I was invisible

What I did: a user experience design (UXD) class at General Assembly

What I did beforehand: had a couple of conversations with people about this blog


What I wore: Puma sneakers and jeans, mascara, irrational optimism

Who went with me: 29 other students, an instructor, and two teaching assistants

How I got here: I had taken a single-evening class there over a year ago and promised myself then that if I didn’t migrate my blog to WordPress within a couple of months that I would sign up for a structured class where I could do it. When I called to enroll, I let the admissions person talk me into a user experience class without thinking too hard about whether that was what I was really looking for.

Why: apparently, I will sign up for anything.


Where I sat: in the front by the instructor, so I could see and hear and minimize how distracted I was. Still, I had to put my glasses on to see the white board and take them off to read my notes.

Things that were sad: feeling like I was old enough to be everyone’s mom; bringing cookies the second night because it was the instructor’s birthday and I am everyone’s mom. I interrupted a 27-month-long writing streak to try to improve my blog and caused a 3-1/2-month-long drought.

Things that were funny: my notes. Also, I have been complaining that I’m invisible lately. On the train, they didn’t even take my ticket.


Not me

Things that were not funny: I have been feeling invisible lately. Maybe it’s safer this way.

Something I drank: Harney’s gen mai cha, because I carried a little Ziploc™ bag of tea bags to class in my backpack every week.

What it is: UXD is what they do when they want shit to work the way you expect it to.

Who should do it:  anyone looking for solid, up-to-date instruction in tech stuff.

Joe, heckin’ good instructor. Am doin’ a teach.

What I saw on the way home: the menace of headlights from cars driven by fast-man-persons who pushed past me getting off a train.


Things I find in my Basement #18

Answers to Today’s Questions (11 March 2002)
1. Meryl Streep
2. Garnet Yams
3. condensation
4. earthworm castings
5. calendula
6. black tea
7. J
8. homestead
9. less than 6%
10. fission
The list of answers is from an old computer. 
There are other files I will post another day. 
The elephant is from a box of drawings that goes back to the early 1970s. It has no date, but I would put it around 1977 when I was drawing elephants and dinosaurs.
You are welcome to offer up a list of questions for these answers.


Years passed.  Basil grew.  There were times when the snake’s appetite seemed off.  There were other times when it would throw up the meal after a couple of days, and I can tell you that nothing, not a dead gerbil or dog vomit, nothing smells as bad as a decaying mouse that’s been barfed up by a snake. 

Tigre contro tigre

What can I say about Rimini?
The streets of Rimini are lined with many medium-sized sycamore trees–some of the loveliest trees I have yet seen in urban northern Italy. Watch out for the storm drains, though, because from them emanates a smell more unpleasant and pungent than any city drain I have ever encountered. There is a vast swath of dark tan sand at the water’s edge, covered from the pavement to the surf with umbrellas and beach chairs. The waiters at the Gatto Nero were AC Milan fans and set up a chant of “Mi-Lan, Mi-lan!” when I told them I knew the team. And I did have a nice dinner (pasta with the tiniest clams), a decent bottle of Sangiovese, together with a group of good friends I made on the leadership course in the Dolomites.
Breakfast has been included with the hotel, and always seems to consist of a tray of ham and cheese, an array of sweet pastries, and a baffling coffee machine.
Now I have arrived in the small Tuscan town of Sansepolcro. Some of us nearly missed the train from Rimini to Bologna, and having flung ourselves on board discovered that we had taken some other peoples’ assigned seats. We fought our way out of that car and across several other cars to find we were seated with the very people who had ditched us at the station. Another train from Bologna to Firenze (where there were no seats so we had to stand for the hour), and a third from Firenze to Arezzo. Finally, in Arezzo there was a bus ride to here.