Blogger, it's not you. It's me.

Blogger, we need to talk. It's time. I've been flirting with the idea for a while now and that's not fair. My attention has been elsewhere and I haven't treated you how you deserve to be treated. You deserve better. You deserve someone who loves you for who you are. I can't force myself to fall back in love with you. I'm sorry to hurt you, but I'm in love with iWeb. I've changed and I've grown over the past few years and, we've talked about this, you never changed or grew with me. I'm not asking you to be anything but what you are, and I know you'll find billions of users who are highly compatible with you. We had a good run, but we're over.

Coming soon...a brand new blog. Brand new URL/RSS feed. Brand new design. my madeleines and madeleines written with light combined into one uber website. Stay tuned.

Schooooool's OUT. FOR. WIN. TER.

I did it. First semester of grad school? Done. Working full time and going to school full time kicked my trash a bit, but it's worth it. I put it off for too long and I'm glad I'm finally doing this for myself. Remind me I said that when my student loans are due, but whatever.

The program remains highly innovative and I while I like being the first cohort, there are a few marked disadvantages. I sort of feel like I'm the girl dating this rough-around-the-edges program - the girl who does all the work and whips him into shape and teaches him how to be an amazing program - and then I'll pass him off to the new girl next fall and he'll be all polished and amazing. Story of my life. Anyone? Ladies?

At any rate, for all the program's faults, Westminster is so responsive to students it's almost unreal. You want something changed? Call the program director. Done. You want to make sure something is improved for the cohort next year, shoot the faculty an email about the syllabus. Done.

I had my final two classes this week...and I woke up this morning feeling a bit adrift. You mean I don't have to set my alarm to wake up and start homework? You mean to tell me I don't have a huge paper to finish by Sunday night? Wait, no 300 pages of dry business text? What? I almost don't know what to do with myself. I mean, other than stay in bed all day long and tool around on the interweb.

my life according to facebook

No, I did not create this. There is a facebook app that generates the status content automatically. I love that my best friend Diane and her husband Andrew ended up in here so many times, but am not thrilled with the other status updates they chose. Still a very cool concept. Something I would like to create myself from scratch, actually.

Oh crap.

Remember when this could go either way?

Remember when this could fizzle out or turn into a sick, sad obsession.

Well...I'll let you make the call.

Yes, that's an expansion and full remodel with new stoves and a new patio.

Make it stop.

Please help.

Taxi...TAXI!

I. Love. This. It makes me stir crazy and all wanderlusty.

A note from my past

Back in August I told you about a website I stumbled onto called Future Me. You write an email to yourself and the site will deliver it on whatever future date you specify. The only rule is that it has to be at least 90 days in the future.

So...way back then...I sent an email to myself as a test. I completely forgot about it in the meantime, and was surprised when my message was delivered last week. Now that I know it's legit...it's game on. I'm going to send all sorts of notes to The Future Me. I absolutely love this idea. The Future Me might get sort of annoyed with The Past Me...but whatever.

Totally addicting waste of time

So over Thanksgiving weekend my dad showed me his virtual cafe and virtual apartment, encouraging me to become his business partner and neighbor. He introduced me to the Facebook apps Cafe World and YoVille (they're like SIMS lite, more or less). Up until two days ago, I was completely unaware such apps existed. I scoffed and ridiculed him for indulging in such low-brow time wasters. Important people have important things to do, I explained, and I couldn't possibly find the time to play these silly games with him.

Well, about that.

That's a screen shot of the living room in my YoVille apartment. Yeah, I know.

And that's a screen shot of my cafe (aptly named: my madeleines). I know, I know!

But dude, seriously. He tricked me into this addiction by letting me remodel his cafe. He had taken all the starter furniture items and done nothing to the cafe, focusing only on the food served leading to the bottom line dollar. Pssh...that's where I come in. I rocked a remodel and his business went through the roof. "Money well spent," he said as I drained his bank account from over $30,000 to $500. You gotta spend money to make money, I always say.

No. I don't actually say that. I'm not even sure I know what that means.

But I do know what it means to design and decorate. Blame it on the Libra genes or some other inherent esthetic, but I've always been good at it. After remodeling my dad's cafe I held out as long as I could (about three hours) before caving, downloading both apps to my Facebook account, and proceeding to establish my own little virtual empire.

I find it kind of annoying that I have to play stupid games and cook food and work and stuff in order to get enough little gold coins to do what I want to do; which is to say shop and decorate. It's also all well and good that I worked ahead with my homework and had time to indulge this weekend...but I don't wanna think about the mess my little virtual world will be in when work hits the fan tomorrow morning. We'll see if I bother to maintain my addiction or decide to detox.

Bloodsport

My family is highly competitive. I, thankfully, got the recessive genes and only care to compete with my perfectionist self. However, for the rest of these yahoos, everything from Jeopardy to making it through the soon-to-change traffic light is a very. serious. competition.

Take for instance the pleasant arts & crafts project my mom whipped up for us today: Decorate a gingerbread house. Seems simple enough, but oh no. It was only a matter of time before we were entrenched on opposite sides of the dining room table, men versus women in a battle to the death, our voices raised as we debated the engineering of the graham cracker roof beams.

Shouting trash talk across the table we hurled, "Your Necco roof is not structurally sound!" "Oh yeah? Well your garden path is so not to scale!" Not a hint of irony. Not a whiff of the absurd. We were dead serious.

Just as we thought we were finished with our task, my mother called two different neighbors over to the house for an independent judging commission. The tiebreaker turned to Facebook. A post to my mom's wall, a post to mine. It was on.

House #2 was the women's creation and I don't need to tell you it's clearly better. It also won the Facebook polls by a landslide. I'm just sayin' ...

Beats doing dishes

My grandparents flew in from California, as they have every Thanksgiving since my family moved to Utah; and we enjoyed the outrageously awesome feast at the Foundry Grill at Sundance Resort. I'm grateful for a family that plays hard, works hard, laughs hard, and loves hard. I'm also grateful that we genuinely enjoy each other's company.

Photos, photos, and more photos.

It's amazing to watch creativity creep back into my life as I settle into a holiday weekend and enjoy less homework than I've had all semester. I've added 13 more photos to madeleines written with light, such as this camera I found at a flea market in Searsport, Maine.

I can't wait for winter break. I'll have two full weeks paid vacation and a needed break from constant academia. Expect more photos!

I'm gonna get me a navy pea coat...

Today is the first time I've been cold this season. We've had a lovely Indian summer that melted right into an Indian fall...but now it's snowing and blistering cold outside.

I find myself listening to a lot of Brett Dennen in an effort to boost my spirits. I find this ditty particularly wonderful right now (take a listen, will ya...you won't regret it and you really do need the full effect). No, I'm not in break-up mode, I just find it bouncy and delightful. I'm also hurting for time in San Francisco. It's been too long.

Go, if you want to go;

But I won't follow,

Just so you know.

Leave, if you need to leave;

But I won't be here...

I won't be here when you come home.

I'm gonna to move to San Francisco,

Look up some old friends.

I'm gonna get me a navy pea coat,

And an old Mercedes Benz.

This old town it keeps shrinking.

There's too many people in my junk.

I'm gonna do a lot of drinking,

Cause it don't hurt when I'm drunk.

Go, if you want to go;

But I won't follow,

Just so you know.

Leave, if you need to leave;

But I won't be here...

I won't be here when you come home.

I'm gonna rent me an old Victorian

Down in the Lower Haight.

I'm gonna get me an old accordion

Play for the tourists on the golden gate.

I'm gonna plant a garden.

Paint my bathroom blue.

I'm gonna try real hard

To get over you.

Go, if you want to go;

But I won't follow...

Just so you know.

Leave, if you need to leave;

But I won't be here,

I won't be here when you come home.

Here in the city, life doesn't move so slow.

There's plenty of good people I know.

Up in North Beach they drink spicy Italian liqueur.

Down on Market there's a lot of hobos and the hustlers.

Down in Hayes Valley, there's a lot of real good restaurants.

Deep in the tenderloin you can get anything you want.

Over in The Mission it's always a sunny day.

It's a real good baseball town but my team is across the bay.

Go, if you want to go;

But I won't follow,

Just so you know.

Leave, if you need to leave;

But I won't be here...

I won't be here when you come home.

29. That's right.

I had a really creative weekend. I spent a lot of time catching up on sleep. I watched a few documentaries that have been on my wishlist for months. I spent serious quality time with muffin, catching up on 3 months of So You Think You Can Dance a'la DVR and making awesome greeting cards. I also hit some sort of photography energy field and finally posted 29 pics from my Maine vacation.

Yes, the vacation I took in June. Finally got to it. I know, I know. Whatever.

Just enjoy...http://madeleineswrittenwithlight.blogspot.com

Getting off gets the crazy out.

"Hysteria — an exclusively female illness, its name derived from the Greek word for "uterus" — was something of a catchall condition. It was irritability, it was sleeplessness, it was anger, it was feeling solemnity. Any behavior beyond the prescribed feminine ideal. Anything that was pretty much unacceptable to the people around you."

*sigh* Any behavior beyond the prescribed feminine ideal. Seriously. I read this and know that it's in reference to prevailing wisdom of the Victorian 19th Century, but I can't help roll my eyes at the reality that many would presume this text was contemporary. Furthermore, my eyes roll completely out of my skull knowing that many would find nothing objectionable about it.

It pisses me off. Actually.

That's why playwright Sarah Ruhl and I would be friends. Like, if we both lived in New York and ran into each other in a coffee shop or some fabulous dinner party at a mutual friend's loft, we'd end up hanging out. A lot. BFFs, Sarah and I.

Her play, In the Next Room, tells the tale of women who used to visit the doctor for hysteria, the doctor would proceed to...ahem, manually stimulate them, and post-orgasm: voila. No more hysteria.

Sure, this is funny at first. Then, it's really sad. As this NPR piece points out, the play explores issues of intimacy and awareness. "Ruhl centers her play on how we separate out bodily functions and labor and love." I've been ruminating a lot lately on how disconnected women can be from their bodies, how unhealthy I think that is, and how culture/society can perpetuate (and even honor) that disconnection.

Clearly, I'm not the only one to ruminate on such issues as of late. I would've loved to see this play.

Mayer's latest

I've been getting acquainted with Battle Studies these past few days.

I want to be blown away. I really do what to tell you that my life has changed.

Meh.

I like the album. I like anything John Mayer does. It's just that I know he is an outstanding musician and I was in the mood to be blown away musically. It's clear that this album was a lyrical growth for him, but musically there's not much going on that he couldn't pull off a decade ago. Humph. Maybe that's not fair. There are a few bluesy moments, but nothing compared to his work with the Trio, say.

Oh well, whatever. It's strong, solid Mayer. I'll be blown away next time.

...and while we're on the topic

That's all.

oh. my. my.

Yes, please.

A real life vacay

All my frivolous web surfing this weekend is reminding me of more relaxed days. I did sneak a vacay into my hectic semester. Since MBA classes are 7-weeks, with a one-week break between them, I decided there was nothing for me to do but run away to Florida. You should know by now that I'm as behind on photo processing as I always am. At some point I'll post to the photo blog, and at some point I'll share vacay stories here, but in the meantime...

I just had to revisit this glorious image. That's where I sat for a week avoiding all things productive. Ahhhhh yes.

I text allegiance to the flag...

I text allegiance to the flag of the United States Of American Apparel and to the facebook for which it friends, one nation, OMG, indivizzibizzle, with Liberty and Jonas for all.

(Stephen Colbert)

Socialnomics

I couldn't care less about the make-more-money economic argument, just not my thing; but the social capital argument, hell yes. Welcome to the future of organizing.

Two words: Esperanza. Spalding.

Time to buy every note of music Esperanza Spalding has ever touched. Thanks, White House. You're like my hip friend who recommends all the best music.

Until you have seen a deaf girl dance...

White. House. Poetry. Jam. Enough said.

"Until you have seen a deaf girl dance, you know nothing of passion."

Coming up for air

Grad School.

One MBA class down. Got a solid A grade and flattering kudos from the professor. I've been knocking out A grades on all my MA Community Leadership course assignments. My new MBA course is going well and I rocked an A on the first assignment. All is well. It's hard. I love it. It takes every single spare moment of my time. It's worth it.

Work.

The director of my department left the college in September. I was appointed Interim Director. This is in addition to everything else I do for my already more-than-full-time job and the new federal grant I'm managing. It's a great opportunity and I'm in the right place at the right time, but it's wearing me out. I now manage 7 staff members and a $400,000 budget. In addition...in addition... *sigh*

That's that.

I have a light homework weekend. This hasn't happened since...well, since I started grad school. I took this time to clean my apartment. No. That's a lie. I took this time to surf the web and watch hours of hulu. I'm about to dump a lot of neat interweb finds on this blog.

Ready. Set. Go.

Ahhhhhh cafe...

When I ordered hot chocolate with a raspberry turnover, the Beautiful Man behind the counter at la boulangerie said something rapidly in French. I nodded and smiled and stared blankly at his dimples. He then went about his business.

Apparently, whatever the Beautiful Man was saying in French, it translates as: "Would you like the hot chocolate to be served in a bowl as large as your face?"

"I would. I would."

Dinner at the market

I love the rhythm of cities: Locals (not tourists) fill up the market stalls at the end of the day and begin walking home with fresh greens and a warm baguette poking out of their tote, flowers under their arm. I like to fantasize about the chic lofts in which they'll have their friends over for a dinner party.

My little slice of urban nirvana? Byward Market...and my hotel room. Not quite as sexy, but I still dig it.

First stop, the continental delicatessen for a bit of thin, dry, mid-spice Hungarian salami. Next, la boulangerie for heavenly butter croissants. Quick stop at a fruit stand, then off to la fromagerie for an aged 4-year raw milk cheddar from Montreal and La Sauvagine from Saint-Raymon de Portneuf (Grand Champion of the 5th Canadian Cheese Grand Prix).

Dude. I know. A Grand Prix of Cheese. Seriously.

Oh...and I topped it off with an "Obama Cookie" - because when Obama came to Ottawa he went to the boulangerie and ordered the maple leaf sugar cookie, took a photo with the staff, and gave them infamous cache for years to come.

Flip the Script

Amazing what happens when you let yourself vent.

ca·thar·sis \kə-ˈthär-səs\
1. purification of the emotions primarily through art
2. purification that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension
3. elimination of a complex by bringing it to consciousness and affording it expression

I don't know why it took me so long*, but I'm done. Time to flip the script. United Airlines sucks. My bag is god knows where. I lost two days to this mess. All still true. But you know what else is true?

• I have a job (when many are not so fortunate right now), and that job is cool enough to send me to another country for a conference.
• I am in an urban nirvana of Eurotrashiness and I need to hit the pavement and dig it!
• The airline says they have at least located my bag. It may never make it to Ottawa. I may only see it weeks after I'm home. Who the hell knows...but they found it.
• My hotel is swanky. The devil is in the details and I'm relishing the suede armchairs, super fluffy bed, and free upgrade to 11th floor view of Parliament.
• I'm not rolling in leisure cash, but the not insignificant twice over triple digit figure required to bring me back to bare minimum essentials is still manageable. I'm fortunate that I have even a small amount of financial flexibility.
• The men here are hot. hot. hot.
• My room service dinner rocked.
• Canadians are probably the politest people I've ever met. Ever. Like, it's unnerving.
• I still have three days to turn this around.

Ahhhhh. Another catharsis.

*recovering from the flu, work pressures through the roof, school assignments and readings hitting peak mid-semester levels, I'm just off my game.

en route...

So yesterday morning my alarm goes off at 4:00am. I get up, do my thing, taxi comes at 5:00, check in, get through security, and I'm hanging out at my gate by 6:00am. After an hour or so the PA system squawks: "United Flight ### is delayed by at least two hours. We'll call you up individually to rebook. Do not come to the counter." A collective murmur rumbles through the terminal. Cell phones blaze to life, people rush to get in line despite the explicit request...

Seriously? Seriously.

Fast forward two hours. Yes. Two. I'm finally called up and they make whatever arrangement they make so I'm still on United, still through Chicago, arriving in Ottawa three hours later than planned. Annoying, but manageable. I sit back down, resign myself to the fact that there's nothing I can do, and start catching up on email.

Fast forward an hour and a half. Yes. An hour and a half. The PA squawks at me to come to the desk. The girl hands me a Delta boarding pass. Yes. Delta. She says, "You need to hurry. You're going to Vancouver on Delta." I stared at her with a confounded expression. I finally reply, "You need to explain. I'm going to Ottawa on United." "No," she says with a huge grin and a giggle. "This is the best plan, okay. Go on Delta now. It's in E Terminal. Hurry."

Seriously? Seriously.

At this point I've been sitting in the United B9 gate for four and a half hours. Yes. Four and a half. I look at my Delta boarding pass, shake my head at the E75 gate, and start running. Until I see one of the golf cart guys. Then I start riding, waving cash in his face as we whiz past asthmatic grandmothers coveting my chauffeur.

I slide into my seat with no time to spare and I'm off to Vancouver. This means that I'm flying 2 hours west, opposite of the direction I should be heading. It does not escape my annoyed attention that I will soon be flying back across those same two hours of sky. Sisyphus ain't got nothin' on this day.

So I arrive in Vancouver, where I need to wind my way through customs and send my bag through Canadian security. Except my bag isn't there. Of course it's not. I sound like a raving lunatic trying to explain that I was supposed to be on a United flight, but ended up taking a Delta flight, and now I'm going to miss my Air Canada flight and no, I don't know where my bag is, and yes, I do realize Ottawa is on the other side of the country. Um yeah, the customs agent loved me. On top of it, I've been sick and my fever broke in the chaos of the Vancouver airport. So, as it turns out, I was a sweaty raving lunatic who lost her bag and has travel plans on three different airlines.

There was nothing I could do about my bag except hope that it somehow made its way to Ottawa. I board my plane and fly back over those two hours of sky, flipped the bird at the United agents below me in Salt Lake, and made my way across the entire length of Canada. I did get to marvel at the snow-capped Rockies twice...

I land in Ottawa five hours later. Yes. Five. I was supposed to arrive at 4:30. At this point it's 10:30. I went straight to the lost baggage service counter and filed a claim. I again got to be the raving lunatic trying to explain my sporadic itinerary. They can't find my bag. They think it's in Chicago, but maybe Detroit, did it get loaded in Salt Lake, should we call United, maybe call Delta, but I'm at the Air Canada counter, and on and on and on as such for a long time...

I'm given a claim number and I hail a cab to just get me to the hotel already. My friend had been in Ottawa since Wednesday, and had been tracking my ordeal en route. After checking in I went to her room to unwind and bitch about my day. She surprised me with a hilarious greeting card and temporary tattoos from the Iowa State Fair (long story, but they made my night). I surprised her with my man bag.

Yes. My man bag. When I left the baggage service counter they gave me "a complimentary kit to help you settle." Really? What's in the kit? MY LUGGAGE?! No, not my luggage, just man treats.

Stinky man deodorant, shaving cream, a white undershirt, and a weird combrushpickthing. I was grateful for the kid's toothbrush, but Speedstick?

Fast forward nearly 24 hours, still no bag. At this point I'm on a first name basis with the Air Canada helpline and have figured out the menu sequence that lets me bypass the automated system, though listening to French telephone operators is actually quite charming. My latest phone call to them (8:30EST) revealed that my bag is in CHICAGO. AWESOME. The conference starts at 8:00am tomorrow and my bag is in CHICAGO.

I blame United. At the end of the day, it's ultimately United's fault. I have been looking forward to this trip for 6 months now. I'm a stellar traveler and planned to hit the ground running...museums, cafes, photo walks, conference sessions, and work meetings. I've traveled all over the world and never had luggage lost before and it's frustrating me that it's throwing me for such a loop. Thursday was a wash because I was en route the entire #$%*&@! day. Today was a wash because I was so disoriented it was all I could do to find clothes, shoes, a drug store.

I can only hope my bag comes in from Chicago tonight. I so want to put these two days behind me and look forward to three great days in Canada's capitol.

Something terrible is happening

Protect Insurance Companies PSA from Will Ferrell

More Little Things, Or Fall Leaves

I live 10 minutes from some of the most beautiful canyons on Planet Earth. Ask me how often I make it up there. On second thought, don't ask me. Just know that I at least took advantage of the splendor this afternoon. I still had my yoga buzz on and I couldn't bear the thought of going home to more Organizational Behavior texts. I turned right back around and went up Emigration Canyon, then up East Canyon to the Milford County line.

You know those moment, every so often, when you stop and think: "Wait. This is me. This is absolutely me, centered, happy, who I'm supposed to be..." I have those moments when I'm behind my camera. I have those moments when I'm alone in nature. I have those moments when I'm volunteering, at a community festival, or sleeping in on a chilly Saturday morning with no agenda bearing down on me. You know those moments, whatever they are for you. I felt such peace up the canyon today and it was the perfect capstone to my yoga buzz.


I sat in the same space for about 20 minutes, completely rapt by the colors and shifting tones of the warm sunset. The difference is subtle, but 20 minutes after the photo above was taken, I snapped the shot below. Can you just taste that sunset? I streaks across the sky like hot buttah.

The Little Things

The ubiquitous "little things" have always been important to me; but during this particular phase of acute stress, the little things aren't simply important to me, they've become absolutely essential. With reference to concurrently tackling a career and full-time grad school, I go through waves of panic, contentment, overwhelming stress, confidence, on and on, blahbity blah. The list of things that need to get done on both fronts is literally endless. I could easily do nothing but work, class, study, work, class, study, rinse, repeat...and many days I do just that. For the sake of sanity, however, the reality of that cycle means I have to make more of an effort, be more intentional, to find pleasure in the little things.

Enter: Yoga. I've been practicing yoga for a decade now, but in those 10 years I've only a few times hit the stride of consistency I'd like. I feel the same way about massage. I need both weekly, if not multiple times each week, but you can guess how often I do either.

Well, I hit a wall today. I hit a wall after drafting an MBA team effectiveness analysis paper. That wall was called: Enough Already. That wall was also called: Business Writing is Soulless and I Can't Take it Anymore. I shut down the computer, gave myself permission to take a break, and went to a 90-minute relax & release class. I cried for a good 20 minutes in the middle there.

Yup. Cried. Don't know why. Apparently as I let myself relax, it wasn't only my muscles that needed to be released. I'm lying on my back in frog pose, looking like I'm either giving birth, having totally rockin' sex, or enduring a pap smear, when I started to cry. The water works continued as I rolled up and over into full child's pose. It wasn't a distracting sob, in fact I doubt anyone even noticed, but as I centered my breath, I couldn't stop the tears.

There's something beautiful about that, but there's also something really disturbing about it. I'm tense to the point that a simple yoga pose tips me off my rocker? Not cool. What this teaches me (again) is that I can't let life get to the point that I hit That Wall before I pay attention to taking care of myself. If I took time for myself more consistently, rather than saving it all up for one enormously cathartic yoga class, maybe the sensation of relaxation wouldn't be so novel.

Work on that.

Proust was a neuroscientist

People who stumble on my blog invariably ask, "Why madeleines? Is it a cooking blog?" Nope. Not in the least. This little ditty will explain the blog title. That little ditty will also explain why this makes me unspeakably happy.

“Marks the arrival of an important new thinker, who finds in the science and the arts wonder and beauty, and with equal confidence says wise and fresh things about both” (Los Angeles Times Book Review). Science and Arts combined in one beautiful man who addresses my passion for Proust in moving prose? My head's going to explode. I need to finish grad school tomorrow so I'll actually have time to read this masterpiece.

This video is Jonah talking about his first book, but fascinating stuff nonetheless. It gives you a sense of who he is, which...

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Jonah Lehrer
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor Health Care Protests

...in semi-related news: My crush on Jonah Lehrer is evolving to the point of near constant distraction. I want him to whisper "metacognition" in my ear. Like, a lot of times. Gonna pretend I don't see that wedding ring.

Moments

This video "is evidence that the things we see everyday, when carefully framed, can ache with ignored beauty." Ache with ignored beauty? That's the most beautiful phrase I've come across in a long time. Same goes for this video.



I first saw the video on this site. The filmmaker maintains this site.

Dude.

So my graduate program? Not. Messing. Around. It's a small cohort. It's challenging. It's an incredible amount of work.

And I love it.

And I'm overwhelmed by it.

And I know I made the right decision.

And everything I'm learning is IMMEDIATELY applicable to my life, my passions, and my career.

And my classmates are awesome.

And I have absolutely no social life.

None.

And my professors are pushing us and asking that we grow and keep up.

And I love that.

And I'm so @#$%&!* exhausted.

The End.

Westminster & Sugarhouse

I have really mixed feelings about this. I went to Westminster for my BA, lived on campus at the time, and have lived in Sugarhouse ever since. As a ten year resident of this community, and as an alumni that has strong feelings for/about Westminster, this development is a mixed bag.

(I apologize you have to watch Fox News on this blog)

Public Option Now

It is beyond me, in all seriousness, how people can hear the stories, see the photos, read news articles, follow up with their own research, and still not understand the alarming state of healthcare in this country.

It's immoral to me. Period.

Public Option Now.

If you know your representative in Congress, call/email/tweet her/him. If you would like to call a general line, dial #202-224-3121 and tell them: PUBLIC OPTION NOW.

Dad, cool it with the twitter updates.

Hilarious. It's the interaction between the dad and his son that kills me. My parents are all over social media and it doesn't bother me at all. Still, there's a stroke of genius in this commercial.

Smashburger, are you kidding me?

Dude. Seriously.

So I've been hearing a lot of buzz about Smashburger. Since I don't eat red meat, I wasn't exactly seduced by the hype. Then a promotional mailer came announcing my new Sugarhouse location...and I noticed smashchicken on the menu. Alright, fine. I'm game.

It changed my life. I kid you not. It's tender. It's juicy. It's perfectly seasoned. The melted cheese runneth over. The smashfries are by far the best fries I've had in years. Thin, crispy, seasoned with rosemary and other assorted sprinklings. Oh my.

Though I cannot personally attest to the deliciousness of the beefy smashburgers, my dinner companion assures me they're divine. My word, not his. His words were more along the lines of, "Ooooommmm mmmm gggurrrgh mmmm gaaaahhh mmmm..." or something like that. More or less.

A Community of Engaged Scholars

This past week I had my first session of my first MA Community Leadership class: Exploring Communities. I sort of got a sense of the program's cohort at orientation, but not really. This was, essentially, the first time we were all meeting and had any substantial introduction to each other. As we went around the room describing our "passion issues" and goals for using our degree, I had a fleeting moment of intimidation. These are some seriously sharp, compassionate, inspiring people. We have careers in everything from homeless outreach to public healthcare, from advocates of women's rights to programers of youth arts initiatives. We plan to pursue everything from wilderness camps for adults with disabilities to refugee resettlement, from working abroad with environmental resource groups to starting community gardens in our own neighborhoods of SLC.

I say my intimidation was fleeting because I realized, more and more and we moved around the circle, that I'd come home. I don't mean "come home" only in the sense that once upon a time I earned my BA from Westminster College, although that's part of it. I mean "come home" in the sense that I've been thrust into a community of like-minded people. There's no reason at all for me to be intimidated; these are My People. I love my MBA class, don't get my wrong, it's difficult and it's pushing me and I'm learning a lot; but the contrast between that experience and my MACL course cannot be more stark.

The first thing the MACL students did, before the professors even made it to the classroom, was arrange the tables/chairs into a conversation circle. The professors showed up with hummus, pita, and apples from the downtown farmer's market for our halftime break. The room we meet in is full of different colored chairs, funky modern furniture, and soft lighting. The sterilized mock board room of the MBA class makes perfect sense, but it would never fly for this course. We hadn't been in class an hour before the huge post-its and markers came out and we were told to "draw Utah and it's historical, contemporary, and future social issues." Some people were literal, some people scribbled away with a mess of abstract blobs and colors, then we all engaged in hours of conversation about our world, our politics, our thoughts on Loeb's "Soul of a Citizen"

The MACL class is no less intense than the MBA class, in fact the readings and assignments are just about on par, but it has a completely different feel. And that feeling is home.

In honor of Ted Kennedy

"For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on,
the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die."

Senator Ted Kennedy (22 February 1932 – 25 August 2009)

A statement in the eulogy delivered by President Obama:

"What we can do is to live out our lives as best we can with purpose, with love, and with joy. We can use each day to show those who are closest to us how much we care about them, and treat others with the kindness and respect that we wish for ourselves. We can learn from our mistakes and grow from our failures. And we can strive at all costs to make a better world, so that someday, if we are blessed with the chance to look back on our time here, we know that we spent it well; that we made a difference; that our fleeting presence had a lasting impact on the lives of others. This is how Ted Kennedy lived. This is his legacy."

When Death Comes

When it's over, I don't want to wonder

if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,

or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

(Mary Oliver, When Death Comes)

Thomas Moore wrote that the soul "is not a thing, but a quality or a dimension of experiencing life and ourselves. It has to do with depth, value, relatedness, heart, and personal substance."

What personal substance do you bring to your interactions with people? What depth and value to do contribute to this world, such that you are not simply a visitor? I hope we never tire of reflecting on these questions. I also hope I never settle on one solid answer.

Soul Food

I absolutely chose the right graduate program. I'm so at home and so in the zone right now. I haven't even been to my first MA Community Leadership class yet and I can tell you it's going to rock my world.

Paul Rogat Loeb is something of an academic celebrity in the service-learning world. I've had his "Soul of a Citizen" on my shelf for nearly a decade. It's a seminal work in the field and to be taken seriously in any degree, you have to have at least a working understanding of this text. However, I had never sat down and read it cover to cover. Until now. It's one of the texts in my Exploring Communities class. The fact that I can read Loeb in an academic context, get credit for it, write papers on it, discuss it with others, makes me so happy I could scream.

It's a very interesting contrast to be reading Loeb and an endless stack of MBA texts at the same time. I love my MBA class - the theories and perspectives are dense and interesting and challenging - but when I read Loeb, I've come home.

From page 24: "Sadly, and ironically, in a country born of a democratic political revolution, the be American today is to be apolitical. Civic withdrawal has become our norm. To challenge this requires courage. It also requires creating a renewed definition of ourselves as citizens - something closer to the nation of active stakeholders that leaders like Thomas Jefferson had in mind." Um, I'm sorry. Is that Loeb or my blog speaking? Honestly. Reading this book is like hanging out with an old friend.

Speaking of, I need to get back to it. I'll leave you with this thought:

"In regard to cruelties committed in the name of a free society, some are guilty, while all are responsible." (Rabbi Abraham Heschel)

It's kind of like being pregnant

Only not really. But you know what I mean. When you're pregnant you can ride that excuse for a good 9 months, 12 if you play your cards right. Well, I'm going to ride grad school all the way to the finish line as far as excuses are concerned. For instance, WiFi.

I have been perfectly content to have a WiFi/cable/telephone free house. I made a work-life balance decision years ago. For me that meant no internet and no temptation to bring work home and pull 18 hour days. My blackberry was sufficient and though it was inconvenient at times to not be able to surf at home, whatever. Well...with mounds and mounds of coursework online, I have no choice at this point. I finally caved. Welcome to the 21st century, Self. I hooked me up some WiFi tonight. Word.


...and I immediately proceeded to waste my night away with hours of hulu. My WiFi did not lead me to check my course discussion boards. I did not log-on to my school email account. All I researched tonight was Dating in the Dark, More to Love, The Office, and Dr. Horrible (for the 1,382 time). I watched more 'television' tonight than I've watched all year. Oy.

The novelty of this crazy thing y'all call the internets better wear off soon; I gots major studyin to do.

Certainly seems easier...

Yes. I'm THAT nerd.

I went to my first graduate class last night, MBA 605 Executive Development. In a roundabout way I've expressed my [mild] reservations about the whole interdisciplinary factor of my program; essentially my reservations about MBA culture and what I can expect from my course work and interactions with classmates. It's a foreign world to me - and not because I don't know anything about it, but rather, because I do. The foreign-to-me factor is entirely by choice.

I'm completely willing to approach it with an open mind, and to be honest, I'm most excited about the MBA piece of my program. I'm most excited because I have reservations. Having reservations means it's a challenge. I typically excel under pressure and why would I pay buckets of money to learn stuff I already know?

Well, I can now report that I love it. I so love it. I'm not dry cleaning my power suits just yet, but there's a certain latent acumen that is thanking me for finally doing this. I wasn't horribly creeped out by anyone in my class. I wasn't intimidated by the course material (though I was caught flat footed by the timeline of assignments for the first night of class*). I just loved every minute of it. The class is intense. The discussions are challenging. I love it.

In case you're wondering what I'm doing in class on a Wednesday night, when I've told you that night has been set aside for SYTYCD and GLEE: oopsie. Long story short there was a miscommunication with my schedule and up until my Monday night orientation, I thought I was in the Monday night section of the Executive Development course. Surprise! I started school sooner than I thought, but it's all good. That's what hulu is for, right? Anyone know how to get full SYTYCD episodes online? I don't have the patience to piece together YouTube clips.

* MACL students were not given our online log-in information (ANGEL) until orientation Monday night. Professors had been posting syllabi and assignments since mid-August. They expect you to come to class the first night fully prepared with, in the case of my MBA course, 100-ish pages of reading completed and three short essays posted to the online discussion board. So here I am Monday night logging onto ANGEL, my stomach dropping to my knees as I realize what I have to pull off in a day's time. I was at a Jackson Browne concert Tuesday night and Wednesday was the first day of classes at my institution as well. Needless to say, my office was hopping...and I was reading fast and furious. I'm proud to say that I read all 100+ pages and posted all three essays by 3:30pm Wednesday. From now on, I'm going to be done with Wednesday's homework by Sunday night. What a rough way to kick off the experience. It's all a cakewalk from here (famous last words).

Hello, baby.

...and speaking of all that time I'm going to be spending on the computer...

I'm now the proud mama of a new 15" MacBook Pro. I'm working on the Leopard OS, with Snow Leopard coming in a week or so. She purrs along with a 2.8 GHz Intel Core 2 Duo processor and 4 GB of memory. I can finally store my photos and music on the same machine (novel concept) with an enormous 500 GB hard drive.

Also, I'm most excited about the gorgeous NVIDIA GeForce 9400M graphics card. I've outgrown iPhoto and I'm currently playing around in Aperture 2. I want to freak out with glee every time I see my photos displayed on this computer. Dude. Seriously.

It's a professional system, Aperture is, so I'm just trying to get my bearings. I know I'm going to love it! This is just a quick sample of something I played with last night. I took this photo @ Thanksgiving Point Gardens.

this post sponsored by nelnet, the lender of my graduate student loans...

loans which made this sexy new set-up possible.

Today.

Today is the day. The orientation for my MA Community Leadership program is tonight. Classes start next week. Here goes nothing...

I feel relatively prepared. With me it's all about decreasing the intensity of the unknown. It's amazing how calming it is for me to put pen to paper and highlight a routine...and then highlight it again and again via two paper planners, iCal on my MacBook, then syncing it all to my blackberry. (Yes, I know there are medications for that. No, I'm not interested). I'm going to be outrageously busy, but at least it's consistent. I figure if I can survive three years of non-stop travel, I can survive a complete absence of leisure time and loads of interesting homework. Yes, I said interesting. I'm sincerely excited about my courses and I can't wait to dig into the curriculum.

This first semester includes three courses. Exploring Communities is my first MACL cohort course. For the first time ever I'll be on the other side of the service-learning equation. Now I get to be the student who stresses about negotiating an additional volunteer commitment on top of a full-time job, full-time school, and life in general. Ah yes, it all comes full circle. I'm also taking two MBA courses: Executive Development, and The Nonprofit Organization. I'm intrigued to see how I handle MBA courses. I'm not worried about the courses being difficult, necessarily, just different. Completely out of my comfort zone. I have a degree in English and Philosophy, and have been working with social justice issues in public higher-ed for the past seven years. In other words: I've spent my entire adult life avoiding all-things MBA. Or I should say, avoiding all things I assign to my biased stereotype of MBA culture. Should be interesting. I hope I'm proven wrong.

With reference to my schedule, I'm being very intentional about planning for balance. I know my limits. I know how I burn out. I know what makes me happy and what centers me. I'm doing my best to take all of that into account. For instance, color-coded in green I've blocked out Wednesday night for the gym, So You Think You Can Dance, and GLEE. I plan to be as loyal to that silly television schedule as I will be to my coursework. I am booking all sorts of gym time, alone, with friends, and with a trainer (all yellow, in case you're curious). I'm keeping my volunteer commitment with Tabesha's ESL lessons, though only every other week now (blue, because I know you care). I've planned a vacation to white sand beaches in October and I'm going to enjoy it guilt-free (purple, just move on). The blogger/picasa photo issue completely derailed my plans to blog about my travel, but I plan to forge ahead regardless. It may take me months and months to pull it off, but I will document my travel. In the meantime, however, I plan to blog in realtime. What a novel concept. Who knew it was possible? I need the outlet and I know I'll be spending more than enough time on the computer studying, I might as well balance that out with something creative.

So that's that. If you made it this far in reading this post, you deserve a medal. This was definitely one of those posts that was for my benefit, because I needed to hear myself say it (er...watch myself type it). As I keep myself in check over the next four months, I'm sure I'll read and re-read my well laid plans...

Note to Self

Dear Self...

No, scratch that.

Dear Future Self...

Go ahead. Your turn.

With every lesson learned...

As I'm sorting through emails this morning, I opened a message from National Geographic. They are announcing their 2009 International Photography Contest and this photo was their lead image:

I immediately fell in love with her. What an incredible image. I also starting singing:

"With every lesson learned, a line upon your beautiful face. We'll amuse ourselves one day with these memories we'll trace..." (Indigo Girls, Get Out the Map)

In Memory of Dr. King

"An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines

of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity."

One of my favorite outings in Atlanta was to the grave of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He is buried (along with Coretta) next to his beloved Ebenezer Baptist Church.

Nearby there is a national park memorial that highlights Dr. King's work toward social justice and his focus on non-violent civil disobedience. This is by far one of the most interactive, interesting exhibits I've ever seen. My favorite feature was a life-sized replica of a civil rights march: Freedom Road. You are encouraged to walk amongst the statues, up a paved hill made to look like a city street, toward the sound of protest songs.

Yeah, I teared up.

"...when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!""

Coffee Shop Collective

Seriously, how adorable is this place? It was a surprise find we stumbled upon in Atlanta. It's a coffee shop, bakery, printing press, all sorts of little artist's boutiques sharing the same space. The only delineation between artists/vendors was the wall color and sometimes the rugs on the floor. The central space was a communal spot to hang out...and by far the most comfortable set up I've ever seen. I've spent more than my fair share of time in coffee shops across this great nation and this hodgepodge of old, comfy living room furniture takes the cake!

Knock on wood

I don't want to jinx my good luck...but I just posted "Highlight at The High" with three photos! I've been having major issues with blogger lately, namely dealing with the photo upload function.

I'm going to try another post and see if it was just a fluke. Cross your fingers.

Hopefully...I'm back in the game!

Highlight at The High

I fell completely in love with this piece at The High. Can't you just feel the texture? I really wanted to lick it. But I didn't.