Neighbour playing the recorder from Kristen Gladiuk on Vimeo.
7 years ago
Friday, October 9, 2009
Ladies and gentlemen, the crazy recorder neighbour...
I was only able to dangle the camera out the window for the the tail end of her performance before the battery died, but I think you get the idea. I'll be sure the battery's fully charged when we're treated to another splendid musical performance.
Is an eBook really a book?
One of the readings for a class this week was about eBooks and reading on the Amazon Kindle. As you can imagine, in a publishing program, this topic comes up often. I think it's great that people are reading, I just don't like the idea of the eBook trying to replace a real book. I hate it when people try to predict the extinction of print - whether it be books, magazines, or newspapers. But I don't see eBooks as real books. To me, eBooks take all of the elements that make a book a book and get rid of them. Poof! Or, I guess "zap" would be better. Click? Whatever.
One of the comments in the article I read was from a man who said eBook pages are great because they don't flutter in the wind. That right there is an example of how we're taking the human out of everything. Obviously a screen doesn't flutter in the wind - but I would call that a con, not an advantage over print books. I want to feel the pages, even if they flutter out of my fingers every now and then. I like running my hands over the textured pages and tracing the tips of my fingers over the cover design. I want to see what kind of font they used and how the chapters are organized.
My feelings towards eBooks are akin to the feelings I harbour for screw top wine bottles. I'm not a wine snob. I just like the old fashioned way; the romance and the routine. I recognize that it's easier to skip the corkscrew and get straight to the drinking, but that doesn't concern me. Taking the time to open the bottle is all part of the process. I understand that the introduction of the screw top wasn't intended as a time saver, but I'm just saying...I like doing it the old way. Some people won't agree, but I think uncorking the wine can be just as pleasurable as drinking the wine.
It's the same with books. I know that I could download an eBook from the web in seconds, but I like visiting the bookstore. And the feeling of finishing a great book is doubled when you file it on your shelf, and it sits there obediently, looking beautiful. Or when you lend that book to a friend. A few years ago I got a used copy of The English Patient that someone had written notes in.
I had no mirrors in my house for three years. Yet - I could always see my reflection: the children, the neon lights, the faces of the Filipino and Russian prostitutes, the eyes of taxi drivers in the rearview mirror, in the raindrops, in the journals, in the music, in the movement. I was never as unaware of what I looked like as I was in Japan - and yet, I was most conscious of how I appeared.
As soon as I can find something like that in an eBook, maybe I'll change my mind. Maybe. Because it's not just about the words on the page. Reading an eBook is convenient. Reading a print book is an experience. It's about everything that goes into making them, everything that comes out, and everything that follows.
I will say this: eBooks aren't all bad. Just like screw top wine bottles. But I think print will disappear at the same time the french warm up to the idea of twisting a lid off their wine.
One of the comments in the article I read was from a man who said eBook pages are great because they don't flutter in the wind. That right there is an example of how we're taking the human out of everything. Obviously a screen doesn't flutter in the wind - but I would call that a con, not an advantage over print books. I want to feel the pages, even if they flutter out of my fingers every now and then. I like running my hands over the textured pages and tracing the tips of my fingers over the cover design. I want to see what kind of font they used and how the chapters are organized.
My feelings towards eBooks are akin to the feelings I harbour for screw top wine bottles. I'm not a wine snob. I just like the old fashioned way; the romance and the routine. I recognize that it's easier to skip the corkscrew and get straight to the drinking, but that doesn't concern me. Taking the time to open the bottle is all part of the process. I understand that the introduction of the screw top wasn't intended as a time saver, but I'm just saying...I like doing it the old way. Some people won't agree, but I think uncorking the wine can be just as pleasurable as drinking the wine.
It's the same with books. I know that I could download an eBook from the web in seconds, but I like visiting the bookstore. And the feeling of finishing a great book is doubled when you file it on your shelf, and it sits there obediently, looking beautiful. Or when you lend that book to a friend. A few years ago I got a used copy of The English Patient that someone had written notes in.
I had no mirrors in my house for three years. Yet - I could always see my reflection: the children, the neon lights, the faces of the Filipino and Russian prostitutes, the eyes of taxi drivers in the rearview mirror, in the raindrops, in the journals, in the music, in the movement. I was never as unaware of what I looked like as I was in Japan - and yet, I was most conscious of how I appeared.
As soon as I can find something like that in an eBook, maybe I'll change my mind. Maybe. Because it's not just about the words on the page. Reading an eBook is convenient. Reading a print book is an experience. It's about everything that goes into making them, everything that comes out, and everything that follows.
I will say this: eBooks aren't all bad. Just like screw top wine bottles. But I think print will disappear at the same time the french warm up to the idea of twisting a lid off their wine.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
I suppose I'm the crazy neighbour now
Late last night, with my hair in wild tangles, dressed in my sponge bob pajama pants, an old tshirt, and my pink rubber boots, I ran up and down the streets outside our apartment looking for my friend's car. She lives across the street from me and it's her birthday today (Happy Birthday Callie!), so I wanted to leave something for her to find this morning. I had printed a picture (and put it in a ziploc bag to avoid the morning dew), and planned to slip it under the windshield wiper so it would be there waiting when she drove to work this morning.
Upon finding her car, I noticed that the sunroof was open about 4 inches. This opening presented a second option: dropping the picture inside the car onto her seat. But what if it fluttered down onto the floor? What if she sat on it and didn't notice? MAYBE....just maybe I could stick the edge of the ziploc bag in the sunroof track so it got caught and was left hanging there. That would be awesome.
For you to understand how this looked, you must know that I had the crooked smile of a completely ravenous lunatic on my face. And I was still laughing to myself about the cat picture that I had printed out. As I had part of my arm inside the sunroof, still laughing away like a fool, someone was walking by and staring at me. Sure, I knew what I was doing - just something nice for a friend. But what did it look like to the passerby? I didn't consider that at the time. But probably like a crazy woman trying to find a car to break into to talk to her invisible giraffe in private.
But whatever...at least I don't play the recorder.
Upon finding her car, I noticed that the sunroof was open about 4 inches. This opening presented a second option: dropping the picture inside the car onto her seat. But what if it fluttered down onto the floor? What if she sat on it and didn't notice? MAYBE....just maybe I could stick the edge of the ziploc bag in the sunroof track so it got caught and was left hanging there. That would be awesome.
For you to understand how this looked, you must know that I had the crooked smile of a completely ravenous lunatic on my face. And I was still laughing to myself about the cat picture that I had printed out. As I had part of my arm inside the sunroof, still laughing away like a fool, someone was walking by and staring at me. Sure, I knew what I was doing - just something nice for a friend. But what did it look like to the passerby? I didn't consider that at the time. But probably like a crazy woman trying to find a car to break into to talk to her invisible giraffe in private.
But whatever...at least I don't play the recorder.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Wake up call
Someone new moved in downstairs, and of all the annoying habits and quirks that neighbours can possess, ours plays the recorder. That stupid little plastic "instrument" that is only capable of hitting so many notes, making each song sound strangely similar. The same instrument that is generally reserved for children who can't manage the intricacies of a real instrument yet. The instrument that, in most households, ends up being hidden, deep in a cluttered closet because it produces the most inelegant, irritating sound that drives families to the brink of insanity. Ours were taken away repeatedly as kids. It was really more like a weapon of extreme torture than a tool of musical expression.
This morning Luc lined up for a Mountain Equipment Co-op sale at 5:30am. He snagged some really great showshoes at an enormous discount, so it was worth it...but obvisouly he hit a wall of exhaustion this afternoon. Being the supportive fiance that I am, I joined him for an afternoon nap. The sun was shining in through the bedroom window and a light breeze blew in every few minutes. It was very pleasant until our awesome new neighbour started tooting away on their recorder.
Initially, I was confused. I was in the sort of state where dreams and reality blend together and you're still mad at your boyfriend for ditching you at the miniature monkey museum to make jam with Hannah Montana. Upon opening my eyes I was face to face with Luc, whose eyes were also wide open. The slight raise of his eyebrows told me that I wasn't hearing things. I wasn't dreaming. Someone was playing the recorder and he heard it too. If I stood up and looked outside, I wouldn't find a Medieval Fair below our bedroom window. Even still, I kept expecting to hear a wench yell out "huzzah" and tent full of drunken jesters to break out in old-timey laughter...whatever that sounds like.
We slid out of bed and walked on shaky legs to the window. It was our neighbour, no question about it. The out of tune notes sailed up and smacked us in the face. I hope to god it's a phase.
This morning Luc lined up for a Mountain Equipment Co-op sale at 5:30am. He snagged some really great showshoes at an enormous discount, so it was worth it...but obvisouly he hit a wall of exhaustion this afternoon. Being the supportive fiance that I am, I joined him for an afternoon nap. The sun was shining in through the bedroom window and a light breeze blew in every few minutes. It was very pleasant until our awesome new neighbour started tooting away on their recorder.
Initially, I was confused. I was in the sort of state where dreams and reality blend together and you're still mad at your boyfriend for ditching you at the miniature monkey museum to make jam with Hannah Montana. Upon opening my eyes I was face to face with Luc, whose eyes were also wide open. The slight raise of his eyebrows told me that I wasn't hearing things. I wasn't dreaming. Someone was playing the recorder and he heard it too. If I stood up and looked outside, I wouldn't find a Medieval Fair below our bedroom window. Even still, I kept expecting to hear a wench yell out "huzzah" and tent full of drunken jesters to break out in old-timey laughter...whatever that sounds like.
We slid out of bed and walked on shaky legs to the window. It was our neighbour, no question about it. The out of tune notes sailed up and smacked us in the face. I hope to god it's a phase.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
My fiance, the ass...
It's been brought to our attention that Luc and I aren't the only pair of our kind. As I mentioned a few days ago, we sent out our save the dates, and our guests have begun to peruse our wedding website. One of Luc's friend's tried to get to our website by googling our names: kristenandluc
He found a site...he found Kristen and Luc...but not the ones he was looking for. Here's my favourite highlight from the site:
"Kristin jumped on Luc giving him his first bareback experience"
And here is the site itself:
AWESOME DISCOVERY
He found a site...he found Kristen and Luc...but not the ones he was looking for. Here's my favourite highlight from the site:
"Kristin jumped on Luc giving him his first bareback experience"
And here is the site itself:
AWESOME DISCOVERY
Thursday, October 1, 2009
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