Birdies Crowing: An Adventure with iMovie & Pigeons

First, I bird-sat. (Bird-watched? That sounds misleading. But "bird-sat" sounds like I literally sat on them. Okay, so I pet-sat some birds.)

Then I took a rainy afternoon to learn how to use iMovie '08. (Sort of. Don't call me an expert yet.)

Here is the result. Happy viewing.

Snapshot Book Review: Don't Worry, It Gets Worse

Don't Worry, It Gets Worse: One Twentysomething's (Mostly Failed) Attempts at Adulthood by Alida Nugent
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I really, really wanted to like this book. After all, I--also being a twenty-something graduate of a liberal arts college who lives in NYC (okay, okay, I live in NJ, but my neighborhood is more of a Manhattan suburb than Staten Island will ever be)--am essentially just like Nugent!

However, as it turns out, I'm really nothing at all like Nugent. Firstly, we have entirely different priorities: I'm an athlete and she's . . . an alcoholic? I like nice boys and she . . . well, she doesn't, at least not yet. I'm fiscally responsible; she definitely is not. These are just a few of the easy comparisons I can make off the top of my head that kept me from reading this book and thinking, "Right on, girl!"

Then, there's her overwhelming snarkiness. If I had been her editor for this book, I'd have started by explaining that there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. I then would have forced her to circle her favorite, most effective jokes and then cross out half of those and then rewrite the book using only the remaining circled jokes. And maybe read Me Talk Pretty One Day for good measure.

However, I can't say I completely hated this book, either, primarily because her depiction of being a twenty-something living specifically in NYC is so accurate. For other NYC-dwellers out there, here are a few comments I found absolutely true (and hilarious):

New York is motivated by not just moving toward something but also moving toward something int he fastest manner possible.

Tip for Saving: Shave off half of your electric bill by going to bed at a reasonable hour instead of staying up till 3 a.m. to stare at cats and people you hate on Facebook.

[In New York] there is the prominent smell of both fuel and garbage, which seems to have a miragelike presence in the summer, but the moment you walk by a bakery, you remember what it is like not to live in a place constantly surrounded by carcinogenic fumes.

Here, people are more attractive than I ever thought people could be in person.

Tip for Saving: Save some money on razors by . . . BAHAHAHA, I know you've had the same razor for eighty-four years.

That last comment just cracks me up. Anyway, if you don't mind an overdose of sarcasm and mean and self-deprecating jokes, and you happen to be a twenty-something female living in NYC, and you happen to be in an airport bookstore desperate for something quick to read, this might be a book worth snagging. One of its particularly big perks is the fact that it is so slim. Had it been much longer than 188 pages, I probably wouldn't have finished it. But these days, it's hard to find any book under 200 pages long. So hats off to Nugent for that!

View all my reviews

Snapshot Book Review: Chasing Chaos

Chasing Chaos: My Decade In and Out of Humanitarian Aid by Jessica Alexander
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

For what it was, this book did an admirable. I remained interested in Jessica's personal story, the explanations of how humanitarian aid functions, and the descriptions of what was going on the wider world throughout the book. (Well, at least until the last chapter or so.) Unfortunately, the book couldn't quite figure out what genre it wanted to fit into--it wasn't quite travel writing, it wasn't quite journalism, and it wasn't quite a memoir--and as a result, the writing itself suffered.

I'm glad Jessica didn't write this strictly as a memoir, because I feel it might quickly have devolved into an Eat, Pray, Love wannabe, starting with a "lost self" and ending with a "found self." I think her exploration into the world of humanitarian aid was very frank and informative, and even more so because she didn't attempt to offer any real answers. Some readers will likely find this depressing and pointless (why point out the shortcomings if she doesn't have any suggestions for solutions?), but I thought that it made her analysis of the whole system much more believable. It's very fair to point out existing problems, even if there are no easy solutions to offer.

I would have loved to give this book five stars, but first I had to dock one star for the writing itself (it wasn't seamless or gripping or even mature enough for a five star review), and then I had to dock a second star for pacing. I can appreciate that time in these camps passes rather slowly despite all of the chaos that's swirling around, and I can appreciate wanting to pace those portions of the book somewhat similarly, for effect. If that were the case, though, other portions of the book needed to be condensed and zipped through much more quickly. Because as readers, we need a sense of urgency to get to the end. And then, when the end is nothing more than extremely bogged-down explanations of factual information that we already surmised earlier in the book . . . well, her editor should have demanded some changes.

All in all, however, Chasing Chaos was a worthwhile book for anyone interested in learning more about the life of a humanitarian aid worker.

View all my reviews

Garmin in the Bronx

Yes, my running friends, I did it: For better or for worse, I finally succumbed to the world of high-tech running gear and bought myself a GPS watch.

So far, I'm not entirely sure whether it was for better or for worse.

When it comes to high-tech gadgets, I'm not quite on the cutting-edge. I didn't get my first cell phone until 2008, and I still don't have a cell phone that can talk to me, or give me directions, or check my email, or just about anything other than send texts and make phone calls. The most complicated software on my computer is probably iMovie, and that program came pre-installed on the computer when I bought it. I've never owned an iPad or a gaming system, and technically I don't even own a TV; the 48" screen in my living room belongs to my boyfriend.

So when I purchased this GPS watch--which, by the way, is a Garmin 210, as shown in the picture--I was hoping against hope that it would be intuitive and user-friendly and do just what I needed it to do without almost any thought on my part at all.

Which, it does. Sort of.

My first clue that this must be an easy device to use was the owner's manual. It has--literally--eleven 5" x 5" pages. Once you read through the "getting set up" instructions, there really isn't that much more left to read. Which, to me, implies, "Just start using the darned thing."

My first few runs were awesome. This thing told me my real-time running pace and showed my per-mile split times afterward! Gone were the days of guessing whether I had just run for three minutes at a 6:45/mile pace the way my coach had asked me to, or at a 7:30/mile pace like I felt like I must have run. No longer would I have to assume that I "must have run farther" than the mapmyrun told me I had, since "there was no way" I was running as slow as 8:45/mile. Now I had a machine that would keep track of all of this for me! Easy-access data!

The watch really is cool, because it lets you program workouts. You want to run 6x3:00 at 7:15 pace with a 1:30 recover jog between each? No problem! Punch a few buttons and then the watch will magically beep when it's time to change intervals. And what's more--it will keep track of how fast you ran during those intervals, too!

The trouble arose not when I was programming my first interval workout, but when I went to program my second one. Silly me, I didn't realize that there were three options on the "Turn Interval On" screen: Yes, No, and Set. I never got to that Set option, so I just got frustrated and finally ran the workout without any help from my watch. I'm used to doing this, so there it didn't cause me any real problems. The real problems would wait until I really cared about the data.

The real problems arose when I went to run a race.

Since I got this watch, I have only run workouts; no races. Therefore, I was super excited to use it for the Bronx 10 Miler, coming up on Sunday, September 29th. Finally, I'd know for sure what I had only assumed to be true about my running style: that I started races out slow and got faster as the miles progressed. My splits provided by the races themselves have indicated this trend, but I would finally get a mile-by-mile breakdown. I was stoked!

The day of the race, I connected my Garmin to the satellites well in advance of the starting gun. The last thing I wanted was that stupid "connecting to satellites" bar to be halfway full when the gun went off. However, when the gun finally did go off and I pushed "start," I got a message that said something like, "Warmup will continue until lap is pressed." What? This wasn't a warmup. This was the race!

However, since this was the race, I didn't have the time to mess around with a stupid piece of equipment. I had running to do! So I just ignored it for the duration of the race, basing my pace approximations on the race clocks throughout the course.

The race went well. While I think that touting it as a "flat course" was severely misleading--I would described it as "rolling hills"--I still managed to run in my usual style, getting passed at the beginning and then burning by other runners at the end. The race splits bear that out: I ran the first 5 miles in 35:25 and the second 5 in 33:55. And I know I was cruising at the end, because I finally managed to pass the green-shirt-wearing guy I had been following the entire race in the last mile!

However, I'll never know exactly how fast or slow I started out, because my watch didn't capture a single split . . . unless you could the 10 mile time a split. It counted the whole thing as a warm-up and fed back a single finishing time of 1:09:27.

Guess that's what happens when you put too much stock in electronic devices! Nevertheless, I am still stoked to have run a personal best time, even if I've only ever run one other 10 mile race. My goal was to finish under 70 minutes, and I did it. What's more I somehow finished 5th in my age group. How about that?

A note on the results from this race: While officially came in 5th in the F25-29 age group, I technically placed 7th. The top two finishers in my age group placed in the top 3 finishers for all women, and so they were removed from the age group award winners.

Race Length	Finishing Time	Average Pace	Overall Place	Gender Place	Age Group Place (F25-29)
10 miles	1:09:21	6:57/mile	324/6,545	16/2,851	7/723

Speedos, Scooters, and Swimming at Seven A.M.

There aren't many reasons I'll get up before 6 a.m. on a weekday. With a 30-minute commute, there actually aren't many reasons I'll get up before 7 a.m., either. However, one of the only times I can swim during the week is between 7 and 8 a.m., so--at the expense of my later-day energy levels--I tend to get up before 6 a.m. at least two days a week.

Today was one of those days. After sneaking around the apartment like a bandit--to avoid waking up R___ or the two doves we're bird-sitting (who, I'm pretty sure, were awake and watching me the whole time)--I finally made it out the door in semi-matching work-appropriate attire and with all my essential swimming gear in one bag. Now that the sun rises later in the day, on these pre-6 a.m. days I'm forced to navigate my way down three flights of stairs using my tiny cell phone screen as a flashlight.

Miraculously, amid my rushing and fumbling to get out the door, I remembered to pick up the Netflix envelop, so once I got out onto the street, I headed toward the mailbox. I was just about to slip my envelope into the slot when I saw him. Running toward me was a gigantic, glistening black man wearing nothing more than sneakers, headphones, and . . . a bright orange Speedo.

That was my first bizarre sight of the morning, but it would not be my last. No more than two blocks farther up the street, another man was standing outside a bodega, wearing a Giants jersey. As I came closer, I noticed that he appeared to be talking to someone. There was a women standing in front of him, so at first I thought he was talking to her . . . until she walked away and he was left gesturing at empty air. Maybe he's on his cell phone, I thought . Sure his hands are all over the place, but maybe he's wearing one of those earphone contraptions where you don't need any hands. Alas, as I hurried past him, I detected no cell phone. Instead, his rambling recollections of "beating that n---'s head in" and some woman who "ain't tellin' him nothin'" floated after me down the street.

I made it to the city without further incident. I swam, the sun rose, and I figured my day would now continue fairly normally: I would join the teeming hoards of people in varying degrees of work dress, hurrying to our various destinations with little regard for cars, cyclists, or other pedestrians. However, eventful morning was not quite complete. As I walked up 25th street, on my way back to the PATH train, I was passed by not three, not five, but seven children under the age of four wearing helmets and riding brightly colored scooters down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Two or three parents trailed slowly behind. Was it Scooter-Your-Child-To-Work Day? Had I missed the ad for the New York City Child Scooter Convention? Or was this just the newest parenting fad, doomed to terrorize pedestrians and drivers everywhere until someone files a lawsuit?

The good news is that I'm getting up at about the same time tomorrow morning (this time to go running). The great news is it's a Saturday. So perhaps I'll have even more exciting sights to report after that!