time oft stretched

365 Day Challenge

Wed, 22 May 2013 13:18:35 -0400

Today, or some day very soon, marks 365 days to graduation. And, in the hustle of law school, there have been a lot of things I have wanted to do and yet just haven’t gotten around to them.

A few of them will require serious preparation (sprint triathlon), dedication (a painless half marathon), and resolve (the year of yes). I’m working on developing some kind of real list, but today, struggling through 25 minutes of laps at the pool (really.), the concept was born.

Unsurprisingly, most of the goals that come to mind right now are related to healthy living and fitness, but I’m sure I can brainstorm some variety (how about….setting foot on all seven continents??). Abundance of time and freedom is limited; this year’s the year to capitalize.

The Prodigal Child Returns

Tue, 21 May 2013 01:18:00 -0400

My camera is back! After a two month recovery in Texas, it has returned to me just in time for summer. And, as all can imagine, I’ve been taking it everywhere.

I’m in DC for eleven days, which is quite amazing — enjoying the new West End neighborhood, and having time to focus on exercise and catch up on…TV.

And, obviously, eating (above, the Croque Madame at Woodward Table).

Summer has begun here in earnest; I spent a day at the pool, and today I walked to Georgetown and, well, it certainly doesn’t feel like Boston spring.

I booked my one-way train to New York for 6 days from now — crazy. Catching up with old friends and absorbing rooftop sunsets in the meantime.

Not a bad way to kick off summer.

Thankful.

Sun, 21 Apr 2013 14:18:09 -0400

I am grateful to have marathon medals that did not cost me any appendages in the process (not mine, my family’s, my friends’).

And that I had the health to visit Boylston Street Thursday evening to observe the beautiful tributes Bostonians and others laid by the gate.

And that I had access to a functioning emergency notification system that told me, upon coming above ground Thursday night, to go home, because there had been a shooting a mile away.

And that I couldn’t hear the explosions, though I was up until 2:30 AM terrified, reading Twitter updates siphoned from the local police scanner.

That I could be up again at 6:20 listening, receiving news from various sources, that my campus was closed, that danger was lurking.

That Friday saw the most beautiful day yet in our amazing, battered city — and that while we could not go outside to enjoy it, the day ended in capture.

That upwards of 11,000 law enforcement officials came here, to my town, to keep me safe.

And that they succeeded.

Last week was far from costless, and so our rejoicing was muted. But Friday showed everyone that the good guys will always win, and I will never forget that.

[Finally, thankful to a good friend with a Nikon camera who is letting me borrow it while mine travels to Texas for repairs.]

Nightmares Brought to Life

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 23:47:57 -0400

At noon today I watched a big screen at the law school, saw the Boston Marathon finishers cross the finish line with smiles on their faces.

Two and a half hours later I was sitting in my bedroom in Cambridge, writing a paper, when my brother both texted and gchatted me (generally unprecedented), asking me what I was doing, was I at home, there were two explosions at the finish line I had been watching just minutes prior.

Terrorist attacks (however broadly one wants to define “terrorist”; any human being who could do this is an absolute terrorist in my book) are not new. To someone who has family in Israel, and who pays attention to the tension in the Middle East, they are, in fact, unfortunately commonplace.

But it’s not often that I sit in my ivory tower, this beautiful glass bubble that is my law school, and feel precariously perched next to destruction. Merely two miles away: blood, screams, fleeing, horror. I practically lived on Boylston for a summer. Marathon Monday is a happy holiday in this city. And one person had hell rain down on us, on this, today.

I sat in class just 29 minutes after the explosions, shaking, following a liveblog and seventeen twitter update streams, looking at photos and red spatter and feeling sick to my stomach. Needless to say I did not learn much about the fourteenth amendment today, but rather learned that no place is safe. That we cannot take our existence for granted, even here, what feels like the safest of places.

I received many, many messages from concerned friends and acquaintances ensuring I was safe — “I know you run and stuff” — and what shook me most was that they’re right; I could have been there, if not as participant (as knees preclude), then certainly as spectator, the more dangerous role today. What brightened today, though, was the fact that so many cared. All of us here got messages like that. And everyone I know personally was unharmed.

I spoke to my mother and father about my disturbance. We compared it to Aurora, and Newtown, all of the recent horrors that beg comparison, but the difference here is that the culprit today is a coward; he continues to lurk in the shadows tonight.

Show your face, monster.

But my mother also told me about her time in Tel Aviv, when she had been out on a popular street one night, and not twelve hours later the block was exploded by bombs. This is life. We thank God — or whoever — for our luck in having chosen to be there twelve hours earlier. There is no guilt, or sorrow, in having been spared.

It is eerie. But it is life. And we take each day as it comes, each morning as a singular blessing.

All these beautiful things

Sat, 30 Mar 2013 12:23:00 -0400

To preface, my camera broke. At first I thought it was going to be okay, not a big deal, but the separation anxiety I’m feeling from my ability adequately (better than an iPhone, that is) to capture my life events is more intense than I thought. In short, my camera dropped about three feet from my lap to the ground, and now it won’t turn on, which led me to thinking of all the things my D5000 and I have seen together.

It came to me at the end of September 2010 (my first slightly delayed post here) — exactly two and a half years ago, nearly to the date. Before its arrival this blog and my life seemed far less beautiful, with only washed-out pixelated images that only half conveyed my feelings and the light and the colors I saw and noted every day.

It took a few weeks to alter the way I looked around. I scanned the streets for minute details instead of just, you know, ambling along. My first good photoset came when I took a weekend in my future (and now present) home — Boston. And I took it almost everywhere after that — including, of course, the ten countries I visited in my 5-month-long jaunt all around the world, when the thing was strapped to my torso like an extension of my body, when I actually learned how to use it.

It has done amazing work. It helped me tell stories: about fun days dressed as Santas in New York, the blood sweat and tears that comprise Phnom Penh, Mardi Gras, New York summer regrets, slow and removed recoveries. My camera has come to define me; my identity as “photographer” as important as “lawyer,” or “student,” or “friend.”

My photographs have been the evidence of my growth, in so many ways.

A few weeks ago I photographed my good friend’s bachelorette party, and an attendee who I don’t know well took me aside, and she said she admired my comfort with my camera — “I can tell you’re used to having it around, something about the way you hold it.” When I jokingly called it “my child,” I guess the seed of that sentiment is something real.

So it makes sense that, down and out of commission, my heart hurts a little. Guilt for my irresponsibility. Apprehension about missing something. Decreased desire to go outside today, in this beautiful weather, into the Boston Common where my D5000 essentially debuted, without a way to capture capture capture.

Luckily, insurance will cover this damage and, without any monetary cost, my child will be restored to good health. But this break wasn’t costless; for however long, I’ll live my life exclusively in front of the lens instead of behind it, place my “photographer” label aside, for now. I might miss things. But it’ll be back.

Another Cat Post

Thu, 21 Feb 2013 14:09:23 -0500

Since I was in DC this past weekend, obviously I took some photos of Kirby. It’s not my fault that he’s beautiful.

Sydney, January, rehashed

Wed, 20 Feb 2013 21:30:37 -0500

In my delinquency…I am doing a reduced summary of the rest of my January.

I wrapped up with my parents after those days spent driving. Flew to Sydney, my home for a blissful, warm, productive two and a half weeks.

Played with sparklers to celebrate the new year and commemorate my love (one cheeky friend saw this shot and said “You spelled USA wrong”…)

Reconnected with an old friend. I am so lucky that the people I know chose to scatter, and scatter wide.

Worked with two other Harvard students at the Australian Law Reform Commission — I spent three weeks in their friendly office (great views, great people, great conversations), dug into private copying exceptions (or lack thereof) in Australian copyright law — learned a lot. It was a very intellectual place, where people discussed the ins and outs, pros and cons of copyright by the refrigerator.

Then there was the opera house. And the opera (well, er, dance show).

And the sunsets over the harbor bridge…wide angle captures from the top of the steps under the enormous curling petals.

Picnics on Bondi Beach even when the clouds were out, more New York visitors and fish & chips.

Living life on some safe edge.

And oh, the animals. Few things make me happier than photographing animals and knowing — knowing! — I got some great shots.

And the street art! On the beach, less than a mile away, was a half-mile stretch of gorgeous graffiti —

We went for a sunset sail on one of our last nights. The lighting — the clouds — the colors — brief showers didn’t stop anything.

I wanted to stay, but by the time the end came, I was ready to leave, in a sense. Or, better, I was ready to see San Francisco — as it turns out, the other city of my dreams. One after another. Cruel.

And then it snowed two feet, I’ve been keeping my head above water but only barely…typical early semester things.

I can’t say it’s good to be back.

But it’s okay to be back.

The Great Ocean Road

Sat, 05 Jan 2013 08:49:00 -0500

I keep having to remind myself where I am.

You’re in Australia, driving the Great Ocean Road; you’re really far from Boston. You add eight hours to determine what time it is at home because that is faster than subtracting sixteen. You spend your time perfecting the Aussie way of saying “oh,” running it through your head again and again, sounding it out slowly, deconstructing the way it feels.

I’m far from home, yes, but my brain is so completely shut off, legally — it feels amazing but it is also scary how easily it came. I’m just… here.

Your dad asked you what the Fourteenth Amendment contains and you forgot.

I’m sitting in a tiny room in tiny Portland, Victoria, and I can’t go to sleep yet because I’m so excited about the photos I captured today. Apart from that amazingly photogenic cat I got last week, when’s the last time this happened? My photography had been so lackluster—-I feel so renewed.

This road is beautiful. I mean, this whole country — the landscape, the water, the people — is gorgeous and attractive in the kind of way that makes me not want to return to snowy Boston (already!), because people meander here; they take their time; they don’t worry so much. I completely get why people come and never leave.

Melbourne was cultured and hip, but I wasn’t there long. We departed this morning on a fifteen hour drive along the coast (done in two days) from Melbourne to Kangaroo Island (which is, I think, exactly what it sounds like — !!) to Adelaide. The format of this trip reminds me of Iceland, in that there is a final destination, but that isn’t the point.

Tomorrow we’ll accomplish the second half of this trek. Monday I’ll get (hopefully) up close and personal with some wildlife unique to this part of the world. And Tuesday I fly to my new home. These weeks took a lot of legwork and investment, but they are exactly what I’ve been aching for.

2013 Before Anyone Else

Mon, 31 Dec 2012 17:30:49 -0500

It is the new year, and I experienced it before the rest of the world. I guess that’s something — countdown on the screen a full eighteen hours before the ball dips in Times Square. I bet people hadn’t even yet congregated amongst the glow of the neon billboards.

I adapted to the time change in one day (unprecedented! But I went to the aquarium, and maybe the fluorescent and weird lighting had a good effect); I am very grateful to be out of winter, spending time with two of my closest friends — friends since I was a young, angsty thing (that’s love).

I spent a few days at the beach, though the weather here is unpredictable…I’ve seen a lot of rain but also a lot of sun (good lord, the sun here is strong); and I’ve already read two books. It feels like vacation.

Also, at the beach, we had a cat for a weekend…which clearly made me extremely happy.

I’m looking forward to the next few days of exploring Auckland and its surrounding areas, and then zipping over to Melbourne on Friday morning to meet up with my parents.

Immobile freedom

Mon, 24 Dec 2012 10:36:46 -0500

Three hours after my last final on Wednesday, I broke my foot. I don’t know if my life could be much more comical — that the thrill of lifted responsibility could be so dragged away from me with one silly injury. Because, great, I’m free. But I’m also quite confined.

So I’m getting a wheelchair escort at JFK on Wednesday (because my improvement is so aggravatingly incremental), which will be embarrassing but appreciated. And I’ll spend my first days in New Zealand a little bit quietly.

Til then — happy holidays.

"Are we really prepared to say that we’re powerless in the face of such carnage, that the politics..."

Mon, 17 Dec 2012 10:03:33 -0500

“Are we really prepared to say that we’re powerless in the face of such carnage, that the politics are too hard? Are we prepared to say that such violence visited on our children year after year after year is somehow the price of our freedom?”

- President Barack Obama, in his address to a prayer vigil in Newtown, CT, December 16, 2012

[I’m unsure at what point our country began to view gun ownership and proliferation as a fundamental tenet of ordered liberty. I hope this is a call to action, and I pray for a miracle of administrable retroactive application so we are not stuck with our genie outside the bottle. Given what I know about the political process — I know it would have to be a miracle.]

How are we here and now?

Tue, 04 Dec 2012 23:29:23 -0500

I shut my eyes for a few moments and woke up in December, or that’s what it feels like. Tomorrow is my last day of class for the term, which started last week, or that’s what it feels like, and my first final is in nine days, which I wish were an eternity because I have a lot to process before that.

I won’t stop marveling at how we are here and now already, how outside it’s cold and there was snow on the ground on Saturday and my pains are dull, except for the pain in my back which ebbs and flows but flows each finals period. Some people feel seasons in their bones. I feel finals in my spine.

The past few months were full of rewarding struggle, of coming to higher ground, of being scared and pushing through the fear. I’m proud of what I’ve learned, and shocked that law school is half over. Time oft speeds, no?

I’ll be putting my head down for the next fifteen days to finish strong. And in twenty-two days, I’m getting on a plane and flying to summer and not coming back for a long time. So to the grind we go.

Well — with all that is coming up —...

Tue, 04 Dec 2012 23:19:00 -0500

Well — with all that is coming up — YOLO.

animalstalkinginallcaps:

I CAN’T TELL IF I’M HONESTLY FULFILLING MY DEEPEST WISHES AND PURSUING MY DREAMS OR IF I’VE JUST BEEN YELLING “YOLO” EVERY TIME I DO SOMETHING EXCEEDINGLY STUPID.

IT’S NOT LIKE I’LL HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO RECTIFY ANY SERIOUS MISTAKES I MIGHT MAKE.

YOLO, AND ALL THAT.

Wraparound

Wed, 28 Nov 2012 21:29:28 -0500

3.

Foster feeling, your poppied gaze

is all the lunar tide it takes

to float the deadweight of our days.

— Sherod Santos, excerpted from World News

I’m getting back into words, which should surprise virtually no one; reading and hearing and occasionally writing them. Every night this week, I’ve substituted Parks & Rec with The Best American Poetry as my pre-sleep ritual, and tonight, I’ll substitute class reading for slam poetry at Cantab Lounge. I’m hoping I’ll hear something of quality that’ll keep this going.

Fight Fiercely

Tue, 20 Nov 2012 17:20:20 -0500

This year, The Game was held at home in Cambridge — much less of a production, much less of a commitment. Fewer strangers, more friends.

Bleary-eyed in the early morning.

And once again, perfect weather.

Even the puppies got outfitted.

All in all, a fun, sunny day outside, and yet another Harvard win.

OFFICIAL: Upcoming Extended Travel Back on the Books

Fri, 09 Nov 2012 10:05:41 -0500

Finally. This morning, I received an email that school has approved my winter term project. So, while I haven’t yet paid out the $2,500 for airfare, it is only a matter of time: I’m going to the South Pacific!!

Around Christmas Day, I’ll fly to Auckland, New Zealand to see some high school friends who have relocated there. I’ll likely be there for 9 days — including New Years (so my mission to be out of town for NYE is successful for another year) — and then will fly to Melbourne to meet up with my parents. About 6 days later, I fly to Sydney, where I will be living for just under 3 weeks, doing research for a governmental organization revising the country’s copyright laws.

COULD I BE MORE EXCITED? About freedom, long-term travel, exploring — no. About leaving 15-degree Cambridge and landing in 80-degree summer — no. I can’t believe this all came together, but I’ll be abroad and doing something fun and meaningful in a short 46 days.

Will it ache every time I hear the storm running behind me?

Tue, 30 Oct 2012 23:02:51 -0400

As I watched Hurricane Sandy brew ominously yesterday morning (I woke up to gray darkness in my normally light bedroom), the wind whistling through the cracks of my windowpanes, I got an unshakeable urge to get out there in it.

And so I did.

I ran down to the river — my normal route — but through a semi-deserted Harvard Square where most shops and restaurants had already shuttered and hidden. I listened to Thursday’s A City By the Light Divided which called back my 17-year-old moodiness, but I was happy, one foot in front of the other down familiar sidewalks and then straight to the rippling water.

I had to stop, twice, because the wind was so strong; I turned my back to it, fielding the breeze and drizzle backwards, made it back in terrible time but amazing, light, airy happiness.

You know what? I think I’m back.

O Canada

Sun, 28 Oct 2012 18:43:45 -0400

Leaving Cambridge wasn’t enough for us a few weeks ago — we left the whole country behind. Six girlfriends and I decided to road trip to Montreal for a weekend, because — why not.

Foliage was in full fall show there while it lagged at home.

The sky was an epic shade and the clouds fluffed Simpsons-esque as we encountered some strange sculptures,

Some decent graffiti,

And good light for portraits.

Bolting was good. Seeing a new city (well, I’d been there before but many many years ago) was great.

It felt so great that I may just have to do it again — at the end of December — I’m just on the verge — so near confirmed —

…but not just yet.

because/perhaps I was

Mon, 15 Oct 2012 00:38:00 -0400

in September I crouched behind a waterfall, shielding

my curling hair from the onslaught of horizontal rain and

rainbows lit concentric circles

I tied my hair back and took one moment in repose, when

the sun bled golden streaks, captured in forever, but

who took that photograph?

I drove for hours in silence.

Racing, to injury

Tue, 09 Oct 2012 00:47:58 -0400

Yesterday morning I woke up at 6:30 AM without any idea of how my race was going to go. My knees were creaking and cracking and sticking for the past 3 weeks or so, and I’d given them a rest, and my right knee was worst so I iced it regularly in hopes it would recover enough to put forth a brave effort on race day.

The inevitable result was a slow slog to the finish, but slower and sloggier than I expected — my left knee developed pain around the 6.5 mile mark (please note that this is less than halfway through). I saw a medic twice but refused to quit, though they recommended it.

My time wasn’t impressive. I lost quite a few minutes off my first half marathon pace. But I was in pain, and yet I wouldn’t give it up, absolutely refused to be swept off the course, to be given a ride to the end. I hobbled about 7 miles and ran the final 400 meters on my toes, holding my friend Carrie’s hand as we crossed the finish line together.

How can that feel like failure?