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Dec. 28th, 2007
Mischief managed!
Dec. 28th, 2007 08:25 pmUbuntu CD acquired! To be delivered to my mother real soon now.
To explain: First I found out that my old lab, which I intended to visit today, had been abducted by aliens. Or perhaps the government. Though one can't help but wonder whether alcohol was involved. (I will probably post more about this sometime, especially once I find out what the hell happened. If it was aliens, they were working with both the police and parking enforcement. Or perhaps just using them.)
So I went to meet up with A and E in Summer. (Hey, as happy as I am to be visiting Seattle, I was also in need of visiting Summer. Luckily there is a small but accessible outpost of Summer in Fremont.) After Summer, it was suggested that we get food, in particular Thai food. Well, my favourite Thai restaurant happens to be in Issaquah, which is kind of ridiculous, but a bit on the way for A and E, so of course we had to do it. On the way,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
imalion called, offering a Ubuntu CD (see, this all comes together). As it happens, Imalion lives in Issaquah, so of course I invited him out to Thai. And then D called, so I invited him out to Thai too.
Now I am home. Well, back at E's home. Did I mention I'm sleep deprived and loopy? But cheerful.
[Edit: Indeed, evacuation due to suspicious package. D apologizes for not telling me this was going to happen today.]
To explain: First I found out that my old lab, which I intended to visit today, had been abducted by aliens. Or perhaps the government. Though one can't help but wonder whether alcohol was involved. (I will probably post more about this sometime, especially once I find out what the hell happened. If it was aliens, they were working with both the police and parking enforcement. Or perhaps just using them.)
So I went to meet up with A and E in Summer. (Hey, as happy as I am to be visiting Seattle, I was also in need of visiting Summer. Luckily there is a small but accessible outpost of Summer in Fremont.) After Summer, it was suggested that we get food, in particular Thai food. Well, my favourite Thai restaurant happens to be in Issaquah, which is kind of ridiculous, but a bit on the way for A and E, so of course we had to do it. On the way,
imalion called, offering a Ubuntu CD (see, this all comes together). As it happens, Imalion lives in Issaquah, so of course I invited him out to Thai. And then D called, so I invited him out to Thai too. Now I am home. Well, back at E's home. Did I mention I'm sleep deprived and loopy? But cheerful.
[Edit: Indeed, evacuation due to suspicious package. D apologizes for not telling me this was going to happen today.]
(no subject)
Dec. 28th, 2007 09:39 pmThe room I am staying in in E's home is perfect. It is an addition off the back of the building, so it has windows on three of the walls, making it a little like the barge. This also means it is accoustically separate from the rest of the house, which is a useful thing for my insomnia. (I can hear people, which is good, because the stupid keeping tabs on everyone in case someone is going to come and try to get me part of my brain likes that, but they aren't so close that I need to wake up over it. Let me be clear. This isn't cool. This isn't some result of my martial arts training. It's some part of my brain that just hasn't managed to get over itself. It's gotten much, much better, but it still kind of sucks.)
It has the sense, too, of being a cabin. Sparsely furnished. Wood walls, light paint. The windows on three walls again -- you don't see that much with small rooms unless its also a small building. On the edge of a hill, so outside the window is a pine tree and a flowering Cherry (it's december. It's blooming. I've always loved them, but now they seem strange and kind of magical.) tangled in bindweed*. Further down are other houses -- this is an affluent and densely populated part of the city, looking down over Lake Union -- but it still reminds me a bit of cabins in the San Juans, that perched on cliffs like junipers, looking out over the water. Maybe that's from my head, now -- yearning for the city, and silence both. (Erm. And sleep. More on that later.) And a quick walk from one of the more interesting business districts.
I don't remember not loving thie area. I grew up less than a mile away, on the NE face of Capitol Hill, right near Volunteer park, looking out over Lake Washington and the Cascades. I'm not sure it's a place that makes much sense if you haven't been here. You hear about the rain. But it's not really about the rain. First, it doesn't rain much in summer at all. That's the dry season, and it is beautiful and sunny and generally not too hot. And during the rainy season (which is roughly from October through early July, though it's thicker in the middle and can be quite nice at either end) it doesn't rain than much. It doesn't even really rain all the time but lightly. Though there is a lot of rain.
There are some unusual contrasts. On the one hand, it's pretty far North. At Solstice Sun goes down around 4:20 and comes up again at around eight. That's a lot of dark. In other parts of the country, this would be offset by a lot of clear days. It would also be offset by snow. Here the sky is often grey (as are the lakes, and the sound). There is very little snow. There are a lot of mountains and hills and trees, most of which are evergreen.
It's also very warm. Not so much at this particular moment, but the Seattle area is a zone 8, which is pretty absurd for this latitude if you think about it. It just doesn't get particularly cold. If you want to see snow, the mountains are an hour away, and generally have all the snow that you could want. But it's optional. The dark is something else. We're supposed to have one of the highest rates of SAD in the country (I've heard the highest, but are they counting Alaska? really?) I know a lot of people who can't handle the dark, and have fled the area because of it. I kind of like it. I like full spectrum lights, too (and not just because I like fresh basil in the middle of winter).
The winters here are a little like the mountains -- bleak and cool, but rich and varied and full of life. Not fecund in the way of a tropical rain forest, but then we have temperate rain forests on the coast. The palettes are greys and greens. Lots, and lots of greys and greens. Once your eyes adjust, you can be lost in the depth and textures and varieties of greys and greens... or, I suppose, oppressed by it and driven to flee.
The greater Seattle area surrounds Lake Washington, as Seattle surrounds Lake Union. Lake Washington is long, narrow, and a bit contorted. A bit like a valley, a very steep, deep valley, full of water. The metaphor goes the other way too -- the San Juan Islands are sometimes described as a mountain range, but one that happens to stick their tops out of the ocean.
There are two floating bridges across Lake Washington, which have a lot to do with why our traffic is so often miserable. These make for strange contrasts themselves -- floating bridges do indeed float on the surface of a lake. In a strong wind waves will be crashing and fling spray across the lanes on one side, but the other side, in the lee of the bridge will be strangely placid. You drive across the bridge, traversing the edge between these extremes.
Coming back from Issaquah tonight showed the lake and city in another guise. The lake is still and dark and fathomless, but the hills rising around its banks are full of golden lights nestled between the trees, reflecting near the edges in the water. Around Lake Union, which is smaller even more densely surrounded, the sense of an excursion into Faerie is even greater. The hills are full of light, and the light blurs and stretches across the water of the lake. There are places you can sit on a summer evening, in Gasworks Park, for instance, where the houses come right to the edge of the water, and even float on the water, and it looks as if you should be able to walk across the lake, like a polished ballroom floor right to the other side.
Did I say something about contrasts? I love the city, and it's lights, and density and dynamism of the city. I love the industrial basin with its hard edges and unshielded bulbs. And I love that it is full of trees, and curves over the hips of the hills, and beset by sea lions, gulls, and raptors. And I love the mountains and the long stretches of empty beaches. I don't much care for suburbia. I liked the Woodinville house, I don't think I'd do that again.
In Chinese one can say "You shan you shui" (okay, have to find a pinyin input device for Chinese characters for this box). There are mountains and water. That's Seattle.
* Morning Glory, some call it. Especially people who don't live here. Like people who like blackberry vines (as opposed to blackberries, which are entirely different).
It has the sense, too, of being a cabin. Sparsely furnished. Wood walls, light paint. The windows on three walls again -- you don't see that much with small rooms unless its also a small building. On the edge of a hill, so outside the window is a pine tree and a flowering Cherry (it's december. It's blooming. I've always loved them, but now they seem strange and kind of magical.) tangled in bindweed*. Further down are other houses -- this is an affluent and densely populated part of the city, looking down over Lake Union -- but it still reminds me a bit of cabins in the San Juans, that perched on cliffs like junipers, looking out over the water. Maybe that's from my head, now -- yearning for the city, and silence both. (Erm. And sleep. More on that later.) And a quick walk from one of the more interesting business districts.
I don't remember not loving thie area. I grew up less than a mile away, on the NE face of Capitol Hill, right near Volunteer park, looking out over Lake Washington and the Cascades. I'm not sure it's a place that makes much sense if you haven't been here. You hear about the rain. But it's not really about the rain. First, it doesn't rain much in summer at all. That's the dry season, and it is beautiful and sunny and generally not too hot. And during the rainy season (which is roughly from October through early July, though it's thicker in the middle and can be quite nice at either end) it doesn't rain than much. It doesn't even really rain all the time but lightly. Though there is a lot of rain.
There are some unusual contrasts. On the one hand, it's pretty far North. At Solstice Sun goes down around 4:20 and comes up again at around eight. That's a lot of dark. In other parts of the country, this would be offset by a lot of clear days. It would also be offset by snow. Here the sky is often grey (as are the lakes, and the sound). There is very little snow. There are a lot of mountains and hills and trees, most of which are evergreen.
It's also very warm. Not so much at this particular moment, but the Seattle area is a zone 8, which is pretty absurd for this latitude if you think about it. It just doesn't get particularly cold. If you want to see snow, the mountains are an hour away, and generally have all the snow that you could want. But it's optional. The dark is something else. We're supposed to have one of the highest rates of SAD in the country (I've heard the highest, but are they counting Alaska? really?) I know a lot of people who can't handle the dark, and have fled the area because of it. I kind of like it. I like full spectrum lights, too (and not just because I like fresh basil in the middle of winter).
The winters here are a little like the mountains -- bleak and cool, but rich and varied and full of life. Not fecund in the way of a tropical rain forest, but then we have temperate rain forests on the coast. The palettes are greys and greens. Lots, and lots of greys and greens. Once your eyes adjust, you can be lost in the depth and textures and varieties of greys and greens... or, I suppose, oppressed by it and driven to flee.
The greater Seattle area surrounds Lake Washington, as Seattle surrounds Lake Union. Lake Washington is long, narrow, and a bit contorted. A bit like a valley, a very steep, deep valley, full of water. The metaphor goes the other way too -- the San Juan Islands are sometimes described as a mountain range, but one that happens to stick their tops out of the ocean.
There are two floating bridges across Lake Washington, which have a lot to do with why our traffic is so often miserable. These make for strange contrasts themselves -- floating bridges do indeed float on the surface of a lake. In a strong wind waves will be crashing and fling spray across the lanes on one side, but the other side, in the lee of the bridge will be strangely placid. You drive across the bridge, traversing the edge between these extremes.
Coming back from Issaquah tonight showed the lake and city in another guise. The lake is still and dark and fathomless, but the hills rising around its banks are full of golden lights nestled between the trees, reflecting near the edges in the water. Around Lake Union, which is smaller even more densely surrounded, the sense of an excursion into Faerie is even greater. The hills are full of light, and the light blurs and stretches across the water of the lake. There are places you can sit on a summer evening, in Gasworks Park, for instance, where the houses come right to the edge of the water, and even float on the water, and it looks as if you should be able to walk across the lake, like a polished ballroom floor right to the other side.
Did I say something about contrasts? I love the city, and it's lights, and density and dynamism of the city. I love the industrial basin with its hard edges and unshielded bulbs. And I love that it is full of trees, and curves over the hips of the hills, and beset by sea lions, gulls, and raptors. And I love the mountains and the long stretches of empty beaches. I don't much care for suburbia. I liked the Woodinville house, I don't think I'd do that again.
In Chinese one can say "You shan you shui" (okay, have to find a pinyin input device for Chinese characters for this box). There are mountains and water. That's Seattle.
* Morning Glory, some call it. Especially people who don't live here. Like people who like blackberry vines (as opposed to blackberries, which are entirely different).