Fifty Books

So, inspired by a fairly self-explanatory blog I like, I thought that this year I would try to read fifty books. I don't know if 50 is a particularly difficult number, but it seemed like a good enough idea. You may have noticed the list down on the right-hand side there. The list-making action in itself is pretty useful, because we all know the incentive provided by a good list, and it's persuaded me to finish off the occasional book instead of just starting a fifth at once, as I tend to do. I also like to remind myself to read something for fun once in a while during term time too, alongside all the tedious lit theory essays and linguistics chapters.

So I notice that according to the current total, I have... three books to read in approximately a day and a half. Noooo problemo. I think I will just get off the damn internet, head down to a coffee shop, and chill and read for the afternoon. Possibly I will get some pancakes while I'm at it.

In brief, my favourite books of the year have been: Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson; Jorge Luis Borges's Fictions; A Complicated Kindness by Mariam Toews; The Night Watch by Sarah Waters; The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy; Locas by Jaime Hernandez... Ah, you know what? I can't even choose my favourites. I pretty much loved them all, and I'm sure they all enriched my brain in some way. Oh, except Things Fall Apart. That was just boring.

Shooting some B-ball outside of the school

We went to another basketball game tonight at the Rose Garden: Portland Trailblazers vs. Philadelphia 76ers. The Blazers lost, which is not uncommon to be honest. This time was particularly heartbreaking though: an early lead followed by a 10 point deficit for three quarters. Then at the last minute, thanks to some spectacular three-pointers, they were a point away from victory. With 10 seconds to go, they then completely ballsed it up with some spectacularly stupid fouls. Argh! The Blazers are not going to help me get away from the shame of Huddersfield Town. The free ticket, food, cap, player bobble-head, and pom-poms just about made up for the disappointment.

I'm back on campus now, from my visit to the Hoyers' festive house. Not overly happy to be in the French House again, it's kind of cold and un-homey. I also long for the convenience of Commons, the bookstore and the mail room, lazy person that I am- they don't open again until next Tuesday. Good to be back on campus and with other Reedies though. I suppose we'll have to do something for New Year's. I remember last new year 2006, the five of us hidden away in Nick's farmhouse in the hills, drinking a lot and mostly feeling a bit awkward. Good times!

I'm Outta Here

Hey all,

I'm going to stay with some family friends who live in downtown Portland for a week or so, so I might not be checking my email or Facebook for a while. (Yes, they finally persuaded me to join Facebook. There goes the small remainder of my free time in which I successfully managed to avoid the internet.) So, have a good holiday wherever you all happen to be, I miss every one of you, and Happy Christmas!

Susie xxx

Baarrrsss

Reed is tough. Reed is mean. Reed makes you do a whole lot of work and sucks up your free time like an anteater sucks up ants. This is why I feel like, on the whole, I have not explored enough of happening downtown Portland as I could have. I have spent too much of my time trapped in the Reed bubble.

Well, as a step towards remedying that, Tim and I have explored some very nifty little Portland bars this last couple of nights. We followed some recommendations, we actually followed directions, we went to some places that we wouldn't have ended up at in the general course of things.

Last night we headed to Dots, a magnificent hipster bar with asymmetrically-coiffed bar staff, weird things on the walls, and baroque velvet wallpaper (strokeable). The lighting was low, the beer was local, they had cheesy chips. Oh, how i have subconsciously longed for cheesy chips... You don't know what you've got til it's gone, as Joni Mitchell once said (no doubt referring to bar food). We left the bar at closing time- bars close at 2:30am in Portland- and thus failed at getting a bus back. We tried to call a taxi until Tim's phone died mid-hold music, and then were miraculously rescued by a taxi driver while starting on the three and a half mile walk back to Reed. Which would've been unpleasant. Did I mention how cold it is right now? It's completely bloody freezing, FYI. Dots:


Tonight we went to The Basement, just off Hawthorne. This was a hipster bar posing as a dive bar, strangely enough. Dingy ambiance, dive vibe, but art on the walls and a Sopranos-themed pinball machine. There was supposed to be a pub quiz tonight, but no sign of that. Following the disappointing lack of quiz, we went to Angelo's on Hawthorne, recommended by A David, so it must be good (have I told you about A David? I will. That man is a Legend). Angelo's was alright, although I can't really imagine A David in that setting somehow. Next we went to Bar of the Gods, a block further down, which was also slightly hipsterish. The walls were painted black and there were glowing bunches of grapes hanging from the ceiling. They also had cheesy chips, which must be the food of choice for Portland's counterculture.

Guests

Oh, I forgot to say: here with me in the borrowed winter break room I have Hannah and Tim, who had nowhere else to stay for a few days. Hannah's train back to Vancouver BC was delayed (due to the storm), and Tim just has to be in Portland for a while. Then of course there's Justine's fish, Ajax and Fluffy, who she couldn't take back home with her.
"Oh, can I sleep on your floor that isn't your floor Susie? "Yes, me too!" "Can you look after my demanding fish?" "Could I leave my stuff here?" "Can you return my library books?" "Will you sing for me?" "Could I use you as a stepladder to reach this high shelf?" "Can I have your right kidney? I'm sure you're not getting good use out of it..." Sheesh!

Holidays are here again!

YES, I am alive. Class is now over for the year, holidays have begun today. Finals week kind of took it out of me: there was a lot of work, little fun, no sleep and a lot of complaining. I suppose that's the definition of finals week. But, I got everything done and handed in, none of it was too shite, and it's over. Everyone else found finals week tough also, at least I got that impression. More people than usual fell asleep in the library anyway. Actually, people pretty much lived in the library; where, to aid study resolve , they offered about 8 different forms of free caffeine in the lobby, and played 'Eye of the Tiger' every hour on the hour. They also held a mass Midnight Breakfast (at 10pm, how Reed), where the whole school turned up at Commons for free scrambled egg, roast potatoes, bacon and pancakes.
The last night of school we probably ought to have had a mad blowout or something, but everyone was all sleep-deprived and grumpy, and the weather sucked. We lay around and chatted and watched movies. Excellent company, a storm outside...
So now just about everyone has gone home for the holidays, and the dorms were locked to keycards at midday. International students have all been moved to the Language Houses, (which are just language-themed dorms), I'm in the French House. I'm in the room of this girl called Stefanie while she's away for Christmas, (she frightens me a bit actually). She has a Tv and a fridge and many many awesome zeitgeisty books and classic records. Unfortunately she has far too much stuff in here, and there's not much room for my luggage. Mind you, all my stuff seems to fit into a single drawer, so I shouldn't complain. I shouldn't complain, I should shop!! I need more stuff!
Sorry, I've still had very little sleep. Feeling slightly unfocused.

P.s. I just found out that the book sculpture outside Powell's has a man's ashes built into the centre of it, because he wanted to be buried at Powell's. Thanks for the info, Chuck Palahniuk!

Work, Work

I just had a two-hour revision session for Linguistics, and it was worrying just how much new information it included. In fact it wasn't so much a revision session, as a lesson. Shouldn't we have been told this stuff already? Sigh. Well, in this last week of college, I have an enormous take-home Ling exam, a paper for Empire and the Novel, and a final body of work for Art to rustle up. Yesterday was the deadline for my art sketchbook and yet another piece of Ling coursework. I'm probably going to be busy right until the 15th December, when everyone but me jets off home for the holidays. I'd prefer a day or two for end-of-term fun. Oh, and all your Christmas presents are going to be late, because I haven't had time to shop or anything, and knowing the mail system here I probably should have sent everything off a month ago anyway. Sorry!

Oh, but I'm still happy this week because my favourite artist for the Turner Prize actually won the thing. If you missed it, her name is Tomma Abts, and she makes nicely compelling abstract paintings. She eschews subject matter and repeatedly layers paint until the destined final form of the painting mysteriously makes itself apparent to her. Abts is so much better than all the other sucky artists shortlisted for the Turner this year. Ha!