Orphan thanksgiving

So, in order to commemorate 'Native Americans saving our ass' day, I am hoping to throw orphan dinner on Saturday the 24th. If anyone is in town and has nothing better to do, I'm looking to have people over for a potlatch-style buffet of yummy goodness at our condo near Greektown. Anybody who was without a family to dine with during the week, had a poor time with the ones they DID visit, or just wants to get rid of some leftovers is free to attend. If you're interested, post in here, call my cell if you know it, or email me. Feel free to invite friends who you feel would enjoy themselves; I trust your judgment. BYOB, though I'm sure I'll pick something up if I know enough people will come.

Life, Death, and Music

Up late, thinking about music.

Yesterday I sifted through the collected musical memories of one man, almost 80 years in the making. What did it all mean to him? Sheet music, the tools of his trade, neatly arranged in a dusty filing cabinet; kept in the dark for nearly a decade - since his passing. Each folio, each binder I opened, told me a new story about someone I thought I had known so well. From Brahms to the Beatles; the coronet to the clarinet; the mandolin and the accordion - he was always learning -always expanding his horizons - expanding his frame of reference. Old Czech folksongs, untouched since long before I was born, intermingled with hidden artifacts from a first love; this wasn't just his depository for work papers, it was where he went to dream.

How different is that, really, from my own stockpile? Being less talented than grandpa, my musical memory chest contains the recorded efforts of others - neatly organized in a library relic in the corner. Each drawer, when opened, reminds me of the days when all good news came in the form of a cassette tape: a new mix, carefully dubbed for me by a friend on her parents' stereo, or a gift from my brother. How those sounds made my heart race, and how those same sounds now make my mind race. Each familiar note, beat, and word causes a whirlwind of recollection - sights, sounds, smells, sensations - cascading over my emotions. Did he feel the same when he went into that basement and pulled out a favorite piece of sheet music – written notes that his musician’s memory, later to fail him, didn't even need in order to play? Did his mind's eye see good friends, long dead, or his first kiss as his gnarled hands plucked sweet notes out of his old mandolin? Did he just play so that he didn’t have to think of anyone or anything at all?

A time line of music, now packed into boxes, much in the same manner as the physical vestiges of his own lifetime had been packed away on that last journey.

Shall these memories live on somewhere else? Perhaps they will come to rest with another young musician, eager to learn - his parents looking with bemused curiosity at the dusty box of eclectic folios he had stumbled upon at the thrift store and hauled home. There is no way to be sure how it all will end, but now I will send them out. Hopefully this car load of boxed history will inspire new memories in new hearts.

Sick days, shifting schedules, and the evil of caffeine

Here it is, 1:27am, and I am wide awake. I was feeling ill from the weekend and decided that it was in my best interest to lay low today - get some sleep, recuperate, and possibly get some much-needed school work out of the way. Well, mission accomplished, but perhaps a little too well. Now I am full of boundless energy and, well, it's time for sleep; thus begins the viscous cycle of inadequate sleep, unavoidable cat naps after work, and more sleepless nights.
Things would have been fine, but I decided to try an experiment a workmate told me about double-brewing teas to get the caffeine to steep out. I think I failed my first attempt, but it seemed to have a bit of an effect on potency; I felt fine for an hour or so, but then it kicked in with the usual level of effect. I guess I will have to ditch the teas I still have that aren't herbal, which is a shame because my mom bought me some really nice varieties for me last year. So, thanks for the advice, but I think my system is a little too sensitive for even that method!
So, now it's time to see if good old chamomile can put me in the right place to catch a few zzz's; nothing worse than a bleary-eyed bike commute in the morning!

Sadie Race Recap

A couple days late in coming, but better late than never. So Sadie has been and gone; the drama with the fliers at work has passed (without too many more incidents occurring that aren't really worth mentioning here), and with much fun had by all. In a message to my work vandal though, no thanks to your efforts, the event was proud to have raised about $2200 for their charity, and attracted over 200 riders which were essentially evenly split between male and female. Again, the point was to get women to come ride, and that was achieved with the help of men who either had friends and lovers they wanted out, or were just too cheap to fork out $40 to go alone; either way, I feel the ends justified the means. I am also happy to say that two friends of mine from the museum, John and Lindsay, took 3rd place over all - congrats to them! As for the race/ride itself, Dan and I had a blast. We attempted to go last year but had to quit in the first 10 minutes because his chain snapped. This year we went all the way, and I am pleased to say we finished 49th out of about 100 finishing teams. Even more enjoyable than having a good ride was feeling a strong sense of camaraderie and purpose with my man; he and I are both competitive people, so it was nice to have that energy channeled together, rather than against each other in an sporty setting. It was also great to be able to meet all kinds of new and interesting people - Sadie attracted riders not only from Chicago, but from 8 or more different states. Getting to know everyone at the ride was fun, but getting to know them a bit better at the afterhours was even more of a blast. Thank you to PBR for donating 30 30 packs of cans to the event - because this was an event full of mangy bikers, that didn't last much further than 9:30pm, but it certainly got the party started! Thanks also to Julie, Kisha, and others who were crucial in making this night a reality; hopefully we'll all be getting together next year for another evening of riding, imbibing, and friendship. On a side note, I am happy to say that I didn't hear about anyone getting injured during the ride, though apparently the ride home from the party seems to have been full of some minor scrapes and bruises. Let me just say that a couple PBR's and remembering to clip out once you've stopped don't mix. I have a nice, appropriately heart-shaped bruise on my knee as a souvenir from the trip home. Yay Sadie!




More photos HERE on my flickr site.

Owning culture

So, as some of you know, I am currently in school for a masters in library and information sciences. I decided pretty soon into this program that I would never be able to pull off the naughty librarian look due to a lack of horn-rimmed glasses and a bun, so I have been trying to focus my studies on archival work and public outreach. This area of interest ties in very nicely with my undergraduate and professional background in anthropology, especially in the museum context.
Currently I'm doing a little literature review paper assigned by my archives course professor, and have decided to focus on audiovisual archives and how digitization of these materials is leading towards better ways of allowing indigenous (or at least studied) groups to reclaim their cultural history and dictate how it is used by outsiders.
My readings have lead me to notice major discrepancies between the way we treat indigenous people, or Native Americans/First Nations as they are called in North America, and the way they are treated abroad. There isn't a great wealth of material coming from any other regions than North America and Australia, but in examining the two one quickly notices a marked difference.
In Australia, archivists are working on setting up access terminals in remote areas that are populated by indigenous peoples in order to make ethnographic recordings made of their forebearers accessible to them. These terminals serve many purposes, from helping the living gain access to videos that were shot of their parents and grandparents performing rituals and songs, to helping people of different cultures preserve their native tongues by using such videos and recordings as teaching aids to their young. On a more simplistic level, providing this access restored ownership of their own cultural heritage: recordings that were made of them to further others' academic goals, but were never made available to the actual subjects for their own usage and enjoyment. Another thing that these initiatives are trying to accomplish is a dialog between scientists and those they formerly (and still actively) studied. When different archival files are accessed by an indigenous user, they have the opportunity to give feedback to the scientific community, adding their own tags to an item, or even correcting poor information about locations, individuals appearing in a certain film, or even the significance of what is being shown. In addition to helping scientists learn more about indigenous cultures, the administrators of these digital archives have given the descendants of the individuals involved in these recordings power over who is allowed to use them and how. When a request comes in to an archives to use a recording, it is passed on to the descendants of the participants in said recording; those descendants then have the right to decline the request, or accept it either as is, or on their own terms.
All of this seems very progressive (though not perfect by any means) in my mind, especially when compared to the way similar situations are dealt with here in the U.S.. One example was brought to my attention by accident today when our photo archivist showed me the online database for Anthropology Department at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. First, I have to say that the design and scope of the database and their website in general is very impressive; they've managed to digitize all kinds of old documents and photographs which help to give people a more accurate idea of what goes on behind the scenes in museums of that nature. However, what I do have a serious issue with is the lack of consideration that the museum has shown about the wishes of the different cultural groups they represent on their site. From my experiences within the anthropology collections at my own museum, I know that many of the objects display in their illustrated database are objects that are forbidden by modern-day descendants to be shown to outsiders or members of certain genders. I won't post any of these pictures to give examples here, out of respect for these wishes, but if one really wants to know what I am talking about, they can look up 'false face masks' of the Iroquois.
On the other side of the coin, The Field Museum, where I work, has been making an effort to work with Native American groups in order to accommodate their wishes in terms of what is and isn't displayed; to date, many Crow and Maori objects have been removed from public display, and work on a new, partially-online and publicly-accessible interdepartmental database is taking into consideration these same standards in place about taboos and display. I'm not trying to toot our own horn because our work here with different ethnic communities is far from perfect, as is the implementation of resulting regulations, but I think at least the beginnings of a dialog are something to be encouraged. Certainly we have a long way to go before we catch up with some of the programs that are in development in Canada and Australia, but it would be nice to see more of our major cultural and governmental institutions making a more serious attempt.

Wheezy

Well, not really. I went to the Dr. today to see about some chest pains and shortness of breath I'd been having for some time, and I found out that it's possible my athsma has come back. So, for the next month I get to test drive a sexy new purple and lavender inhaler twice a day to see if I can manage to not be sucking wind like a chump every time I have to bike up a particularly steep incline, walk up a couple flights of stairs, or have a particularly intense shift in one of my hockey games. Needless to say, I'm not pleased to be dealing with this again after having thought I had conquered it when I was a teen, but I guess it's a shade better than thinking I was either having a heart attack or was horribly out of shape. With any luck, getting this problem taken care of will help me improve both my cycling and my hockey game. I'll no more as the next month passes. In other 'I'm getting old' news, I go to get tested for glasses at the end of the month. If someone pays me enough, I swear I'll get sports goggles made and wear them every game!

Planet Bike is my friend...

Just a quick note to say that Planet Bike rocks. I recently bought a light for my bike off them, and proceeded to break the mounting bracket after a few weeks of usage. I emailed them to see if I could purchase a replacement bracket, but the guy there offered to send me one free of charge instead. How cool is that? It's very rare to get anything for free these days, so I'm extremely appreciative of them. Thanks, Dan in warranty ;)

Office stupidity...

Funny, I thought I was working in a progressive environment where office immaturity was non-existent, but I guess I was wrong. It all started when I posted up Sadie Hawkins Day race posters all around my work. For those of you who missed my earlier post, the race is turn-about themed, where female riders need to find a partner with whom they will be required to stick with for the duration of the event. The point of this event is to promote female participation in race events in Chicago (because, at least in the alley cat context which is , female participation is low), and to raise money for a local women's hospital. Because the idea of the race is to encourage women to ride, the fees reflect this by making their entry the cheapest, followed by a more expensive fee for female/male couples (since this is a couple's race), and then an even more expensive entry fee for males who have failed to get a female partner.
Well, one of the overly-zealous PC crew here at the museum scribbled 'Yay sexism' and circled the fee section on my poster in the HR office. I could understand where they were coming from, so I responded by posting an explanation much like the one above about the fees and the reason behind them; this was removed, but the vandalized poster remained. I then replaced the defaced poster with one containing a little post script that anyone who had questions or comments could either call me at my extension, or contact the race promoters directly - no calls or emails, but this poster, too, has been defaced. You have to love how mature this person is.
Instead of getting into a passive-aggressive war of poster graffiti with this child, I will continue putting up fresh posters until the event passes. Everyone else I've talked to about this event has been really positive; some have even come up to me in the halls and said they'd seen the posters and intended to ride. Hopefully they do come out, and we manage to raise some loot for a very worthy cause, regardless of the people who have lost sight of the point and want to take shots at their perceived enemy.

Familiar habits

So, it's midnight on a cold Sunday/Monday in October, and I am wide awake, burrowed under my duvet - my lack of sleep can only mean one thing at this time of year: end of semester is drawing near. Yes, I'm back in school, for those of you who don't know, and in the process of pursuing my masters. It may come as no shock to those of you who know me well that my habits have changed little since finishing my undergrad. Tonight the first stirring up butterflies emerging from their cocoons can be felt in my stomach; the nervousness begins now. Why? Because I procrastinate - always have, and, apparently, always will.
Now is the time when I start telling myself that I need to buckle down, but rest assured it'll be another week before the 'oh shit' sensation kicks in and pushes me into overdrive. Even this weekend I was telling myself that I was going to get all my reading done early for the literature review paper I need to write, but instead I spent the whole day lazing on my parent's couch with the dog, watching a marathon on hauntings. Very productive.
Hopefully this week I'll manage to blast through the things I want to do, but it's always a matter of getting started. Like anyone who hates working out because it's good for me (rather than being active because it's fun), I hate reading when it's for my own good; I could read for hours on end when it's a book of my choosing, but assign text to me and I just can't stomach it. Assigned readings are literary codliver oil to my mind - I don't want to swallow those bitter meds.
Anyway, like it or not, this is the week. Goodbye to internet (well, somewhat), frivolity, and dawdling. Goodbye to 'ok, after I read this article/forum thread/chapter.' Goodbye to doing it after I cook this large dinner from scratch because it takes longer and distracts me from the task at hand more. Just get it done already...

Old promises come back to haunt me...

For those of you who didn't spend the mid-90s dressings in over-sized clothing and going to raves, some of the following terms may be foreign to you; for your convenience, here are a couple brief explanations:
Jungle - note - I did not write this entry. While much of the info contained is accurate, there is some debate over the Jungle vs. DnB, is it separate, or is it the same, issue. I apologize in advance if your own view (if you have one) isn't represented in that blurb but it is, after all, a wikipedia entry.
MC - To be used in the context of a Jungle set (series of records mixed by a DJ), not the more familiar usage related to Hip-Hop where the MC is the main event.

Now that that's out of the way, I'll get on with the story. About 11 years ago (wow, that makes me feel old), when I was in high school, I made a promise to my brother. At the time he was what we call a 'bedroom DJ,' or someone who buys records, turntables, and a mixer, learns how to 'spin,' but never performs in front of a live audience (well, other than ones own friends who visit said bedroom/in-house studio). I, on the other hand, was a wild-eyed teen of about 16-17, who was having the time of her life going to parties (raves) on the weekends and dancing all night to a new (well, relatively new to me at least) kind of music called jungle. In the midst of all this excitement, I told my brother that if he ever played out, I wanted to be his MC because I myself never had any aspirations at learning how to spin but wanted to get involved.

Fast forward to the present day - well, actually about two weeks ago. My brother and I have a mutual friend who goes by the name Axsent, and runs a small club night at a polish bar in Chicago using the crew name Neoteric. Axsent had been asking me for quite some time when my brother was going to play their night, so I jokingly told him he'd need to ask him himself. I was amused (and pretty happy) when my brother begrudgingly accepted, and began to dust off his old vinyl and practice. That amusement turned quickly into apprehension once my brother told me that he had called up Axsent and told him to put me on the flier as his MC for the night; Axsent had just been telling me about how the new fliers were all printed and ready to go, but had failed to mention the little detail that I was now on them. Enter the cold hand of fear gripping my stomach. These days I am a far cry from being the wild-eyed party girl I used to be; perhaps in my younger years I wouldn't have hesitated to jump on stage, grab a mic, and babble some nonsense over relentless beats for an hour, but now I don't even know what I'd say. The truth of the matter is, I hate MCs. I don't just dislike them, I hate them. I could go up there and do my best mockery of everything I hate in the hopes of amusing someone, but I also hate public speaking. Perhaps some liquid courage might loosen my tongue a bit, but we shall see.
I will go through with it all and fulfill that old promise; I do owe it to my brother, after all. Hopefully nobody will take my actions that night at any serious attempt to be the Mistress of Ceremonies; if all else fails, I can just use my post to order beers from the bar!

Not much to report here lately in the city of Chicago. We've been experiencing some unseasonably warm weather the last couple of weeks yet, inexplicably, where I work within the museum is holding it down at an unbearable 50F. Needless to say, I've been shelving books while wearing two hoodies (both hoods up to cover my Dumbo ears) while in the main stacks, only to have to peel all those layers off when I head elsewhere in the building. You have to love the state-of-the-art climate control we have it; it was a million times worse when I worked in Anthropology storage, especially considering it was summer (shorts and flipflops) and the temps would sometimes fluctuate between the 50's and the 70's in different areas - you never knew what you were going to get, so you couldn't dress for the weather in there.
So, here I am, now sitting at the reference desk in the main library, doing circulation statistics and drinking weak tea from an over-used teabag in order to fight off hypothermia (yes, I am too cheap to just go get another bag). Thankfully there is cake featuring prominently in the foreseeable future because it is one of my co-worker's birthdays. Bless her for feeding my sugar cravings; perhaps that rush of chemically-induced energy that I'm about to get will cause me to feel somewhat above arctic in terms of body temperature for the rest of the day.
If you're reading this, happy birthday M., and thanks in advance for the cake!

Quick update

I forgot to mention - for those following the progress of my talks with the condo association, I ran into our building's manager yesterday morning on my way out. He said he had taken my letter, scanned it, and then was going to email it out to the board members. Hopefully I hear something back soon.

Question for any botanists/plant collectors out there...

When I was in Malta for our honeymoon last September, I photographed a really neat succulent plant. Because the climate is so dry in Malta, the inhabitants get their gardening fix by cultivating container gardens that they keep on the walks in front of their homes, or in small, fenced in courtyards. I would really like to find out exactly what the plant is so that I can get one of my own (I have become a bit of a container gardening hobbiest myself because I live in a condo with a balcony and no yard).
I have managed to narrow down the plant to the genus Aeonium by looking at some of the books and serials in the Botany library at work, but I am not sure where to go from there. So, if there is anyone browsing this blog who might know something, or knows someone else who can help, let me know!

Here are the photos that I took (click on them to enlarge and reduce pixilation):
































And here are some pictures of possible matches that were taken from sites online:

Aeonium arboreum
























Taken from Plant Safari. The stalks look right, but the rosettes don't seem to be tight/compact enough.

No name


















Taken from this page. The stems look right and the rosettes have the right kind of shape but the color and size appear to be different.

For some odd reason, a guy yelled 'go cubbies' at me as I rode past him on my bike this morning. I guess my ridiculously garish pink and orange bike top probably made me look a bit like a north-sider, but I still can't imagine why someone would yell that at a passing biker sans cubs gear. Perhaps he was just shouting it any anyone who would listen, like so many other crazed proselytizers that can be found on the streets of Chicago. I guess he didn't see my 'Jesus hates the cubs' button on my mess bag.

It begins...

So, as of today I am officially taking on my condo association about their lack of a recycling program. What follows is a letter I wrote to them about the letter (I think it's polite and to the point). Updates on the situation will follow if anything happens or, for that matter, if anything doesn't. I fully intend to be a pain in the ass until someone listens.

Dear Condo Board –

I am writing to you about something that has concerned me for quite some time, namely ***** Loft’s lack of a recycling program. Since we moved into our unit about three years ago, there has been talk about how our association is considering options and will be getting something in place ‘soon.’ Eventually this talk (and even the signs about it on our floor’s trash room) has disappeared. Does this apparent lack of discussion mean that a plan has been made, or does it mean that the whole matter is on the back burner? Currently I am forced to haul my recyclables to work every day on my back while biking in to work; it’s not really a big issue because doing the chore every day keeps the amount low. However, when we do things like entertain guests and go through some cases of beer, I wind up throwing all those bottles out because I don’t exactly feel it’s appropriate to being that kind of waste into my work place. I have a feeling that efforts like mine are in the minority in the building, and that most of the recyclable waste goes straight down the trash chutes, and into landfill; that’s an awful amount of mess for one building that could be routed to other use.
Is there any way that we’re going to see something happen on this any time soon? The Chicagoland area has a wide variety of options that could be explored in terms of waste management and recycling; it really is our civic responsibility to do something about reducing our waste. Beyond that, residential buildings with five units or greater are required to offer a recycling program to its occupants; this info is accessible by just google searching ‘city of Chicago residential recycling,’ clicking on ‘multi-unit buildings’ under residential recycling, and reading that page. For your convenience, I will quote the page here directly:

“If you live in a building of five units or greater, you are serviced by a private waste hauler, which is mandated by law to recycle applicable materials. Your building management is also required to offer you an effective recycling program, which is defined by three things: source reduction and separation, an education program and a written recycling plan.”

I hate to be the squeaky wheel, but this is something that has bothered me since we moved in, and I have grown impatient with waiting around to see our association do anything about it; I would much rather my assessment fees go to something like this that matters in the long run, rather than re-blacktopping the parking lot. Please give the matter some serious consideration.

Here are some good sites to check out:

The Resource Center of Chicago - www.resourcecenterchicago.org - This company will arrange residential pickup, and guarantees that 90% of their waste actually is reused. They have been active in the Chicago area for 30 years and are very well-respected.

Chicago Recycling Coalition – www.chicagorecycling.org – this site offers some great tips and ‘how to’s’ about residential recycling.

Finally, please let me know if there is anything that I can do to help this process move along; it’s one thing to voice a complaint, but it’s another all together to try to actually do something about the matter to help change be made. Feel free to email me blah@blah.com with any questions, suggestions, or responses you might have.

Sincerely yours,

Lisa L*****, #***