn’t realize that signing the HOA paperwork when I moved into the neighborhood meant that I would not be allowed to flaunt my offensive heritage – or, apparently, engage in an alternative lifestyle. I now realize that it is the duty of my HOA to discriminate based on race and sexual preference.

I am a little hurt that not one of my neighbors stepped forward to let me know what a hideous eyesore I had created. On the contrary, I had many people stop by to compliment me on it. They even dared to call it beautiful. And to think that I used to call some of them friends! I won’t make that mistake again.

After getting a not-exactly-friendly letter letting me know of my offense against the neighborhood, I was quite shocked. I was informed that I had 10 days to remove the garden, put mulch in the flowerbed, and plant things. When I sent an email (the HOA does NOT take phone calls – you can leave a message, but they WILL NOT return it) to the HOA Enforcement Squad, requesting mercy, I was informed that I could submit an Exterior Alteration Application. (In the email chain, the HOA-ES insisted on addressing me as ‘Mr.’, even after I started signing my emails with with a very deliberate ‘Mrs.’)

The Exterior Alteration Application is necessary when making changes to the exterior of your house. Like if you want to change the paint color. Or build a fence. Or build a deck. Or cut down a tree. Or, it would seem, put things in your flowerbed. That aren’t visible from the street.

The application requires signatures from your 4 most affected neighbors. And would you believe it, they all signed it without hesitation, and even feigned shock that I would be required to do such a thing.

I received notification of my application disapproval, delivered by certified mail, at 1 pm on Saturday. I was told I had 48 hours to verbally request an appeal. Which meant I had to make my request by 1 pm on Monday. The Monday I was going to be out of town until 4 pm. There are no HOA hours on the weekend. So, I had from 9 am on Monday to 1 pm on Monday to request my appeal. Needless to say, I missed that deadline. The disapproval letter also said that I had to attend the next ARB meeting to discuss my appeal. The next meeting that is happening while I am going to be in San Diego.

So, that is what brought me to tear up my garden yesterday evening. (Well, that, and the mood that always comes during a certain phase of the month.) And place it in 15 paper yard waste bags (because, per HOA rules, you can only throw yard waste away in paper yard waste bags). These bags are now on my porch, until 6 pm on Wednesday, because that is when I can put trash out for Thursday morning.

When the fall comes around, and I’ve had some time to forget about my rage against the establishment, I will try again. I will start over with the HOA, and find out what, exactly, I can do to my flowerbed to both celebrate my sliver of Japanese-ness, and not offend the sensibilities of the HOA-ES.

Categories
food general complaints

lacto-intolo-what?

As he occasionally does after a particularly rough day, my husband decided he needed a Maggie Moo’s chocolate shake. So after our brief trip to the grocery store, we stopped off at the ice cream place.

There’s a smoothie place 3 doors down from the ice cream place where they sell dairy-free treats. Maggie Moo’s even makes dairy-free smoothies. But there’s something about going into an ice cream parlor that renders me incapable of making a good dietary decision. Because I happen to love ice cream; I used to eat it for breakfast, back in my college days. I used to ALWAYS have a half gallon in my freezer. It used to be one of my four major food groups.

But then, as happens, I got older and my body decided it HATED me. My dairy intake has slowly diminished as my body has become more and more adamant that milk is evil. This enables me to live an uneventful life, devoid of … well, I don’t need to go into details.

But, there I was, at Maggie Moo’s, looking at all my choices. Ordering a regular raspberry roller coaster. Enjoying my wonderfully delicious, freshly “mixed” ice cream. By the time we made it home, however, it was already apparent to me that ice cream was a bad idea. Even though I had barely made it through half my treat, there was definitely some abdominal discomfort goin’ on. So what did I do? I stopped eating my ice cream, of course. And I put it in the freezer, so that this whole debacle can start again tomorrow …

Categories
life

expectations

Recently, I was waxing sentimental, and wrote my now infamous brothers and sisters posts. I had intended to stop there, but I have since received requests for a “husband” post, as well as a “father” post – and I’m sure there are a few out there waiting for the “mother”, “husband’s mother”, and “father-in-law” posts. I haven’t forgotten the other very important members of my family, but I also haven’t yet been inspired for those posts. The things I write about sorta “come to me” – and if I try to force it, it doesn’t turn out well. So – for those of you expecting your very own posts – don’t worry, I’ll get to them. And I hope I make it worth the wait. 🙂

Categories
technogeeky

tada! podcasts!

So, after having to work really hard to get b3 to read the blog I wrote just for him (ok, so maybe it was for b1 and b2, too), one of my coworkers suggested that I should start doing podcasts as well. So I googled ‘make podcast’, and found some great tutorials that all suggested audacity paired with the lame mp3 encoder for podcast creation – and then I checked my list of available blog plugins, and lo and behold, there was podPress.

The hardest part was figuring out how to turn on my microphone. I’ve never needed it before, so it would seem that it was all turned off in some obscure windows audio input volume controller. (Hint: it doesn’t do any good to raise the mic volume if you don’t check the ‘select’ box under the mic input.)

So, once I got all that squared away, I found a nice short blog – ode to transfats – recorded it, exported to mp3, uploaded to my site, and added it to my ode to transfats post.

So – b3 – you have no more excuses! You know my site (c’mon …. it’s my NAME …) – and you have ears.

Categories
life

brothers

Although I was more excited about the arrival of my sister than the existence of my brothers, my brothers had much more of an impact on me. In fact, had it not been for my brothers, I don’t know that I would be where I am today.

I have a brother 2 years older than me, one 2 years younger, and one 4 years younger. So, right from the get-go, I was always “one of the boys”. I was never one to shrink from a challenge; anything they could do, I could do better. I may not have come up with the idea to turn on the hose and make some good ol’ backyard mud to play in, but once things got started, I was definitely going to join in.

Don’t get me wrong; I had quite the collection of barbies, I wore dresses and pigtails, and my favorite color was pink – at least until I was 12. From the age of 6, I always had a female best friend. Recess was spent playing with girls, and I participated in plenty of sleepovers. I may not do makeup, but I am rather fond of nail polish. I’m not exactly what you would call super-girly, but there are definitely plenty of girly pursuits that I partake in.

That being said, I had many an adventure with my brothers. We built time machines that required every toy in the toybox, a dining room chair, and all the refrigerator magnets that could be reached by someone under 3 feet tall. We played Mario Brothers and don’t-let-ET-fall-in-the-invisible-pit on our Atari 2600. We made the impossible trek through the spiderwebby path between our two back neighbors’ fences. We let b2 play the flight simulator on the Commodore 64, because he was always good for a huge crash – and a crash always meant it was time to ‘parachute’, screaming of course, as we ran out the back door.

We often had to line up in the kitchen as mom grilled us to find out who had broken the plate or eaten all the cookies. Invariably, when none of us cracked, we were all sent to our rooms while my mom contemplated why it was that she had decided to have 4 children. We occasionally had to wait all day for dad to come home, just so we could line up for a dreaded spanking.

Poor b3 found himself in the emergency room on more than one occasion as he tried to keep up with the rest of us. Luckily for him, fingernails grow back and bones heal. We choreagraphed plays and puppet shows to put on for our unsuspecting parents. We went camping in the backyard. We wrote Basic programs on our IBM-compatible. B1 always knew the tv lineup, so we never missed re-runs of The Monkees or Batman.

B1 was hard to keep up with. When he learned to blow bubble-gum bubbles, I spent weeks working on it. When he came home from school and could write his whole name, I made him teach me how to do my lastname. When he learned how to tie his shoes, I studied the way my parents did mine until I could do it myself. (I consequently tied my shoes ‘wrong’ – with my hands actually crossed – until I was 21 years old and someone pointed out that my method was horribly inefficient and painful to watch.) When he figured out how to whistle, I spent a whole day walking around the house with my lips in a tight ‘o’ shape, blowing as hard as I could.

Even though we shared many adventures, there were some I couldn’t join in, because I was ‘just a girl’. When I was 5, I excitedly told my dad that I wanted to be a cub scout, too. B1 got to go off in his blue shirt and yellow kerchief to go do something really fun, I was sure of it. And he wasn’t the only one, there were other kids in the neighborhood, too. All I remember is my dad telling me I couldn’t be a cub scout, girls weren’t allowed. I’m sure he went on to tell me about girlscouts, but if I couldn’t do what b1 was doing, I wasn’t interested.

All my brothers went on to be boyscouts, where I wasn’t allowed to follow. Not being one to just accept the fact that the ‘Y’ chromosome makes for a superior fire-maker, arrow-shooter, and hiker, I organized my own backpacking trips with my friends. And found that girls can carry 25% of their weight on their backs and spend a week walking 35 miles through the woods, building fires and filtering water along the way, just as well as boys can.

It didn’t stop there; science and math weren’t ‘too hard’ for girls. And I certainly wasn’t about to play dumb to improve my appeal to the other gender. If they had a problem with me being smarter than them, they could go cry to their mommas about it for all I cared. I was a girl, yes; but that didn’t mean I should have a different playing field.

In college, I picked the ‘man field’ of computer science, and I excelled at it. I put those boys in my calc class to shame; they never saw me coming. I graduated with Latin honors, and had a fantastic job lined up when I graduated – which was more than many of my fellow graduates could say.

Today, I’m a software developer, where I work with mostly men. In fact, on my current project, I sit in a room with 4 guys, who range in age from a few years older, to a few years younger. And I love it! It’s just like getting to hang out with my brothers – every day.

Categories
life

sisters

When I was 11 years old, I was elated when my mom had a baby girl. I already had 3 brothers; now I would finally have a sister!

What I didn’t account for, was the fact that she was 11 years younger than me. And that when I moved out, she would be 7 years old. And that after I moved out, I would be more like an extended relative – more like an aunt who visited a couple times a year – than a sister. The late nights of giggling about boys that I had imagined turned out to be late nights of babysitting.

Not to say that I didn’t enjoy having a baby sister. I think it taught me a lot about the fine art of child rearing – I was too young to remember much of anything about my two little brothers’ first few years of life. With my sister, I was old enough to start learning the arts of diaper changing and baby pacification. I haven’t yet needed those skills – except for other people’s kids – but the responsibility was good for me.

It’s been a few years, and my sister is finally starting to catch up with me. She’s in the midst of high school and will soon be setting off for college. While we’ll never have a relationship of giggling about boys long after we’re supposed to be asleep, I do look forward to getting to know my sister as the adult she is about to be.

The sad thing about my sister growing up, is that one of these days, she is going to realize I’m not quite as amazing as she once thought I was. When she was 5 or 6, I asked her what she wanted to do when she grew up; without any hesitation, she told me she wanted to wear contacts, play the clarinet, and work at McDonald’s. You might think that’s an odd wishlist, but those were the things she knew that I did – and at that age, she knew she wanted to be just like me. Because when you’re in kindergarten, there’s no one cooler than your sister in high school.

I asked her just the other day what she wanted to study in college, and, true to little sister form, she spouted off my major. To be fair, it also happens to be the area of study for two of my brothers – but she’s still looking to follow in my footsteps. I’m glad to see that as she has grown, she has also grown more discriminating – nowhere in her future plans does she include “drive a car with a hugely embarrassing dent” or “own a house with popcorn ceilings.”

She’s definitely not what I thought I wanted when I was 11 years old. But she’s my sister. And that’s exactly what I needed.

Categories
travel

dc

I love Washington DC. Even though I haven’t been downtown for months and I’m only 40 miles away, DC will always have a special place in my memories.

DC was my first big adventure – my first solo outing into the great wide world. I grew up in a smallish town – 35,000 people – in Washington state. This town of 35,000 people had a sister town of about another 15,000, and together, this community of 50,000 people was self-contained. We had two shopping malls – one with 15 stores, the other with 50. There were 3 high schools, 7 grocery stores, 3 McDonalds, a Target and a Walmart. There was no need to venture to the ‘Big City’ an hour away, unless you really wanted to go to the zoo, or you were going to the airport. And so we didn’t. We stayed put in our comfortable lives, lumberjacks and mill workers. It’s a good life, full of hard work and some of the most beautiful country in the nation.

But I was born with the spirit of an adventurer. I wanted to try out that thing called ‘college’. I wanted to see what there was to see beyond the bounds of my hometown. I wanted to marry someone that I hadn’t even met yet. Which is what led me to fill out 37 scholarship applications my senior year. And which is what brought me to the nation’s capitol, 2 months before my graduation.

I had qualified for the final round in a scholarship/internship program based in DC. They were flying me out for 3 days, all expenses paid! Me! Little ol’, 18-year-old, from backwoods Washington state, me. I didn’t think I stood a chance against all the competition I was sure to have, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if I made the final cut; I was getting a free trip to the capitol. Of the whole country. On the EAST coast.

And so I did what any 18 year old about to fly 2000 miles away from home for the very first time ever with no parents would do: I went to the public library and checked out two tourist guides to Washington DC, and started planning out what I wanted to see. Ok, so maybe that’s not what every barely-adult’s first response would be – but I was convinced that this might be my only opportunity to ever see the capitol.

Now, this 3 days in DC was going to be full of interviews, and evaluations, and tours, and lunch meetings, and who knew what else. There was no guarantee that I was going to get any time at all to do any sight-seeing. But – just in case there was some downtime – I was going to be prepared. I read those books from front to back, studied the maps, and learned all I needed to do to use the metro. I knew all about the farecard machines, and all the different passes I could buy. I knew I had to stick my little cardboard card in the slot at the turnstile, and it would let me through. I knew about all the different train lines, and where the transfer stations were. I was ready.

I got lucky with the interviews, passed some tests on the first go-round, and ended up with a free morning. I had to be back by 2 pm for an interview with Yet Another Important Person, but I was determined to make the most of it. I got up as early as I could bear to make it to the metro, for the opening of the National Zoo at 6 am.

It was a rainy day in May. I had an umbrella and a travel guide from my public library, and I asked the courtesy hotel shuttle driver to take me to the nearest metro station. I asked him if he could pick me up at noon, and he gave me a business card and told me to call the number when I was ready to be picked up.

And so there I was at the metro station. Putting my money into the farecard machine. Retrieving my farecard and 5 dollars change, all in quarters. Unfazed, I took the card and scooped up the change into my pocket, and started on my adventure. I made my way with the rush hour crowd onto a train, and headed to the National Zoo. It involved a transfer from the Orange Line to the Red Line, but I was up to the challenge.

I made it to my stop, and got off the train. After exiting the metro station, I spotted a convenience store where I bought a little carton of milk and a granola bar. Continuing my adventure as I enjoyed my breakfast, I walked for several blocks before I realized I was going the wrong direction. And so I turned around, and headed to the zoo.

At 7 am on a rainy Thursday morning, you pretty much get the zoo to yourself. None of the buildings are open, but the grounds are, and you can wander around reading about all the animals, and even get a good look at a lot of them. At 9 am one of the zoo stores opened, so I purchased a bag of souvenirs before heading to my next stop.

A brief jaunt down the Red Line brought me to the FBI building. I entered the building, through the tourist entrance, and promptly set off the metal detectors. After emptying $5 of quarters from my pockets into the bowl, and a smirk from the security guard, I was inside. I didn’t have time to wait for the tour, but I did have time to hit the FBI store. Which I did. After buying more souvenirs than I really needed, I was ready to see the next place on my list.

The Hardrock Cafe! What tourist destination is complete without a Hardrock Cafe? I looked at all the available merchandise, and finally decided on the standard white t-shirt. At $18, it was among the most expensive things in my wardrobe, but it was the Hardrock Cafe. I couldn’t leave without a t-shirt.

Standing outside the Hardrock Cafe with my backpack full of souvenirs and pockets full of quarters, I studied my maps and tried to figure out how to make it to that place called ‘The Mall’. ‘The Mall’, from my reading, was not a ‘mall’ at all, but a collection of some of the most famous monuments and museums in the world. I stopped a man on his way to work to make sure I was heading in the right direction – I had already wasted enough time walking the wrong way to the zoo – and after he pointed me the right way, I was off.

As I approached Constitution Ave, I spotted perhaps one of the most exciting things of my trip: a street lined with discount souvenir carts! How could I go wrong with 3 t-shirts for $10? I loaded up on more souvenirs, and purchased a popsicle from a food vendor. I sat on the curb outside the American History Museum and ate quickly, so as not to waste any time that I could be spending admiring the Smithsonian artifacts.

Inside, there was so much to see: gowns of the first ladies, a giant statue of President Washington in Roman get-up, the ruby red slippers. I sat in a booth to buy a picture of me with President Clinton. With a $5 price tag, it was a nice way to empty my pockets. I made it to the Smithsonian store in the basement, where – you guessed it – I filled up what little space I had left in my backpack with even more souvenirs.

I exited the museum from the ‘Mall exit’, and didn’t realize what was in store for me. I knew there was a metro stop – and I was in desperate need of transportation back to my Very Important Interview – and so that was where I was headed. As I walked across the green lawn of ‘The Mall’, I realized that I had the Washington Monument to my right, and the Capitol building to my left. I dug out my disposable camera, and snapped a few pics before continuing on my way to find that post with the infamous ‘M’. I found the ‘M’-marks-the-metro post and rode the escalator down. I hopped on the next Orange Line train in the direction of Vienna, and got off at my stop.

Luckily for me, there were payphones just outside the metro station. Also luckily for me, I still managed to have the 35 cents necessary for a phone call to the hotel. I didn’t have time to go back to the hotel and still make it to my interview, so when the shuttle driver arrived, I convinced him to take me to my interview.

And so I arrived at my interview, a little damp from spending the morning in the rain, and with a backpack stuffed with mementos of my adventures.

I have since been to many places: Manhattan, Paris, Boston, Gettysburg, Casablanca, Rome, Hershey, Cozumel, Houston, Barcelona, Madrid … more places than I can even recall right now. But DC will always be special, because it was my first. And it’s the only city that I have ever explored by myself. I ended up getting that internship, and spent much of the following summer exploring the city on my weekends – sometimes with roommates, sometimes with fellow interns – but often by myself. They say that one of the best ways to get to know yourself is to travel somewhere new, by yourself. You have no safety net, no one else to fall back on to decide what you should do or what you should see. I love DC because it reminds me of being young, and of thinking that the world is a wondrous place; it reminds me that I am capable of a new challenge; and it reminds me that you don’t really need an entire backpack of souvenirs to remember the trip.

Categories
home improvements

zen

For people who know me in real life, they know I’ve been talking about building my rock garden for over a year. After 6 months of backbreaking work to build my raised flower bed (all I can say is, that thing better last FOREVER), I was sick of the endeavor, and my flower bed sat empty. Finished, but empty.

Until this last Saturday, when I woke up and decided that it was time. It was time to embrace my sliver of Japanese heritage, and build my rock garden.

All in all, it only took a day to complete. 3 trips to Home Depot, but only an afternoon of work. And I have to say, the completed project looks pretty nice.