From CNN on Palin’s resignation:
The governor needed a break after being “on duty now for two and a half years solid,” [Palin's lawyer] said.
I hate to break it to you, Sarah, but presidential terms are four whole years of solid on-duty status!
I’m all for taking breaks, and many politicians have found the need for breaks before: Crawford, Texas! Kennebunkport, Maine! Martha’s Vineyard! Argentina! But that’s vacation, not resignation.
Oh. Um. So, it’s March already? Yeah, apparently. It’s suddenly warm enough to open the windows and contemplate options for life other than bundling up under five layers, and then throwing my wool-ensconced body under a salt-encrusted bus.
I kid, of course, but there’s something about sunny days and a warm breeze coasting through the house, fluttering papers and billowing curtains that makes even house cleaning almost enjoyable.
Part of the reason I haven’t been writing is because I’ve been writing a lot of other things, boring things, things that involve citations, reference pages, and phrases like “statistically significant” and “theoretical lens.” Today alone, I wrote fourteen pages about the early 1970s, and while I enjoy my work and all, can you see how that sort of thing might make logging in to write, in normal English about everyday topics, seem like a crazy idea?
While uploading the new masthead, though, I noticed a spike on my internet traffic graph, so I clicked through to see what exactly people found so interesting here on March 4th. Most of what I found was boring, except for, at the very bottom of the list of search terms people had used to find their way to this site, one lone entry, shining like a beacon: “donnie wahlberg in his homeboy shirt.”
I repeat: DONNIE WAHLBERG. IN HIS HOMEBOY SHIRT.
Suddenly, the infinite possibilities of the sorts of topics one can cover on the internet unfold before my eyes, and I realize that by day, I may write papers about the 1970s that literally only four other people will read, but at night? At night, my alter ego is the author of the third-highest hit when you go to Google and type in “donnie wahlberg in his homeboy shirt.”
Apparently, I took a break from writing one of the three papers I have on this week’s agenda to engage in some useless celebrity discussion:
Emily: that Brangelina is starting to annoy me
Mum: Brangelina has always annoyed me
Emily: yeah, but they’ve gotten even more smug
Mum: I bet everyone agrees with us
Emily: Miley Cyrus told some reporter that Angelina is her favorite person in the whole world, so apparently not
Mum: yeah, but she also said that she hoped to be back next year getting an oscar, so clearly she’s delusional
So, I quit writing when I went north, eschewing internet access in favor of spending time with my family (it was great, by the way). Then I didn’t write because I was busy catching up on processing daily photos. Then I was spending time with the “inlaws.” Then I was busy flying to Connecticut, getting stuck there due to a major snowstorm, finally flying back to Indiana, re-immersing myself in American culture via the Super Bowl, writing presentations in time for deadlines, and then being a foster owner to a dog from the local shelter. Stories to come, but for the moment, my days are chock-a-block with writing memos and picking up poop.
We were expecting to spend the afternoon in London today, before meeting a friend arriving into London City, but apparently the west of Germany got snow today, so she’s still in Frankfurt (we think) and we’re still in Oxford.
Okay, I’ll be honest here: I’ve written before about embracing my jetlag when it helps me get up earlier (upon returning to the U.S.). Much less admirable is the schedule I’m currently working with, which sometimes involves sleeping until lunch time. By the time I’ve showered, dressed, had tea, and made something to eat, it’s even later.
This might not be so bad if it were still summertime, but because it’s January, it means that I’m only up and around for about four hours before it starts getting dark again. At this rate, by the time I go back to the U.S., I’ll be bringing a nice case of rickets with me.
So, not long after I sat down to work, the sky started turning orangey-pink, and I quickly abandoned my computer and headed off in search of a better view of the sunset. I ended up in South Park, with a great view of the sun setting over the city–and a snow shower, to boot. My favorite photograph, though, was one I took before I even got to the park:
(I’ll admit, though, that I’ve been a little more liberal with Photoshop on this one than normal). I’ve also set up a photoset for 2009 Daily Photos on Flickr; I still haven’t decided if I’ll keep posting with the photos here.
Tomorrow I’m spending six hours on a bus, which will deposit me unceremoniously in the bus station in Middlesbrough roughly three hours after it gets dark. Assuming I make it out of there alive, I’ll be spending the week with family — and will be back to Oxford (and regular posting access) at the weekend.
I made a lot of New Year’s Resolutions, but they were more “ideas” than “resolutions,” anyway, so I’m going to rule it entirely acceptable that I didn’t exactly start them with the New Year. One resolution was to take (and post) pictures every day; this plan was thwarted by the fact that England gets dark excessively early this time of year, and the fact that I left my memory card in the camera I haven’t been carrying. So it turns out this is more of a “January 3rd Goal” than a “New Year’s Resolution.”
Another resolution idea is exactly the opposite sort of thing people normally come up with around New Year’s, which is, again, why it’s not a resolution. Instead, it’s a vague and probably wholly inadvisable idea to continue my tour of Oxford’s (historic) pubs, aided by some nifty playing cards and an online guide. This idea crystallized when we stopped into the Angel & Greyhound on New Year’s Day for a quick pint of Winter Warmer, and so last night we braved the cold night and dashed up the road to The Half Moon for a few pints of Greene King’s seasonal Rocking Rudolph, along with a packet of crisps and some thoroughly enjoyable people-watching and running-into-acquaintances. I also took the opportunity to finally get started on my daily photography idea as well. Multi-tasking!
(You can see the whole, albeit small, set on Flickr)
Happy New Year from Reverberated.com, which will be returning to near-daily posting for 2009.
While perusing the internet this evening, I noticed a blog post from a user whose picture was of a Barack Obama campaign COOKIE. Needless to say, I found this fantastic and sought a picture out to share, and I found one, but I also discovered that there is an entire Flickr pool dedicated to photos of Obama cookies (and cupcakes). DELICIOUS!
I find myself in the office on Sunday, which means I am neither having a lazy Sunday nor getting to the task of editing photos and writing up the rest of the Southwest trip. In time, lovelies. For now, I’ll just pass on the music recommendations I’ve received, and heeded, from friends this past week. Armed with a lot of coffee, music recommendations, and a shiny new account at last.fm, I’m not finding this quite so painful as it could be.
Perhaps more appropriate for your lazy Sunday is some Pop Procrastination in the form of Britney Spears’ new music video. Watch at your own risk; the song, “Womanizer,” is in my opinion both terrible and terribly catchy, and you may end up with an endless chorus of Britney’s digitally altered voice calling you a womanizer (baby). The video itself isn’t really all that great, either; I think the point of it is, “Hey y’all, I’m not crazy anymore, and I’m also hot, so here’s a video where I don’t have dead, vacant eyes, I’m not wearing a bright pink wig and talking in a bad British accent, and also? I’m kind of naked!” Apparently youtube has flagged the video as suggestive, as well, prompting login requirements, so here’s a link from MTV. Bottom line: I dislike the song, I’m “meh” on the video, but I am genuinely happy that Ms. Spears is back in the game. You go, Brit-Brit.
It’s going to take me a few more days to whip my Grand Canyon photos into shape so that I can give you a long, blathering recap with pretty pictures interspersed. So for now, let me whine tell you about what we’ll call Day 2.5 of our trip, the part we spent in Tusayan, between about midnight and 11 am on Day 3.
So, for the record, it is my official opinion that the best place to stay when visiting the Grand Canyon is in one of the Grand Canyon Lodges, right along the South Rim. Next time, I have my sights set on El Tovar, which opened in 1905 (!) and has hosted the likes of Theodore Roosevelt and Albert Einstein. It’s a couple hundred dollars a night at El Tovar…for a queen room with a terrace overlooking the canyon.
Of course, staying at El Tovar or any of the other lodges requires advance booking, so the last-minute, barely-a-week-in-advance planning precluded us staying there. In fact, it precluded us staying at most places in the vicinity of the Grand Canyon. Tusayan is the other usual place to stay close to the canyon; it’s close to the park’s south entrance, and features a strip of hotels and other tourist trappings. There was only one hotel in Tusayan that seemed to have rooms left: The Grand Hotel Tusayan. Even with a AAA discount, it was more expensive than the canyon-view rooms in El Tovar; it was also twice as much as the next-most-expensive hotel we stayed in, and three times as much as our suite two blocks from the strip in Vegas. But I wanted to be able to get to the park for sunrise without getting up at 3am, so I booked the Grand Hotel with the thought that sunrise over the Grand Canyon would be worth it. And then, since it was already obscenely expensive, I paid the extra $20 for a room with a balcony.
Well.
As we pulled into the Grand Hotel at 1am, after driving over 400 miles, I announced that I was no longer willing to get up at 5am or 6am or any other time prior to sunrise in order to get to the canyon after all. Instead, I declared, we would get our money’s worth from the hotel by sleeping in and enjoying its many amenities. Swimming! Lounging on the balcony! Tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner!
Well.
Note for the Grand Hotel, Tusayan:
Please observe the following picture, from Merriam-Webster’s dictionary, of a balcony:
Our “balcony,” on the other hand, was on the ground floor and separated from the asphalt of the parking lot by only a small strip of grass and some sort of fake rock structure. Not. A. Balcony.
The rest of the $255 stay at the Grand Hotel featured a lot of sleeping, no breakfast included in the room, no breakfast for under $10, and a used washcloth left by some previous occupant hung over the shower curtain rod. The room itself was nice, and it didn’t take us long to get into the Grand Canyon, but somehow the 20 extra dollars for the non-balcony with the non-scenic view was the dealbreaker.
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