so. three weeks without a post and nothing wrong with our computer or internet connection. nothing wrong at all. but nothing right, either: this is life for now. everything is exactly the same. not everything, maybe. i am feeling more pessimistic than usual (is that possible?). no, i don't have any jobs leads. no, no movement on the roadents. no new prospects for moving. still can't have pets here. no success making new friends yet. still a giant, stagnant bog of life. awesome.

Taliesin West (Inspiration)

Last weekend we drove out to Arizona to meet up with family for a wee reunion, enjoying the delights of the Phoenix area. A seemingly random decision led us to tour Taliesin West, Frank Lloyd Wright's summer home and architecture school. The facility is still in use today as a school, in tandem with Taliesin in Wisconsin.



I generally like Frank Lloyd Wrights' designs and had a mild interest in the tour. What I didn't anticipate was the wave of inspiration I encountered there. I know very little about architecture, and it was not necessarily the buildings themselves that inspired me. Along the guided tour I learned about how he built the campus in the middle of the desert according to what he wanted, not for any client. He wanted to create a place where he could work and train his apprentices, and a place where he could try out new ideas. As a result, the construction is not necessarily finely crafted -- since his apprentices built it; and the decisions that he made were not entirely successful -- like using canvas instead of glass for all windows.



To be honest, it felt like the desert was trying to reclaim the campus bit by bit -- which I guess makes sense, as Wright's philosophy of Organic Architecture was all about preserving and working with the site, and not against it.



Yet even though it was crumbly around me -- I was thunderstruck by its fearlessness. I came away dazed at the thought of such fearless art creation -- and was giddy with the notion that perhaps I could believe in my ideas so thoroughly that I could work without fear.

plea to the universe to produce more interesting humans (to be followed by an ad for friends)

sometime soon i am going to need to make some friends who give a care about coming to a cool party.

it's been almost a year and a half since our last major event (which was practically pressworthy), but everything between then and now has failed miserably, thus dashing my dreams of hosting another blowout anytime soon.

i'm not sure what the problem is. the closest i can tell is that our current crowd just doesn't understand why going on a 1930s african safari for the night would be more interesting than, say, renting a movie.

it seems nobody wants to meet new people at a deep sea valentine party when they could sit home depressed instead. i mean, how could a mysterious environment filled with eligible strangers really compete with moping?

what is "retro happy hour?" they wonder. well, let's start by discussing what it isn't: it has nothing to do with a chain restaurant that serves "wings" of any kind, a big group of people wondering what to do tonight, lite beer, or gross-out "comedies" starring hack actors. retro happy hour or any thoughtful, themed get together is c-r-e-a-t-i-v-e. it involves conversation, it takes time, and it's memorable. it might even take effort or energy or might require certain aspects of personality that have been burried by very many boring nights in a row, such as the ability to enjoy something complex, a taste for adventure, or the maturity to participate in something you'll want to tell people about later instead of being too cool to try it.

Toasted

What a strange feeling I get when I search job boards for "artist" and only come up with "Sandwich Artist." 

*sigh*

plush valentine snakes

justin's valentine's day present = DONE!!

Let the wild rumpus start!

A natural.

Well it's Christmas time here in Pasadena, so we went ice skating -- a lovely, romantic activity just brimming with holiday cheer. It is open year round, but for some reason we only go around Christmas because it seems the right thing to do. Here Autumn has her skates laced just so -- ready to gracefully swoosh across the cool ice, holding on to the hand of her confident husband as they lock eyes and --

Wait. No.




You see, this is only the second time I've been ice skating over the age of 6. And even as a 6 year-old, I was horrible at it. This photo captures well that spirit of panic and general stiff-limbed flailing that characterized my night of skating.




Autumn circled around me, effortlessly dodging my attempts to pull her to the ground, all the while humming encouragement.

I don't know about this. It's just like walking, right?

Hey, look! I think I'm getting the hang of --

AGGHHH! WAIT! WAIT! JUST HOLD ON A SECOND!

reindeer games

this afternoon i am busy studying for mouse adventure: reindeer games. a christmas version of our amazing disneyland race is slated for this weekend, and our team, the pillage people, are going to come back with a vengeance after a one-year hiatus. at least i hope we are. that's why i'm studying!

so far i have discovered and devoured a mini-site on disneyland.com that tells all about the holiday transformations at the park. naturally, i have memorized the information the mini-site offers. for example, did you know there are 60,000 lights on the main street tree and 50,000 on sleeping beauty castle? now we both do! i also learned that toon town is decorated for christmas. newsflash! i feel sure they will send us there on a quest, so now we know to check it out when we go for our pre-race warm-up on friday. boo yah!

i have also changed by desktop to a scene from small world holiday, so i can memorize its contents. my goal is to have answers to quests and questions filed away in my psychic index. should they then appear on quests, we can save valuable race time by already knowing them. it's all part of my plan to dominate!

afi shia ea (merry christmas in swahili - thanks, small world dolls)!

More tilt shift : San Francisco

Here I am playing around with more of our photos to achieve the miniature effect. This time with the "Painted Ladies" of San Fran.

THE washington inn

imagine a young, would-be hotelier, who has great taste but no money or experience, decides to open a boutique hotel. he or she scoops up some property in an awkward, industrial district of oakland, buys all the best furnishings target has to offer, outfits several rooms in a former boarding house, hires a fabulous photographer to take pictures, and then cuts the giant, red ribbon on opening day. the washington inn is born. and left to die.

you see the pictures snapped before opening day and decide to visit. after snaking your way through oakland, looking in vain for an area that even remotely looks like it could house a hotel, you give up and decide to kill the engine in some temporary parking until you - hey - is that...the hotel?

yep. inside, the lobby furniture and bar feel out of place, like temporary stand-ins for whatever is normally there. maybe this used to be a bank? an old masonic temple? whatever it was, it’s now quieter than death; you find yourself whispering to the front desk guy. he hands you your key and gestures toward the elevator, a windy, open-sided contraption of the 1930s warehouse variety. thankfully, the doors open on the third floor like they're supposed to. ah, the hallway looks normal. thank goodness. maybe the lobby was just a little off. around the corner, you find room 307. you insert the key and lean into the door to open it, but - whoops - you stumble in after discovering the door to your room is apparently made of balsa wood. it looks and feels like it was bought en masse from the bargain bin at home depot.

yikes! what is that lumpy mass in the middle of the floor?! oh. it’s the bed. and look! someone has laid out a nice grid of softballs under the duvet (which has no duvet cover). the softballs are actually soft balls…stuffing that has worked its way into fluffy mounds about six inches high at the center of each of the duvet’s quilted squares. interesting. almost as interesting as the rainbow of stains on the carpet, the threadbare sheets, and the fiberboard nightstand/armoire set.
oops. you almost forgot about your car in temporary parking. just a quick call to the front desk to find out where to move it…and…really? i see. those two-hour meters are the only parking. good thing they are free overnight, but you hadn’t planned on getting up at 7:00 a.m. to go plug them and then move your car around the block very two hours. oh, well. you hold your breath and resign yourself to the fact that you have to get in that bed, then fall asleep kind of.

hey! turns out there’s no problem getting up at 7:00. in fact, a fleet of garbage trucks and unloading semis gets you up just fine at 6:00! might as well grab some of the free breakfast while you're up plugging the meter. but which pre-wrapped danish to choose?

with the remains of the pre-wrapped danish still clawing at the back of your throat, you pull back the shower curtain and are instantly transported back to your college days, since when you have never wished so earnestly for shower shoes. alas, you'll just have waddle around on your heels so as to keep the majority of your foot surfaces from coming into contact with whatever leftover fungus may be growing on those vintage tiles. now, a quick dry with one of the mismatched, shredded towels, and you're almost ready to tackle san fran!