Ash Wednesday, and subsequent Lent

Today is Ash Wednesday. I was researching Lent yesterday, since it was Mardi Gras, and discovered that traditionally, Ash Wednesday is spent fasting, and Lent is spent giving up meat, butter, and eggs, on all days except one, and taking only one meal a day during the week. These practices interested me, so I, along with my roommates and some of the other girls on my floor, am also giving up something for Lent. I have been fasting all of today (three cups of juice since lunch to ensure that I didn't pass out), and have resolved to give up sweets and sugar in general for the course of the Lent season (I am also saving money by not buying any coffee fancier than an Americano). Mardi Gras was spent in style, free food hopping from IHOP with a free short stack of pancakes, to two free tacos at Jack in the Box immediately afterwards. I have never acknowledged Lent before, and I am looking forward to sacrificing something for the sake of not only tradition, but also for the sake of the betterment of myself.

The Architecture of My World

I occasionally feel as though my heart is something of a tale of two cities, a dichotomy split between the sister cities of the Pacific Northwest, Portland and Seattle. Yesterday, in order to fulfill this week's photography assignment of "architecture," I traveled to the heart of downtown Seattle to visit the infamous public library. I have been wanting to go there since...well, since I found out it existed, and I was far from disappointed. The chill, blue lower level, surrounded by walls of steel diamonds climbed to the floor of red and stairs, which led up to the lime green escalator, topped off by the modern level of computers and the records of Seattle's history. I believe only libraries can combine modern architecture with the antiquity of books and still come off as paradise.

One thing I love about my photography assignments is how they force me to look at one specific aspect of an idea, and then explore and push it until it forms into something I never would have otherwise seen, like viewing a building from underneath or a still life from the other side. While in the library, I wanted a shot up the stairs, so I squished my body against the wall and directed the camera up. In the Seattle Room, I wanted the image of the triangles on top of the other triangles, so I laid flat on my stomach on the floor, ignoring my dislike of dust and feet for the sake of my vision. Sometimes these things do not pay off; sometimes they do. But I think I learn more from the experience of trying them than from the satisfaction of a photograph that actually worked that time.

This concept does not remain in the lens of my camera. I force it to fit into the rest of my life as well. I notice the small beauties in the engineering of a chair, I note that the hanging artwork in the Rose Hill Starbucks has been switched out, I appreciate how flowers have been arranged. I think that everything becomes more beautiful when viewed not just as a whole, but for the details that make up that whole. Nothing exists apart from its details. It is just our job to find them.

Those People...

I am definitely one of them. Those coffee shop rats who have the look, the vibe, who know the setting and how to act there. Does it get any more quintessential then the red scarf, gray jacket, the Americano, the round table by the windows, the light snow/rain mix coating the asphalt, creative writing homework, and The Decemberists? I think not. I am definitely one of them.

I am definitely one of them. I didn't plan any of this; this is just the way I came, what I am, where I fit. Those people never have to work for 'it'; it's just the way they are. Just like the way I am. I am definitely one of them.

Joy in the Form of Mocha...and All the Other Things...

Today was a beautiful day. It was the first time in a long time that the sun was actually visible and not accompanied by freezing temperatures, and everyone seemed to realize that they either got their fill of vitamin D today, or they would have to wait for who knows how long. I also felt better today after a weekend of doing basically nothing but sleeping (intermissioned with a two-movie excursion into The Matrix), and then sleeping some more.
Liz and I walked into downtown Kirkland today to drop off some checks (hey, I like vitamin D too...even though Michelle is convinced I am a vampire), and decided to hit up the Starbucks in Parkplace, because, not only was it the closest to our local, but it definitely has the best coffee of all the Starbucks' in the area. Another friend of mine was working, and he kindly and surreptitiously gave us the coffee for free. Oh the love of iced triple white chocolate mochas (it was sunny, after all, and warranted the first iced coffee of the new year). It was a beverage of dreams, and made me instantly and exponentially happy, in part counteracting the sadness I received from the temporary closing of the library (a great travesty to an English major).
As I sipped my drink of happiness, I was thinking about the little things that happen everyday that make me happy. Someone says they like my outfit, I spend time with the girls on my floor, I get an excellent coffee, sleeping in, no homework, I discover there is still ice cream in my fridge, I find $5 in my pocket, I have mail, dinner is actually good, my favorite pen is in my bag. And then I realized how each of this things has an antithesis that makes me equally unhappy. I don't like to categorize myself as superficial, but it really is the little things that happen all day that build up into that day, at its close, being labeled as either 'good' or 'bad,' and I tried to determine how much of that is fate, and how much is a choice. Obviously, not everything is supposed to make me happy all time (I would probably be a little concerned about my own mental state if they did), but overall I think I can decide whether or not today is a good day, despite the circumstances that try and dictate to me what I should pick. I was never one for being told what to believe, much less by a set of inanimate circumstances. I have more gumption than that.

A Short Note on the Human Condition

*a wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other*


I just finished A Tale of Two Cities. In addition to needing to have it done by Friday, it was a fantastic work, and I read zealously for long chunks of time until my mind reached its Dickens saturation point, and no more high language and loaded symbolism could be stowed within my head. This novel has weaseled its way into my list of favorite books ever, not merely because it is, on the whole, brilliant, but more because each line, each sentence, exists as an individual statement of truth and beauty. Take the above quote, from chapter 3 of Book the First. It has often amazed me how much I am disconnected from the people I pass every day, how many times a day I ask 'how are you?' and how many times I do not really care what the answer is. But perhaps that is half the beauty of being human, that the true state of a person cannot be candidly known. What kind of world would we live in if everything I ever thought was open and public to anyone who cared to inquire about it. We might learn to live with this after awhile, to not exist in a permanent state of hatred for each other and our profoundly intolerant thoughts for everyone else, but on the whole I think it is better not to know, to view the situation as Dickens does, as wonderful. Ultimately, we were not meant to be open books, no matter how many novels we read.

The Stop-Action of Life

It was thus far been an interesting excursion into the assignment of "people in context." That is this week's photography assignment: to photograph people in context. As I am holding up the camera to people who are not smiling at it, who are occasionally unaware of its presence, who do not see through the lens as I do, I am noticing the nuances of people's daily lives, as well as how much cannot be captured by a camera. We were at Starbucks for a couple hours earlier today, and, as I continually snapped pictures of my companions playing cards, I also took note, and even a few surreptitious photos, of other beings in the coffee shop. There was a foreign man standing board straight, holding newspapers, in front of the 'Italian Roast' sign on the wall, but before I could take the picture, he moved forward in line, and the image was gone. Same with Liz as we played a card game. There were numerous expressions that passed over her face that I was unable to photograph before they were gone. This sense of continually missing the "perfect" picture is frustrating, but at the same time, forces me to think about life, not as a one long, continuous film that passes in a constant stream, but as a series of individual and detailed moments, all of which need to treasured as they are, and, if possible, captured.

Hometown

Every time I go home, I make it a point to spend quality time with my beloved Portland. This place forces me to consider how much where we live influences who we are, since I believe myself to be a native Portlander, but am unsure whether I was born that way, or whether the city shaped me to be its own. The homeless in the more real parts of town, the crowds outside the shady bars, the hairdresser wearing fishnets and covered in tattoos are all as much 'Portland' as the businesspeople in their suits, carrying expensive briefcases and coffee, and the hip thirty-somethings in small groups of three or four crowding out the upscale restaurants and cafes. Did these people adopt the city as their own, or are they the Aborigines, who have always been this way? It is easy to tell who does not belong to the city; they are ones with large umbrellas, inadequate clothing, and guide books. I pride myself on not even owning an umbrella, much less ever using one. I don't own the guide books, and I know how to layer in order to stay warm against the almost omnipresent raindrops.
Which leads me to the question of adaptation.
Although P-town is my hometown, I now reside near Seattle, and have made it a goal this semester to come to know Seattle like I know Portland, to gain knowledge of all the cool shops and restaurants around the city. Last night my two roommates and I went down to the U District (the area of Seattle surrounding the University of Washington) for some used clothes shopping. We hit up Buffalo Exchange and Recycled Fashion, and I finally found a pair of boots that I have been looking for. We are planning on going again for some more second-hand finds, maybe trying one of the many Asian food places along University Way. Seattle is indeed a beautiful city. Kitty-corner to one of the shops, jutting out above the under-construction warehouses, was a black, cathedral-style tower, with the light shining on it just so against the black sky, making it one of the most striking and beautiful scenes I have encountered here. I am looking forward to many such scenes in my future.