11 Temmuz 2012 Çarşamba
10 Temmuz 2012 Salı
9 Temmuz 2012 Pazartesi
Diamond TAP
12.58... 12.59... 13.00 - I quickly click on the 'out of office' message and log off - holiday begins.
By 13.27 I am ensconced on the Gatwick Express bound for the airport, book in hand.
It goes against the grain to carry a real life book, when the Kindle is fully loaded and ready for the trip but with less than hundred pages to go of Evie Wyld's debut novel I'm too far in to leave it behind.
At the terminal by 14.00 - plenty of time to check in for my first ever flight with TAP Portugal, to Lisbon. The line is depressingly long, a whole plane's worth of people and just two desks open... I return to my book, if I can just get to end before I reach the front of the queue I can slip it into my case and save carrying it. No such luck, still ten pages to go.
Gatwick security is a breeze - almost fully automated for maximum efficiency - and by 14.30 I am sat airside in Prêt skinny latte in one hand, last few pages of book in the other.
A quick tour of the duty free shops (one Clinique purchase) and a stroll to the gate in plenty of time to board at 15.40 for take off at 16.10. Make that 16.50 after forty minutes of faffing by the baggage handlers.
The flight is uneventful except for the casual attitude taken to the 'fasten seatbelts' instruction by ostensibly middle-class parents with children who frankly you would expect to be more safety aware.
Fully sated by the turkey ham roll and strawberry smoothie in the strawberry shaped bottle, I emerge onto Portuguese soil about an hour later than expected. The girls are arriving on a later flight from Manchester, also TAP, also late. Should I wait in arrivals or brave the slightly convoluted instructions to the apartment?
One slightly confusing phone conversation later (me in English, apartment keeper in Portuguese) with the added complication of a stag party sound track in the background I proffer my phone to the taxi driver to read the email directions to the point of drop off in the Alfama neighbourhood. I am instantly shamed by his impeccable English as he asks if I am here for the Bryan Adams concert?
I am dropped off at the allotted location and my phone rings, it is the apartment keeper's daughter with a slightly better command of English 'did you call this number?' 'oh - you're already there!'. 'I'll be 10 minutes, maybe 15'. 15 minutes later the phone rings again 'maybe another 15 - sorry!'.
Finally after a forty minute wait on a bench with my suitcase trying to look both nonchalant and visible, she arrives. The apartment is literally two minutes walk away. It is charming, once you have climbed the vertiginous stairs (I have been up ladders that were less steep).
The girls arrive about 10pm and after a brief tour and bartering session over the two beds and the sofabed we head out for a late night snack, before hitting the sack at midnight.
Ninth Circuit Reconsidering Laptop Border Search Case
The Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals heard oral argument last week en bancin United States v. Cotterman. A Ninth Circuit panel ruled in favor of the Government in 2011 reported at 637 F.3d 1068 (2011). The facts involved a search of a laptop at a border: the search began at the border and ended two days later at a government forensic laboratory located 170 miles away from the border. The panel of the Ninth Circuit upheld the warrantless search as a proper border search. NACDL and the Electronic Frontier Foundation both authored amicus briefs for reconsideration with the full court. The argument (available here) was heard last week and an opinion should be forthcoming. The argument presented en banc entailed that suspicionless, indefinite seizure of an individual’s laptop at the border raises constitutional concerns, and the suspicionless forensic search was outside the scope of a permissible investigatory detention and is abhorrent to the Fourth Amendment.
Supreme Court to Consider Whether Dog Sniff at a Home Requires Probable Cause
The Supreme Court on Friday agreed to clarify when police may use a drug-sniffing dog at the front door of a house, when police believe the house is being used in drug trafficking. In the drug detection case, Florida v. Jardines (docket 11-564), the Court agreed to decide one of the two questions raised. The constitutional issue at stake is whether police must have probable cause — a belief that evidence of a crime will be found — before they may use a dog sniff at the front door of a suspected “grow house,” or a site where marijuana is being grown. The case grows out of a Miami police officer’s use of a drug-detecting dog, “Franky,” in December 2006 to follow up on a “crime stoppers” tip that the house was being used to grow marijuana plants. The Florida Supreme Court ruled that police needed to have probable cause belief in wrongdoing before they could use the dog at the home, on the premise that the drug sniff was a “search” under the Fourth Amendment.
The state of Florida told the Supreme Court that the state ruling conflicts with Supreme Court precedent that a dog sniff is not a search under the Fourth Amendment. “This Court,” the state said, “has explained that a dog sniff is not a search because the sole knowledge that the dog obtains by sniffing is the presence of contraband, which a person does not have a reasonable expectation of privacy in possessing in the first place.” The petition cited the Court’s 2005 decision in Illinois v. Caballes, and argued that the Florida courts “are now alone in refusing to follow” that ruling.
NACDL Updated Fourth Amendment Resource
NACDL (National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers) has announced an update to their Fourth Amendment Page (here). The Fourth Amendment page now has topics broken up into Fourth Amendment Reports, Fourth Amendment Amicus Briefs, Fourth Amendment Advocacy Letters and Other Fourth Amendment Resources. In addition, the page has special coverage on topics such as GPS tracking, cellphone tracking, and government use of drones. It is a good place to start when dealing with search and seizure issues.
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8 Temmuz 2012 Pazar
Drizzle, trams and haberdashery
Awoke early (6am), fought it till 7.00 then did some Kindling until the girls woke up.
The plan was to head to the Feira de Ladra (thieves market) via breakfast - lots of random stuff including two second hand gas combi boilers - obviously the Portuguese version of Corgi is not as diligent as in the UK.
Coffee (and an amazing almond tarte) in the square by the Museu do Fado provided an entertaining hour of people watching - there were so many 'ladies of a certain age' wearing tabard style housecoats that we could have been in a Pedro Almodovar film. There was also a glamorous fifty-something woman with a leonine mane of golden hair, and a fabulously coordinated woman with orange handbag, orange Chanel shades and matching orange hair. Coco would be turning in her grave.
We made a quick sojourn into the Museu do Fado - not worth E5, but vaguely interesting - Fado is apparently a traditional form of guitar based singing that is somehow linked to brothels of the early twentieth century. The exhibit included a doll's house brothel - bet they don't feature often in letters to Father Christmas!
We tracked down Garrafeira da Sé - a wine tasting cellar near the cathedral that was recommended by Lonely Planet but the owner was disinterested and didn't offer any samples.
Just time for a coffee stop at Pois Café then a quick foray into the Sé Cathedral before heading over to Bairro Alto.
We walk down a whole street consisting solely of haberdashery shops - who knew you could buy bra making kits?
Whilst trying to find a restaurant called Fábulas we stumbled across a wonderful artisan chocolate shop called Xocoa - one of a chain of four from Barcelona apparently. Hooked in by the free sample ganache tart I left having purchased a bag of chocolate dipped orange peel and bars of Jamaican pimento, orange and lemon chocolate - and got directions to the restaurant!
Fábulas is recommended for its beautiful terrace, but sadly it was full so we dined inside. The goats' cheese, black olive and tomato salad was delicious - the cheese hard and waxy, more like manchego than goats' cheese at home. Several hours later we emerged disappointingly into drizzle and headed for the famous No 28 tram that wends its way through the city via most of the tourist highlights. Maybe it was the grey skies and the rain, but it wasn't quite the exhilarating roller coaster ride described in the guide book.
En route to the apartment for our afternoon siesta we stopped off for supplies in case Portugal's Sunday trading laws make securing breakfast tomorrow difficult. The shop owner is very sweet when we spy and try to buy a bag of croissants that are his supper - he sees our disappointment and offers them to us anyway but we politely decline, leaving with cheese, tomatoes, bread rolls, biscuits, Lipton's tea (a sure sign of being on holiday) and UHT milk (yum).
Three siestas later we are ready to hit the town.
First stop is the open air bar on the Largo das Portas do Sol - basically a viewing point to watch the sunset.
A beer later we head over to Baixa to A Ginjinha a tiny 1840s hole in the wall bar serving shots of Ginjinha - a sickly cherry brandy with incredibly sour cherries floating in it. Not unlike an alcoholic cough mixture. We then head over to eat at Café Buenos Aires for dinner - a wonderful meal starting with tempura zucchini flowers, baked Parmesan in Filo pastry and followed by sun dried tomato tortellini or rare steak, all accompanied by sangria with crushed raspberries.
To walk off dinner we headed to Bairro Alto to Solar do Vinho do Porto - an 18th century cellar bar with an extensive (try 10 pages plus) menu of ports - some over E20 a glass. We slipped into to cream leather club chairs and waited to be guided through the menu. And waited. And waited. Finally a condescending waiter approached and snorted with derision when we asked for a recommendation from the menu. We upped and left settling for the rooftop bar at the Bairro Alto Hotel and the nicest sourest Negroni I've had in ages. Finally we ended up in Bar Belo Di-nós Cabo Verde. A hipster cool bar with a live fado band and lots of bearded, glasses wearing geeks dancing with pretty girls. Two beers later we jumped in a taxi and headed home.
Lisbon - a wonderful tone-up for the calves
The noise of a tram hurtling along beneath the window woke me at six (after 4 hours sleep). Feeling a tad hungover I reached for the paracetamol. Two and a half hours later waking again I felt slightly more human and pleased to see the sun streaming through the window and glinting on the estuary of the Rio Tejo in the distance.
Lisbon is built over seven hills - most of which we walked up (and down) yesterday. My calves feel taut and tender - fingers crossed for buns of steel after this trip!
A late breakfast in the apartment consisted of homemade fruit salad, bread rolls, cheese and tomatoes, then onto Castelo de São Jorge. Annoyingly I lost my €7.50 ticket within minutes of buying it and had to purchase a replacement. The castle was just ruins, so not a huge amount to see - though we were pleased to spot another coordinated hair and handbag combo - this time in a tasteful rosewood tone.
Lunch on the terrace near the apartment was a simple affair of sangria, omelettes and sardines - though the cute little 'free' cheese that can with the bread turned out to be a hefty €4 each, on top of the cost of the bread itself.
Lunch was walked off with a brisk walk to Cais de Sodré station to catch the train to Belém - the home of the pastéis de nata. We queued up to enter Antiga Confeitaria de Belém, where they make a staggering 15,000 tarts a day - you can watch them at work in the kitchens and take photos though the windows of the quality control section. The bakery has been trading since1837 and the café can seat 2,000 but we took ours to eat in the park where the temperature nudged 30', whilst the tarts digested we dozed in the sun and read.
After a short nap back at the apartment we headed back to Baixa for spit-roasted chicken and fries at Bonjardim. The meal started well when we were offered a complimentary white port as an aperitif. We studiously ignored the goats cheese, having been caught out earlier but we couldn't resist the fish croquettes. The waiter took my order and then disappeared without asking the girls what they wanted - after much laughter and confusion we caught his attention and confirmed that food was on its way for all three of us. The meal was delicious and when the bill arrived it was less than €10 each - basically we had shared a single meal between three, though there was more than enough.
Lisbon on a Sunday night is not lively so after a further trek up and down hills, we were ensconced back in the apartment with a bottle of red and some olive oil crisps before 11pm.
Beach
A short blog today on account of the fact that most of it was spent on the beach reading.
Woke early (again), refused to look at my watch for at least an hour - when I did it was 6.30. At 8am I gave in and got up, heading out to find a bakery. After a few false starts I finally found a cute little shop with a bakery counter. The front of the shop consisted of small tables for two at which say elderly ladies, the back of the shop was the counter where the men stood drinking espresso. I successfully ordered a coffee and selected three different croissants to take away - cue lots of bag miming with the jolly woman in the housecoat behind the counter. Just as I was about to pay the fresh bread arrived so I ended up buying warm crusty rolls too.
After breakfast we strolled down to the station to catch the train to Cascais the glamourous beach resort half an hour away, with a casino that was the inspiration for Ian Fleming when he wrote Casino Royale.
The small crescent shaped Praia da Rainha - the Queen's Beach - seemed apt as it was the Diamond Jubilee back home.
The next few hours were spent people watching, reading and snoozing. The people watching had many highlights, including: the mahogany coloured couple with matching thongs, the beautifully dressed and accessorised Swiss couple who de-robed in front of us and the gay couple in the micro shorts. When no-one interesting stepped into view, Lucy Worsley kept me entertained on the Kindle.
Lunch was taken on the terrace overlooking the beach - service as everywhere we have eaten this trip was a little flaky but the food was good, though the jug of sangria was just too big and defeated us.
A leisurely stroll around town took us to a strange gallery come café - again with very strange service, they seemed to want to discourage us from ordering anything - the homemade lemonade would not be sweet enough apparently. We sat on the roof deck and waited for the drinks to arrive, eventually the waitress brought them to us and glared at me. I wondered aloud if we had stumbled into a lesbian venue and that was why I was not welcome? The girls laughed and told me not be silly, then stopped suddenly as a Birkenstock clad lady with cropped hair and a man's shirt stepped onto the terrace.
Final meal of the trip was at a tiny tapas restaurant - not the one in the Lonely Planet guide that didn't actually exist, but one very nearby. The service was (as in every other Lisbon establishment) friendly but flakey. They gave us a table for two and forgot to bring the third chair. Then they forgot to bring the couvert, until the chef noticed us looking longingly at it sat on the side. Once handed over it was amazing - chewy ciabatta style bread with herb cheese, beetroot cheese and black olives. The tapas were equally great - crushed tomato and garlic bruschetta, hickory smoked baked Parmesan balls, padron peppers sat in salt crystals and roasted garlic, prawns flambéd in chilli oil and flambéd scallops with a fresh salsa - we had to order more bread just to mop up the delicious juices.
Back then to the apartment for a relatively early night.
My life in books
This last few months I've really reconnected with reading - maybe it's getting used to the longer commute, or the fact that I cracked and bought a Kindle, or maybe these things just go in cycles...
On moving here last year I set out to join as many groups as possible in an effort to construct a social life in a new city, pretty much from scratch - oh and my other aim was to try and not base my social life around alcohol.
Some of the groups were good, but the times or locations didn't work with commuting, other groups just didn't work for me for other reasons, the alcohol avoidance didn't really work either - us Brits are pretty pub-centric after all!
My big success was The Brighton Book Club found through meetup - a highly recommended site for anyone looking to find out what's going on in their area. The group is large and lively and meets monthly in an upstairs room in a pub. After just the first night I felt welcome and at home, over the following months we read:
Work commitments and holidays meant that I missed a few others along the way...
I can honestly say that I wouldn't have chosen any of the above books, and to be fair I haven't enjoyed all of them, but they have got me back into the habit and routine of reading again - meaning that I've also read lots of other books in between.
Inspired by reading books I wouldn't otherwise choose, I then started to search for book blogs to further pique my interest - my favourite is Savidgereads and I love forward to Simon's (almost) daily updates dropping into my inbox!
This then led me to Goodreads - an amazing site, where you can record and rate your entire library, post reviews, engage in discussions or simply browse recommendations - you can even link to online sites to buy a copy if you're inspired to buy.
I also obsessively managed to collect a full set of vintage Agatha Christies from ebay - my favourites are the wonderful Pan paperback editions from the early 1950s.
Finally I found that through my Pinterest boards I can celebrate my love of beautifully designed book covers!
So what have I discovered?
- I love books now as much as I did when I read my first Enid Blyton over thirty years ago (The Secret of Moon Castle since you ask)
- I am a bit geeky and get a soothing satisfaction from cataloguing things
- I can get as much pleasure from a beautiful old book cover as from the story inside - mid century 'Saul Bass' style ones are my favourites
... and what am I reading currently?
... Patrick Gale for pleasure ... and Iris Murdoch for the Book Group
Amsterdam in June
It's not often I get to travel overseas with work - we're a very UK focused company, so I jumped at the chance of adding a few extra nights onto the end of a food and beverage conference in Amsterdam.
The conference hotel was super luxurious, so my downtown hotel (NH Carlton) was a bit of a culture shock when I switched from 'paid for' to 'paid for by me' and moved there. The website presents it as a smart modern 4* hotel, the reality is a bit 80s-tastic and not in a good way - the giant triangular mirror that faces the bed is reminiscent of the Clockwork Orange film poster...
Having overindulged on the previous two nights, including a superb reception at the jawdroppingly beautiful The Dylan, I decided to take an afternoon nap then have a fairly chilled evening.
The first part of this blog writing took place in a stunning new Starbucks concept store - not a chain I usually frequent, but it was raved about at the conference and has the added benefit of free wifi. The store is amazing - it's in a bank basement and reached by sweeping twin staircases from the street that are edged in kelim throw cushions for lounging on; the raw exposed concrete structure and cracked and beaten tiled floor contrast with the beautiful old delft tiled walls, coffee sacks and sculptural wood - there is also hardly any branding - just a simple chalk version of the mermaid logo in the window.
Not feeling that hungry, dinner was eaten on the go at Burger Bar, a hole in the wall place where you choose your meat and preferred weight, then the burger is made fresh in front of you from a bowl of meat - the weight flashes up on an LED screen as it is weighed before shaping and pressing. I had 200g (the smallest size) in black angus. The burger was delicious and served medium rare (dripping blood), with a small side of fries. Way too much for me so I ended up leaving nearly half the burger and most of the fries.
Up early the next day I walked through the bulb market to Spui a square surrounded by bookshops, with a second hand book and print market in the middle - though nothing much is open early (9.30). Breakfast is latte and a croissant at Coffee Company, taking advantage of the free wifi that seems to be provided everywhere.
On to the 'nine streets' that form a grid over the western canals - lots of quirky stores and cafés including Screaming Beans (time for another latte stop). Over coffee I plough a little further into Iris Murdoch's 'the black prince' - our latest book group choice - now half way through (page 205) but finding it tedious in the extreme. I think it is meant to be parody of a farce, but there is precious little to laugh at so far and all the characters seem to combine dullness with unlike-ability.
Back on the streets there are lots of people on bikes coming at you from all directions - most ring their bells to avoid collision but it is quite disconcerting nonetheless. Many of the bikes have a coffin like box on the front containing a small child or shopping.
I head in the direction of Anne Frank's house but the queue is depressingly long and doesn't appear to be moving so I leave it for another trip.
I wander on to the Boerenmarkt organic street market - the cheeses and meats are amazing and a woman walks towards me eating a yellow pepper like a lollipop - holding it by its stalk. There is also a museum of cheese, which basically just seems to be a shop but pretty much everthing can be sampled - twenty odd samples later I move on...
In a window I spot a flyer for a photographic exhibition on the ruins of Detroit by Yves Marchand & Romain Meffre, I have coveted their book for a long time, having seen it reviewed in a magazine, the chance to see the full size pictures was not to be missed. The gallery doesn't open until 2pm so I seek out somewhere for lunch settling on a tiny bakery café that specialises in quiche and tarts. The olive quiche is delicious - as is the chocolate tarte.
The exhibition is as good as anticipated and is held in a wonderful gallery space.
I pass more random shops as I wend my way back to the hotel, I am intrigued by the Febo hot food takeaway shops that sell burgers, croquettes and other local delicacies from vending machines - apparently they are a local tradition - I'm not tempted!
There is an amazing art deco / art nouveau cinema called Pathé Tuschinski - I am tempted to watch a film, just to see the interior but decide to have a drink instead!
7 Temmuz 2012 Cumartesi
I ride the Greyhound Bus
I'm on a Greyhound bus right now.
Let me tell you. If you didn't already know, avoid taking the Greyhound bus at all costs (and it's not because that one time some guy shot himself in the head.)
Two nights ago I tried to purchase my ticket online. Portland to Lewiston same-day round trip. But the website told me that I couldn't get a ticket for that schedule online, that I should modify my search. There are like, three buses a day that go to Lewiston, so that wasn't an option. Defeated, I decided to try again the next day.
Last night, I again failed at purchasing the ticket online, so I figured I'd call the number provided to try and get a ticket that way. Fifteen minutes and several attempts navigating the dial by number menu, I finally reached someone. Nope. TEN DOLLAR unadvertised service fee for purchasing tickets over the phone. So I asked Juanita or whatever if she could explain why tickets weren't available online. She connected me with web support, who tried to sell me the ticket over the phone and didn't mention the service fee until I brought it up. THANKS FOR NOTHING, WEB SUPPORT! Then he offered to try and buy the ticket online for me.
So this morning, I roll out of bed, bright and early, and even manage to form coherent sentences before 7:30 at the coffeeshop. I make it to the Greyhound station, where I'm supposed to be buying my ticket, and it's locked. The bus is coming in 15 mins and there's a small crowd of poor, pathetic Greyhound losers with hodgepodge luggage and fucked up teeth. I decide I will fight them all for a ticket, if need be. My gigantic laptop computer will act as a shield against their blows.
The bus pulls in and we're told that the reason the terminal isn't open is because there is no power. What? Uh. The biggest hospital in the state is pretty much next door and I'm almost positive I saw lights on in the convenience store across the street. The driver, Mr. Moore, tells us that if we don't have a ticket, we can get on if we surrender a form of id, which will be returned to us in exchange for a ticket. While other simpletons struggle with the concept of not having a ticket but allowed on anyway, I wonder if replacing my State ID is less than a one-way ticket...
A broad-shouldered black man with a deep voice and a doo rag has been sitting behind me the whole time. He's been on the phone with his baby mamma or something since 8:00. They're just chatting now, but when he got on the bus he said, defiantly, "I ain't gunna ride dis fuggin bus no more. Das it." Though I don't really understand who the eff is up at 8 a.m. to have a 30 min chit chat over the phone, I couldn't have put it better myself.
(I hope this post doesn't offend anyone except Greyhound. I am SO GRUMPY and I am in dire need of ANOTHER COFFEE AND A TISSUE. And really, I'm not so different than these people. My mom should probably buy me breakfast.)
Since I been goooooone
You know those unbelievably annoying Geico commercials that are always on Hulu? No? There's one that starts, "Did you know Geico could save you twenty percent on car insurance? Have you been living under a rock?" and then a guy who has actually been living under a rock comes out, sees the billboard and goes, "No way!"
I've kind of been that guy.
As of right now, this moment, I have three, count 'em THREE jobs, an internship and a few days of completing a fifteen credit semester. I'm wiped. out! OH WAIT! There were also three stupid weeks in November in which I tried to participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo for those of you who are 'with it'.) After only 30,000 words, I decided to focus on the work I was actually being graded on. (Writing will resume after my last class this Wednesday). After all that, I barely had the mental capacity for Hart of Dixie, let alone more sophisticated comedies like Community or the Office.
I was planning on doing a redesign complete with a FAQ page and some other stuff for my first post after this elongated, unintentional hiatus. But as I was trying to will myself to sleep so I can make it into the office at 9 a.m., I realized that if I was going to be losing sleep because of things I haven't done, I should stay up and do stuff.
There's good news, though. Soon, I'll be back with a few posts about non-profit management, the Big Lebowski, a woman who went crazy on LinkedIn, and maybe a few other things.
In the meantime, I have a few things to share:
1) I made a professional portfolio website for myself: amandapleauwrites.com. I got an A. There's also a pronunciation guide to my last name, in case you had it wrong all these years and want to feel bad about it.
2) I'm contributing to Get Vintaged, a website some classmates and I put together for our Senior Seminar. This is a promotional video we put together that I sound kind of weird in. But I also wrote some of the shop profiles and a blog.
GetVintaged.com Promo from CMS Videos on Vimeo.
3) I've been blogging over at dressforsuccesssouthernmaine.blogspot.com
4) I'm looking forward to a trip to Florida in a few weeks to meet half of Cleveland's family!! Pop-pop!
What's up with you? Any book/music recommendations? Year-end wrap up lists I should know of?
My Promos!
I've also been laboring away in the production room at WMPG all semester. Our assignments included making a 45 minute DJ demo, and a 15 minute talk show demo. This might be a little bit confusing, but here are the promos that I made for the demos that I recorded. They are far from perfect, but feature music and shoutouts to some local bands. Sometimes when you're working on a project, be it a painting, an essay, a 50k word novel or a one minute radio promo, you need to stop tweaking and let it go.
Posting audio is something I'd like to do more often, but there have been a lack of recording opportunities lately. Oh right, and my iPhone 3 is so slow it might as well be dialing up to get the internet. (I might upgrade soon, I might downgrade... trying to prioritize wants vs. needs.)
The Mixtape Collective, my pretend show from 5-7 Saturdays on WMPG
Blogging for Good: Dress for Success Southern Maine
This week, Corey Templeton of Portland Daily Photo asked a handful of Portland bloggers to take some time out of their busy blogging/holiday schedules and acknowledge a not for profit organization worthy of their attention (and dollars?).
I could talk about SPACE Gallery, the Telling Room or public radio (some of my favorites and heavy hitters in town), but I know there is an organization that needs my recognition even more: Dress for Success Southern Maine.
The mission of Dress for Success is to help disadvantaged women re-enter the workforce.
Picture this: you are interviewing candidates for a position at your awesome company. Someone comes in dishevelment, anxious, and then you found out that she just got out of rehab. Or has been out of the workforce because she's been on welfare and couldn't afford childcare for her kids and work. Or, she was in prison.
Now picture a confident looking woman who comes in, dressed in appropriate interview attire and of her gap in employment says, "I was out of work for a little while dealing with some personal issues, but I'm focused and ready to get serious about my career. I want to work for your company." That's their goal. They work with women to help them get the confidence they need to succeed in life. It starts with women looking themselves in the mirror, dressed for success. Since their inception, Dress for Success Southern Maine has suited over 1,000 women.
I have some first-hand experience with the subject matter. My sister is a struggling, single mom. I've been on food stamps since I lost my full-time job last year. Disclaimer, I interned there this fall. However, my internship is technically over and I'm still volunteering because I believe in what we're doing. Sometimes when I update the testimonials on the website, I get a little teary-eyed. I mean, I'm overly emotional. Just read some of these:
“I found your place to be incredibly wonderful! Everyone there was sensitive and respectful -- fun, helpful suggestions, laughter making the experience such a positive one! I have felt so much more confident knowing I had a beautiful new and modern outfit. Thank you for your help. It is SUCH an encouraging and confidence boosting place.” "Thank you so much for helping me. From the time I arrived, it was a great experience and I walked out feeling better about myself. The people at Dress for Success Southern Maine are so helpful and kind. Thank you.”
“When I’m in a suit I feel like I’m getting there. I might not be there yet, but I’m well on my way.”
"Women in active addiction lose so much. When they arrive in treatment with Crossroads, they are addressing many crucial areas of their lives all at once; their addiction, their mental health issues, health problems, family and childcare problems, legal issues and all with limited economic resources. More importantly is the loss of confidence, dignity and hope. Dress for Success Southern Maine gives the women an opportunity to present themselves at interviews in a way that inspires hope, dignity and confidence. And the kind support that they receive when they go for their "personal shopping" appointment helps them feel a part of the greater community again - or for some, the first time."
Teresa Valliere, Director of Inpatient Services, Crossroads for Women
Collecting and sorting donations, maintaining the organization of the boutique, managing volunteers to be personal shoppers for the clients, planning fundraising events and professional women support groups- these things all take time and money. Donate to Dress for Success Southern Maine here. Learn more about volunteer opportunities here.
Music Scene: Kino Proby at Empire 12/30/11
Today began leaving the Bilmar Beach Resort in Treasure Island, Florida (3/5 stars) to drive an hour to the Manatee Viewing Center at Tampa Electric (seriously, if you like manatees half as much as Hannah Morrish, you need to go to there. I saw dozens of manatees.) Then it took almost an hour to get to the airport. At the Tampa International Airport, if you're every flying jetBlue, make sure you stop at the Tequilaria and try the Spicy Mango Margarita. Much like the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, it was just right. Cleveland and I waited two hours, took a two and a half hour flight to Boston, waited an hour, then took a two hour bus to Portland. It was the kind of travelling day that makes you want to get straight in bed when you get home, regardless of the appropriateness of the hour.
Instead, I decided to go see Kino Proby at Empire. Kino Proby plays once a year, if we're lucky and much like the Ice Bar at the Portland Harbor Hotel, I'd been meaning to go for years. One member lives in Russia, one in LA, so it's quite an occasion. None of my friends were available; Cleveland was going to bed, Roommate #1 was out of town, Roommate #2 was actually vomiting when I crossed the threshold into the apartment after being in Florida for six days, Mandy was tired and it was too late/short notice to call anyone else. So I went alone.
Here are my tweets from the evening:
Upstairs at Empire, the first people I see are the Food Coma TV crew and half the staff of CIEE. One of the members of Kino Proby saying something in Russian, then in English asked how many people in the room understood him. About half. I approached the bar, intending to dutifully drink a bunch of vodka. There were 10 Russian/Eastern European men ahead of me, half of them wearing leather bomber jackets and the other half with gel in their hair. Once the crowd parted, I realized one of them ordered about 15 shots of Jager. That same guy saw I was waiting and offered me a shot. Holy shit, the shots were ordered with no designated recipients.
Instead of a play by play of the entire evening, here are some quotes:
"Kino Proby is like the U2 of Russia." (Then in my notes I wrote, Kino Proby : Russia :: U2 : Everywhere other than Russia. Yup, I took notes.)
"I know your name, Alex Steed. I wanted to let you know that I'm not scared of you. Two years ago, at this show, I was crazy dancing in the front. I looked up and your face was like, right there- and you were dancing right next to me. It freaked me out. But now I'm not freaked out anymore and I wanted to let you know."
"Russia or Lewiston?"
"That guy is like Michael Jackson meets Marty McFly." Red and black shiny bubble vest, gelled hair, bright white sneakers.
"What's the sexual mood in the room?" "I don't know. But I've accidentally made eye contact with like, ten Russian men. They are like sharks."
"Shot glasses are going down like bullets."
"Out of RedBull!"
"I don't want my fingers cut off with cigar trimmers."*
Kino Proby Live At PCMH Portland, ME from [dog]and[pony] on Vimeo.
It was a great night, and I wish you were all there.
Lastly, a PSA (and I've been meaning to say this for a while). Portland cab drivers: if your light is on, it means you are available for service. If your light is off, it means you are not available for service. If there are people in your car, getting a ride, turn the light off. This will signal to other potential customers that you are nor available.
*There was an incredibly intoxicated woman all over Joe, Andrew and Alex. She kind of looked like Maybe from Arrested Development, but without freckles. Alex called her the Drunk Manic Pixie Dream Girl, or something, but I decided after her very unamused boyfriend/not boyfriend came over and didn't say one word while administering a flawless death stare, she was actually Manic Pixie Nightmare Girl. Maybe it's because Russian is always villified in the movies, but this guy did actually look like he might have been capable of something like cutting fingers off. Disclaimer: I think all people were created equally and I try to not perpetuate stereotypes. Russia is very intriguing and someday I want to go to there.
5 Temmuz 2012 Perşembe
2011 in iPhone pictures
A nice lady I know who blogs at Sweet William made a post, "2011 in iPhone pictures."
I thought it was a great idea, so here are mine.
Overall, 2011 wasn't terrible. No complaints. That's mostly thanks to Cleveland, my normal, functional, loving boyfriend and my extremely large workload, which keeps me out of trouble. The only things missing were a new high bowling score and ANY KARAOKE AT ALL. Seriously, I don't think I karaoke once in 2011. Wait, does that count as trouble? Where has the time gone?
In 2012, you can look forward to more pictures! Seriously, I finally upgraded to the iPhone 4 and these pics are sweeeeet!
Feeling Foolish in Snow Pants
If you're one of the few non-Portland/non-Maine residents reading this blog, let me tell you, it's been unbelievably cold. It was 6 degrees this morning when I woke up. Then I looked at weather.com, and they said, "Feels like -9." I showed my roommate and she was like, "No fucking way! Not even Celcius! What- what does that even feel like??" So when I say it was unbelievably cold, I'm not talking about an unbelievably hot guy or unbelievably funny joke, using unbelievable as a means of exaggeration. No. We actually had a difficult time believing it felt like -9.
When preparing to leave the house I realized, this is not the time to be screwing around. The problem is that I don't have a car and I work(ed) at a fancy boutique downtown. So I can't saunter in looking like a red-faced, drippy-nosed Inuit. I have to look poised- like I wouldn't bat an eyelash at someone spending the equivalent of a month's rent on a sweater that isn't even cashmere; like I couldn't care less that it was incredibly cold outside.
Here's what I wore there:
The boutique: Cardigan, vintage (??). Blouse, L.L. Bean Signature (one of the fanciest shirts I own). Black skirt, vintage from Dress for Success Southern Maine sample sale. Navy tights, Good Cause Thrift Store. Black flats, Aldo.
This is what I wore home:
The "Fuck Winter" look: Jacket, Target. Same sweater I wear every day, courtesy of Kate Digby Skinner's ex-boyfriend, T-shirt I wear all the time, courtesy one of Mandy Wheeler's former lovers, Black scarf, Angela Pizzo's "Free" pile, Snow pants, Columbia via Salvation Army, Boots, L.L. Bean via Goodwill. Hat and mittens not pictured. I try hard to not look homeless when I bundle up, but sometimes I just don't know if that's possible.
I went on to wear this outfit to visit Bridget at the monthly Ceili at RiRa. It was the most well-attended dances that I'd been to, which means a plethora of children screaming and running around (that's not an exaggeration.) There's a chance I might've caused two of them to fall over, but it wasn't my fault- my bulk and bundles of winter gear had an adverse effect on my peripheral vision. I sat at the bar with my snow pants on. Even though I felt a tiny bit foolish, I gotta tell you: I was warm.
Continuing on the theme of feeling foolish, when I walk around in these pants, they make a loud swishing sound. I recorded a bit, to entice my readers with a bit of multi-media t. But because I wasn't paying careful attention to the sidewalk as I was recording, I slid and almost ate it. There was a break in the rhythm of the recording walking whsssh whck whsssh whck SILENCE, but the quality wasn't great and I accidentally deleted it.
So, if you are a person who doesn't do anything outdoors other than walking around and geting cold, I still suggest getting a pair of snow pants just in case.
PS- as I am writing this about the evening in question, which happened last week, we're getting forecasts for over 40 degrees.
PPS- I crashed at the barn for the first time in way too long. When we woke up, this was the temperature:
Seriously?! It's like you're photoshopped!
{Closet Challenge} Week 1
Well, good news! I've signed on to do this closet challenge thing that entails taking one item from you closet and wearing it three different ways every week. It's a continuation of the Dress to Impress project, over at Suz Stephenson's blog Well to do, you.
I over heard a conversation my roommate was having with one of her friends (I wasn't eavesdropping, they knew I was there and it was the next room over, jeez!) The friend said that she felt like she sees a lot of blogs that consist of mostly pictures and she missed the writing. Daisy, I'm sorry to say that my closet, my Instagram and I are upping the photo content of this thing by like, a million percent. But maybe since I'll be posting more often I'll be in the habit of posting more often and it'll be a win for everyone.
Here's the first week. I love this dress. I can make it fancy, I can make it casual. I can wear it backwards. It's great because the print has so many different blues, greys and even a few hues of cream, it might as well be a LBD. Actually, you could call it my little blue dress.
Dress, Target (on sale for $11). Shirt, Anne Taylor Loft. Navy Tights, uhhhh Good Cause Thrift Shop? Charcoal oxfords, Marden's. Beaded headband, Claire's, I think, it was a bridesmaid gift.
Speaking of my roommate, she told me the other day that I do a good job winterizing my summer dresses. Wait, my dresses aren't a house. Appropriating my dresses for winter.
Originally I was going to wear my glasses but they interfered with the headband.
Day two. Grey turtleneck, Lewiston Salvation Army. Grey tights, Goodwill. Ruffled heels, Steve Madden via Find via my friend Heather. (Amanda, did you get those at Find? I sold them!)
Close up.
Day three (at the office.) My office/cubbie at the Public Affairs office can get so cold! But I have to also try and look somewhat professional i.e. not like a student who rolled out of bed just 20 minutes before leaving the house.
Cardigan, Urban Outfitters. Skirt, Dress for Success Southern Maine overstock sale. Black flats, Aldo.
This is the backwards look I mentioned.
Zombie Jesus Day
A couple of years ago, within the existence of this blog, my birthday fell on Easter. The night before I had a party at the Snug- I wore a very revealing dress and drank like it was my birthday. I barely remember closing the bar making out with a dark-haired, talented, Meca-grad-turned-fine-dining-waitstaff.
The next morning he rushed out*^ and I realized I hadn't planned anything for my actual birthday. I spent the majority of the day alone, in my 300 sq ft studio, feeling lonely and frustrated about my hangover. I was single, all of my friends were going home to their families, and there was no bus back to Lewiston. My family wasn't celebrating anyway because my mom usually works on weekends and holidays.
Today is Easter and my birthday is next week. In honor of Zombie Jesus Day, I made myself breakfast tacos (which are a lot like huevos rancheros, I think), with a sake/fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice cocktail. 28 isn't exactly a milestone, but the good news is that I have nearly about reached my goal of getting a bachelor's before I turn 30. May 4 is the last day of classes, then commencement 10 days later. Did I mention that I applied to be student commencement speaker? I made the final 5- if I don't get picked, I promise I'll post it here.
Meanwhile, I'm contemplating serious life changes. Some voluntarily and others are in the hands of fate... or the background check company. It's been stressful, dealing with the fear of the unknown. So I'm shopping for Noritake china on Etsy and watching Cheers on Netflix. I'll post some Cheers observations soon. Between homework assignments, of course.
*It's odd that he rushed out so fast... because I accidentally gave him like, five hickeys. TMI? Well, would you be rushing home for Easter if you were going to show up to Grandma's looking like that? I didn't think so.
^I ran into him during restaurant league while waiting tables at Bayside Bowl. He bought a bunch of shots of Jameson for his teammates and put them all on his tab. Before I could bring him his bill he said, "I don't even want to know the total. Here's my card. Tip yourself 20%." I thought for a second about tipping myself more than 20%, a bit of redemption for leaving me on my Loneliest Birthday Ever. But I didn't.
Mirthday Badness, I mean, Birthday Madness
Last week was a VERY MONUMENTAL week for me.
1). I found out that I am going to join this lovely lady on stage at the University of Southern Maine commencement. Because I'm the chosen representative of the student body to speak at commencement. (!!!)
2). I'm not ready to make the announcement official, but an email came from a woman in human resources at Tom's of Maine, "Amanda- your background check went through. I'm working with payroll to put together a compensation package and start date for you." My income will basically double, I'll be spending way more time at Bentley's, the biker bar in Arundel, and I'll be driving again.***
3). My 28th birthday came and went. Let me tell you, it was awesome. Have I mentioned that I have been OBSESSED with the Talking Heads "Stop Making Sense," the live album? I listen to it all the time. An embarrassing amount of listens. But it always fits my mood. I never get sick of it. It cheers me up when I'm sad, it supports the spring in my step when I'm happy.
At some point, I realized still had not seen the film. I posted on FB about it, and an unexpected amount of people responded, indicating that it was the most amazing concert film ever and shaming me for not seeing it. Actually I shamed myself.
So I told Mandy that all I wanted for my birthday was to have a bunch of people get together at a bar or whatever and watch Stop Making Sense together, because it felt like such a momentous occasion that I wanted to share it with those I care about most. And I did! Mandy and my boyfriend kept me almost completely in the dark- We showed up at Pizza Villa and they welcomed us with open arms. The owner kept trying to give us shots, the bartender has us turn the tv to improve his view. Random Pizza Villa customers stopped and watched for a bit. It was perfect.
This was the best scene, from "Life During Wartime." David Byrne? Be still, my heart.
Thanks again to everyone who came out. It was really nice to see you.
FINALLY
4). In the words of Billy Joel, I'm movin' out. Know of anything? Wanna help me decorate my new solo digs? (Once I find them?)
***Since I started writing this post, I received an official job offer and I accepted. My first official day is May 7. I'm so excited to get a new dentist!