Time

I am intrigued by the notion of time. We hear a lot about it and certainly pay a lot of attention to it. Time is relative. Time heals all wounds. Love in the Time of Cholera. What time is it?

In high school Spanish, I learned that while Americans run late, Spaniards walk late and their watches walk on time or not. Yo anduvo tarde. (Although looking up the verb andar, I see that it can mean "to go" as well as "to walk." Nonetheless, "I'm going late" vs. "I'm running late" still has a different feel to it.)

A few years ago, I did a project involving time zones for work, and found out all sorts of interesting things. In the US, every state observes Daylight Savings Time, except Hawaii and Arizona, except for the Navajo Nation in Arizona. Time zones the world over are full of exceptions. Check out Indiana. In 2005, several Indiana counties moved to Central Time; the rest of them are on Eastern Time. I heard reports that some people who lived on the border of those counties had trouble when suddenly the place they worked and the school their kids went to were in different time zones. That's just nuts.

What I love most about time zones is the thought of people arguing about what time it is. Imagine politicians and farmers and whoever else passionately debating about how we should all set our clocks. It's pretty absurd to have a strong opinion about something as intangible as what time it is (or should be) right now. On the other hand, it's entirely practical. The combination makes me giggle.

I was reminded of all this today by my friend Nancy. She wrote an article about time, a subject she enjoys even more than I do. Nancy has traveled and lived in Africa, which came as a shock to her after growing up in New York City. It's a good read; I recommend it. Oh, and as a bonus for you Linux users out there, the article includes a definition of the word "Ubuntu."

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Because the world needs more pictures of Theo

When I clicked "buy" to send off a chunk of money in trade for a new laptop, I justified it by telling myself I am a programmer and my five-year-old laptop is slow and outdated. I need a new laptop, I thought. Professional pride demands it.

It's too soon to tell exactly how I will end up using the new machine, since I just got it on Friday. I was sick on Saturday, so I spent the day watching TV shows on Hulu. I can't say my old laptop didn't handle that with aplomb. However, one thing it didn't have was an integrated camera, with which I can take photos of my cat, who tends to be on my lap when I compute. His head is currently on my wrist, bobbing up and down as I reach for keys that cause my right hand to shift. Obviously, the thing that has been lacking in my life was enough ways to take pictures of my cat. Goodbye buyer's remorse, hello Theo cam.

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Write Around Portland

I just finished a writing workshop through Write Around Portland. Write Around Portland is a non-profit that aims to help people find their voices when they might not otherwise have an outlet to do so. From their website:

"Our traditional workshops are held in partnership with social service agencies. They are offered at no charge to people living with HIV/AIDS, veterans, survivors of domestic violence, adults and youth in addiction recovery, low income seniors, people in prison, homeless youth and others who may not have access to writing in community because of income, isolation or other barriers."

They also offer a paid workshop that helps raise funds to support their traditional workshops, which made me very happy. One of the things I loved about this workshop was the the fact that I didn't have to do anything to prepare for it. Every Monday, I showed up at Powell's with a pen and my notebook. We would all gather around a table in a Powell's conference room, back where books are held or sorted and employees quietly do their jobs. Usually, a man out on the street played the violin and the sounds drifted up to our little room where we thought up things to write while munching on Goldfish crackers and apple slices.

We would all wander in, sit down, and be given two prompts. We could either use one of those prompts, both of them, or nothing at all. The goal was to write freely for eight minutes or ten minutes, or however long the moderator chose. Then we would read aloud, receive feedback (all positive, since these were not finished pieces), and start over. Usually, we got through three or four short pieces a night.

Here's a very short one I wrote. I was quite glad when the time for writing was over because I had no idea what I was going to write next. The two prompts were "shame," and "the edge of a cliff."

Cliff felt no shame. Why should he? He was merely going about his business. So what if some lady ran into him with her shopping cart? How could Cliff help that?

The six-cart pile-up that ensued required cleanup on aisle ten. In fact, aisle ten was temporarily closed. Shoppers were forced to detour, and nobody would be able to fill their baskets with condiments, pre-packaged nuts, or canned fish for at least twenty minutes.

Other shoppers glared at Cliff as they blocked the aisles, grumbling about the inconvenience.

"I hope you're happy," one woman said to Cliff.

"I'm just glad nobody was seriously hurt," said another.

Cliff shrugged as he stooped his large frame to retrieve the groceries from his basket, which had spilled around his feet. The mayonnaise jar was cracked.

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Ancient Egypt, anyone?

My kid sister, Lulu, just sent me a link to the website she made for her social studies class. It would appear that she and her snobby mouse pointer have illustrated parts of ancient Egyptian history. I'm cracking up over the staff page, and the image of Hatchepsut going off on an expedition in a Radio Flyer. Not to mention the summer vacation drawing, or the mouse pointer with a monocle, or... Well, you get the point. It's good stuff! Go check it out!

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