FYI This is my 100th post on this site.  Woo!

I’m sitting in the Seattle Public Library.  I’ve been wanting to come here since it was built in 2004.  It’s designed by Dutchman Rem Koolhaus (awesome name) and Seattleite Joshua Ramus, but it looks like a Swede had his hand in it.  I thought I walked into Ikea, to be honest.

The building has a beautiful atrium, allowing you to look down on Seattle.  But there’s some interesting aspects to this library.  The ceiling literally looks like an insane asylum.  Which might be pertinent if you stay here studying long enough.

(look at the top/ceiling)

And well the whole decor of this place, neon escalators, in-your-face labeling, all reminds me of Ikea.

It’s quite a stunning library.  But, I think I prefer the historic Boston Public Library.

An inspiring OpEd piece by Mr. Grisham: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/06/opinion/06Grisham.html?src=me&ref=general

John Grisham’s The Firm might have been the first leisurely-read book I picked up (and probably one of the few I had the patience to finish…damn book ADD).

Was it Einstein that said he got his greatest ideas and “ah-ha!” moments while shaving?

I get moments of clarity while showering.  I’m by myself, free from the demands of attention from email, cell phone, people, etc.  I’m only there to do one thing, and the hot water feels so relaxing.  Those moments as my hair soaks up and my skin dampens, it’s just me and my thoughts.  And they aren’t forced.  There’s no expectation of productivity (other than to wash up) when I hop in the shower, and therefore no barriers to creativity or “ah-ha!” moments.

Maybe it’s a function of the water, too.

What the hell:

Starbucks has a specific retail dress code that governs clothing and personal appearance (e.g. no visible tattoos, facial piercing, or wearing of fragrances). The dress code can be made available at time of interview. Do you have any concerns about abiding by the Starbucks dress code?

You know we’re in Seattle, right?

I hated Boston when I came (back).  People are colder, more conforming and high strung. There are too many students trashing the city on Friday nights.  Too many tourists and out-of-town Red Sox fans crowding the Green Line.  Dangerously high Dunkin Donuts to Starbucks ratio.  Too cold in the winter, too hot in the summer, too short of the actual delightful seasons of spring and fall.  It’s a city of pubs, cheap beer, preventative high-heel-wearing brick sidewalks, and full-grown infants as drivers.

I did meet a lot of fantastic, intelligent people, kept some fabulous close friends, and worked alongside brilliant and hilarious minds.  I learned that the straight roads in Boston are the product the city being filled in (e.g. Back Bay) and all winding, nonsensical roads are the old dirt paths from cows and such.  That Edgar Allan Poe was born somewhere in the Bay Village.  That the demonym for Cambridge is Cantabrigian and for Massachusetts is Bay Stater.

I know where to find mango habanero sorbet (effin awesome), an exceptional cup of coffee (by my standards) with fresh brioche, quirky independent films or a resurrection of oldies, the best effin beer in the whole area, nutella crepes, mouth watering burgers with fried jalapenos, crack-laced “San Francisco” style burritos, stunning tiramisu and 10-year port, a geeky dining experience, a romantic tapas restaurant, and the best hangover brunch.

I’ve been inspired to read 700+ page books (this one too).  I got seduced into reading Love Letters daily.  I wrote my first proof in this class along with reigniting a deep-seated passion for math.  I know who is Ken Jennings (and I subscribe to his weekly email).  I learned how to row on the Charles, discovered Phantom Gourmet on TV (i.e. porn for your stomach) and geek humor, and found the most beautiful study hall.

Boston is full of inspiring people.  People that push me to be better, to not settle, and to relax into the nerd that I am.  I cultivated a great interest in economics, but not without a dash of computer science & engineering, electrical engineering, neural systems, medicine, finance, marketing, music, biology, philosophy, political science, education, law, psychology and psychoanalysis, and architecture.

Maybe I like Boston after all.  I’m leaving with an appreciation (although not a change in preference) of Dunkin’ Donuts (who can say no to cream-filled donuts?).  I do like pea coats in the winter and Massachusetts beaches for the summer.  I’m surrounded by the brightest minds, even if they frequent my favorite Friday spots too often.  I welcome questions from tourists as I’m eager to share my short cuts and favorite spots.  Although I can still do without the Red Sox fans.

So – Boston, my friends living in Boston, my favorite places in Boston, I will miss you.  You’ve made a profound impact on me and I am forever changed.  I appreciate the time I spent here, and I eagerly look forward to the chance at returning.  I leave here with fantastic memories, sparked ambition, and self assurance.

And, thankfully, I do not leave with a Boston accent.

Rene Magritte, The Return

Ah man this woman is my hero! (Warning: don’t look at this on an empty stomach – you’ll gnaw your arm off.)

Megan left her editing job to work as a baker at Flour in Boston (an amazingly awesome bakery/cafe).  She had no experience, but loved every minute of it.  Minus the early mornings.

All the more reason to take this year to do what I want (being a baker does sound really awesome…) and not some office job.

Great opinion article in the NYT.  I miss Prague.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/18/opinion/18freisler.html?_r=1&ref=opinion

I find that when I am packing, I get so easily distracted by the books, articles, toys, etc that I don’t end up packing at all.  I end up sitting on the floor, reading, reminiscing, and then all of a sudden hours have gone by.

This will be difficult.

Swimming has returned to me more as an art form rather than a medium for cardiovascular exercise.

I’ve missed the feeling holding the water in my palms, using slight wrist movements to manipulate the direction I wish to go.  I’ve missed the intuitive science of hydrodynamics, of feeling the natural flow of water around the recovery of a stroke.  I’ve almost forgotten how much a slight twist of the hip could create such a driving force through the water.

I’ve long yearned to exhale all that is left in my lungs, to find myself standing tall at the bottom of the pool, looking through my coincidently rose-colored goggles and listening to the peaceful but deliberate breaks in surface tension as others paddle through their laps.  I nearly forget about gravity before it hits me that I need some more oxygen…