walkability

I have moved into an apartment! Nice!

Really, the best thing (aside from the fact that living with my parents will always bring out my sulky, bratty side more than anything else) is that my new neighborhood is so much more walkable than the old one. It's a five minute walk to the bus stop instead of a twenty minute walk, and I'm served by four or five different bus lines. I can walk to the grocery store, and there's a liquor store and a Dollar General, as well as a couple of quite decent restaurants. There's even a bike trail nearby, so I could bike to the mall if I wanted (on a good day, with a tailwind).

That is one of the things I really miss about France: I could walk almost anywhere, or take a bus or a train. The towns I lived in there were much smaller than my current town is, but the public transportation and the setup of the neighborhoods was much better. The residences and schools were mixed in with the businesses and restaurants. Plus, even though there were dog-related hazards all over the sidewalks, there were sidewalks everywhere, even in the cobbled alleyways. The cities I went to in Europe were built with a focus more on the people and less on the vehicles.

This already happens in American cities, to some extent, but mostly only the really big ones, like New York, where people are already living in close proximity. Houston's business district is vaguely walkable, and they've got good buses, but the sprawl is incredible. I can't even imagine the suburbs. DC has a lot of public space that doesn't have much of anything but parks and museums and monuments, but they also have a lot of metro access, which is fantastic, and each neighborhood is packed full of conveniences.

I can't imagine it would be that hard to incorporate some businesses into the suburban residential model. Part of the charm of Europe is its use of space: apartments on top of cafés, groceries next to laundries next to bakeries next to hotels, even in small towns. I suppose they've had to be economical with space in the past (fewer of the buildings are pre-fab, and most of them started as villages), and gas is more expensive, and people are more willing to walk, and all of these things are factors that lead to superior walkability. Americans do love their sense of space, but would it really drop property values to have a cute little café and an épicerie down the road from your tiny mansion? Food for thought. Then kids would have a reason to walk, and grownups too, and if the grocery store were closer, we could buy fresher produce.

hooray for the gym

I have never been more glad to have classes start again. Not academic classes, sadly; my pining for homework has not yet urged me into grad school (nearly, though). But the gym is open again! After three weeks (vacation, gym closed for poshing up, laziness), I have turbokick again. How delightful.

I tried to exercise while the gym was closed. Really I did, once or twice. The problem is that I'm such an uninspired runner. It doesn't matter how bouncy the music is, or how lovely the day: I just get bored. If I'm not thinking of running and how I ought to keep running fairly constantly, my feet just slow down as if I had no say in it. I can jog along for about a half hour stretch, so it's not a matter of endurance when I quit after twenty minutes, but I can't really get myself going again for any reasonable distance once I've started to walk. I suppose the couch-to-5K program is not for me, as it involves lots of run/walk intervals, but maybe it would be easier if I knew they were coming up.

I am trying to mix it up some this semester, though. Mostly because my schedule doesn't always jive with the turbo sessions, I admit, but also because I know if I do that every day, the routine will get stale before its time (though not tonight, because tonight, there will be black light and glowy wristbands, and it will be hilarious). Yesterday I tried a step class. I'm thinking of picking up a toning class. There's always yoga, and the ever popular iterative combinations of yoga and pilates. Plenty of options, anyway. Thank heavens: with the students back, who could ever work in half an hour on the ellipticals? They're all taken up by sorority girls wearing baseball caps and going very slowly so that they can talk on the phone and not muss their makeup. It almost makes one take up jogging.

Memorial stickers

Last week I was in the Deep South. It always amuses me to tell people I'm going on vacation to Alabama, because the South is so misunderstood. Sure, there are a lot of hicks. Sure, there's bulletproof glass in a lot of gas stations. Yes, you'll see a Confederate flag or two. But really, it's not that bad. You're not going to be rousted out of your cheap hotel by a KKK convention or anything, and nobody's going to threaten to shoot your lily-white Yankee butt or refer to the War of Northern Aggression (unless they're being facetious or really drunk).

There was a funny new trend, though, aside from Nascar-themed license plates: a lot of people had what seemed to be memorial stickers on their back windshields. You know, Gracie Ann Jones, Beloved Sister, year - year, Angels Watch You. Things like that. I wasn't aware that this was a trend, but I saw quite a few vehicles with these stickers in the approximately 28 hours of driving it took to get there and back. Some of them have fancy embellishments and some of them are just plain text, clear cling-style stickers with white borders, but they were all over. It was kind of sweet, I suppose: better than the Confederate flag bumper sticker on my block that says "My History, Your Ignorance" (which, to some degree granted, but I have hefty opposition to that philosophy, despite being one of the Girls Raised In The South, or G.R.I.T.S.). To some extent, the memorial stickers are sweet and tasteful, but I'm a big fan of private displays of grief, and, you know, emotion in general (unless Michael Phelps is in the swimming pool or the new X-Files movie is coming out).

My question is: is this going to be the next big trend? We've had (unlicensed) replicas of Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes fame peeing on everything under the sun, we've had the OBX stickers and their subsequent knockoffs, we've had stylized stags. Are memorial stickers going to be the new thing? Will you be able to trace the family tree by peering at someone's back windshield?

I foresee mournful stickers about pets, actors, and Nascar drivers as possible spinoffs. As for me, I want historical personages and scientific theories. Abiogenesis, beginning of time - 1861, Would Have Been Awesome. Things like that, you know. Queen Elizabeth 1, 1533 - 1608, A Fashionista For Our Times. I would totally sport a ruff.

schools for suckers, or perhaps I'm just jealous

It is turning out to be another gorgeous, sunny, chilly day, and just like most Saturdays, I'm stuck in the library, gazing out through the wall of windows across from the reference desk, watching the students spread across the quad with their books and their sodas and their mp3 players. At least it's finals week now, so a considerable number of them are stuck here in the library with me.

In a lot of ways I miss school. I miss homework. It was nice to have to schedule my leisure activities around the other things I was doing. It was nice to have study sessions that lasted late into the night. I even liked finals week: I like writing papers and having deadlines. Now I feel rather shiftless a lot of the time. I watch more tv than I did at school. I feel like I get less done.

Maybe I just need a better job. It is true that now I have a better kitchen and more independence, and the ability to laugh at all those poor suckers tying themselves into knots trying to cram five more vocabulary words into their heads, or fill the other half of their sketchbooks, or frantically try to remember all the details of that experiment from three months ago to bring their lab notebook up to snuff.

I've been back from France now for a year. It's still kind of strange.

I swear I do talk about things other than the gym sometimes

One of my favorite parts of being rather a regular at the gym now (at least in my classes) is building up some gym cred with the real regulars (i.e. the fantastically fit people who don't even need classes to keep them motivated) and with my instructors. Last week, for example, the instructor that I call The Kickboxer (to distinguish her from The Other Kickboxer, natch) split us up into a sort of dance-off just to change things up a bit. Unfortunately, most of the people who knew the routine well were on one side of the room together. After the fact, she said, "You know, I should have put you on the other side. You have a memory for this stuff." I glowed.

Just like in school, I've become something of a That Kid: That Kid, who has the answers and stands in the front row. That Kid, who knows the routine and can stay on the beat even when the instructors fumble (with their heads full of so many rounds of choreography, I don't blame them for the rare misstep). That Kid, who plays up to the instructors and talks to them after class. Then again, I've shown up pretty much every day for the last couple of months, so why shouldn't I be friendly with the instructors now? It entertains me to be a sort of communication link between them, like when The Kickboxer didn't know that The Other Kickboxer had changed the choreography around, or when The Other Kickboxer didn't know why The Kickboxer had needed a sub (she had a big test). I am just a hub of information!

One of my other favorite parts is the evangelical bit of hauling people to the gym with me. I myself was hauled in the first place by a friend from knitting circle. Now I'm up to four converts. Yesterday, another girl from work came with me. "Is this like Jazzercise?" she asked as the class was about to begin. "Not exactly," I said, trying not to laugh. The Other Kickboxer's mic was broken, so I tried to mumble the cues to my colleague, who did rather well considering she didn't know any of the routine to start with. "That was way harder than I thought it would be!" she said at the end. But she liked it, and maybe she'll come back.

The last best bit is the tangible milestones. When I started doing the turbokick class, I could barely make it through the whole thing. I gasped and wheezed for at least twenty minutes after the first workout. Now my recovery time is down to five minutes, tops, and I'm putting more energy into each session. This week I completed the Fit 5-0 Challenge, which was a program to see who could take 50 hours of fitness classes between the beginning of the semester and the first of May. It's a great feeling to be able to keep up with all those genuine gym gurus. I may not be fabulous yet, but I've toned up a lot in the last couple of months. Wednesday we had a sub who was utterly new to me, who just made up a routine out of her head from bits and pieces of routines she used when she was a personal trainer in Hollywood. It was fast-paced and intense, but I got through it, only slacking off a little here and there. Friday one of the people who I know works out pretty constantly (after all, she hangs out with The Kickboxer, who pretty much lives in the gym) came up to me and we talked about how sore we were the next morning, and how hard the workout had been. It's pretty great to sort of be part of the inner circle of gym-goers now. After all, it's hard to discuss the finer points of muscle fatigue with my knitting circle, as wonderful as they are.

The only bad thing about going to the gym all the time is that I get so set in my preferences. I like a certain corner of the free weights area. I like some of the moves in turbokick better than others. I like certain of the music channels in the weight room much better than others, and try to avoid the attendants who only play rap and metal. Thank goodness the Kickboxer will be back this week: she also teaches my yoga class, and the sub's style is just not at all compatible with what I've come to expect.

turbokick! good for what ails you

They do say that the most fervent believers are the converts. I've been converted to several causes over the years, but recently, I've become a gym evangelical. Yes, me. If you know me, this is somewhat hard to believe, I'd imagine, because lazy would be a good word to describe me, but since I took up this Turbokick (TM) class, I'm hooked. I'm now one of those people who always tries to take people to the gym with her, and it's worked, some. I've gotten a couple of friends to go, and one of my coworkers, and my poor perplexed mother with her arthritic knees. I'm working on the others.

I must be irritating. One of the guys who works downstairs in my bookstore knows my gym schedule now, because I talk about it so much. My friends are well acquainted by proxy now with the deliciously sadistic instructors. But it's really a bright spot in my day, that endorphin rush. Plus I've dropped a couple of pants sizes, so that's not bad either. I almost have a bicep now! One on each side, even. It's quite entertaining for me, who's never been fit, to finally get a taste of what that feels like. I love it.

Plus, now maybe I could defend myself in a dark alley. Uppercut! Roundhouse! I am the Chuck Norris of my bookstore!

Except, of course, for Biceps, whose upper arms are still bigger around than my head, almost.

movie nights!

Last weekend, something completely unprecedented happened. I rented two movies and my family enjoyed both of them.

Granted, it probably had something to do with the fact that it's the time of year when the weather is getting nice and everyone is a little more easily pleased, but I didn't really expect both Enchanted and Dan In Real Life to be hits. My stepdad tends to rent kung fu movies, or action things, or comedies we've seen a hundred times (at one point, I am fairly certain that everyone could quote along with the entirety of Down Periscope). Mom likes things a little more esoteric and enjoys foreign films, but she'll cheerfully watch martial arts. My brother goes for scifi action films and raunchy collegiate comedies. I tend to go for indie and foreign films like the pretentious liberal arts graduate I am, so it was interesting that a partially animated musical and a comedy in the lives-of-quiet-desperation genre (made so popular by Garden State, Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, and another recent Steve Carrell venture, Little Miss Sunshine) actually seemed to please everyone.

Of course, they both have their charms. Enchanted manages to simultaneously subvert and reinforce the Disney standards of love at first sight and the naive but plucky princess' journey from doe-eyed maidenhood to doe-eyed marital bliss. The songs, if not Oscar-worthy, were well-executed. I even managed to suppress my distaste for roaches through the "Happy Working Song". Giselle's series of dresses were too fabulous for words, and Amy Adams does an admirable job of being wide-eyed and cheery but nobody's dupe. My only problems with the movie were first, if you've got Idina Menzel, let her sing, and second, I was never convinced by Patrick Dempsey that he could form an attachment to anyone. But maybe that's just my indifference to McWhatever and his monotone. It would have marred the pacing of the movie to show anything worthwhile about his relationship with Nancy (or her motivations - it was nice to have the cut scene on the DVD showing that she was a hopeless romantic looking for a prince in addition to being a self-motivated, no-nonsense Manhattan fashion designer), but he did seem to fall for Giselle awfully fast when she was asleep on his couch. So much for rationality. It was a little too easy for me, but then again, I have to remind myself that this is a movie marketed to children, and that in a Disney movie, it's always going to be easy to fall in love.

Dan In Real Life was much more grown up. Even if it went along with the love at first sight trope, it was a lot more complicated and satisfying. Steve Carrell as the frustrated widower father of three was funny and warm, and the rest of the family was great too. Besides, it's conceivable to me that no one could resist Juliette Binoche. It's not so believable that everyone loves Patrick Dempsey. The only problem with Steve Carrell movies is when they degenerate into Will Ferrell-style hysterics (though it can't be denied that Carrell does a great histrionic fit, as we've seen on The Office), but the only moment where that happened was the "Put it on my tab" comment to the policeman, which felt believable at the time. Dan In Real Life was sweet and funny, if not laugh out loud hilarious. Ah, the claustrophobia of being around one's large family for a week at a time.

Oddly enough, last night's rental of Kinky Boots was a hit too, though it turned out that everyone had seen it except me. Now we'll have to see if we can continue the trend of finding happy mediums (by which I mean I will impose my movie wishes on the rest of the family and the films I choose will conquer their hearts, or at least entertain them for a while).