Exploring San Francisco and catching up with both my aunt and my anime club friends has been exhausting! I missed last night's blog entry and don't want to blog tonight, but then I would be in "I've put it off for so long that it is now impossible to act" territory, which I'd rather avoid. So here is a succinct resume-style summary of the last couple days!
- Learned about Bay Area microclimates, whereby the weather in one neighborhood is not correlative with the weather in the next neighborhood over
- Saw San Francisco's magisterial town hall, inc. AIDS quilt where each patch is made in memoriam of a victim
- Visited large Episcopal church that had prob'ly a .2-mile-long path twisted in a circle on the floor with radius about ten feet (pic soon)
- Ate fantastic Chinese food of unknown animal provenance with Ellen and Wendy
- Captured several beautifully fog-shrouded shots of the Golden Gate Bridge
- Walked along Pacific Ocean coast
- Watched movie "Welcome to the Dollhouse" in Ellen and Wendy's home theater; good but painful
- Missed bridge tour this morning but drove across bridge to Marin County
- Toured San Francisco Academy of Sciences, whose aquarium is fantastic, particularly the upside-down jellyfish
- Got together with U of C friends for dinner of a Vietnamese soup called pho; yummy and full of noodly goodness
- Bought used copy of The Brothers Karamazov, figuring that I have to read at least one Russian novel at some point in my life and it might as well be this one
- Took pictures of bride and groom in full bridal and groomal array, respectively; he is wearing a top hat and monocle with otherwise traditional Japanese dress and looks silly but in a good way, while she is wearing a beautiful scarlet dress with veil and black shawl
I'm not an authority on the Bay Area yet, but I'm getting closer by the day :) We'll probably drive out on Sunday. Till then, I'll continue tearing up the city with my friends!
Showing posts with label metablogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label metablogging. Show all posts
Friday, June 26, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Days like this, part 3
This is the third and last part of a three-part post. Please read part 1 first; it's two posts below this one. Blogs aren't like novels; you have to read them in reverse order. It's like the movie Memento, except not actually intended to be viewed that way. Bizarre.
Decatur, Georgia, a suburb of Atlanta, was my next stop after Eustis. I rushed to Decatur to meet my host Zach, who was generous enough to wait for me before heading to a biweekly get-together at his friend's house to play tabletop games. I was looking forward to getting to know Zach (a friend's friend who I'd never met before) and his cohort over a board game -- but things didn't quite work out that way! Zach's friend was MIA, and through a series of increasingly frantic phone calls Zach eventually discovered that game night was canceled. He didn't even hesitate before dialing yet another number, then several more, organizing an impromptu meet-up at a local Thai place. The ginger chicken was nice and savory, and the conversation was a real challenge; I navigated a sea of unfamiliar names and relationships that emerged among the four of us there. Unfortunately, amidst the general rush of the evening I didn't have my camera with me, and the Slug Incident back in Zach's apartment was a sucker punch that knocked any will I might have had to photograph anything out of me. I feel very much like Bilbo Baggins -- someone not naturally proactive or good with exigencies who nonetheless finds himself on an adventure and doesn't always know how to cope with it.
I mentioned in the last post that the three towns I've stayed in have been completely different, and Decatur is the polar opposite of spacious Eustis -- ultra-urban, with everything crammed into as little space as possible, bending streets and buildings in the process. It's not a pretty place -- is what I thought driving in on Sunday evening. But this morning (was it only this morning?!?), driving out, I saw the way the skyscrapers vanished into the dawn fog as though their tops were rubbed out with an eraser the color of the sky... and I decided maybe Decatur wasn't so bad.
I did get a picture from Decatur, but it's not the skyscraper one. It's the side of Zach's apartment building, a poor picture that could have been taken anywhere. I wish I had pulled over and snapped the shot of the skyscrapers.
As I passed through southern Tennessee on the way to Paducah, I saw several signs for some tourist spot named Ruby Falls. I was on track to get into Paducah very early and had some time to kill, so I figured, what the hell, waterfalls are pretty. Right decision. Turns out Ruby Falls is an underground waterfall at the end of a half-mile cave a thousand feet beneath Lookout Mountain, just outside Chattanooga. Twenty bucks bought me a gorgeous tour -- and one that I do have pictures of.
A tourist-oriented cave tour is not photography-friendly. Though everything is lit just right, you're never at rest for long, and when you are there are heads or hands between you and the thing you want to photograph. Nevertheless, I got some fantastic shots, which I present here without further comment, except to say that they are all much more beautiful in person. If you're ever near Chattanooga, go.
And now is the part where I want to regale you with tales of the wonders of Paducah... only writing these posts has ended up taking most of my spare time this evening, so I haven't seen much of the town. Actually, I'm glad. The last few days have been full of sensory overload, and so for once it's probably better for me to sit inside staring at an electronic screen than to be outside getting fresh air and discovering things. I'm sorry, Paducah. You seem like a nice town. You are two hundred years old and full of river lore. If I ever come back I promise I'll give you the exploration you deserve.
Decatur, Georgia, a suburb of Atlanta, was my next stop after Eustis. I rushed to Decatur to meet my host Zach, who was generous enough to wait for me before heading to a biweekly get-together at his friend's house to play tabletop games. I was looking forward to getting to know Zach (a friend's friend who I'd never met before) and his cohort over a board game -- but things didn't quite work out that way! Zach's friend was MIA, and through a series of increasingly frantic phone calls Zach eventually discovered that game night was canceled. He didn't even hesitate before dialing yet another number, then several more, organizing an impromptu meet-up at a local Thai place. The ginger chicken was nice and savory, and the conversation was a real challenge; I navigated a sea of unfamiliar names and relationships that emerged among the four of us there. Unfortunately, amidst the general rush of the evening I didn't have my camera with me, and the Slug Incident back in Zach's apartment was a sucker punch that knocked any will I might have had to photograph anything out of me. I feel very much like Bilbo Baggins -- someone not naturally proactive or good with exigencies who nonetheless finds himself on an adventure and doesn't always know how to cope with it.
I mentioned in the last post that the three towns I've stayed in have been completely different, and Decatur is the polar opposite of spacious Eustis -- ultra-urban, with everything crammed into as little space as possible, bending streets and buildings in the process. It's not a pretty place -- is what I thought driving in on Sunday evening. But this morning (was it only this morning?!?), driving out, I saw the way the skyscrapers vanished into the dawn fog as though their tops were rubbed out with an eraser the color of the sky... and I decided maybe Decatur wasn't so bad.
I did get a picture from Decatur, but it's not the skyscraper one. It's the side of Zach's apartment building, a poor picture that could have been taken anywhere. I wish I had pulled over and snapped the shot of the skyscrapers.
As I passed through southern Tennessee on the way to Paducah, I saw several signs for some tourist spot named Ruby Falls. I was on track to get into Paducah very early and had some time to kill, so I figured, what the hell, waterfalls are pretty. Right decision. Turns out Ruby Falls is an underground waterfall at the end of a half-mile cave a thousand feet beneath Lookout Mountain, just outside Chattanooga. Twenty bucks bought me a gorgeous tour -- and one that I do have pictures of.
A tourist-oriented cave tour is not photography-friendly. Though everything is lit just right, you're never at rest for long, and when you are there are heads or hands between you and the thing you want to photograph. Nevertheless, I got some fantastic shots, which I present here without further comment, except to say that they are all much more beautiful in person. If you're ever near Chattanooga, go.
And now is the part where I want to regale you with tales of the wonders of Paducah... only writing these posts has ended up taking most of my spare time this evening, so I haven't seen much of the town. Actually, I'm glad. The last few days have been full of sensory overload, and so for once it's probably better for me to sit inside staring at an electronic screen than to be outside getting fresh air and discovering things. I'm sorry, Paducah. You seem like a nice town. You are two hundred years old and full of river lore. If I ever come back I promise I'll give you the exploration you deserve.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Spreading the love
Happy March!
Over the weekend I realized that I have no idea how many people read the average post here. I thought I had no way to find out until I realized that Google AdSense is basically a hit counter. Based on its stats I seem to average about ten hits per day. Assuming half of them are me, that's five readers per day (more per post), which is actually surprisingly high, I think! Maybe search engines' webcrawlers count as hits? Anyway, I was surprised that Lover's Lanes is popular enough to merit a few people reading it per day. I'd sort of thought I was talking to myself half the time!
And I realized almost immediately that it doesn't matter. I love that people think this project is cool enough to be worth following. I think it's cool too, and I'd much rather have you follow my (mis)adventures than not. But whether my followers numbered a hundred, ten, one, or zero, I'd still want to do this. Because -- and this may be the first time I've been able to say this about an aspiration in years -- because this is something I want to do in and of itself and independent of what other people think of it. Mustering the will is easier with moral support, and if you're reading this, thank you for yours. But if you're not reading this, that's okay too. I am all I need to make this journey a success in my own eyes.
That was a pleasant revelation.
That said, I wouldn't mind if my audience swelled. I want to write a book, after all. I wonder how a blog like this one grows its readership. The stuff I post about these days is all prep work, quotidian stuff, perhaps not of interest if you don't already know me at least a little. But when I get in the car in June or so and start posting tales from the road, from living rooms and laundromats and coffee shops -- in short, when I start doing things most people have never done -- maybe there will be more people who'd like to read about it. How do I find them? Do I run ads? Email webcomic authors who have never heard of me and ask them for free publicity? Call NBC-2 and ask if they want to cover my departure as a human interest story? How do memes -- in Dawkins' sense, not 4-chan's -- spread?
By being good, is the short answer. So I'll do that. Meanwhile, thanks to those of you who drive down Lover's Lanes a couple times a week and see how the neighborhood is changing.
Over the weekend I realized that I have no idea how many people read the average post here. I thought I had no way to find out until I realized that Google AdSense is basically a hit counter. Based on its stats I seem to average about ten hits per day. Assuming half of them are me, that's five readers per day (more per post), which is actually surprisingly high, I think! Maybe search engines' webcrawlers count as hits? Anyway, I was surprised that Lover's Lanes is popular enough to merit a few people reading it per day. I'd sort of thought I was talking to myself half the time!
And I realized almost immediately that it doesn't matter. I love that people think this project is cool enough to be worth following. I think it's cool too, and I'd much rather have you follow my (mis)adventures than not. But whether my followers numbered a hundred, ten, one, or zero, I'd still want to do this. Because -- and this may be the first time I've been able to say this about an aspiration in years -- because this is something I want to do in and of itself and independent of what other people think of it. Mustering the will is easier with moral support, and if you're reading this, thank you for yours. But if you're not reading this, that's okay too. I am all I need to make this journey a success in my own eyes.
That was a pleasant revelation.
That said, I wouldn't mind if my audience swelled. I want to write a book, after all. I wonder how a blog like this one grows its readership. The stuff I post about these days is all prep work, quotidian stuff, perhaps not of interest if you don't already know me at least a little. But when I get in the car in June or so and start posting tales from the road, from living rooms and laundromats and coffee shops -- in short, when I start doing things most people have never done -- maybe there will be more people who'd like to read about it. How do I find them? Do I run ads? Email webcomic authors who have never heard of me and ask them for free publicity? Call NBC-2 and ask if they want to cover my departure as a human interest story? How do memes -- in Dawkins' sense, not 4-chan's -- spread?
By being good, is the short answer. So I'll do that. Meanwhile, thanks to those of you who drive down Lover's Lanes a couple times a week and see how the neighborhood is changing.
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