the small stuff

happy valenbirthtinesday!

2010-02-14T18:32:00.000-08:00

last night, we celebrated sean's birthday, so i made him a yummy birthday dinner. we had filet mignon with a marsala cream sauce with mushrooms, mashed potatoes (sean's favie), and brussels sprouts with bacon and garlic. i paired that with robert mondavi meritage (recommended by dr. debs over at good wine under $20) and the always-fantastic taddy porter for sean. for dessert i made the chocolate souffle cupcakes (from deb over at smitten kitchen) except i swapped out the mint in the white chocolate cream for a little blackberry juice that i reduced by about half, and then put a fresh blackberry on top. if i had to do it over though, i'd just leave the white chocolate cream plain and then drizzle some blackberry juice/syrup/whatever over top instead of mixing it into the cream: the tartness from the blackberry juice was lost in the sweetness of the white chocolate. but it did make the cream a pretty pale mauve color, so that's something i guess. sort of valentinesy. and we ate all of it on our wedding china: gotta take advantage of excuses to use that stuff! sometimes i wonder if i should just use it every day. i think it gets lonely packed away in the cabinets.

i have grand plans for some more posts here soon: i want to share my wino-esque expertise of cheap wines with all eight of you, and i know you can't wait! and then there's the long-awaited diy newspaper sculpture how-to! stay tuned...

baking with babicka

2010-01-10T16:03:00.000-08:00

over christmas break i got the chance to bake with my babicka. as you may recall, i made mazanec last easter, which went fairly well, but as you can imagine, there's so much you can learn by baking along side someone, particularly if they've been doing it a good half century or so. after getting over a couple rough starts (i started the session by adding salt instead of sugar to our first batch of dough, and then babicka left out the butter the second time around) we made a few batches of dough out of which we made kolacky (the little ones), kolach (like kolacky, but a big sheet, sort of like a pizza), and poppy strudel.

some highlights and observations from my crash course:

-this lady is old-school: she uses actual spoons for measuring. like, the one you stir tea with is the teaspoon.

-babicka kneads one-handed, with her left (non-dominant) hand! this is because she has pretty bad arthritis in her right hand from squeezing a pastry bag for 30 years (she was a cake decorator). however, not only can she knead bread much more quickly and efficiently than i can, she also does it without her hands getting sticky. clearly i am a novice bread kneader, but i'm just saying: the dough is always all over my hands til i develop enough gluten for it to reincorporate into the the dough ball. she just kind of pushes the dough a few times and it's done.

-i learned how hot the water should be to wake up the yeast (the other tricky part of yeast doughs). every time she heated it up and determined it was the right temperature i made sure to stick my finger in. so now i have a better idea of what temperature it should be, though i think babicka has a perfect pitch type of sense of what temperature it should be (and i'm definitely not there yet).

-babicka makes all the bread-related products in her house. once a month she makes rolls and freezes them. she also makes rye bread as often as they need it (it is such delicious bread! it's half wheat, half rye, i believe, and it's got an almost crumbly texture. i love that stuff).

it was fun to get a behind-the-scenes look at babi's baking. she's always critiquing what exactly went wrong with whatever delicious pastry we happen to be eating at the moment (which i say with great affection. i am the exact same way: must be a genetic defect!). but the analysis is happening during the baking as well (of course!). she mentioned while we were rolling out the kolacky dough that they would probably puff up too much in the over because we didn't allow the dough to rise long enough before punching it back down (correct), and she was as fanatical about the thickness and application of the toppings/fillings as i am about properly taping or burning a screen. i guess we share the idea that if it's important enough to do it yourself, it's important enough to do right.

i also got a couple czech cookbooks from her (one czech, one slovak, to be precise). i'm going to attempt a few recipes, though that will probably require a little translation help. i'll be sure to share here when i try one.

thanks for letting me bake with you babicka!

...and i've developed a loathing of the word "urban" as well

2009-11-03T09:35:00.000-08:00

Lately I have been feeling pretty negative about my decision to become a teacher in an urban setting. Much of my negativity revolves around the baggage that comes with being a white teacher of black students (I plan to teach on the south side of Chicago, where most neighborhoods are extremely segregated, and most of those are predominantly black). I am conflicted by the realization that, if I were a black woman, I would probably actively seek out black teachers for my children to combat the normative whiteness of our culture. It's not that white people can't or shouldn't teach black people, I am just sometimes disheartened by the large proportion of white people, at least in my own program, that suggests to me that we are helping to perpetuate an unhealthy racial dynamic in our schools. To look at the silver lining of my current malaise, however, I think this feeling serves to remind me of the importance of bringing in black professionals to be mentors, guest speakers, and tutors in my classroom, and to create projects and assignments that provide opportunities for my students to be around successful professionals in whom they can see themselves. And I need to focus on the things I can do: I can set high expectations for my students. I can build an atmosphere of trust. I can value my students by taking my work and their work seriously. But it's not easy to stay positive when you're thinking and talking about gross injustice day in, day out.

DIY?

2009-10-09T15:18:00.000-07:00

A number of people on the apartment therapy website, where my living room is currently on view have been asking about the newspaper thingy in the living room. I thought about making a how-to post, (and that will come soon!), but planning that out got me to thinking more generally about my penchant for DIY projects. I've always loved to make things, and I've learned through a lot of trial and error about what makes a successful DIY project, and when you should just go ready-made, so I thought I'd share my insights.

As a general rule, I like my crafts functional and pragmatic. I'm not doing it to fill time: I want to make something cool! (or useful, or pretty, or whatever.) If the outcome of the project has any importance for you, there are three main factors you need to take into account: money, time, and awesomeness. There's no rule for how much each matters to making a project worthwhile: it will vary by person, type and size of project, how much time you have on your hands, etc. But if you don't consider each of these factors, you will most likely be frustrated or disappointed with your finished product, or you may not finish at all.

Allow me to explain. First, take money. A lovely myth about doing stuff yourself is that it will save you money. If you only buy hand-made goods, made in America, by people earning a middle-class income, this is definitely true. However, I can assure you that if money is your sole concern, 9 times out of 10, buying something from Target will be cheaper than jerry-rigging your own. Economies of scale are not working in favor of your little cottage industry. Most raw materials available in consumer-sized quantities are marked up as much, if not more than, the same items sold as part of a finished manufactured piece (hence the existence of ikea hacker). Also, you need to think about the cost of ALL your materials before you begin. If you're refinishing a $5 chair from Goodwill, you are not getting a $5 chair. The supplies you use to refinish it might run you another twenty to fifty bucks: would you have rather bought something else for that price?

Next is time. When you embark on a project, assume it will take anywhere from 2-5 times as long as you think it will. The larger your estimate, the larger your multiplier should be. And as with the money consideration, if you are doing it yourself because the ready-made version seems so easy that you'd be better off making your own, think about how much you will enjoy working on this project, if there are other things you'd rather spend your time on, and how much your time is worth. I am as guilty as anyone of not considering the value of my time (either in monetary terms or in opportunity cost of putting off other things): this may be the element people think about least when undertaking a DIY project. Time is the stuff life is made of. If you don't want to spend the next month in the company of an air compressor and a staple gun, then perhaps you should rethink your supposed week-long reupholstery project. (ahem.)

Lastly, and somewhat more positively, is awesomeness. I mean this very generally to mean any positive attributes of the project, as well as the projected outcome. Perhaps you cannot buy anything like this anywhere, or maybe it will be the prettiest, coolest thing ever: go for it! Maybe you so enjoy the zen-like activity of sanding wood that the 95 hours you spend sanding that dresser will be the happiest hours of your life, and the finished dresser will be just a bonus on top of that experience. Perhaps you want to learn the process of screenprinting, so the mistakes, time and money are part of the cost of this learning process. Or maybe it's a gift for someone special. Whatever your reasons, consider the positive aspects and benefits of your project. But also be realistic about the finished product. Know your skill and commitment level: I used to be terrible about buying vintage clothing that was the wrong size. I'd rationalize the purchase because of the low price and tell myself I'd alter it. But more often than not, it either didn't turn out as expected, or worse, I never got around to alteration. A $5 shirt is not a bargain if it just sits in a bin somewhere. And you'll feel guilty every time you look at it until you're finally honest with yourself and throw it out. So understand the benefits of your project, but know your limitations as well.

So, be realistic. About the cost, the time, and the likely outcome. The more honest you can be with yourself about these things, the more pleased you'll be with your handmade goods. Happy crafting!

the coolest idea ever

2009-06-25T18:12:00.001-07:00

the uniform project.

Shortbread

2009-05-25T12:38:00.000-07:00

I am a shortbread enthusiast. It has the highest deliciosity-to-effort ratio of any baked good: it's not only one of the tastiest things to eat, but also one of the easiest to make. And as if that weren't great enough, you almost always have the ingredients on hand, so it's just one step of difficulty away from conjuring up food in your replicator, Star-Trek style. Shortbread was undoubtedly a major factor in surviving my first Chicago winter. I think made it on average about once a week this winter, trying different recipes, techniques, tactics, and baking times each time, in an effort to discover the perfect shortbread.

So yesterday, as Sean and I were throwing together an impromptu picnic and I was trying to figure out a dessert I could make quickly, I decided to make some shortbread. It came out so good that I think I have finally hit upon my ideal shortbread recipe. Yesterday I used scotch instead of water, which added a subtle smoky taste and was delicious, but I think in general I prefer my shortbread unadultered.

So here's my shortbread recipe. You'll find most recipes are pretty similar ingredients-wise, but small alterations in technique and quantities make a big difference when you're making something this nakedly simple.

1 1/4 cup flour
1/4 superfine sugar (or half powdered, half granulated)
1/8 tsp salt
1/2 cup salted butter
2–3 tbsp ice water

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Put dry ingredients in food processor, and pulse a couple times to combine. (If you'd like to make superfine sugar from granulated sugar, put your sugar in the food processor first, and process for 30 seconds to a minute before adding the flour and salt.) Cut butter into small chunks and add to food processor. (It is essential that the butter be as cold as possible: do not remove from fridge until you're ready to add it.) Pulse until you have the butter integrated: this should look like coarse crumbs. Turn on the processor and add ice water slowly, without dumping in the ice, til the dough begins sticking together. (It will still be pretty crumbly.)

Turn out the dough into an 8-inch baking pan and press it into the pan. (You may want to line the pan with parchment for easier removal.) Score into 18 pieces (6 by 3) with a knife. When oven reaches 400 degrees, reduce temperature to 325 and bake shortbread for 15 minutes.

Remove shortbread and cut into the pre-scored rectangles, and place the pieces about an inch apart on a baking sheet. return to the oven for 15-20 minutes, or until lightly golden-brown on the edges. Let rest on the pan for one minute, then remove to a cooling rack.

a gripe

2009-04-11T09:17:00.000-07:00

I am in the process of applying to teaching master's programs, and I'm noticing a disturbing trend that, as a graphic designer, forces me to ask all teachers everywhere: why Comic Sans? This typeface is surely in the running as the most revolting ever created, but it seems to be a favorite of teachers, particularly elementary school teachers. The glut of Comic Sans has made me ponder what typeface I'd like to use for my sundry materials. I think Chaparral. It looks friendly, modern, accessible, and sophisticated. Not to mention it's also highly legible, and designed for text use.

Mazanec

2009-04-08T21:20:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I baked a Czech Easter bread called Mazanec. It's a sweet egg bread with golden raisins and almonds in it, and it's delicious. Thanks for the recipe Babicka: it turned out great! I am sending a few loaves as small thank-you gifts for my letter of rec writers, but now after making it, I wish I could send them the smell too: my apartment was filled with the heavenly aroma of fresh bread for hours. I was initially intimidated by the prospect of making bread: mainly waking up (but not killing) the yeast, and kneading. I love to cook, but when it comes to baking, but I usually stick with shortbreads, tarts, and scones, which are mainly about cutting fat into flour, and less sciency than yeast breads. But it turns out there's nothing to fear! The key to kneading is that you keep at it until the dough's no longer sticky. I was afraid that this point would come gradually, and discerning it would require a zen-like understanding of bread kneading, but it turned out to be really definitive and obvious. Thanks for the great directions Babicka!

florida citrus part 2

2009-03-29T19:17:00.000-07:00

The tangerine tart turned out beautifully. Here's a picture for your vicarious enjoyment.

I made Dorie Greenspan's Sweet Tart Dough which I found over here at Cafe Johnsonia (I left out her lemon zest addition since I was making a citrus tart, although for a different tart, that sounds tasty). For the filling, I adapted this orange custard recipe from Epicurious. I of course used tangerine juice instead of orange, and I skipped the Grand Marnier and instead added half a teaspoon of vanilla. I topped the tart with sectioned tangerines, because then it's healthy, right? Seriously though, the fresh citrus was a lovely contrast to the buttery crust, and the overall effect was mellow creamy, and perfectly sweet.

By the way, this crust is to die for. This is definitely my standard tart crust from now on.

florida citrus

2009-03-25T14:20:00.000-07:00

it's here! our box of florida citrus arrived yesterday, filled with perfectly sweet-tart, juicy honey tangerines. thank you so much babi and tatko! it was like opening a box of sunshine. i think i will make a tart out of some of them this weekend, assuming they don't get gobbled up by then.

alex's blog

2009-03-07T16:30:00.000-08:00

is just fantastic.

a riddle

2009-01-16T14:21:00.000-08:00

what do sarah palin, toronto, and hair plugs have in common?

apparently, this email:

i am mystified.

the upholstery project...now on flickr

2009-01-04T19:27:00.000-08:00

I've finally uploaded a set to flickr documenting (sort of) the upholstery project. I noticed when going through the pictures that it looks like I eat bon bons behind the scenes whilst barking orders to Sean the Furniture Boy, but that's really not how it went down, I promise. What happened is that the demolition process is somewhat over-represented because we needed pictures of how the furniture goes back together for reference, and then I slacked on photographing the assembly. This project was decidedly more my baby (my long-past-due baby) than Sean's. And the photos are even longer in coming, of course. But now you get a glimpse into the fun times that were our first month in Chicago. Enjoy!

Köstritzer Schwarzbier: A favorite of Dandies and Fops since 1543!

2008-11-21T19:54:00.000-08:00

As you might expect, I first purchased this beer for the intriguing image on the box. As luck would have it, it's also fantastic beer. I wasn't sure initially if my impression was clouded by my sheer delight in the cover art, but several repeat purchases later I am convinced that this is my new favorite beer.

Schwarzbier is a lager made with a dark-roasted malt, as you might have guessed. I confess I don't have a lot of experience with schwarzbiers, but I think I should probably try a few more since it's conceptually right up my alley. The Köstritzer has a delicate, frothy head, a light body, and tastes of coffee and burnt sugars. So it's all the crisp effervescence of a lager with the sweet, roasty maltiness you normally expect in a porter or a stout.

But going back to the artwork: I am captivated with the image. If I had described the box as having a picture of someone holding the beer, reclining, and rubbing their leg suggestively, you would have immediately assumed that person was female. This reclining, passive gaze is almost exclusively associated with the depiction of women in the history of art, and in beer advertising in particular. The Art Theory 101 student inside me finds this Köstritzer image remarkably unusual. I could be wrong of course, but I just can't seem to think of other examples of this kind of male objectification, in 18th century period dress, no less. He is of course covered in some kind of blanket or coat, but again there's the notable exception of where he's decided to show us his breeches. If you you have any expertise on this subject, I am dying of curiosity and I'd appreciate your insights.

On a sillier note, the part of me that is easily brainwashed by nonsensical TV commercials has noticed that our dapper gentleman appears to be wearing a snuggie. Because sometimes you're cold, but wearing a blanket would make it difficult to drink your Köstritzer.

A Lovely Summer Morning

2008-07-05T13:56:00.000-07:00

Today I had a pretty unforgettable experience. I'm currently a sign artist at a Trader Joe's here in Scottsdale, and this morning I was working on a sign on the front door. So I was outside painting, when a Palo Verde Beetle stumbled across the door jamb. I was pretty startled by a large bug walking across my path (and I'd say justifiably so), but it ambled on past me, and I got back to work. About fifteen minutes later I felt a tickle at my knee, so I looked down, but didn't see anything, and figured I was imagining things, still jumpy from seeing the beetle. Then about thirty seconds later, I felt a decidedly less imaginary tickle on my upper thigh, so i reflexively brushed it off, which may well have been the most horrific part of the experience, because that's when I realized there was not a bug on my pants, but in my pants. I don't think I'll forget the sensation of running my hand over that fabric-covered lumpy thing. It combines the startling experience of something unexpected in place of the familiar (in this case my smooth, jeans-covered leg) with the gut-level horror of not being able to physically separate yourself from the object of your fear. I started screaming and jumping up and down and wiggling to get it to drop down out of my pants. But it didn't fall out, and that realization brought my flip-out to a new level. I almost took off my pants right there in front of the store, but instead I grabbed the bug through the pants, ran to the bathroom, and with one hand still tightly clutching the jeans-wrapped bug, removed my pants (which necessitated first taking off my shoes) and flung them away from me. The Palo Verde Beetle started to climb out of the folds of the pants, flailing around his big little arms and antennae, til I picked up the pants and shook him out. I unfortunately killed the beetle by crushing it in my fist while running for the bathroom, which besides being gross I also feel bad about, because Palo Verde Beetles are actually harmless. But I doubt I'll ever reach a point where I'm able to calmly remove a large insect from inside my pants.

Some Perspective

2008-07-01T22:13:00.000-07:00

As we're all now well aware, in the democratic primary older women tended to support Senator Clinton, with younger women more often supporting Senator Obama. This rift heated into an ugly little battle between the generations that I was actually quite surprised by (perhaps naively so). The opinion pages were full of rancorous accusations from feminists like Gloria Steinem who felt a vote for Obama was a betrayal of the feminist cause, that we'd be losing everything we'd fought for by not voting for Clinton. And then the unpleasantness of Geraldine Ferraro's comments, the Clinton supporter decrying Obama as an "inadequate black male," and finally the accusations that the nomination had been stolen from Clinton that became entangled with cries of prejudice and sexism.

Without question, there was rampant sexism in this race, mainly from the media. Clinton has always been a favorite punching bag of the right wing pundits and probably would've continued to draw their fire had McCain not pulled into the lead, instigating such bizarre scenes as Ann Coulter's quasi-endorsement of Clinton. The fact is, the sexism encountered was (just like the bigotry Obama still faces) a certainty that Clinton's campaign had to face from the outset. She was far and away the favorite in the beginning, and sexism did not lose her the nomination. So please, sisters, take a deep breath and let go of a little bit of your anger. It makes no sense for women who've voted democrat in the past to vote for McCain now, and it's certainly not Obama's fault that Clinton had to endure sexism. That's all our fault as a society, and we have to deal with the reality of where we are now. She was the first, and she had to cut through it with a machete, to make a path where there wasn't one before.

All that being said, I've spent the past few months pretty miffed at older feminists trying to tell me who I can and can't vote for. Last time I checked, women didn't have to put up with that. And I see feminism not as about being victorious over men but about gender equality: shouldn't we try to make a decision about the candidates without regard for gender? I think that's how most Obama feminists see it. But the thing I've only recently realized, which is perhaps blatantly obvious to others, is that we're young. I've lived through four presidents. For younger women, there's no urgency to elect a woman. No, there haven't been any female presidents, but it seems more like a fluke than inequality: I feel like a female president is inevitable. We have grown up in a different world, where women occupy the same positions men do (admittedly sometimes in fewer numbers). It's one where girls graduate from high school at a higher rate, go to college and graduate in larger numbers, and in general experience very little persecution or resistance because of gender. Growing up in Arizona, I lived through an equal number of female and male governors (and I might add, a far more admirable showing by the women: Mecham and Symington stand in sharp contrast to Janet Napolitano, who besides being an extremely competent, smart, and popular governor was also the first Arizona governor and first woman to chair the National Governor's Association). I know there are still gaps and places we can do better. But the feeling of being less, of having lower expectations for girls than boys, is all but gone.

So I would like to say first of all that I'm sorry for being annoyed with women's aspirations for Hillary Clinton. And to say thanks: Thank you to Senator Clinton being a pioneer and taking the blows so that now it's normal and accepted to see a woman running for president. And thank you to the women who stood up for themselves and for all women to be regarded as full citizens and equals. My generation's relative complacency is proof you succeeded: women aren't an oddity in the workplace or politics, but in fact just another person, to be judged and considered on the same merits as a man. Male is not the default, and women are not the exception: we're just people of different genders. So thanks, to all the women and men who changed minds—and had their minds changed—to create a world where I take my rights and opportunities for granted.

The Phoenix Aesthetic

2008-06-19T23:09:00.000-07:00

Phoenix is probably not on most people's lists of great cities for architecture, and I'm certainly not out to convince you otherwise. In fact, the idea for this post came from watching James Howard Kunstler's TED talk and perusing his Eyesore of the Month page. My first thought was to take some pictures of eyesores to send in for the page. My second thought was the realization that metro-Phoenix was one gigantic eyesore and it wouldn't be practical or constructive to actually try to catalog its entirety or even find some quintessential blight (although I learned recently that my sister's best friend makes a point of showing vistors to the valley our palm tree cell towers, which I think would make a lovely addition to Kunstler's dubious collection). The only thing I was sure of was that Mr. Kunstler had never been to metro-Phoenix: there is such a glut of eyesore to been seen here, both in quantity and in sheer horrific ugliness, that I can't imagine he'd have visited and not added some Phoenix photos to the eyesore page.

While pondering the sad state of beauty, community, and character in our sprawling parking lot, I realized that there are pockets of success. Phoenix does have a sense of place; a unique style that unmistakably feels like Phoenix, and nowhere else. It's fragile and sporadically applied, but it's clear to me that if we're thoughtful about development going forward, we can make Phoenix more beautiful, hospitable, and livable.

Good design, by definition, is not superficially beautiful, but also fulfills some set of requirements that make it useful as well. I could blather on for years about what exactly it is that makes something beautiful and I might still not convince you, but in a nutshell, I generally subscribe to the idea that form and function should not be an either/or proposition. That for something to have lasting beauty, it needs usefulness, and that an object is not really fulfilling its function if it isn't somehow beautiful. For a city to have a sense of place, the built environment must address the climate, history, and the spirit or culture of the people who live there: an aesthetic arises from this naturally. In Phoenix, we must build for a hot, dry climate with sensitivity to our historic architecture (much of which dates to the 1920s and 30s) and native cultures. And it seems that where Phoenix has succeeded in cultivating a distinct aesthetic, this is already happening.

To grasp the essence of a place visually, it's important that the built environment reveal history. Analogously, the history of the English language is revealed in the spelling of various words. We can see the relationship between words borrowed from the same language at the same time (if we know what we're looking for), and that's lost if we all decided tomorrow to spell everything phonetically. In Phoenix we have a penchant for the architectural equivalent of phonetic spelling: we just tear down and start over every ten or twenty years, so as a result the vast majority of our city was built from roughly 1970 onward (though to be fair, I don't think this is unique to Phoenix). This is a combination of rapid growth, cheap building, and a heavy dose of California envy. (I think Phoenix often feels like LA's ugly younger sister. And I defy you to find an Arizonan who as a kid didn't ponder California falling into the ocean and giving us our very own beach.) But where we haven't bull-dozed it, we've got some iconic buildings like the Westward Ho or the Biltmore Resort, a lot of modest but lovely skyscrapers from the twenties and thirties, and a sprinkling of mission revival, all mixed with some rather grim, monumental behemoths from the seventies and eighties. But a lot of this works together for me because there's often a visible intention to bring them together through geometric pattern that also subtly evokes native American visual culture. Through this seemingly disparate mix we get a chance to see the history of Phoenix, like strata of earth showing what came before—what we're a part of.

Building with the harsh climate in mind is something that I think has slipped away in Phoenix over the years. Again, keeping up with the Californian Joneses leads us to build bigger, with lots of windows to let in the light (heat!) and let us commune with nature while sitting in air-conditioned comfort on our sofa. Ironically, the wisdom of building with a sensitivity toward our historical urban landscape is reinforced when you consider the desert climate: anything built before the advent of air conditioning is by necessity built to cool the inside as effectively as possible, and as it becomes hip to think about green building, well, perhaps an adobe bungalow surrounded by a wide covered porch is not such a bad thing after all. A lot of the buildings that look aesthetically appropriate are excellent at deflecting heat, and that's no accident. The climate is an essential practical consideration that becomes part of a place's aesthetic.

I like to think of Phoenix's aesthetic as the Bladerunner look: the strong 80's influence, geometric pattern, pollution, and echoes of Frank Lloyd Wright make it feel that way for me. That may sound sinister and dystopian, but I think it's more of a grim optimism for the future—one we're going to build ourselves, through brute force and ambition. There is a deliberateness, a determination to subdue nature and live here in defiance of it that defines the our character as citizens of this city, and that's reflected in our architecture and built environment.

About this blog

2008-06-08T15:02:00.000-07:00

Hello World!

I've decided to dip my toe into the swimming pool of the internet and start up a blog. Yes, it's 2008, and it seems this internet thing is here to stay. If you haven't already, try my decidedly less verbal blog over at veryrecentpast.blogspot.com for a lot of (let's be honest with ourselves) rather badly drawn self-portraits. (But I think they're getting better, in fits and starts.)

This blog, as the title vaguely suggests, will be about the often-overlooked. While I'm sure the topics I plan to write about are not completely invisible, I want to discuss my take on these things. (And hey: I'm allowed! If there was ever a more self-indulgent medium than the blog, please let me know what it is.) I'm fairly input-driven and detail-oriented: I like to absorb and investigate. This way of approaching the world probably defines who I am more strongly than any other characterization I could apply to myself, and that's why I'm drawn to pondering minutiae, investigating the inner workings of things, and understanding the world in new ways. I enjoy trying to look at the everyday with fresh eyes, to discover something new in the ordinary.

Thanks for reading!