Welcome, everyone, to the new year. I hope you’re all finding it to be the cornucopia of possibilities that I do. This year the Voteprime crew found itself once again in Philadelphia. Last year Alisa and I bought a house and so did Alisa’s sister and her husband (our good friend) Brian. Our houses are within about four blocks of each other, so Philly was the obvious choice.

Much fun was had, as you can see in Adam’s photos. Many firsts occurred that year (all photos taken by Adam):

This image is almost exactly a month old now, but there she is, our baby girl.* That’s her at 20 weeks. I haven’t ever been this excited to meet anyone, ever. Expect a lot more baby-centric posts around early February.

*We’re close to 100% positive the baby is a girl.

Waking up at my parents’ home in rural Pennsylvania, coming downstairs for coffee and seeing the TV on, with a picture of one of the towers pouring out smoke. Sitting and watching the coverage in my parents’ living room. Watching the second strike. Hearing about the Pentagon. Wondering if this was the start of a war on American soil. Suddenly fearing just how large the world is.

Coming into New York City this morning for work. Idly wondering if something terrible would happen. Tasting the mild tinge of fear. Disregarding it.

Listening on the radio in the car to Gen. David Howell Petraeus talk about the war. Listening to Iraqi exiles lament the kidnapping, the torture, and the ransom their family paid. Wondering where I’d get fresh water if our plumbing stopped working.

Noticing a sticker in Penn Station stuck on a billboard that read roughly: “I blew up the Twin Towers and all I got was away with it.”

Realizing that the rest of the world keeps waiting for us to notice we’re not alone, or unique, in our suffering.

More posts coming this weekend. I’m recovering from the longest illness I’ve had in probably 7+ years. In the meantime, ponder this: my early birthday present from Alisa this year was old man slippers.

And I dig the hell out of them.

The mind reels.

Where have I been the last 2 weeks? Finding someone guilty of doing terrible things to a child. It’s been an odd few weeks.

In addition to a myriad of other odds and ends, I, with Alisa, run a small design studio called R Design. The reason I mention it is that after wrestling with the dull giant that is Internet Explorer and my own dodgy code, the R Design website is now up.

Feel free to comment here or email me about it. I've placed a big punch link to it here on Current Config in the upper righthand corner. By the way, that big ol’ cap R is from a typeface I’m working on called ‘Sulphur Tip’, which is based on some poster lettering by Lucian Bernhard.

I almost forgot to mention, I ran the JPMorgan Chase Corporate Challenge again last week. I ran it last year, too.

Previously, I ran it in 30:45 and was pretty much unable to walk 2 days later. This year, I trained up for a few weeks ahead of time and did the full 5K (3.5 miles) in 28:00 flat, with no walking and no crippling soreness or knee problems. All around, I’m happy with my performance. My friend Sarah suggested I go for a 10K next. Well, probably not, but I’m going to keep running regularly now, so who knows?

Here’s a map of the route. We ran the loop of Park Dr. South to 102nd St to Park Dr. North to Terrace Dr.

Thanks to Alisa for my belated present. And the chance to make that joke. My collection of capital Rs begins here.

On this date three years ago, I got to marry my best friend. And it’s only gotten better since then.

Happy 3rd Anniversary, Alisa. I love you.

So, I had to go to New York. I worked with and directed a photographer, after which I sorted through around 6,000 photos and narrowed them down to about 130, give or take.

Then I had to work like crazy on an event held here. Then the event happened, and I did this (yes, that’s who it looks like). There was much rejoicing (I might have pictures of that later...).

Then I came back to Philly that weekend and there was much recuperating. As a result, we missed this, even though I was thinking about it for weeks ahead of time. Bleh.

After the weekend, I got back on the horse, and worked with a friend of mine to wrap up and launch this today. Maybe this week I can get back on my usual track.

Sorry to anybody I’ve fallen out of contact with. I’m not ignoring you, I just fell off the internet (and a few other places).

Watching third season West Wing on DVD (greatest show ever) and it starts snowing (on the show). A nice snowy evening. I realize I miss snow.

Ask me about snow in February of this year and I hate snow. Ask me now in August; I miss it. I don’t know if this is a great mechanism for saving my sanity or stupidity writ large each year.

Whatever. I want a snowy evening viewed from under a blanket through my window. Can I get that in September?

Every day should begin by watching Amélie.

Back in June, (yeah, I know, I’m really late with this post) Alisa and I shambled into our apartment after seven days in Paradise Village, an enourmous super-resort compound located in Nuevo Vallarta, Mexico, nearby Puerto Vallarta (warning: this website will make your eyes and brain confused) and I started to put together this post the following day. There was so much stuff packed into that week, I’ll have to summarize with some quick snippets, rather than a full-on description:

For seven years now, The Society of Typographic Aficionados (SOTA) has held an annual type conference in a different host city. This year, it’s in New York City and I’ll be there.

My very generous friend Paul is even letting me crash at his place so I can begin the type-geekery one night early. If I make it out of this without leaving my job for an internship drawing type, I’ll consider that ‘not losing my head’ during the con.

To say the least, I am pumped.

I ran the JPMorgan Chase Corporate Challenge this past Friday, which is a 3.5 mile run through the curvy roads of Central Park. I did 3.5 miles in 30 min 45 sec., just under 9 minutes per mile. I set a 10 minute per mile goal for myself, so I’m pretty happy about that. I only had to walk for about a minute or so at around 2.5 miles to regain my ability to control my limbs. I didn’t want to give up on running most of the way, because the thought of extending the duration of the race seemed worse than any price I might pay upon finishing.

I haven’t run any significant distance in about 9 months (I was jogging about a mile every few days at that time), and I got back from a trip to Mexico the preceding weekend (which I still need to post about). So the day after the race was over, my legs were about as useful as two columns of stiff cardboard. Then, on Saturday, they became more akin to a stiff piece of balsa wood, incapable of bending. By Sunday I could hide the fact that my legs were still a bit sore when I walked, and didn’t have to take stairs like an old man.

I figure by Wednesday I’ll be fully recovered and can start my mission of jogging regularly. Maybe next year I can run with the big kids from work (who bettered my time by about 5 minutes) and not have the mobility of a corpse in a snow drift when I’m done.

On Friday, Alisa, Becca, and I went to the Philly SPCA and adopted a 3–5 year old cat. Her name, the one we gave her, is Leto (get the backstory on her name at Wikipedia). She’s small and grey and very shy, or perhaps afraid. It’s hard to tell, since she spends most of her time avoiding us or eyeing us up from afar. And apparently that’s the norm, as much as there is a norm.

Well, Alisa and I deal with this situation in very different ways, which makes sense, considering that she was the real motivator for getting a cat in the first place. I pretty much ignore Leto. She skitters by or edges around the couch and I glance up at her and continue doing whatever I’m doing. It’s not as though I don't want her to hop up next to me and start discussing typesetting, or just sit there and purr. I do. But, I don’t expect it, or need it, and this is the important part. Alisa, on the other hand, radiates intense need, supernova levels of desire and longing for the least bit of acknowledgement, of progress.

And I think Leto knows this.

Alright, so I was planning this big post about our weekend in New York City and Christo & Jeanne-Claude’s The Gates and the great restaurant we were taken to (Artisanal) and the great time we had in Brooklyn with friends and the new MoMa space but instead I’m just going to say this: NYC kicks ass and you should go there. Or live there.

Also, Josh, I swear I’m sending you those Madlib and Madvillain albums. Really. And thanks for finally getting me to listen to old De La Soul. Buhloone Mind State is so good.

Welcome, welcome. There are seats for everyone here, and it looks like our progress towards the End of Time is proceeding smoothly into the latest chapter, as measured by western civilization. Normally, a new year signals not much more than a big party and about three months of mis-dated checks for me. This year, something feels different. Who knows what'll happen? I know I'm looking forward to it, particularly since we got to start it off in Philly with friends.

Our group of friends (which is really more of a loose, ever-shifting collective) congregate in one of our respective cities each New Year's to celebrate and, now that we've spread out over the country, to prove that we aren't just a bunch of web-based response programs interacting on a bboard every day. It's always awesome, and this year was no exception. So, thus far it's been: NYC, Burlington (VT), Philly, Boston, Ocean City (MD), DC, Philly. That's seven years running so far.

There's too much to cover from this year, but it was great fun. Great food, lots of good drinking, and warm weather. All with close friends and new ones. Plus, we didn't watch a lick of New Year's coverage on TV. In fact, we counted down using my great uncle's watch. There was something telling about that group decision, which happened spontaneously about 5 minutes before the final countdown. Those who were aware that the countdown was being orchestrated all agreed: we're from different time zones, and different cultures, but here we are, together. And, by being together for these few days every year as a group, we are creating our own New Year.* So, with a watch that's been across the ocean, kept time for a group of men defending Europe, been handed down from generation to generation, and needs to be wound and set each morning, we counted down to our New Year: another cycle of seasons as friends, even as we change and grow. And together we cheered.

Maybe that's what makes the opening to this year feel so different. Perhaps this year we won't be watching the world move as much as we'll be part of making it move. Here's to that.

*I'm articulating it with perhaps a bit more cohesiveness here than was actually present that night.

Check out some of my photos in the extended entry. I'm waiting for photos from our other friends, as well.

I'm in the center, surrounded by some friends from work and the spouse of one of them.

I'd like to thank Alisa for the kick-ass job she did on my makeup. It really made the costume. She also reminded me about the bandage. With a costume like this, it's all about the details.

The picture quality sucks, but I couldn't help it since the original photo suffers from poor lighting (it is a Halloween party). As I get more photos, this post will probably change. Stay tuned.

After many months of delaying and designing and deliberating, I experienced three firsts today, most important of which was getting a tattoo. And I'm quite happy with it. (If you want to skip my blathering and just see the tattoo, you'll have to wait until it heals. However, click 'Continue reading' to see the design.)

I went to Olde City Tattoo, only a few blocks from where we used to live in Old City near Penn's Landing in Philly, with Alisa and went under the gun. Getting a tattoo is something I've wanted for quite some time, and the experience was not very different from what I expected. Alisa asked me if I saw this as some kind of rite of passage. Perhaps. I'm not sure what it represents for me, if anything, but I have a feeling of invigoration and satisfaction, and a sense of... I'm not sure... 'acheivement' doesn't feel quite right. I suppose it's just the idea of doing something a bit scary, a bit painful, and a bit unknown that appealed to me. There is also something very liberating about marking one's self permanently, which I didn't expect (though that could've been the endorphins after the session was over).

My sister-in-law just found out that she passed the Pennsylvania Bar today. Knowing what I know now about the Bar Exam process, I realize that most people would be worn to a raw emotional and mental nub, somewhere around the level of a wet cat. Well, that appeared to have happened to Rebecca*, but she was still able to show up, take the Bar, and kick its ass.

That is some very, very impressive stuff right there. Congrats, Becca.

*Oh, I kid.

Hurricane Jeanne decided to visit Philadelphia today. I guess all of the tourism advertising really paid off. It even attracts the attention of major meteorological events. Well, I hope it drops a lot of cash at the Liberty Bell gift shop, 'cause I'm sick of it. This evening Jeanne intruded into my life and became more than a news story for me. Feh. Fortunately, no one around me was hurt.

My drive home typically takes about 30—40 minutes. Tonight, it took two hours and fifteen minutes. Now, at face value, that may not seem like much. However, there were a few extenuating circumstances: 1) It was raining like crazy. 2) It was dark out. 3) All major arteries running from the NW Philly suburbs (where I work) to the Philly limits were flooded and/or blocked.* 4) I don't really know my way around that area very well. 5) Apparently, neither does anyone else, and there are, oh, just a few people who live and work in and around Philly.

Go home, Jeanne! One Philly cheesesteak is enough! They don't get any better, so go to New York now. I know you've been meaning to see the Statue of Liberty and now it's open, so just get out there and have yourself a good time in someone else's state. There's a lot of coastline left for you to see.

*For those of you familiar with the area, the Schulkyll Expressway (76) was closed in both directions. That's just WRONG, people. WRONG.

This past weekend I learned a little about myself as a child. However, I didn’t gain this wisdom through reflection or reading, but through the bane of The Home Movie. The unforgiving eye of the Camcorder magnetically inscribed my youthful eccentricity on video, in the hands of my father. And, in spite of what my brother claims, I was by far the weirdest person on tape. However, it wasn’t because I said anything particularly odd for a young child, or because I hit my dad in the crotch with a wiffle ball bat in a Funniest Home Videos kind of way (I never have). No, it’s because I, apparently, was incapable of being still.

I’m not sure whether it was the camera, a glandular issue (Alisa would probably claim the latter), or both, but my main tenet of childhood seemed to be:

Always have one or fewer limbs on the ground at any given moment. More is bad. If at all possible, perform any action with the maximum percentage of one’s body, preferably with as much leaping and acrobatic contortion as possible.

I showed more promise of being a dancer than anyone in my family, and at the same time showed that I couldn’t possibly have handled the constraints of what is formally known as ‘dancing’. I almost certainly had/have some form of… whatever it is that makes you run around like a tweaker.

I realize that Current Config's been a bit dead lately. I've been hit with 3 freelance jobs (on top of my full-time one) and, most importantly, we're moving!!

Woo hoo! Boxes! (yay!) Dust! (cough) Scary bugs! (eeek!) No more crappy apartment that costs too much! (ka-ching!)

We're not moving too far, but it's a good move. Unfortunately, it's both further from my job and the city, but it's a great area and the apartment is A) bigger B) better C) cheaper. What more could you want?

This weekend, alisa and I, along with family and friend(s) will move our crap (which appears to be mainly CDs, books, comics, computers and boxes) in a frenzy of sweating, lifting, and groaning.

The relevant parties will be contacted with the address of our new domicile next week. 'Til then, I'll probably be hard to reach.

I grow more confident in my bio-pairing decision every day. Today I received yet another confirmation:

Me: So I was thinking that it'd be cool to get some Star Trek: The Next Generation on DVD...

Alisa: ::gasp:: Awesome!

I am so totally awesome at spouse-choosing.

Now all I need to figure out is how I'm going to afford seven seasons of TNG at about $120 a pop. This stuff should be free. This is the manual for utopia, people. Everyone should have a Natasha Yar.

Conversation 'twixt Alisa and I, while spending an evening at home with the Eternal Philadelphia Rainstorm going on outside:

Me: Y'know Alisa, if you want, you can stop the rain. I mean, I think we've had enough already.

Alisa: (frowning) I'm not making it rain...

Me: ...

Alisa: Maybe it's the kitty that wants to come live with us. It's going to rain until we get a kitty.

Now that's working the conversation. How can I keep up? In the distant future, when I'm out-voted (Alisa and Child vs. Me), I will not hold any cards in my own household.

I recently (a few days ago) had a dream about Half-Life 2. I dreamt that I had a copy of the game (only in my dreams is this game released yet) and was playing the opening parts of the game.

The specifics of the dream are unimportant, what's important is that I was dream-playing it on our current PC, which is far too under-powered to play this game. So, in my dream, I stopped playing the game in order not to spoil it for myself, in anticipation of upgrading the PC for the full experience.

So, to review: I have lame videogame dreams in which I am so lame that I can't even dream myself a decent system, and, in a bid for lamest man alive, I stop playing it because I don't want to see the game with less-than-optimal graphics...

In my dream.

In 1998, I developed an unhealthy obsession. This obsession lay dormant for a few years, having waned for a time. However, sometime last year, it came back with a vengeance. The urges and cruel patterns it now carves on my waking mind are becoming insatiable and all-consuming. I thirst for succor, for sweet, sweet release from the exquisite pain of waiting... no... needing. This need has a name. Its name is Half-Life 2.

Today I have secured my seat on the throne of manhood. As Mjolnir, the hammer of mighty Thor, was thrust into the flames at its forging, emerging stronger, I thrust my arms deep into the recesses of the machine and emerged newly wrought. Where once there was darkness and maddening chaos, there is now order and light. Let it not be said that these hands never endured the toils of labor, the soot and grime of industry, nor the weight self-determination.

I have successfully changed my turn signal.

I spent Friday evening through this evening (got back a few hours ago) having a great time at the Spring Thing, put on by the Philadelphia Folksong Society.

It ended up being much more... civilized(?) than I expected. I've been exposed to the more rustic* side of folk by Alisa at the Philly Folk Festival** and Falconridge, so I expected to be roughing it much more than we did. Tennis and basketball courts, a pool, and cabins with power, plumbing, and actual beds. These plus other amenities made it an extremely fun time with lots of relaxation and not too much work or stress (about things like bugs and mud and heat and work).

Spring Thing was very fun, and I'm looking forward to the next one.

* By which I mean, "involves tents."
** If you're cool, you call it "Fest."