One year since my last post
It’s been one year since my last post. If only as a marker, I thought I’d write an update.
In a way, it feels like not that much has changed. I think that’s part of getting older: a year will go by and your life feels fundamentally the same as it did the year before. I don’t remember that happening when I was younger.
The next year will most likely be very different. I don’t know what it’s going to look like, but I’m looking forward to it. In the meantime, here’s a picture from this last year.
Morning sky by Kelly Drive.
Season comparison photos
Last fall, I took some pictures of my neighborhood. I thought I would take similar pictures today, with the snow covering everything. I’m not thrilled with the quality of the new pictures, but I like the comparison between late summer/early fall and the middle of winter. Click on the pics for larger versions. Enjoy!
Looking southeast from West Poplar.
Mt. Vernon Street, looking east at the African Methodist Episcopal Church.
Looking northeast at the Russian church in West Poplar.
Close-ups of the Church of the Assumption on Spring Garden Street.
Reaction to Amish roofing story
This Inquirer article, by Harold Brubaker, regarding non-Amish contractors’ complaints about unfair competition from Amish roofers, stood out to me.
Mild animosity against the Amish because of a perceived tax or business advantage they get from the government is nothing new. Snarky Amish supporters have long enjoyed poking fun at people who whine that “the Amish don’t pay taxes for roads, and their buggies cause more damage than vehicles.” (There are no taxes specifically for roads, so no one pays “road taxes.” The Amish do pay general local, state and federal taxes, the first two of which usually pay for roads.)
My father has mentioned before that at some point, probably when the economy gets bad, this kind of rhetoric is going to become more widespread, and will have stronger evidence to support it. I.e., the Inqy article.
A couple observations off the top: Read more…
A trip to the zoo (nom nom)
I went to the Philadelphia Zoo about a week ago, and fought the jaguars for their food. Ok, not really, but here’s some video footage of some of the animals. Specifically, an orangutan (who had a baby recently), a few tigers (who didn’t), and a jaguar (who ate a bone the size of a baby). Oh, and otters.
Footage of otters, that is. I wasn’t saying the jaguar ate the otters. That would have been traumatizing, for me and the otters. Ok, mostly just for the otters.
Poplar Pics
Now that I know what my neighborhood is called, I can put up some pictures of it. Well, I could before too, but whatever. I like the way Poplar Pics sounds. Enjoy!
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- One of the steeples of the Church of the Assumption.
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- A close-up of the industrial building.
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- Looking toward Old City, with a view of the endangered Church of the Assumption.
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- Closer view of the Inqy/DN building and Comcast Center (background).
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- The AME church on 11th street.
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- A view of the Russian Catholic church, with new construction in the foreground.
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- A view of the Inquirer/DN building and the Comcast Center
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- Abandoned industrial building on the eastern edge of West Poplar.
English is not dead
As a journalist by training and a bit of a grammar nerd, I groan as much as the next stickler for spelling when I see an “it’s” where an “its” should be. I love witty takes on the lack of grammar in some writing. I especially rue the mistakes I make in my own writing.
But sometimes the grammar and spelling nerdiness goes too far. The world is not ending because “U r 2″ is now a complete sentence. Specifically, I have a problem with the idea that instant messaging, texting and Internet-speak has ushered in a doom spiral of bad grammar, non-existent copy editing and poor spelling.
This is a myth, pure and simple. Read more…
In a city of neighborhoods, one with no name (or two?)
I recently moved into an apartment on Mt. Vernon Street, east of Broad Street. This was my first apartment outside of north central Philadelphia, or Templetown, as it is sometimes called. These two names are self-explanatory. (The neighborhood is also known as Hartranft, after a Civil War general and advocate for broader suffrage and working-class rights, but I haven’t been able to find out why this specific neighborhood is called Hartranft.)
So back to my new neighborhood. It didn’t seem to have a name. Very broadly, it is North Philadelphia, but that moniker covers half the city. Lower North Philadelphia might be more appropriate, but that runs from the Delaware to the Schuykill.
A view looking east on Mt. Vernon Street.
The neighborhoods surrounding mine all have their own names, but they are too distinct to include my ‘hood. To the east is trendy Northern Liberties. But the trendiness ends around Sixth Street, when a few industrial buildings and a housing project psychologically separate NoLibs from the west.
To the south, below Spring Garden, an abundance of monikers exists. Some say Chinatown extends that far north, evidenced by Vietnamese and Chinese food markets a block south of Spring Garden Street. The neighborhood is also referred to as the Loft District, an appropriate-enough title given all the converted industrial buildings there.
But, the names for east-of-Broad, south-of-Spring Garden, north-of Vine St. Expressway don’t stop there. Eraserhood, owing to its bombed-out nature and the abandoned Reading Viaduct railway, recently named to the Register of Historic Places. And Callowhill, a more traditional name, from Callowhill Street, which runs parallel to Spring Garden to the south.
But Callowhill-Eraserhood-Loft District-Northern Stretches of Chinatown don’t apply to my ‘hood north of Spring Garden. There are no lofts, it’s not bombed out (there’s actually a lot of new construction), it has no connection to Callowhill, and the already-stretched definition of Chinatown certainly doesn’t reach this far.
To the west, there are just more problems. Read more…
Hit by lightning on Friday the 13th. And lucky.
I read this story about a 13-year-old boy being struck by lightning at 1:13 p.m. (or 13:13 in Army time) on Friday the 13th with as much curiosity as most people, I imagine. It seems uncanny that on a day known for bad luck, such a combination of numbers associated with bad luck would surround, well, a case of pretty bad luck.
But, I was a little skeptical as well. Perhaps it goes without saying, but I don’t believe in bad luck numbers, omens or signs. So, I decided to try to find an alternate explanation, or at least a little more context.
I realize that many people don’t openly believe in the superstition, so it may seem obvious that this case is not, in fact, evidence of the unlucky number 13 striking again. But most people, consciously or not, are superstitious.
When I realized Friday the 13th was approaching, I felt almost apprehensive. I don’t believe in black cats or the unlucky number 13 or “jinxing” sports teams or any of it, but I still couldn’t help but hope that nothing bad happened to me. So, I think it’s worth looking at the context of a case of what seems like proof of unlucky omens.
First, some facts about lightning strikes on people. Depending on where you look, there are between several hundred and several thousand lightning strikes per year. I haven’t found a real consensus, but I’m going to go with these numbers.
That means that on a given day, an average of between one and five or six people are hit by lightning every day.
Mortality rates also vary, but estimates put the percentage of people who die after being hit by lightning between 5 and 20, or even 30, percent. So between 25 and 500 people die every year from lightning strikes. In other words, between 2 and 40 people die every month from being hit by lightning.
Looking at the situation the 13-year-old was in is helpful, too. Read more…
It’s just not the same: Lessons in learning Arabic
UPDATE: A commenter mentioned the Bourguiba School of Languages in Tunis. I didn’t include any foreign programs, since they are out of my budget, but I would love to study Arabic in the Middle East. Preferably in Cairo or Amman, although the Bourguiba school sounds like a good choice too.
I am in the process of studying for the Foreign Service Officer Test, the first step of many in the process to become a Foreign Service Officer, the State Department workers who staff embassies and “make diplomacy work,” in the State Dept.’s words.
Along with staying up-to-date on current events, studying management, geography, politics, and other test subjects, I’m learning Modern Standard Arabic. The language is spoken in media, government and academic settings, so it’s important to know if you hope to work in the Arabic world, which I do.
To put it simply, it’s not easy. The alphabet is different, there aren’t really any vowels, it’s written from right to left, there are some sounds not found in the English language, and though there are no upper- or lower-case letters, the letters can take significantly different shapes depending on where they are in a word.
I’ve been trying several different things to learn the language as effectively as I can. I’ve listed the methods I’m using, or hope to use, as well as some that haven’t really worked for me. I hope it’s useful to anyone learning, or contemplating learning, a new language, especially one as different from English as MS Arabic. Enjoy!
Rosetta Stone: I bought the first of three levels of Rosetta Stone, the acclaimed (and pricey) language-learning software
used by many government and business travelers.
The good: This program deserves at least some
of the praise heaped upon it. It’s fairly intuitive, constantly exposes you to multiple Arabic speakers, and pulls you in through writing and speaking exercises.
The downside: The first level cost about $230.Not a small chunk of change for anyone. Also, you have to stick with it for it to be useful. If you need to know how to say “I need a room for two nights,” you’re better off with a traveler’s guide.
Al Jazeera: I’ve discovered that I can watch the Arabic-language version of Al Jazeera on my iPhone.
The good: Their app is free and easy to use. The video quality is impressive, even on 3G, and buffering hasn’t been an issue. If I’m on the train, waiting in line or sitting at home, I have an accessible way to be exposed not just to Arabs speaking Arabic, but to what matters to Arabic viewers, which is a bonus for my Foreign Service aspirations. This is useful for learning what Arabic sounds like when it’s actually being spoken, not fully enunciated and repeated for a learner’s benefit.
The downside: This is better for finding out how much you know and being exposed to the language than learning new words. It’s difficult for me as a beginner to get more than just the gist of what’s being said. If you’re lost, there’s not much you can do, because the subject has changed once you’ve pulled out the dictionary. Also, it drains the battery on my iPhone pretty quickly.
Read more…
Keep tweeting; we still appreciate the shiny things
My friends and I were treated to an unexpected fireworks show this past Friday at Penn’s Landing. We had ventured to Old City for First Friday celebrations, and around 9 p.m. we meandered to the waterfront, where a large crowd had gathered with their lawn chairs. Better informed than we, they were waiting for the fireworks to start.
When they did start a few minutes later, I had to think of all the “Twitter (or Facebook, the Internet, cellphones, etc.) is destroying our society” lamenting that perpetuates too much media.
I have no idea how many people were in attendance, but the Landing was fairly packed. Just looking at my group of friends, we put down our phones, and watched. (Disclosure: I did take the admittedly limited accompanying pictures during the show).
We sat there and craned our necks to see something we’ve all seen umpteen times before: black powder-propelled tubes arc into the sky, and explode with a bang and a shower of colorful sparks.
The technology is older than the Gutenberg printing press. The original 3-D display, these shows have drawn thousands of people for as many years to their fleeting spectacle.
This is why columns like this make me roll my eyes. As a group, my friends are about as jaded as the next group of American 20-somethings, which is to say, quite a bit. But we still are mesmerized by deep booms and momentary flashes of light.
What then are we losing as a society by the advance of technology? I don’t feel that my ability to relate to my friends, parents, siblings or acquaintances is hampered at all by Twitter. Or before Facebook. Or before cell phones. Neither for that matter is my ability to be awed by glowing bits of lithium, magnesium and copper (the ingredients that make fireworks red, white or blue, respectively).
We haven’t lost our sense of awe, even at a fairly routine fireworks display. We as a society are still mesmerized by embers of gunpowder glowing in the night.
This doesn’t mean that we don’t have to be careful with technology, or make sure to use it responsibly. But it does mean that social networking and technology isn’t sending us head-first into a dystopia of isolation and hyper-jaded detachment. SMH.
