the geek love in me

it’s friday & i am smitten for…

:: photographs.

rest stop between akron, oh and cranberry, pa, my penguins gear haven

evening light

bliss

my new crosby jersey. my life is now complete!

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:: t.v. dexter, sarah connor chronicles, breaking bad, mad men, glee, the office. all of these dvds arrived at the library [have i mentioned lately we have one of the best library systems in the nation?] within days of each other and are now stacked up on the television, beckoning me with their special features and various gorgeous men.when it rains it pours, right? looks like the rest of my spring break is going to spent in my grey blue sleep robe, the sun shining behind closed curtains, with copious amounts of tea and toast. to which is say…joy!

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:: harry potter. there’s something about spring break that brings out the geek love in me. every year i find myself devouring the harry potter series as though i’m eleven, fourteen, sixteen again. there was the infamous spring break of ’01 where i re-read the first three in two nights, the fourth my the fourth night, and started over again before my mother convinced me to join functioning society for a few days, which resulted in what we now refer to as “harry potter munchies”.  i’m always somewhere in one of the books, but this week i’ve been really reading them, less as a fan who grew up with the messy haired hero, who has that impenetrably connection with the story and characters in that special way only a childhood love can, but as a literature fan, a reader, a grown.up. and…my god they’re good. in every way that counts.

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:: an inadvertant haiku.

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:: balloons. as you may remember, the night before opening ceremonies, my friend heather and i blew up roughly 45 red, white, and blue balloons for our olympic celebration. we took a few and made a funky cool balloon mobile type thing, and the rest we let float across the floor, in a fun, celebratory, albeit semi annoying type way. [try walking in heels through a path obstructed by giant balloons] well, it’s been over a month now since we blew up those dozens of balloons, and in true cooper fashion we haven’t touched any of the decorations [i have issues with closure. let's not even go into that]. recently the untied balloons have mysteriously gone missing. here’s what we know: there are about ten sequestered under the dining room table. about ten have drifted down the steps in the kitchen to the basement, i suspect at the will of the cats that are probably using them in some fiendish midnight plan of theirs. a few balloons have predictably popped along the way, resulting in anyone who is around shrieking, then laughing. but let’s do the math, folks. that still leaves around fifteen balloons missing. fifteen missing balloons. and i can’t figure it out. our house is small and there are only so many places for them to go. did they dissolve with the resolution of the winter games? do we have balloon elves, scurrying in at night and stealing them? where have all these balloons gone?

i have to say it’s a little disconcerting.

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:: weheartit.com.

{psst: want to join in the fun? here’s “my heart”}

have a wonderful weekend!

cheers [darlin']

Alison

tiny piano keys

it’s the beginning of march and here’s what’s been on my mind ::

:: post olympic depression. god, i miss it. miss the non-stop curling, the theme music, the stephen colbert moments. i miss living on molson and whale shaped crackers and losing track of days in the haze of constant coverage. i do not miss jeremy roenick’s existence, or the endless rotation of parenthood and marriage ref commercials. i mean, i understand, alec. the dude has the best pro-stripper pole argument ever. and kim catrall? i got it. british columbia is sophisticated. i’m all up on it. but NBC’s general shittiness, and jeremy roenick’s small prick notwithstanding, the XXI winter games were, like, totally amazing: a silver for meryl and charlie; apolo’s general gorgeousness; the awesomeness of moguls and aerials; being mega tense during the insanity of biathlon; going to bed at 3am and getting up at 8am to catch up on the non-olympic related portions of my life; mary carillo’s man voice; scott hamilton sobbing through joannie rochette’s programs; me sobbing every time morgan freeman said “after receiving his gold medal, he took a victory lap…with his daughter…jane”; and, of course, sid. our sid. our captain. our leader. our everything. i was totally neutral going through the game. i was happy when canada was winning, and happy when USA scored. but there was that 1% of me, that ryan malone loving, unexpectedly patriotic, “we can beat these guys!” part of me that wanted a victory for US hockey. and i said “if it has to be anyone, though, i want it be sid.” and it was. perfect ending. sigh. sochi, anyone?

:: midterms. between the olympics and my schoolwork, the last three weeks have been controlled chaos. i’m honestly not sure how i managed to accomplish everything without burning a hole through my cranium. this has easily been the most hectic, tiring, demanding week of my higher academic career, but as of this weekend, i have nothing to do but watch the pens, snuggle up the tudors season 3, and wait for the coffee to perk. my big plan is a margarita night with some friends and that’s it. no notes. no early english books online. no center for american women and politics. just me, some crunchy peanut butter spread over toasted oat nut bread, and no alarm

:: sunshine. it’s power and ability to entice and influence and tip things off into a new direction. the sun has been out lately here in northeastern ohio, and even though there are still several inches of snow, clinging to the dead grass for their lives, i can sense the upcoming spring in my bones. that’s not to say that we won’t see another snowstorm before this winter is officially over, or even into spring, but as of right now, today, the path from the porch to the driveway is clear and the sun has been shining. yesterday as i was leaving my film class, i realized there was a pebble in my right purple ballet flat. i stopped and slid it off for a moment and balanced my bare foot on the wet pavement, and something about the chilled, but not frozen touch and the abundant sun made me think, for just a moment, i could feel the pulse of spring coming from someplace down below, working its way up, slowly but surely. and dear lord, am i ready for it

:: these lovely things

::::::::::: palm size scones with vanilla icing

::::::::::: cecelia marie halpert

::::::::::: the noir classic double indemnity

::::::::::: the ok go video everyone and their cousin is blogging about

::::::::::: the boys being 2 for 2 since the olympic break

::::::::::: laura veir’s ”make something good”

::::::::::: supernatural being renewed for a sixth season

:: jamie cullum. the four plus years between the pursuit and catching tales was worth it. the latest album is stellar. i’m totally convinced i would not have gotten through the last five pages of my women in politics paper without it. “wheels” and “you and me are gone” are particularly fantastic, and “not while i’m around” makes me, quite literally, swoon. i adore this smoky, british retro jazz phenom. it’s hard to believe it’s been almost six years since i met him on a street along the flats in cleveland, where he drew a set of tiny piano keys next to his signature on my twenty-something liner notes. hard to believe i survived the wait between the UK release and the US release. and it’s hard to believe people walk around and go to work and water their plants and sew their buttons on their coats without knowing the wonder that is jamie cullum. it’s a sad thing

:: tea. i’ve been consuming a lot of tea lately. starting and ending my days with tea. leaving over sized mugs with tiny beige pools of dreg dotted cream cold at the bottom on every table in the house, kind of like tiny flags marking where i’ve been. tea always brings me back to my childhood, makes me want to read emily dickinson, buy thumb-print cookies at west point market, and get a book out about the north york moors. but more than anything, tea is a such a simple, daily comfort, i think i’d go slowly insane without it

cheers [darlin']

Alison

midweek felicity: as longing fades

so far, march means…

these photos ::

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these songs ::

:: strand of oak’s “do you like to read?”

:: cosmo jarvis’ “she’s got you”

:: creed bratton’s “rubber tree” [yes THAT creed bratton]

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these words ::

I Had Been a Polar Explorer by Mark Strand

I had been a polar explorer in my youth
and spent countless days and nights freezing
in one blank place and then another. Eventually,
I quit my travels and stayed at home,
and there grew within me a sudden excess of desire,
as if a brilliant stream of light of the sort one sees
within a diamond were passing through me.
I filled page after page with visions of what I had witnessed—
groaning seas of pack ice, giant glaciers, and the windswept white
of icebergs. Then, with nothing more to say, I stopped
and turned my sights on what was near. Almost at once,
a man wearing a dark coat and broad-brimmed hat
appeared under the trees in front of my house.
The way he stared straight ahead and stood,
not shifting his weight, letting his arms hang down
at his side, made me think that I knew him.
But when I raised my hand to say hello,
he took a step back, turned away, and started to fade
as longing fades until nothing is left of it.

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these things ::

:: mumford & sons announcing a U.S. spring tour

:: every track on jamie cullum’s latest, “the pursuit”

:: the melting snow

:: getting a 95% on my history midterm, and an A on my first film paper

:: pineapple martinis

:: the john adams miniseries on dvd waiting on top of the t.v.

:: conan o’brien’s twitter

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this moment ::

cheers [darlin']

Alison

midweek felicity: seabirds from starlings

love is…

these photos ::

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these songs ::

:: peter gabriel covering “i think it’s going to rain today”

:: the acorn’s “lullaby [mountain]“

:: we were promised jetpack’s “it’s thunder and it’s lightening”

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these words ::

Trapeze by Deborah Digges

See how the first dark takes the city in its arms
and carries it into what yesterday we called the future.

O, the dying are such acrobats.
Here you must take a boat from one day to the next,

or clutch the girders of the bridge, hand over hand.
But they are sailing like a pendulum between eternity and evening,

diving, recovering, balancing the air.
Who can tell at this hour seabirds from starlings,

wind from revolving doors or currents off the river.
Some are as children on swings pumping higher and higher.

Don’t call them back, don’t call them in for supper.
See, they leave scuff marks like jet trails on the sky.

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this moment ::

cheers [darlin']

Alison

p.s. by the by, i added a new page called inspire/enrich. it’s just a little collection of current sources of encouragement and whatnot. i’ll be updating it whenever something new strikes me. boop, bop, that’s all (:

so drifting balloons

it’s day something rather of the XXI winter games. it might as well be day million. as predicted they have fully taken over my life. my class schedule and assignments have worked out so well it’s scary. it’s like the olympic gods want me, nay, need me to watch every minute of aerials and short track and curling and bobsledding and (of course) hockey. all the days are blending together. take out the trash during the fifth end break. shave my legs during the second intermission. let my friends know that i have not fallen off the planet during cross-country skiing. download northern howl’s daytrotter session while belbin and agosto take the ice, and snap my laptop shut when meryl and charlie come out to make magic. time has alluded me. what’s a calendar? it’s not sunday, per say, it’s russian vs. czech, USA vs. canada day, a.k.a. sophie’s choice day!

the highlight of my olympic addiction thus far was when i was referencing a conversation jordan and i had and said “remember this morning when i told you that” to which jordan responded “that was last night” to which i said “WHAT? no way! that was totally this morning!” to which jordan said “alison, you need to get off the couch” to which i mumbled some combination of “but…sid…and the…final stone…apolo…russia…but the…round robin…short program…no fighting…BOB COSTAS!”

god, i hope i don’t break out into a cold sweat and get the munchies during classes this week, or if a professor asks me for my two cents, fingers crossed i don’t answer with “no touch icing” or “aksel svindal is my lover”. and that’s not hyperbole. believe me. it has been well documented that i am just that crazy.

and happy. all things considered i am in a good place. maybe it’s seeing mama in her scrubs, or the sweatpants and caffeine and continuous olympic coverage talking, but recently jordan came across a person who used to be an intrical part of my life, of our lives—well, came across is the wrong phrasing. recently jordan was ambushed is more accurate, by someone i used to call a sister. my point is, these things usually rattle me and unravel me for a little while afterwards. those weird little “high school” interactions make me doubtful and weary, ambivalent and crabby. the entire situation rolled right off me though, didn’t leave me outraged or upset or counting my teeth to make sure they were all intact. i thought about it. thought about our past and my future. thought about what i should have done differently, what i’ve learned and regretted and am ultra thankful for, then thought about the film paper i have due tuesday and warming up another cup of red rose before bed. i thought about the unfairness and sadness of losing someone who could have been a companion for the rest of your life, gave it its appropriate weight, and settled back into ice dance and crying during olympic commercials and navigating through the dozen or so drifting balloons that always end up under my feet.

hmm.

anyway, since my last post i have been thinking [that's right, i have found time to designate brain space to something other than ice and snow and the sports we play on them] more about creativity. inspiration. illumination. originality. imagination. vision. imagery. wisdom. expression. and i think my path back to a more art infused life is going to come down to the people and things i surround myself with. i know this is an old, overused saying, and i know i have mentioned this before, but if my twenty-one years have taught me anything so far, it’s that you can’t be too careful with dairy, and you are the company you keep. and for me this isn’t just going to come down to my friends and family and classmates and cats. i’m not just talking about the slinky twenty-two month old calico, with a long tail and bedroom eye, who is circling my feet as i type this. i’m talking about this great void i seal these envelopes of thoughts and musings and mindless babble for to be opened by random eyes from time to time. in the last few weeks i’ve stumbled upon so many delightful and intriguing and helpful blogs, blogs filled with quotable words and beautiful photographs and mp3s that can tip my day into a whole new direction. like an acoustic version of sondre’s “good luck” that threw me back to the central coast of california, to curvy roads and dirty sand and sunday coffee rituals. or mark kozelek’s version of “send in the clowns” that’s sticking to my head right now like there’s a puzzle i’m meant to decode inside its corn maze of metaphor and piano keys. so often the internet annoys me. it often allows experts and amateurs to have equal footing and input when at times they just shouldn’t. but when it comes to my blogroll, it’s reassuring to feel connected to other writers, artists, music fans. reassuring and encouraging and a distraction from hard realities.

okay that’s enough “new-age feel-goodery” stuff. back to the other side of my personality, the one that often ends in blood, hugs, and eighty miles per hour pucks.

cheers [darlin']

Alison

p.s.