Five associated things, list four
Five things tinyholidays associates with me:
Gallipolis
This is so funny, because in a sense it's such a tiny part of my life. But it crops up here because 1) tinyholidays knows it too and 2) I met my husband there.
Some decades ago, I'm not sure when, my grandparents and other relatives bought a few acres on the Ohio River outside the tiny town of Gallipolis, Ohio. As the older generations aged, it got easier to centralize family reunions there, rather than make the largely Ohio-centric population travel farther. So every few years, I spend a few days there. It's usually muggy (in July/August), and there's a lot of boating and eating and the like.
In 2000, I met a cousin of my father's who hadn't been to any of the previous reunions I'd been to, and he introduced me to his son. We hit it off talking about comic books and Elliott Smith (as I recall) and after a day and a half I found myself offering to put him up in Boston if he ever came. He did, later that year, and stayed for three months. But that's not the point of the story; the point is that our relationship was probably solidified when we walked up a hill across the road and found an ostrich farm in the middle of the woods.
lengthy livejournal conversations
The nice thing about livejournal coversations is that they are spontaneous. They arise out of whatever is being spoken of (or whatever tangents that leads one to) and don't require structure or small talk or any formality. What is less appealing about them, to me, is that like other livejournal content they are somewhat transitory. They are preserved, yes, but difficult to "get to" later. They are, in a sense, lost in the shuffle in the way an actual letter (or email, if you have a client with a good search function) are not. This is, of course, true of spoken communication. And for the most part, that is the nature of them and all well and good. Through such conversations (largely in other peoples' journals) I have met very good friends. But it seems to me there's something odd in the permanent/transient dual nature of the things.
NPR
Isn't this how we met? NPR has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Probably longer. I was practically raised on it and PBS, and some of the voices are as familiar to me as family. I probably wasn't always so fond of it as I am now, as kids generally have no idea what to do with business and politics, and I'm tired of Garrison Keeler at this point, but I listen to NPR every day. For awhile, Mr. Daroga and I had a Saturday morning Wait Wait/This American Life (I know, not npr but it's on our station) ritual, though being so busy and with my inability to concentrate on more than one thing at a time it's fallen by the wayside and I pick them up as podcasts as I can.
I'm not sure what it is, specifically, about NPR that I love, but most likely it's the combination of: what I feel to be mostly unbiased reporting, but with a view to things I'm interested in, the fact I can hear it in my car or at work, the variety of programming and topics covered, the lack of images distracting me or coloring the reporting, the lack of sensationalism (mostly), and the voices themselves. These people aren't chosen for their looks. Some of them obviously aren't chosen for their voices, either. But I find some of them so endearing (and I can't really name some of them, I'm not that good at remembering them). I find it such a pleasant way to get my news, which I can receive while driving or working at some menial task.
I've often thought about NPR and the way there seem to be NPR people and NPR-listening churches (most of the UU churches I've been to seemed heavily made up of them) and groups and how there are these voices coming out of the dark, how I've probably been listening to Scott Simon and Linda Worthheimer and Robert Siegel all my life and what sort of impact that must have. These are not coherent thoughts. But in a way, it is a sort of ritual, if not a religion.
comics
It's interesting that this is associated with me, since I don't actually draw that many and haven't done anything new in years. But I suppose you're speaking of a particular comic, which I'm proud of but a little bit embarrassed by, as well.
The thing about comics, for me, is that it's a constant struggle for me to unite words and images. I have to remind myself to look at the pictures as I read. And in drawing them, I am so unskilled as to make rendering certain things impossible, which is when I rely on suggestion and substitution. Which probably makes for the best moments. I think I'm better at layout and storytelling than anything else, and sometimes I want to do more, but the prospect of the actual drawing daunts me. And I haven't (yet) been that interested in writing/laying out something for someone else to draw.
It's a medium I find fascinating, and which I like to try to keep up in, but which offers me less pleasure than books or movies even as it strives to join them, in a way. I've learned a lot from watching Mr. Daroga, who has been working on his current project for quite some time. And I must say that the comic folks in Seattle are a fine bunch of people.
Seattle
Obviously, where I live. By my own choice (in conjuntion with Mr. Daroga's, of course). It will be four years in July.
When we were living in Orlando, it was a deal we made that when Mr. D graduated, we'd move. I left family and friends I love and will always miss there. But I'd only come because of him, and it just wasn't the place for me. I don't like the weather, I don't like the culture (or rather, there isn't enough of the sort I like) and I've never been overly fond of the terrain. I've learned that environment is very important to my happiness.
And I love Seattle.
Seattle has the best weather I have ever lived in. I am not kidding. I've lived in the southwest, New England, and Florida, as well as the midwest. Seattle is the mildest, by which I mean it is never too hot for me nor too cold. Not that I don't still get hot or cold. But the lack of humidity is so refreshing, the lack of AC a wonder, and I even dig the grey days because the sun? Not my friend, at times. I also love that there are trees and mountains and ocean right next to me. I love that there are too many good movies to see them all, and good restaurants (even if I don't go to them) and clubs (likewise) and bookstores and a university (at least one) and also? It's the first place I've lived where the street numbers actually correspond to the cross streets!
Seattle is sort of expensive. And the traffic can be really bad. But right now, I don't have any notion of going anywhere else. My house, within the city limits, has a big yard and trees and a bike/walking trail out back, with parks within 10 minutes. Right now, for me, Seattle feels perfect, and seeing the Space Needle or Mount Rainier or the way everyong seems to have a lovely garden makes me happy, all by themselves.
Gallipolis
This is so funny, because in a sense it's such a tiny part of my life. But it crops up here because 1) tinyholidays knows it too and 2) I met my husband there.
Some decades ago, I'm not sure when, my grandparents and other relatives bought a few acres on the Ohio River outside the tiny town of Gallipolis, Ohio. As the older generations aged, it got easier to centralize family reunions there, rather than make the largely Ohio-centric population travel farther. So every few years, I spend a few days there. It's usually muggy (in July/August), and there's a lot of boating and eating and the like.
In 2000, I met a cousin of my father's who hadn't been to any of the previous reunions I'd been to, and he introduced me to his son. We hit it off talking about comic books and Elliott Smith (as I recall) and after a day and a half I found myself offering to put him up in Boston if he ever came. He did, later that year, and stayed for three months. But that's not the point of the story; the point is that our relationship was probably solidified when we walked up a hill across the road and found an ostrich farm in the middle of the woods.
lengthy livejournal conversations
The nice thing about livejournal coversations is that they are spontaneous. They arise out of whatever is being spoken of (or whatever tangents that leads one to) and don't require structure or small talk or any formality. What is less appealing about them, to me, is that like other livejournal content they are somewhat transitory. They are preserved, yes, but difficult to "get to" later. They are, in a sense, lost in the shuffle in the way an actual letter (or email, if you have a client with a good search function) are not. This is, of course, true of spoken communication. And for the most part, that is the nature of them and all well and good. Through such conversations (largely in other peoples' journals) I have met very good friends. But it seems to me there's something odd in the permanent/transient dual nature of the things.
NPR
Isn't this how we met? NPR has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Probably longer. I was practically raised on it and PBS, and some of the voices are as familiar to me as family. I probably wasn't always so fond of it as I am now, as kids generally have no idea what to do with business and politics, and I'm tired of Garrison Keeler at this point, but I listen to NPR every day. For awhile, Mr. Daroga and I had a Saturday morning Wait Wait/This American Life (I know, not npr but it's on our station) ritual, though being so busy and with my inability to concentrate on more than one thing at a time it's fallen by the wayside and I pick them up as podcasts as I can.
I'm not sure what it is, specifically, about NPR that I love, but most likely it's the combination of: what I feel to be mostly unbiased reporting, but with a view to things I'm interested in, the fact I can hear it in my car or at work, the variety of programming and topics covered, the lack of images distracting me or coloring the reporting, the lack of sensationalism (mostly), and the voices themselves. These people aren't chosen for their looks. Some of them obviously aren't chosen for their voices, either. But I find some of them so endearing (and I can't really name some of them, I'm not that good at remembering them). I find it such a pleasant way to get my news, which I can receive while driving or working at some menial task.
I've often thought about NPR and the way there seem to be NPR people and NPR-listening churches (most of the UU churches I've been to seemed heavily made up of them) and groups and how there are these voices coming out of the dark, how I've probably been listening to Scott Simon and Linda Worthheimer and Robert Siegel all my life and what sort of impact that must have. These are not coherent thoughts. But in a way, it is a sort of ritual, if not a religion.
comics
It's interesting that this is associated with me, since I don't actually draw that many and haven't done anything new in years. But I suppose you're speaking of a particular comic, which I'm proud of but a little bit embarrassed by, as well.
The thing about comics, for me, is that it's a constant struggle for me to unite words and images. I have to remind myself to look at the pictures as I read. And in drawing them, I am so unskilled as to make rendering certain things impossible, which is when I rely on suggestion and substitution. Which probably makes for the best moments. I think I'm better at layout and storytelling than anything else, and sometimes I want to do more, but the prospect of the actual drawing daunts me. And I haven't (yet) been that interested in writing/laying out something for someone else to draw.
It's a medium I find fascinating, and which I like to try to keep up in, but which offers me less pleasure than books or movies even as it strives to join them, in a way. I've learned a lot from watching Mr. Daroga, who has been working on his current project for quite some time. And I must say that the comic folks in Seattle are a fine bunch of people.
Seattle
Obviously, where I live. By my own choice (in conjuntion with Mr. Daroga's, of course). It will be four years in July.
When we were living in Orlando, it was a deal we made that when Mr. D graduated, we'd move. I left family and friends I love and will always miss there. But I'd only come because of him, and it just wasn't the place for me. I don't like the weather, I don't like the culture (or rather, there isn't enough of the sort I like) and I've never been overly fond of the terrain. I've learned that environment is very important to my happiness.
And I love Seattle.
Seattle has the best weather I have ever lived in. I am not kidding. I've lived in the southwest, New England, and Florida, as well as the midwest. Seattle is the mildest, by which I mean it is never too hot for me nor too cold. Not that I don't still get hot or cold. But the lack of humidity is so refreshing, the lack of AC a wonder, and I even dig the grey days because the sun? Not my friend, at times. I also love that there are trees and mountains and ocean right next to me. I love that there are too many good movies to see them all, and good restaurants (even if I don't go to them) and clubs (likewise) and bookstores and a university (at least one) and also? It's the first place I've lived where the street numbers actually correspond to the cross streets!
Seattle is sort of expensive. And the traffic can be really bad. But right now, I don't have any notion of going anywhere else. My house, within the city limits, has a big yard and trees and a bike/walking trail out back, with parks within 10 minutes. Right now, for me, Seattle feels perfect, and seeing the Space Needle or Mount Rainier or the way everyong seems to have a lovely garden makes me happy, all by themselves.