tammytoes does tetris

I'm sad that it took me this long to discover one of Denver's finest events, the monthly Tetris tournament at Forest Room 5. Featuring big screen Tetris action, overpriced drinks, super fly folks and the most complex Xcel bracket program on the face of the planet (not to mention the best Tetris players I've ever met), the competition was the most awesome entertainment I've had in a long time.

Speed Tetris is pure Tetris: it's all about making the lines. I was unprepared for the lightning speed of the better players, and their ability to make creative and complex choices. I feel like I made a pretty respectable rookie appearance, but I would need to do some serious practice in order to be a contender.

Writing would cheapen the epic magnitude of the event, so I'll let the tourney web site speak for itself. In addition, you can check out films of the matches here, thanks to Joe. Unfortunately, Joe's camera battery ran out before the final match between Vinnie and Paul G., which featured a jaw-dropping come-from-behind finish. However, there are some pretty good matches in this set.

My films show spirited, but lackluster play. It's pretty clear when I choked in both of my last two matches. My favorite part is Joe's running commentary. And the comments of the crowd. I would study these in detail and track down an old Super Nintendo in anticipation of August's event if I was staying in Denver, but alas.

Anyone in NYC fancy a game of Tetris?

stupid string theorists

This article on Higgs boson research, the particle accelerator race, and blogs in the physics universe caught my eye this morning. Mostly because I realized that the last time I thought about the Higgs boson was in 6th grade, and also because the fact that I thought about the Standard Model, heavy matter and the like in 6th grade is really, really bizarre. Over the years, I've re-engaged with the physics world as a casual reader and participant in the whole post-posty humanities embrace of quantum-through-the-looking-glass theory gobbledygook, but when I get psyched up by reading an article like this, I realize that I still find hard science pretty sexy.

One of my favorite moments here is science smack talk:

"Now with blogs even string theorists who can’t spell Higgs became immediately aware of inside information about D Zero data.”

Fucking string theorists and their fucking blogs.

Also very interested in this blog noted in the article. Might add it to my regular blog reader.

...a case of the sunday night hmmmmms...

there are lots and lots and lots of questions that have plagued me over the years, but the one that occurs to me right now is this:

how DO you solve a problem like Maria?

got any ideas?

the bout, the deathly hallows

This was the scene in the dressing room after the season opener. That's Boo Boo Radly, captain of my beloved Green Barrettes with the juice box. In honor of my last bout experience in Denver, I wore my candy pink Sugar Kill Gang uniform skirt (you gotta be tough when you're wearing terry cloth). My team honored me by asking me to call line-ups for the bout. This, I've realized, is actually a much tougher job than skating in a bout. By the time the third period rolls around, whatever written line-ups you have, you throw out the window due to penalties, injuries and the desire to win the bout. I'm proud to say that the two times I've done this (you Denver derby fans might remember Shotgun Betties victory last year that I called when my ankle was still mush) I've helped my team win.

This bout was Friction VixXxen's last bout before she heads down to Austin, where she's being courted by every Texas team under the sun. It meant a lot to me that my team asked me to be on the bench with them, and listened to me as I pulled them from the line-up, or added them to the track. Jane and Angela passed the star last night, the first time ever for the league. Rockett's baby is 5 months old (um, yeah, we call him Bottle Rockett). New skaters who I met maybe once or twice before I retired gave me hugs and told me they missed me. That they knew me at all was a surprise.

I miss skating. I haven't figured out if I'll return or not. This body of mine seems to enjoy not being injured, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't miss it last night, every muscle and nerve.

I skipped the afterparty in favor of dinner with friends. Then I met up with Tertia and Eric at the Tattered Cover for the release of the last Harry Potter book. The scene was marvelous. A hot night filled with wizards, witches and muggles all bustling about anxiously counting down to 12:01 am. An efficient voucher and distribution process later, I was out on the street clutching my new copy in under 25 minutes. But I'm so glad I went: parents had to practically drag their kids out of the store because they were already reading the first few pages and were glued to their spots, camera flashbulbs everywhere, tweenage girls fighting over book boxes marked "Do not open until 12:01 am!" that bookstore employees were giving away. People were pumped. I've seen this much energy at a concert or performance, but never for a book.

I walked the five quiet blocks home, holding my copy. A man walking his poodle stopped to ask me about the book. When I got home, Rick, Margi and Garrett were all watching The Prisoner of Azkaban and I took a shower and stole up to my room to start reading. I was so tired that I could only make it through five pages. But they were delightful, nonetheless.

serendipity

yesterday was the kind of day i could live on for a good long while.

i met a friend named ed who i haven't seen since 9th grade in brooklyn for the afternoon. we had a reunion on smith street, ate almond macaroon cookies from his favorite bakery, and then strolled the bastille festival. we ended up at a french bar on the waterfront, getting tipsy and trying to chart the past 18 years.

then it was off to cobble hill park and an evening with ehren (there are so many 'e' people here...) and a walk around red hook. this community is fascinating - you can feel the mechanics of gentrification grinding through it even as you walk, but the cultural and economic collision is really quite exciting. our waiter at the dinner joint gave me toothpicks from under the bar. then we hopped a fence to check out the waterfront up close. the statue of liberty was in the distance, the verrazano bridge was lit up and beautiful, and the staten island ferry was sailing. the sky was dark and beautiful.

it started to rain so we ducked into a random bar (something like the "bait and tackle" - i dunno...) there was a poster about shellfish in thailand in the bathroom. we had some serious harry potter conversation with the bartender. then we met boozer and gary, two late-forty-something men who grew up in the neighborhood and had a lot to say about its history, problems facing their community and what needed to be done about it. i learned a tremendous amount from them. we talked about gary's nonprofit, a books and basketball organization that tries to get both into the hands of kids during the summer. a jazz band played. boozer played awesome music on the jukebox. we stayed late into the night before making the walk back to the subway. i hope i meet these men again.

i can't quite get my words around the density of experience yesterday, but i will be winding and unwinding memory from it for a long, long time.

this trip to new york city...

...is brought to you by the letters E and I and the number 404.

i'm thinking about the myth of yards. on a hot day in brooklyn, everyone is out. they're standing on the streets talking, having sales outside their walk-ups, sitting in the park, visiting, just meandering. after so many years of growing up and spending time in the suburbs, i'm totally struck by the myth of yards. nobody is *ever* out in the climate-controlled, kentucky blue grass, wood deck-ridden world of the burbs. Yet here in the city, where people are lucky to have a stoop or a fire escape, there are so many people out all the time. it's a marvel. it makes me worry that the planned development world is creating large-scale, air-conditioned family catacombs. the world here is far from sealed. it's uncorked all the time.

yesterday, i got asked for directions 4 times - three were people i discerned were tourists, but one appeared to be a new yorker. passing is a vacation labor of love for me. i love being in places and fitting in just enough that i can pass for a local to the untrained eye. (i once gave very elaborate - and completely made up - directions in German while staying in Berlin because I was so excited to be mistaken for a local. i have no idea where i sent those poor country people.) but moreso than just passing, there is clearly a transition happening for me. with the move here just a month away, i feel the sense of belonging take hold. these are steps i've already taken. this is a neighborhood i remember. i know how to walk purposefully in the subway even when i'm not sure if i'm going uptown or downtown. i walk with big enough strides to knock down midwestern visitors.

this is not a thoughtless place. it's lovely.

yesterday, a friend sent me a message to watch the sun as it set down the city street grid line. the illumination and the landscape was gorgeous. i put on explosions in the sky and walked through tompkins park and was just happy and tired.

getting an apartment in nyc is like dating. it takes great tenacity and even greater luck. meeting a property manager is the most nerve-wracking first date i've ever had.

this upcoming change is just right.

um, oogy

I was just searching my health insurance member website for some contact info for one of my docs. Well, some genius in their marcom department decided to include physician photos in the staff directory. Good idea? Um, no.

Case in point: this guy is my gynecologist.












So I've met with this doctor many times and he's NOT THAT CREEPY in person. He's actually very nice (and he's always been sans mustache during appointments). But, seriously, based on THIS photo, would you let this guy do a pap smear on you? How could someone not look at this photo and understand that women don't give their phone numbers to guys who look like this bars, much less let them poke around in their nether regions?

Also, I think it's time to institute a new rule for the universe. Henceforth, gynecologists shall not be allowed to have mustaches. Ever.

fireworks, from the porch

Last year, I spent my 4th of July with my family, watching fireworks in Roeland Park, KS and then driving 12 hours back to Denver, contemplating independence, love and what it meant to be alone. This year, I wanted to be alone again - too much social time lately, not enough space to think or get things done. So I went to the movies, made some food, did some laundry, chatted quietly with a roommate for a while and then engaged in the good capitalist venture of catching up on some freelance work.

After the sun went down, I had a quiet beer on the porch and then grabbed my new-old blue Schwinn, which I've started referring to as the summer fun bike, because it's impossible not to smile when you're riding it. No phone, no plan (no helmet - good sense that). And I rode. People in my neighborhood were listening to Culture Club, Weezer, assorted indistiguishable thumping beats. Lots of people walking, clear roads. Sounds of firecrackers and fountains and occasional cheers in the distance but I never seemed to get any closer to them. Parties going on.

I rode up to City Park and looped around and around, watching people pack up picnics in the dark. I rode over a couple of snappers, thought about all the old stuff again: independence and love and being alone. That stuff never seems to really go away.

The I rode past a big area of trees that I mulched several years ago on a drizzly volunteer Saturday. It made me realize: time to change the signifier. I've come be a bit narrow-minded in my focus on the importance of Denver. I've come to mark my time here as growing up, getting divorced, coming to grips with change, the end of the longest-biggest-grandest adventure (relationship and marriage) that I've ever experienced. But there's something more elemental and important about my time here.

I realized that I've done something in Denver.

Taking stock:

When I came here, I abandoned my wacktastic ventures in corporate culture and volunteered full-time for a year. I ran a mentoring program that matched high school students with elementary school students (this had far more impact on the older students than the younger students, I reckon). I read to Head Start kids. I ran an arts program at a Boys and Girls Club and spent the summer creating a literary journal with kids - a project without much of a chance of success, cautioned the club director. I mentored two girls on my own.

When I moved back into a paying job, I started college prep programming for at-risk and low income high school students at a nonprofit that had no college prep. I built school-year and summer programs from the ground up. I wrote grants that got funded by the state, county and private funders. I trained facilitators on the ins-and-outs of college admissions along with students and parents. I taught lots and lots of teens how to articulate their strengths, read a paycheck, write an admissions essay, apply for scholarships, get a job. This past year, I supervised young staff new to classroom teaching and managed a scholarship prep process that resulted in more of our students receiving one of the most prestigious full-ride Colorado scholarships than any other nonprofit in Denver. And I overhauled a long-outdated career readiness curriculum and designed a new evaluation process.

I co-founded a non-profit, all-volunteer roller derby league that generated 100k+ revenue in its first year and averaged 2,000 spectators at each of its events and contributed countless hours of community service and raised thousands of dollars for charity.

I wrote some stuff and was in a book.

I was an executive producer on a documentary.

I talked to everyone who would give me 5 minutes of their time about the devastating workforce crisis ahead, the importance of getting involved with education reform and youth causes, and the need to provide a path to legal citizenship for the millions of undocumented kids who are in this country through no fault of their own. I made my friends volunteer. Relentlessly.

I write all of this because I don't quite believe it sometimes. It's wild and awesome. Instead of feeling the wistful ambivalence that accompanies thoughts of independence and love, I rode home thinking RIGHT ON.

In this America, one can't ever really do enough. It's just not possible. There's too much to do. But one has to do something. Everyone just has to do something, and really believe and love that something.

I'm changing the way I've come to reflect on Denver in my last two months here.

I did something in Denver.

The fireworks are done now, and it's raining outside. I'm writing on the porch, just about to return to drinking beer and making money.

I did something. Right fucking on.