A 26-Hour “weekend” in the “big” city

I’m riding back from a fabulous weekend in Portland. I love that city. I was there for little more than 26 hours, but I had a great time.

There were several reasons for my trip.

1. I wanted to visit Shane and Jim, two of my favorite people, where they lived in Beaverton.
2. My friend David Horton was having a musical/dance performance in the city.
3. I like to get away from my crazy grad school life.

It ended up being quite successful.

When Shane and Jim picked me up from the train station, they drove me out to Cup and Saucer, a cute café on Hawthorne. It was sweet. Their veggie omelet was delicious, but the vanilla scone was by far the best. We chatted as we consumed our food things and then walked on over to Powells which had just opened. I’d never been to the Powells on Hawthorne, but it was nice. It was much less busy than the City of Books in the Pearl District. I liked it.

The whole area down by Cup and Saucer was pretty groovy. The buildings were so colorful and sweet looking. The metal bit with the shiny windows didn’t do anything for me, but I guess modern development will always be on the stainless steel side of things anyway.

When we left there, we went to the casa de mis Shane and Jim. I tried to write a bit of my story for class, but I just couldn’t. Doing homework and hanging out with people has never worked for me. I ended up giving up on the creative craft all together and settling in for a little TV on DVD action.

First, we watched Better Off Ted. After two episodes of that, Shane and Jim went upstairs for a bit. I put in the beginning of Glee. Shane joined me for that while Jim went out for a bit. He came back with series one of Clatterford, the latest addition to their BBC television series collection. It was spectacular. We pretty much watched the whole set of six or so episodes. I think Jennifer Saunders and Dawn French have to be two of the funniest people in all of Britain.

Shane and I took the Max into Portland for David’s dance and music performance. It was pretty grand. I have never seen modern dancing before. I was definitely in an unfamiliar world, but I enjoyed watching the dance and the music, as always, was spectacular.

This morning was typical. Get up, go eat breakfast, and chill until I was to leave. They drove me to the train station and went home to get ready for USA vs. Canada hockey.

I’m writing this on the bus.

My weekend was pretty awesome. I love taking time to spend with my family and people close to me. I’ve realized that if this is our only life we get, we’d better take advantage of every opportunity and make every minute count. And although a majority of my Saturday was spent in front of the TV, I was with some pretty cool people. I wasn’t alone. And that means everything in the world.

Zoot Suit Riot

I never thought I’d be one to blog about a song. Oh, but I am. I’m on a train to Portland, working on a story for class, but I had to take a break to jot this down.

Music has a way of dictating so much of our lives. Songs can inspire us, depress us, make us happy, help us fall in love; they do so many things. And somehow, songs teach us a thing or two about memory. You can listen to a song and you are sent back ten or fifteen years, to a certain moment in time, with a certain person, in a particular place. Even if you haven’t thought of the event, person or place in years, the song can send you back. It’s crazy.

I’m listening to the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies album. The song, Zoot Suit Riot sends me back nine years, back to my senior year of high school. We were at the prom. Chris Whitehead and Rachel Brown had been taking swing dance lessons together. The song came on and they were center stage, dancing for the rest of us.

I’d always wanted to learn to swing dance. My sister, Shelli, and I had learned some of the cheesy western swing dances when we both lived at home. But when she left to college, all attempts at swing dancing went away.

Zoot Suit Riot will always remind me of my senior prom. It will also remind me of Eugene and finding the album at the library.

Music is a funny thing. I can’t imagine life without it; I depend on it so much. Is it bad to let it dictate so much of my life- my emotions, my memories?

I guess it doesn’t matter. Even if it does, I’m still listening…and I’m gonna love it!

eyewear and such

Since starting grad school, I have converted to wearing glasses every day. It's not to look smarter or to get ready for eye surgery (don't I wish!). It's really about the economy of it all. I can't afford to buy contacts any more.

With glasses, I feel like a completely different person. It takes more effort to look behind me when I'm walking. My sight gets smudgy as the glasses get dirtier and I have way less motivation to wear eye make-up.

With all that in mind... here's a quote:

"The eyes are the spoons of speech." (AN ARABIC PROVERB)

If my eyes are covered by these dirty glasses, does this mean I have a speech deficiency? I mean, I can't make eye contact when my glasses fog up or when I can't see through them and have to clean them off with my t-shirt. What's the deal?

I wanna get glasses again. I think it'd be a pretty rad thing to do. We'll see if that happens.

Ten Reasons I'm up past 11:27 PM

It's the year 20-10.

This must mean it is appropriate to make lots of lists of ten.

I like it. I LOVE lists. They keep me organized.

Here's a list for this fabulous February late-night...

Ten Reasons I am still up and not in bed where I want to be:

1. I wanted to blog. I have missed many days of blogging this month. It's about time to fix that problem.
2. I ate a snack when I got home and had to stay up to "work it off" a bit.
3. I was planning to finish my state taxes.
4. I was named a semifinalist for the Snowden internship and needed to write an e-mail about my interview time.
5. Thought I would get to the dishes even though I didn't.
6. Had to go through my bookshelf to think of suggestions for my friend to read.
7. Got home late. Had to finish my design page at school before coming home.
8. We had a three hour class tonight.
9. I like to stay up late.
10. Decided to do online banking this evening.

That's about it. Isn't it grand to take a look at the life of Rece?

Should be!

Brew Fest 2010

I went to my first brew fest on Saturday. It was amazing. I took my parents. We had a lot of fun together.

Unfortunately, two of the beers didn’t taste so hot. One was my favorite beer, Blue Moon. Instead of the sweet, delightful taste of beer, it tasted flat, like a pile of rocks. NO GOOD!



The second beer was one of the Bridgeport brews. Bridgeport is from Portland. I figured the beer had to be tasty if it was from Oregon. It wasn’t tasty at all. In fact, it tasted like crap, literally. My mother referred to it as “Banson’s Beer.” The Bansons are the people who own the cow farm next to my parents’ house. Get the picture?

All in all, the brew fest was an absolute smash. I had a blast!

going native

I’m being taught that one of the cardinal rules of journalism is to not “go native.” I don’t know how I feel about this. I feel that as a journalist (one who journals), I have the responsibility to live and truly understand the people I write about.

When I was in Ukraine, Peace Corps encouraged us to join in the culture, to join in the fun, if you will. Hanging out with the Ukrainians, picking up their lingo and eating their food is part of what made the experience so awesome.

Actually, I never was able to go truly native. Sure I drank some of their vodka and swam in their waters, but parts of the culture I could never really embrace. For one, I couldn’t get into their clothing styles. Tight jeans and shiny silver belts didn’t exactly look good on me. My friend, Sheryl, could pull it off. She’d wear her shuba (fur coat), winter boots, and shiny belt to the disco every Friday and Saturday. She basically became a true Ukrainian. And then she married one.

I’m not really sure where I’m going to end up after I finish my masters in journalism. I’m okay with this, though. I do know that I fully plan to experience life and “go native” in some respects. I will travel. And I’ll get to know what the cultures are like. Maybe that’s not truly going native, but you know… there are just too many rules in journalism.