Showing posts with label the past. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the past. Show all posts

Monday, June 15

sheep shearing

I spent a little more than 48 hours in Flagstaff the other weekend. gorgeous weather. wonderful wool and fiber festival (even if my very favorite vendor couldn't be there this year). also, as always, the most excellent traveling companions. so grateful to those lovely humans. 

on Sunday, the last day of the festival, I spent 3 hours teaching a little lacemaking workshop and it was wonderful! just 6 enthusiastic students, plenty of time, plus friend Shannon helping out as unofficial assistant, and it all went so well. I'm so glad everyone came ready to learn and practice and struggle with the weirdness that is tatting and tatted lace. I hope they all keep going with it. and maybe some of them will join The Lace Coven too.

the days since then have felt like a dragging two-dimensional swamp, somehow. I think I need more rest.

since summer 2024 I've been prioritizing the whole weekend of Flag Wool, every June, for a getaway with fiber friends. (this year the festival dates conflicted with my favorite academic conference and I confess it was not quite a difficult choice even though I do miss Computers & Writing and all its fun community a good bit.) a different house rental each time. some shuffling of who attends. so much gratitude that I get to be included in the fun. 

at some point along the way I was handed a copy of this book, The Lost Flock, by Jane Cooper. a meandering autobiographical style, very well researched, and fascinating to read. will I ever find myself tending sheep on a remote Scottish island? highly unlikely. more than happy to read about it though. storms and mud and diseases and all, it sounds pretty romantic.

the book cover itself (not to mention the setting and the sheep and the land and all that too) reminded me of Pratchett's The Wee Free Men.

sheep and shepherds. cheese and fleece. community and stories. the books are not that similar at all but you can see the echoes across the two covers I'm sure. blue sky or sea. green hills. close-up on a fleecy sheep with beady ovine eyes. more fleecy sheep wandering the hills in the background.  

I don't reread books that often, but maybe I'll revisit these two again sometime soon. the whole Tiffany Aching series is splendid and poignant and worthy of deep attention. maybe I should acquire a boxed set of them. hmmm.

has anyone in the world of the wee free men considered teaching them how to perfectly shear a sheep? I can't remember.

sheep shearing in progress

sheep shearing is a dying art, they say. a strange little niche profession, so delicate and demanding. too bad we don't have any magical little dudes to help out with it. sometimes I wonder if I would or could ever learn. such a prospect feels almost as far-fetched though, most days. 

sheep need shearing. I'm glad that at least a few other humans out there still know how to shear them. the shearer who typically demonstrates at Flag Wool is Mick Hofmann. my guild friends who have fleecy animals hire him every spring to come shear for them too. 

shorn sheep fleece, ready for processing 

there weren't many nice fleeces for sale at this year's festival. even if there had been though, I remain uninterested in acquiring any raw fleece to process myself. carding 6 batts of Finn two summers back was tedious enough, I promise. 

if the apocalypse arrives and all the industrial fiber mills become defunct and I need to process wool by hand, I'll get over the tedium and hopefully also make friends with someone who can teach me shepherding and shearing too.

Monday, February 2

books books and more books

at the end of last summer, the family gathered on the edge of Idaho and Utah to see my paternal grandmother off on her journey from this world into wherever we find ourselves after. 

from among grandma's things, I was bequeathed an old 70s-style woven and leather bag (I have vague memories of grandma toting her students' papers and homework sheets and such around in it, once). most weeks now, at my house, it is a perfect home to my choir music and a bit of spare lip balm. 

but before I brought it home, more or less just as my dad handed it to me, I found a highlighter pen and a few scraps of notepaper in the bag's many pockets. one little note was a list of medications. the other was a list, in soft, properly-formed cursive pencil, of authors and a few titles:  

G.G Vandagriff
Lynn Austin
Thomas Perry
Linda Nichols - Not a Sparrow Falls 
Chris Stewart - The God of War 
Ted Bell - Nick of Time 
James Kunstler - World Made By Hand, The Long Emergency
Angie Sage
Jessica Richard Draper
Beverly Lewis

and then, in pen at the end, written slightly larger, 

Diana Crawford

when I got home and had a minute, I looked them all up in my local library catalog. of the available options they had for me to put on hold, only one author seemed interesting enough-- James Howard Kunstler. I've read three of his books from the World Made By Hand series now.

they're pretty neat. not all that earth-shattering, as far as post-apocalypses go, but well enough written and engaging. against the premise of oil-shortages and societal collapse, we have a tapestry of colorful characters surviving together. every horse that is mentioned gets described specifically by breed. every antique piece of furniture is given all the fancy labels an auction catalog could ever ask for.  

did grandma ever read these too? I'm not sure.  

I do know we both liked making things by hand from time to time. 

maybe I'll get my hands on some others from her list, eventually.  

more recently, I've been poking around at the short list for this year's Tournament of Books. I got my hands on Bunny so that We Love You, Bunny would have more context. not sure I liked the first-- its ending was pretty interesting though-- and we'll see how much patience I can muster up for the self-absorbed and anxiety-ridden MFA student collective that seems to be narrating the next one. at this rate I won't have time to read anything else at all in advance of the tournament, but so it goes. 

at dear friend Angela's house last month I perused her library for just a few moments and was tempted by a pair of slightly chubby fantasy novels by Naomi Novik: Uprooted and Spinning Silver. they were just the thing to offset the stress and chaos of a new spring semester. good, deep historical fantasy with rich cultural flavor and complexity of character-- I loved them both so much. the second especially so. it would look gorgeous in a video adaptation, I bet.

so of course now I am in a serious obsession with Naomi Novik novels. the other day I finished, too soon, the audiobook of A Deadly Education-- the first in the author's Scholomance trilogy. I loved it so much I think I'm having withdrawals from the world and the voices and the magic of it. it was all so vivid and gritty and perfect. please let the second and third audiobook copies arrive quickly via Libby, please. 

on paper, the series didn't sound that interesting. it is more than easy enough to think we've had enough wizard highschool stories, yeah? 

I'm glad I borrowed it anyway. it is a darker take on the international wizard school trope, but not at all trite or twee or annoying. I found it thoroughly enchanting, with superb world building and expertly balanced first-person narration. we inhabit for 13 well-paced chapters a snippy, mixed-race protagonist named Galadriel (El for short) who somehow, despite being perfectly stubborn and rude to all her classmates, is eloquently self-aware enough with her narrational monologues to come across as relatable and even likeable. I kept thinking of this as Kuang's Babel meets Harry Potter meets Wheel of Time. maybe. not the most apt comparison, I'm sure. ah well. 

books are awesome.

what have you been reading lately? 

Friday, February 28

another spring semester

so far, this corner of the world has felt abnormally like spring for the past eight weeks, save for two days of snow-dust several weeks ago. everyone is dreading how dry and fire-prone the whole area is going to be through the summer. let us hope we have a few good monsoons in store at some point. please?

eight weeks since classes started means that half the semester is over by now. but I can still blog about a new semester even when it's halfway over, right? why not?

there isn't much to say. this semester is basically a repeat of two years' ago's with only minor updates. one section of Technical Report Writing (this time with extra usability and UX flavoring), one section of The Art and History of Podcasts (quite a bit improved since my first semester teaching it), and plenty of other academic work on top of the usual teaching: meetings galore, emails that should not be so draining to read and write and manage, various professional development adventures, research and writing of my own in small snippets.

I enjoy this teaching career, such as it has become for me, because it involves so much learning. or at least I always used to think so and say so. am I still learning anything? am I still enchanted by the process of stretching my brain in new directions, of finding little corners of wonder amongst all the mundanity of things, like it seems I always used to be? well yes. mostly yes. students and colleagues say things all the time that make me think new thoughts and appreciate new things. their questions and my questions often join forces in pretty excellent ways. it's fun.

novelty seems rarer, these days, though. there is a lot of sameness, and it feels far too easy to let the sameness subsume everything else. do older brains prefer more sameness, I wonder? or does accumulation of experience just mean that any novelty we find is easier to handwave away as not-really-that-interesting-after-all-actually-kind-of-just-like-that-other-thing-I-already-know-about? or maybe our comprehensive eyesight starts to fade somehow, rendering us less able to appreciate shining novelty even when it's just as plentiful as ever?

I'm not sure. 

what is new and notable for me lately?

with enough time and energy, and given a wide ranging definition of "notable," I could list so many things. an onslaught of information from news and social media and instant messages. knee-jerk reactions and opinions and maybes in response to all of it. the absurd loveliness of a few calm, rich summery days in February. bundles of anticipation accompanying sprouts and buds and new greenery underneath dried leaves. earlier sunrises and later sunsets. a recent trip for work to Albuquerque, including a not-for-work visit to this cute new fiber arts shop. (I bought 300g of a wool/viscose blend called "crumpet tweed." awesome name, eh?)

also, 'tis the season for (a perhaps ridiculous amount of) excitement about the tournament of books. it starts next week!

I've read only four of this year's contestants (which is four more than I usually manage to read before the opening rounds): 

The Book of Love, by Kelly Link

James, by Percival Everett

The Wedding People, by Alison Espach

and Beautyland, by Marie-Helene Bertino

I read them in that order, because that is the order in which the library served them to me--three in nice new hardcovers and one (The Wedding People) as a short and sweet audiobook. now that I've finished Beautyland, I really need to relisten to the So Many Damn Books episode about it

do I have a favourite? do I hope one of these four wins? it's hard to say. James and Beautyland have the most depth, I think; I read them both quickly and could see myself reading them again someday. the other two were excellently enchanting to me though, and both The Wedding People and The Book of Love delighted me with their neat and just-twisty-enough plots. 

but I don't like to make predictions. if I fill out a tournament bracket in the next six days it will be as random as anything might be, and I will not be attached at all to the idea of my random picks matching up with the true official judgements.

let's just see what happens next.

Sunday, January 19

moments and years

I missed the chance to commemorate the true birthday of this little blog, last Monday. but today, January 19, 2025, marks exactly 20 years since the first actual, fully-fledged post: a response to our first key reading assignment about webdesign and such.

what a different world. such a different place it was. or maybe twenty years ago wasn't so very different, and it only seems so because I and my perspective have changed so much since then. 

what happens if I stitch together a few snippets from all the blogged Januaries of each year since 2005? what new montage will spill into this digital page in between them all?

I tried my best to pull from sections nearest to the 13th and 19th of the month (a thing much easier to do from the posts before 2014ish, when the apex of graduate school + its aftermath slowed down my writing here so much).

what I notice amongst these snippets and what you notice will be different, I imagine. I notice the unending pulse of learning and academia. books and thoughts chasing each other in circles. comments about the weather seem to sit neatly in the background with questions of identity and all its tangly unspooling. these words always have been for me more than anything. does all this pontificating from past amelia still sound like useful advice? mostly yes, I think. but I would say that, wouldn't I?

2006

the fact that energy is behind it all is somehow unifying. simple

...

linguistic structures will be a low-key class. it is full of people i don't see in my other classes. the other english majors. non tech writing people: the lit majors, the teaching majors. it's weird.

2007

get used to the fear and the doubt. get used to being faced with new facets of your own ignorance. get used to the pain. embrace humility. you can't always feel in control.

but really, how comforting is that?

I don't know. I'd take humility over false confidence anyday. but then the humble rarely get much respect.

2008-2009 (a pause.)

2010

the world is big.

there's a lot going on in it. even in this mostly empty house, there's me sitting at the table, typing, stretching a bit of CSS out over a half-built website skeleton, scribbling a few what-ifs, listening to Radiohead. and I made banana nut muffins this morning.

2011

in the beginning, this blog was just a place for all my first impressions--all my doubts and worries about the usefulness or meaningfulness of all the stuff I was learning. after that semester, I decided to keep blogging--mainly about writing (Starcustard and random short stories), school (rhetoric, more webdesign, and Isotope), and life (philosophical thoughts about my job, vague complaints about boys, and so forth). and so it continued. I'm still here. I still blog.

...

what do those stories say about me?

I'm thinking about all the texture of my life. all the patterned and patternless history I've collected so far. telling stories is one way to remember it. and on the other hand... telling and retelling and re-remembering these stories is one way to completely revise the past. after a few months or years, it becomes easy to bend the details. to emphasize the funny parts. to leave out the things that make you look like a bit of an idiot.

how I envision myself is pretty complicated, I guess. perspective is weirdly limited like that.

2012

 

which we am I talking about, anyway? and when? and where? 

2013

it may not make any huge difference in the long run, but even so, the ultimate pointlessness of things should not be dragged up as an excuse for us to stay in bed all day. at least not more than once or twice a year, anyway, right?

2014

this seemingly misnamed semester will inch along to spring in due course. and when that happens, finals and stress will no doubt prevent me from enjoying it as thoroughly as I could, but for now... well for now, the semester is glowing with warm, cozy pillows full of insight and excitement. this might be the best January ever.

2015

I have spent much (but not enough) of this long, mostly-pleasant weekend sitting by the window, trying to focus on readings for classes. 

.... 2015 is here, still all new-feeling. gradually we'll get to see both how it changes my life and how it doesn't.

2016

today it is raining in spurts, like a chilly and unkempt spring. Tuesday's snow is long since melted. it'll be back this weekend. the universe is giving us yo-yo-ing seasons, somewhat drab all the way through, with occasional bright sunset smudges.

the trees are bare. my apartment windows open onto more distant views than they did in summer and fall. at night, more and more streetlights perpetually leak into my bedroom under the edges of the blinds. I notice the faces of buildings I have never seen from such an angle before.

2017

it's empowering to reflect on the background structure of your whole life. to actively participate and acknowledge your role in either accepting/reinforcing or resisting/revising the culture you swim in. and that seems important. that's what it takes to make all of that power and structure more open-book, more readable, more transparent and less like a vice.

2018

if I had the brainpower on this Friday evening to make some additional academicalish comments on how these beautifully-commentated marble races and our fascination with them could link up interestingly with some of the tenets of object-oriented ontology, I would. but I don't know all that much about object-oriented ontology myself, and should probably not let it distract me much more than the Marblelympics already have from writing up nicely finished dissertation chapters about digital ethnography and distributed commons-based peer-production and what that all may mean for technical communication and human culture and such.

2019

and then the speaker said something about facebook hopefully having a major role in someday establishing some kind of global online government. after that, according to my notes, I typed out this:

"eeeeek."

does the world want and need to be connected by a central online platform, really? is the capitalist interest that facebook has in being the medium by which everyone is connected anything we can trust?

2020

all this potent potential meaning curled up in to hold. and then there are all these phrasal verbs, too: hold back, hold up, hold out, hold off, hold against, beholden to...

to be held as a parent holds a young baby is to be safe. comfortable. cared for. right?

to be held is also to be restrained. controlled. and to be restrained isn't usually considered comfortable, though... right?

or is it?

2021

and when I listened to this recent episode of So Many Damn Books with George Saunders I felt more affinity for Saunders's love of teaching writing than perhaps I might once have felt. his advice is to remember that you're never just teaching 20-somethings who barely know what to do with their adulthood when you meet them-- you're also teaching the 40-something-year-olds that they'll become. I like that. (not all college students are 20-somethings, but the concept holds. we are all humans-in-progress.)

2022

why does this small saga of knitting woe and triumph deserve documentation in this little blog of mine? I don't know if there's an answer, other than my typical interest in capturing bits of experience and emotion in as vivid and accurate description as I can. I like to write these vignettes of where and when and how, with all the metaphor and adjectives they need to vibrate satisfyingly from my imagination to yours.

2023

I trust that learning is happening, little by little, in all of our spongey-curious brains.

2024

January, perhaps fittingly, seems so very long. all the transitions it spans-- all the shifting, deepening of the dark season, the post-holiday recoveries, the shiny new beginnings of a calendar year and of an academic semester-- all of that is a lot for 31 average winter days.

I don't know if it really did feel longer for me this year, or if I'm only saying that because it seems like an appropriate thing to sigh into this semi-bleak and impermanent world.

- - -

and now what? do I still blog? 

time will tell. if you'll indulge me, I have one more excerpt, this time from May of 2014, when so much of me was so unsettled and rearranging itself and I clung to my love of writing as if nothing else mattered:

from time to time I wonder what it is I'm trying to do here. does it matter what I'm trying to do here? I write. our reasons for enjoying things are seemingly inarticulable. is there irony in that? I claim that words can make everything better. is that true even when the words crumble into meaninglessness as they fail at encompassing feelings? do I mean that even crumbled words are worth something?

yes. crumbled and halfhearted attempts at capturing it all still beats blank silence. I know only so much stuff fits into one life. there are only so many live possibilities. this is the way it needs to be, I guess. but the way everything is carved up now isn't how it'll always need to be carved. our crumbled communications don't stand still; they change.

.... and even if I can't really say I know exactly what writing means, I can try to explain what I like about my practice of it.

I like the pausing and sifting through potential descriptions and the shuffling of parts of speech. I like the dancing of clauses and punctuation and space. I like the starts and stops and backtracking, the meandering fragments that stretch so subtly for their finish. I like the way these little symbols can twist and mold intangible thoughts into a dozen differently shaded shapes. I like unknotting a tangly draft, picking out the pieces that don't belong and pulling away each piece that does, tidying it all into a hopefully-clean curl of interesting prose. sometimes I save the scraps for later. sometimes I can't. .... I write for the writing's sake. I sketch and wonder and experience plenty of other things for the same reason. they don't have to be means to some other end, these creative processes. maybe all the best things are their own ends, or at least neatly wrapped around something like one.

after twenty years, does this blog count as art? as an end in itself?

doesn't matter. it's here. I'm here. for now.

Thursday, October 3

guild things

last weekend I joined a few fellow guild members to demonstrate and display various handcrafted fiber arts at the annual Prescott Highland Games  & Celtic Faire event. I did not taste any whisky, but I did buy a very hot and flaky hand pie and wander around with a spindle for some hours each of the days.


(that is my little green spinning wheel back over on the right)


you'll have to imagine the raucous drones and strains of the bagpipes and fiddles in the air while all the Irish and Scottish and Welsh flags fly against the bluest sky. it was a very very sunny and warm fall day, but thankfully there was a decent breeze.

there was a little bit of knitting too, among the spinning adventures. I'm working on (and have been for like a year now) this two-color shawl from the Lyrical Knits collection. very slow progress.

in other guild news, we also have a ton of our work on display at the local library for October. five of these items are mine-- 4 little tapestry hoop weavings and 1 knitted cowl knit from handspun local merino wool.



next month we'll have our big holiday show and sale. my goal has been to have at least 400 yards of yarn made from the same fiber all done and ready for the ocassion-- and we'll see if I get that done. most likely the 2 skeins of wine-colored merino will get me there. much plying to do in the next 4 weeks...
 
drop spindle full of burgundy-wine single handspun, sitting next to a wound skein of the same fiber chain-plied

Saturday, September 7

unknown or reknown

thinking about my grandmother lately, off and on, I sometimes puzzle over how close and also how distant she seems. her birthday is coming up in a few days.


this painting (well, this print of a painting) hung over grandma's nice upright piano for as long as I could remember. and now it hangs in my office/craft room/guest room. 

I feel so grateful to have inherited this art, and I do not care one bit that it is a relatively commonplace mass reproduction. the light and shadow and movement of it say something-- something too immediate for words. I don't think my sense of this is just nostalgia, though there are indeed decades of memories sprinkled on whenever I look at it. 

today I looked up the name and artist engraved on the little plaque, for the first time. Moonlight Sea. Peter Ellenshaw. he did a lot of these beautifully peaceful ocean horizon paintings, apparently. prints like mine seem to have been pretty popular in the '50s and '60s. 

before then, Ellenshaw also worked as a matte artist for plenty of old films, inncluding 1959's Darby O'Gill and the Little People and Mary Poppins too. did grandma know that, I wonder? I only know it because the internet and Wikipedia exist at my fingertips. 

but I'm sure my grandma had so many other ways of knowing things. 

it's funny what our brains remember or don't. or think we remember. 

this grandmother was the first person to wink at me, as far as I recall. the full conspiratorial meaning of it was likely lost on me as a child, but it felt fun and silly and made the moment into a story. 

my other memories of grandma are a montage of bright and faded. so many quilts for the chilly basement bedrooms. green grass and a clothesline. frozen whole wheat waffles. cereal on the top shelf of a gaping deep dark pantry. sitting on the cement steps for photographs. plastic toys on a thick, round, stripey rug. and her voice piping up if anyone looked at any corner of that piano--a little raspy but bright and cheerfully insisting-- 'play us a tune, won't you?' 

and usually someone would. 

perhaps the strongest, deepest memory I have of that house, just a stride or two left from the piano and its painting, is the narrow closet full of toys and games and books (among them, this old woven fairytale). 

maybe the closet still has books and toys in it. newer ones, if any. the whole house looks hugely different now from how it did when I was young. there are no photos of the closets in the listing... but a closet of games and books for visiting tourists could make sense, couldn't it? 

I find myself wishing that I knew more about what my grandmother thought of this painting. where did she get it? was it bought, or a gift? did she see the same things in it I think I see? would she have better words for its movement and shadow and light?

she would have been 96 this autumn. 

if I live that long, I'll get at least 56 more autumns (hopefully, anyway. I hope I always live somewhere with a proper autumn.)

.

in other news, there are twenty standard weeks until this little blog turns 20 years old.

and then what?

Tuesday, February 20

and spring semester 2024

eleven years ago, back at the very beginning of my academic career, I trekked 6 hours west from Lubbock, Texas, in my very old leper of a car (the paint was all but totally peeled way from its poor hood), to attend my first ever academic conference in Albuquerque.

this week I'm gonna trek 6 hours east and attend the same conference, this time in a rental car, with way more academic experience, an institutional credit card for travel-related purchases, and a significantly different research agenda. I'll be presenting this Saturday all about how I designed and get to teach a fun little class on podcasts. 

slide title with these words over stylized soundwaves: Themes in Humanities, The Art and History of Podcasts: Teaching podcasts as pop culture in a 100-level general education course

 {the title slide, so far anway}

 

and I'll get to see some of my old professors from USU. very excited for that bit. 

it'll be fun, hopefully. I hope I'll meet some other cool new interesting fellow scholars along the way, too. we shall see, given how sunny and warm it looks to be in Albuquerque this weekend, how much of the conference I actually sit through.

photo of a couple old issues of The Black Box, black and white covers, circa 1990-something

in the more normal weeks of this semester, I'm teaching a couple sections of technical writing. the same old basic tech writing course, only slightly different every time by virtue of new students and a new me and a new world.

besides teaching, I'm also working on a book chapter about podcast transcripts and leading various faculty from various other programs through a series of mushy but important assessment adventures. friend Caroline and I are still working on soliciting content for a new issue of the campus literary arts magazine (the second since we took charge of it last year). maybe we'll have an official reading event at the library with the creative writing class-- fingers crossed. 

it's all nearly haflway over, this set of 16 work weeks called spring semester. at the moment the halfway point feels encouraging. time ticks onward. work gets accomplished. knowledge is made and shared and reinforced. skills are modeled, practiced, learned, forgotten, re-learned.

in other news, I'm also finally getting to see some work from the past year come out in official publication! perhaps the coolest online academic journal of all, Kairos, made space for my multimedia oral history-ish interview piece all about two colleagues who recently retired.

and then colleagues and I have a co-authored piece in the most recent issue of Programmatic Perspectives (the differently cool but still very awesome journal from the Council for Programs in Technical and Scientific Communication). some awesome Purdue colleagues have an article in the same issue, which is quite cool to see. 

time ticks onward. I've been here 4 years. 2 more until hopefully they give me tenure. 

in the meantime, age and experience accumulate. some days I feel older and other days not at all. 

next January, in the auspicious year of 2025, it'll be 20 years since I started this blog for a class. how will we celebrate that, I wonder?

Wednesday, January 31

goodbye, January

since the eve of 2024 one month ago, it feels like so much has happened. some of it too fast, too soon, too painfully. 

the grief of losing the first little doggo that I ever really shared my longterm day-to-day life with... I cannot describe it. as much as I'd like to keep trying to, the feeling altogether and gargantuanly transcends words. the whole experience is impossible to talk about in any satisfying, accurate, indubitable way. "losing"? "letting go"? that we "had to" say goodbye? what kind of stupid, broken euphemism circus is this? everything about our language-cloaked expressions of such pain just feels utterly inadequate.

pine trees silhouetted against a morning sky: blue above white above orange glowing above the mountain horizon
{ I suppose we can't have sunrises without some sunsets. }

a happy pug, white fur with darker ears and nose, his mouth open as if smiling for the camera
{ and nothing lasts forever; dog-years are too extra short. }

it is probably irrational to think no one else could ever know what I mean, even if the words and metaphors feel so flimsy. it's not like I'm the only person to ever experience this sort of sadness. nor is this the first unexpected loss in my life. but it has been the closest and the sharpest. so far.

on new year's day I wrote something about how the world (a world so embroiled in hate and genocides and ugly senseless conflict!) is an absolutely crushingly horrific mess, how my heart hurts and hurts and hurts, and how this loss seems to prefigure and to threaten-- or, even more, to promise-- every other inevitable loss I will ever have to face for as long as I live.

it's one thing to philosophically observe, in general, that nothing can last forever. okay. of course. to confront and deeply feel it-- specifically-- as one solitary ending to the life of a inimitably cuddly goofy fuzzy little domesticated animal... that is different.

other aspects of this January were plenty normal, whatever that means. most of my activities seem to come with rather suitable words with which to sketch them into sharable imagery: going to bed early and sleeping in. checking out library books. reading and ignoring and sorting and replying to emails. seeing friends. enduring snow and rain and cold. demonstrating crafts at the museum. putting birdseed in the feeder in the backyard. talking with family on the phone. eating quiche. drinking tea. making soup. needing a haircut but not yet ever managing to go out and get my hair cut. sweeping the floor. running errands. craving hot chocolate. writing lists and syllabi and assignment sheets. spending money. making things. existing. 

{ eclipse shadows from October, 2023. Wesley's last weekend camping trip with us. }

sure, nothing lasts forever. change is nature. this too shall pass: all of these phrasings alternatingly as full of solace as they are of tragedy, representative of a fact more solid than perhaps any other so-called fact. death and endings are, from one point of view, more normal, more mundane, more irrefutable than any of the other relatively comfortable, unassuming, smoothly proceeding lifestuff I might casually document and remember about this particular month of the year. that's what feels so difficult and impossible about it.

the vortex of this heartache felt immeasurable, indescribably vast and infinite, from the inside. 

even so, from a day or two or ten beyond, it begins to shrink and fade. all future moments frame it into something more manageable.

but again the words seem to balk and fail me. "manage"? is that what we are meant to do with these feelings? this grief? is that actually possible? the stringy, endless paradoxes curl up inside of each other, confounding my basic little human brain with ineffability.

{ classic pug-under-the-table photo, new year's eve 2023 }

January, perhaps fittingly, seems so very long. all the transitions it spans-- all the shifting, deepening of the dark season, the post-holiday recoveries, the shiny new beginnings of a calendar year and of an academic semester-- all of that is a lot for 31 average winter days.

I don't know if it really did feel longer for me this year, or if I'm only saying that because it seems like an appropriate thing to sigh into this semi-bleak and impermanent world. 

one month ago, as the cold moon began to wane and the spinning earth began to tilt just barely back towards the sun, our little old dog ate his last breakfast and went on his last stumbling walk and took one final car ride, sitting on my lap. I only knew him for half his life. I wasn't sure if I'd get along with such a beast at first. but we did get along, so well. I loved that pug and I'm glad he was here to share so much of the too-short day-to-day of my life for a while.

Monday, November 13

long ago and far, far away

quarterfinals match 2:
7th Sea
2e vs Star Wars: Force and Destiny

if these two were movies or television shows, I would for sure pick 7th Sea. why? because oceans, rapier duels, and period costumes are just miles more to my taste than blasters, laser swords, and hyperspace. 

but these are not movies. they’re games: two fascinating RPGs that have beaten out their prior competitors by relatively slim margins. allow me to once again honorably mention Changeling and Cyberpunk RED as I marvel at the chances that have paired two strikingly different alternate/imaginary/far-far-away histories up against each other here. 

when I wrote about these two in the opening round, I noted that both have a pretty straightforward aesthetic of heroism and villainy, light side and dark side, goodness triumphing through even the thickest tangles of temptation. those aren't the only kinds of stories you'd be limited to telling in each system, but the game design lends itself to happy endings, mostly. both worlds ask for brave and impetuous, good-at-heart characters. both types of stories might be highly action oriented, or highly political, or most likely some of both. 

it's easier than anything to see a poetic resonance between the vibe of sailing ships into pirate-infested waters and that of piloting spacecraft through dangerous asteroid fields. and we absolutely must admit that the dashing, caped Lando Calrissian would fit gorgeously in either setting-- just swap those blasters for a pair of revolvers and we'd be set. 

since my earlier review of Star Wars: Force and Destiny we've acquired a brand new copy of Star Wars: Age of Rebellion and are waiting on Edge of the Empire to show up in the mail. then we'll have the whole trilogy of game books, ready for our in-person gaming group to use in the new year for a new collaborative story. so that’s something awesome to look forward to. I think I'll create and play as a human rebel this time... a refugee of Alderaan running headfirst into the difficult question of how far we should go in the fight against the empire...

in plain old down-to-earth reality, Star Wars is actually also a movie (okay, many movies, and shows, and, and, yes, yes, etc.)— but that and its relatively unique and pervasive cultural footprints are not why it's more likely to win this match. I wouldn't call myself a Star Wars fangirl by any means, though I do enjoy plenty of Star Wars media and find much of it quite touching in its way. recently, one of my new favorite podcasts released a really interesting in-depth materialist critique of the whole Star Wars franchise and (to a lesser extent) its fandoms. it's a great episode-- check it out if you have an hour to spare, or at least skim the transcript if you are at all curious and tolerant of such scholarly exuberance. the "behind the episode" bonus content is pretty neat too. there is a Star-Wars-y chart for us at the bottom, even. 

(materialist cultural critique is the coolest. and okay fine, I'll admit to being a hopeless Hannah McGregor fangirl if nothing else.)


SYSTEM     7th Sea 2e    
Star Wars: Force and Destiny           
back cover tagline = "The roleplaying game of swashbuckling and intrigue." "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..."
publisher =
John Wick Presents / Chaosium Inc. Fantasy Flight Games
pub. date =
2016
2015
original cost =
$59.99 $59.95
length =
9 chapters / 304 pages 13 chapters / 444 pages
my exp. level =
some 
a bit more than some


Star Wars as an RPG has been a formative sort of game for me— it was one of the first really long and epic stories I got to be a part of with other really dedicated engaged roleplayers (big shoutouts here go to Kay and Shaun and Rhett; y'all were great players for Vampire and Star Wars and bits and pieces of other stuff too). playing as Yahla, being part of her whole story arc and seeing how she faced a dozen dark challenges that I can barely imagine facing in real life, was so cool. it was a chance to play and experience and really lean into what roleplaying games are all about. so it has to win.

7th Sea does deserve plenty of honorable mentions, so let that be known (shout outs to friend Chris and Alyssa for their parts in that campaign, too). Zetallia could've perhaps been something like what Yahla was, if she'd had more time to unfold. hmm... maybe an epilogue to this tournament could be a showdown among all the most formative player characters I've been a part of. that could be interesting.

but for now, may The Force be with us all. the penultimate quarterfinal match is going to be really, really difficult.

next match-up review: World of Darkness vs Vampire: the Masquerade 5e

Friday, September 8

once and future risks

opening match #7: 7th Sea 2e vs. Cyberpunk RED

this one is quite the contrast, isn't it? I almost can't get over how strikingly different these games are. we have one all about heroism and romantic adventures on the wide open seas, where explorers will risk their lives for honor and glory to stand bravely against the shadowy villains of a preindustrial, magical world. and then the other, a game of cybertech and surveillance and hacking and drugs and shady alleyway deals, set in perhaps the most hectic, grimy, yet also sparkly version of the future, where a bunch of tortured, damaged antiheroes emerge from however much generational trauma you want to imagine, just trying to make it through the night under the echoing buzz of a corp-ruined, crime-ridden, chaos-loving city. 

while I didn't have any prior experience with any Cyberpunk RPG before this, there is plenty of cyberpunk-ish content in the world that I have seen. a handful of Gibson novels, of course. various hacker shows and hacker characters. Mr. Robot, Altered Carbon, (still need to finish watching both of those series, someday.) and even The Matrix films in their way. on top of such general pop culture exposure, I've played a little Shadowrun (more about that in the final opening match, soon-ish), and I watched husband Jeremiah playing Cyberpunk 2077 once upon a time, but none of that counts as playing the RPG of Cyberpunk RED. this one was totally new. 

7th Sea, in contrast, is a game I've got some experience with. not a ton, but some. and while we're diving into relevantly themed pop culture, surely I have ingested even more swashbuckling-esque content than I have cyberpunk, since it is often more "mainstream," we might say. all those charming Johnny Depp movies about pirates. The Mask of Zorro. Casanova. Master and Commander. The Princess Bride, even. practically any good classic adventure movie could fit the bill, from Indiana Jones to The Mummy. I'd even count the tv show Firefly, at a stretch. (and could this reenactment gun show festival thing count too, somehow?)

for this penultimate opening round, I've yet again used a similar outline of sorts: quick table of metadata, summaries of prior characters and experience with each system, new characters, then thoughts on their aesthetics, mechanics, and approachability. as I write and revise this post, I'm still deciding which way my preliminary verdicts will lean.

SYSTEM     7th Sea
Cyberpunk RED           
tagline =          
"The roleplaying game of swashbuckling and intrigue."
"The roleplaying game of the dark future."
publisher =
John Wick Presents / Chaosium Inc.
R. Talsorian Games
pub. date =
2016
2020
original cost =
$59.99 $60.00
length =
9 chapters / 304 pages
14 major sections / 456 pages
my exp. level =              
some 
none prior


previous characters + pop culture and such

our online gaming group began a grand swashbuckling 7th Sea adventure somewhere in the murky months of 2020, in which I played the young totally-not-Scottish scholar Effie McIntyre. we sailed from totally-not-Great-Britain all the way to totally-not-the-Caribbean and started exploring some spooky ruins. our storyteller wasn't loving it though, so we switched back to D&D after a bit. 

Effie and her compatriots were fun while they lasted though-- we all sailed out from the troubled Highland Marches on the Righ Eileen, a merchant brigantine captained by Effie's uncle, crewed by a trio of cousins and other NPCs. Effie's brother (Baltair-- played by dear Jeremiah) served as first mate. I remember encounters at sea and along the coasts of the pirate-ruled Atabean Islands. there was vengeance afoot, and secret societies, precious ancient artifacts and supernatural skullduggery.

some years later, we got another 7th Sea game going, this time set more firmly on the continent of Théah and its various totally-not-European nation states. for this one, friend Chris and I created and roleplayed a pair of noble cousins from Castille (i.e. totally-not-Spain)-- Zetallia Fierro Greca de Tomas de Rioja y Carleon (yes I stole her first name from Catherine Zeta-Jones because of Zorro, so what?!) and Baltasar Cabello de Carlos-Miguel de Monte Ciervo (known to and loved by his close friends as Baz). the third in our trio was a mysterious Vodacce (i.e. totally not Italian) woman called Andolina di Amati, Lina for short, played marvelously by friend Alyssa. 

same friend Alyssa happened upon and recommended to us a neat little 7th Sea podcast about the time we were getting the game started, and I jumped into that wholeheartedly. it's not live-streamed/raw-footage play like the Critical Role folks do, but for me the editing and shorter episodes make it far more digestible and enjoyable. do check it out if you like pirates and fabulous voice acting. 

our adventures with Zeta and Baz and Lina only featured a few teaspoons of pirates, relatively speaking. but what a range of adventures we did have! lavish feasts with drinking and dancing in the old castles of the Glamour Isles, deadly intrigue in the dirty streets of Carleon, voyages alongside selkies, and desperate fighting against monsters, inquisitors, and worse. somewhere inbetween all the adventure, Zetallia was given a holy vision of Theus and chosen as a prophet. I wrote a little bit about her reactions to that, and her feelings about home and family and priorities, over here.


new characters

my new 7th Sea character for this tournament is a duelist from the heart of the totally-not-France country of Montaigne. I named her Irène Valois; she is a tall, toned, somewhat vain woman-- a skilled fighter with frizzy dark hair and deeply olive skin. having been raised with all the privilege her noble family could provide, she has trained hard to become a Musketeer, to protect and serve the capital city of Charouse. she also nurtures two competing dreams: to venture east and hunt monsters in the deadly Lock-Horn Woods, or-- perhaps the safer path?-- to join the highly selective Lightning Guard and keep even the mere shadows of any revolutionary assassins far away from l'Empereur's chambers. when she has a night off duty, she loves to spend much of it looking up at the stars.

for Cyberpunk, I made two new imaginary protagonists: Cortessa the lonely, moody Tech and Jaq the brash, vengeful Netrunner. any romance they come with is surely of a very different texture than the classic swords and sorcery of 7th Sea.

Cortessa also goes by Cortex or Tex in their closer circles. I imagine them like an incredibly androgynous mix of Benedict Cumberbatch and Tilda Swinton-- curly, silvery mohawked hair, pale skin with grease stains up to the elbows. as a Tech, Cortessa tinkers and breaks and fixes and builds stuff with bits and wires, hardware and software and cyberware, scraping by as a freelancer and hoping someday to move out of the dingy streets into an actually nice, actually safe apartment somewhere in a corp arcology. will such dreams ever come true? hard to say. even if they do, they might not be as dreamy as anyone hopes.

Jaq "the jungle queen" Aranda is the Netrunner character I decided to play in our very awesome one-shot two Fridays back. she's from the streets too, but not quite so whiny or desperate about it. she is tough. or at least she looks tough enough that it amounts to the same thing.

a photo of a half-colored sketch, in ballpoint ink, sharpie, and highlighter. she's got spiky blue/purple hair, pink sequined overalls, and a chunky gold leather belt
{ a sloppy sketch of Jaq }

Jaq's only ambition is to get by one day at a time and brutally punish anyone who gets in her way. for the last several months she's been tracking down the rotten Arasaka execs who must have been behind the kidnapping of her family and the death of her 4-year-old daughter. she's going to make the corp let the survivors go or she's going to burn it all down.

our one-shot was quite an enjoyable rollercoaster of violence, hacking, stealth, and playing dress-up. it was great. maybe we will write some spin-off short stories someday.

aesthetics

Cyberpunk RED evokes all the slick and glitchy neon you might expect. crazy punk hairstyles. strobe lights. mirror shades. implants and biotech of all shapes. plus a ton of cutting-edge slang, of course. the single best word to describe Cyberpunk is 'attitude.' and we must acknowledge that attitude can never just be a regular, innocuous noun. there is far too much connotation in it now-- it is a word bursting at its seams with tension, negativity, and conflict. that vibe infuses the whole setting of Cyberpunk, setting the stage for some pretty intense stories.

and 'intense' is another good word for Cyberpunk. it is loud. bold. unabashed. aggressively nonchalant. the book itself blends the look of graffiti and old-school monospace computer console typography. there is heavy use of all-caps and small-caps and drop-caps. the setting and the system also seems to be a bit of a catch-all-- this rebooted cyberworld is to Gibson and sci-fi as D&D's ever-expanding world is to Tolkien and fantasy. from its first pages the book takes up a very "choose your own adventure" kind of layout; all the thumbnailed cross-references in the intro chapter want to be hypertext. they want you to click on them and be whisked to the right page.

every little thing has a place here in this overcrowded futuristic hive. but it feels chaotic anyway. there's too much. it will burst into dark and senseless violence at any moment. I'm seeing Cyberpunk RED as a flashier, more disco, more in-your-face version of World of Darkness. of course, it's more high-tech and futuristic, too. there's not much hope, not much safety or goodness-- just survival.

7th Sea may dabble in chaos and darkness, but it's not the senseless kind. it's a dramatic, sweeping, perfectly orchestrated sort of chaos. like the perfect long-take chase scene across a crowded ballroom. there may be villains and darkness in these stories, but none of it stands a chance against our heroes. I was describing this game to a friend last week as "Zorro + Pirates of the Caribbean + a handful of stereotypical renaissance faires" and I think that conjures plenty of the right vibes: swords. ships. lots of nautical imagery strewn about. maps and compasses. coastlines and courtiers and caped crusaders. many fancy costumes, masques, intriguing magical trinkets, and maybe a few fairy wings if you're lucky.

rich shades of brown and sepia, with touches of copper here and there, all keep the relatively simple book design feeling cohesive and authoritative. chapter headings are in nice big loopy, swishy handwritten type. the art is glowing and neat-- almost-but-not-quite like a bunch of actual portraits from the actual 17th century. it's all more like snapshots than portraits: candid moments of drama and danger, a dash of the mystical here and sprinkles of the mythical there, all laid out to evoke vast possibilities for exploration and adventure.

photo of the chapter 3 art from 7th Sea: two figures dueling against a backdrop of a palace room on fire
{ photo of one of 7th Sea's chapter spreads }
 

mechanics

character creation for 7th Sea is fairly involved, but really fun at the same time. there are no templates or sample quick-builds or other shortcuts. instead, the book invites you to start with a concept: a national origin and a shred of personality, and then build from there using a full 20 questions about their backstory, psychology, and connections in the world. from this deeply creative foundation, only then do you move on to choosing Traits and Skills, Advantages, Quirks, a virtue and a hubris, etc. characters are pretty customizable despite the relatively simple set-up of 5 Traits and 16 Skills. the range of backgrounds and advantages to choose from feels just about right-- not so many that it's overwhelming, and not so few that it's boring.

part of the variety comes from the setting itself. there are 10 nations your character might call home-- from the island nations of Avalon and Inismore to Vestenmennavenjar in the far north and Vodacce off to the south-- each one roughly based on some actual part of 17th-century Europe, but far more mystical and far less racist and misogynist, thank goodness. each nation has a few exclusive backgrounds and a few favored advantages, too.

7th Sea uses all d10s, which is familiar enough to us at this point-- 8 of the 12 systems I've reviewed so far do. but in this system they do not work the way dice work in most other RPGs. rather than simply adding up numbers and comparing them against some kind of difficulty level, a player in 7th Sea will roll their handful of d10s (based on ranks in a given Trait + Skill + any bonus dice) and then tally up how many sets of at least 10 can be made from the results. each set of 10 is called a Raise, and that's the important number. bonus dice can come from all kinds of places-- using one of your advantages, spending your own Hero Points, enacting a virtue or a hubris or a quirk, or in receiving help from other characters.

depending on where your story is at, you'll roll dice for either a free-flowing Dramatic Scene or for a more structured Action Scene. each character in the scene will have so many Raises to use to effect change. narrative control for Dramatic Scenes is shared however it makes sense. for Action Scenes, it starts with whoever has the most Raises, then in descending order. how you spend those Raises depends on how your character views the scene, its risks and consequences, opportunities, etc.your traits and skills will guide your approach to any given situation, but the system rewards narrative prowess more than it rewards having a lot of dice to roll (though of course more dice = more Raises = more potential for showing off your narrative prowess). the idea is to spur creative, narrative storytelling and build a dynamic, collaborative epic of your own. maybe it's also less math? or maybe it's just different math. 

over multiple sessions, character advancement happens in lockstep with the narrative-- each character is writing their own story, outlined in smaller "story steps." accomplishing all the steps in your story will let you level-up a Trait or a Skill related to it. Zeta's first story involved finding a mentor to teach her a bit of dueling. once she did, her Skill in Weaponry went up from 1 to 2. 

mechanically, that's pretty much all there is to playing 7th Sea: roll, count up your Raises, and tell a cool story. all the rest is true roleplaying.

-

Cyberpunk RED is also all about the d10, though some d6s show up here and there. we have three options for building a character in this system: one fully custom/from-scratch process and two shortcuts or character templates, which are quite nice as scaffolding, because holy cow there are a lot of aspects to consider. to start, you choose your character's Role, and most things follow from that first decision. there are 10 Roles altogether, from Rockerboy to Nomad (and who on earth knows why they are in the order they are in-- Rockerboy, Solo, Netrunner, Tech, Medtech, Media, Exec, Lawman, Fixer, Nomad-- it's not alphabetical and I can't quite suss out any other organizing principle. is it pure random chaos? who knows). there are nifty flowcharts and tables to help you build your character concept from basically nothing but vibes: pick a Role > Run your Lifepath > Buy your Stats > and so on. it's a pretty fun process too, but does drag on a bit. some of it reminded me of the Wrath & Glory system, where you can choose and archetype and build from there. 

thankfully all the flowcharts and template options make it a little easier to make decisions about all the rest. on top of the 10 different Roles, there are 10 key Stats and like an impossible number of Skills. 30? 40? I don't even want to go count them all again, it's so many!

gameplay proper is a bit more straightforward overall, though there can be plenty going on if you've picked up lots of gear, fancy cyberware, or lots of hacking abilities. each specific Role comes with a key Role Ability. for my Netrunner, Jaq, it was the Interface ability. she starts at rank 4, which unlocks a certain number of sneaky, hacker-y "Net actions" (in contrast to "Meat actions," which are normal actions anyone can take in meatspace). Jaq has a cyberdeck with 7 programs installed-- some offensive and some defensive. in our too-short 3-hour one-shot, she used them to divert power from her sketchy landlord's defense systems, infiltrate a hospital's records and surveillance cameras, and switch a stolen helicopter into autopilot for a while. super cool. 

hacking aside, the basic mechanics of gameplay involve taking your base rating for each skill (the relevant stat plus your skill level) and then adding the result of a d10 roll. rolling a 10 is a critical success, meaning you can re-roll that d10 and add that result to your total. if you roll a 1, that's a critical failure. same deal, but in reverse-- you'll re-roll the d10 and subtract it from the total result. depending on your character build, and how lucky they are, you'll also get a pool of Luck points that you can spend to add, 1 per point, to your result.

specific stats for weapons and armor and other equipment may add bonuses or change the damage for some actions-- those are the trickier things to keep track of along the way (though no tricker than weapons or spell slots and such in D&D, really).

  

approachability

I mentioned the "choose your own adventure" layout of Cyberpunk earlier. in some ways, that makes navigating the many many sections and options in the book a fairly flexible process, provided you're paying attention to those cross references and the other wayfinding signals in the margins. I didn't always see or properly parse those things until I'd already flipped through three other sections looking for the information I needed. the order of things is a little confusing at times, so I'm glad the writers put some good thought into breaking it down and signalling where to turn. the book does work hard to make itself accessible in plenty of different ways for players with different levels of familiarity. does it always succeed? I think that depends on how each reader's brain works.

{ photo of the margin thumbnail cross-references in the Cyberpunk RED book}

with so many options for character builds, this can feel like a complex system. but much of the complexity is front-loaded, so once you get yourself set up the game itself can be pretty straightforward. basic dice, basic math, lots of fun. my view of this may be a tad skewed, given that our one-shot barely gave us a chance to get used to how our weapons and damage and health points all worked, but so it goes. 

-

7th Sea has its own intricacies, but you can take your time uncovering them as you play. the 20 questions character creation is the most in-depth part of the set-up. with the core book, you've got everything you need in a relatively simple, readable layout. it's a fairly different system, but I'd hardly call it intimidating. it invites a fairly hardcore style of roleplaying and collaborative storytelling, which may not be for everyone. but still, everyone is invited.

if in comparison to other RPGs, 7th Sea seems more difficult or unwieldy as a system, I'm gonna put that down to a general oversaturation in gaming culture of d20 systems like D&D. the abundance of information out there on those systems doesn't inherently make d20 systems easier or more accessible-- it just facilitates an invitational feedback loop of "hey most people are playing these kinds of games, so maybe I'll join the party," on repeat. based on that, D&D may seem easier for most people, and it may in fact be experienced as easier, but mostly for structural reasons rather than game-design reasons (here I'm gonna attempt to cite this scholar on twitter who has made similar arguments somewhere in her feed but I cannot find the exact specific posts).

I suppose it may or may not be useful to talk about structural access vs. inherent access in my review here. but I wanted to mention it. this game is beautiful and it is well-loved and it can be awesome for players who really gel with the roleplaying style. the game seems especially designed for folks who love the voices and the improv and the in-the-moment seeing what a character will do, taking time for describing actions and faces and lines of conversation, reveling in those dramatic moments. it is different from the more broad-strokes, action-for-action's-sake sorts of RPGs in the world, and that means it might require some significant mindset adjustments for players who aren't used to it or who are expecting more quantitative dice-rolling momentum.
 

preliminary verdicts

it's almost hard to imagine more heightened contrast between any two games. no other match thus far has captured such extremely and intensely different worlds and different vibes. 

my 7th Sea experiences have been complicated a bit by interpersonal ups and downs, while my Cyberpunk adventures seem minuscule and rushed in comparison. how to choose? 

there is a sense in which the roleplaying style of 7th Sea is almost-but-not-quite as intimidating and discomfiting to me as the huge, superpowered contexts of Scion and Exalted. its invitation to creative flair within a simple matrix of approaches and dice hasn't totally gripped me as a roleplayer. and yet its setting is intensely alluring. 7th Sea is all the thrilling legends from all my favorite old stories. I think my heart wants this one to win out, even against the attention-grabbing silver chrome neon styles of Cyberpunk, just for the romance of it.

next match-up review: Shadowrun 5e vs A Song of Ice and Fire

Tuesday, July 5

what is in a name?

as promised, I have written up and organized many, many, many photos for a full stand-alone page chronicling my adventures (so far) with this lovely old spinning wheel, now posted neatly alongside my about page and a draft/test page for an audio workshop I hosted once upon a time.

before: a disassembled saxony spinning wheel, dark with grime
{ before all the learning about and cleaning of }


the spinning wheel, all cleaned up, reassembled, and almost functional
{ after all the cleaning and fiddling and reassembling } 

she needs one more replacement part and much more practice before she produces any yarn at all. so in the meantime, I do wish to solicit your opinions on her name. I'm weighing these three options at the moment...

Lydia, (after my father's maternal great-great grandmother Lydia Ann Taylor, 1852-1888),
Charlotte (after another of my father's maternal great-great grandmothers, Charlotte Amelia Van Orden, 1828-1895),
or Phoebe (after my mother's maternal great-grandmother Phoebe Rebecca Reynolds, 1863-1922)

...but at any point I could decide that Selina (after my mother's paternal great-great-grandmother Selina Tibbs, 1817-1891) or Florence (after my father's paternal great-grandmother Florence Charlesworth, 1879-1931) are worth considering. those two remind me a bit too much of a town in Kansas + the famous British nurse, respectively, but who knows if some quirk of my spinning wheel's personality will nudge them into the running.

Thursday, June 30

one week later

top-down closeup of my old spinning wheel

from what I've seen around the internet this week, plenty of people name their spinning wheels. I'm still thinking about what this one might want to be called. Angelica? Penelope? suggestions are welcome. 

both wheel posts on a drop cloth-- one black with grime, one clean(er) wood

almost every day in the past week, I've spent at least a little time scrubbing grime off of her various parts. there's actually paint underneath-- a yellow/tan sort of color. 

don't worry-- I'm plotting a comprehensive, photo-filled documentation of the whole "cleaning/fixing/learning-to-use my antique spinning wheel" process. stay tuned. 

spinning wheel drive wheel, partially cleaned

so far, from a group of antique wheel experts and aficionados on Ravelry, I've learned that this wheel was likely made in Canada by a family of wheelmakers called Paradis. I haven't dug much deeper into them yet, but one kind commenter estimated a date between 1860‐1870. 

if it is that old, it is in pretty remarkable shape for its 150 years. well cared for, I imagine. 

I hope I can also care for it well enough for it to last at least one more lifetime. 

Wednesday, June 29

sound/less bubbles

a not-so-random memory: 

my first boyfriend, the redhead, putting a pair of earphones in my ears and pushing play on a Smashing Pumpkins song while we just lay there. it's the best, he said. having music right in your ears while you just zone out, your brain totally wrapped up in the sounds.

it's weird now to think of what a novelty cheap earphones were in 2004. for me. him. us. what a novelty having a boyfriend was, too, then.

and what a blip mp3-players were, eh? I never actually had one, unless you count an iPod touch as an mp3 player. but those things seem too internet-enabled and multifeatured to count, I think. 
 
recently I put a bunch of actual mp3 files onto my current phone. I like having a little pocketful of Imogen Heap and Jason Mraz and Death Cab for Cutie to carry around.
 
I must confess though, music doesn't effect me the way it seems to effect others. my brain treats it like wallpaper, most of the time. sometimes rather loud, ugly wallpaper and sometimes quite lovely, attractive wallpaper... but more often just there, on the walls, in the background, drawing very little attention to itself unless the lyrics are particularly striking.
 
falling asleep to white noise of some sort is one thing, but having my brain all wrapped up in any given sound... I don't always find that very pleasant. 
 
my sensitivity to sound seems to deepen the more I think about it. even with music piped directly into my ears, I can still hear the hum of the dishwasher and/or the air conditioning and/or the PlayStation 4 (which has gotten particularly vociferous in its old age). when the neighbor's power tools and the traffic going by and dog park noise from across the way is all piling up around me, I hate this sensitivity. 
 
on the other hand, when little Hamilton is chewing on something he shouldn't be under the bed in the other room, it does come in handy to be able to hear the difference between pug teeth on a proper chew toy and pug teeth on a stolen ballpoint pen.
 
too much sound makes me edgy and irritable. so in pursuit of a world without so much irritation, I acquired a new set of fancy earphones today. they are the wireless bluetooth kind, and they come with two noise-canceling modes. I never thought I'd feel like I needed wireless earphones... but after lots of research and review-reading and consideration, these came out as the most effective and comfortable option.

will they trap me further within a bubble of my own endlessly unvoiced thoughts? I hope not entirely.
 
also I still think someone definitely needs to write about how headphones have done for music what widespread literacy and silent reading practices have done for books-- i.e. make them very private, internal experiences instead of communally shared ones. though perhaps someone somewhere already has and their article is just not on my radar yet.