It is a shockingly stunning Friday here in Seattle. It’s warm outside, the sun is shining, and the window to my office is wide open, letting in a breeze. The air almost smells like spring.

Naturally, I am finding all of this kind of crazy distracting. It is very, very hard to stare at your computer screen when it’s positively glorious outside. While I struggle to get some work done, you enjoy these links.

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Perception is everything: when these photos of a polar bear playing with a dog were first released, people hated them. They thought they were faked, that the dog was terrified, that seconds after the photos stopped, the bear ate its supposed friend. Now, 13 years later, people have a very different view.

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Hal Douglas, who’s legendary voice narrated countless movie trailers, passed away last week. Here are six of his best trailers – plus the hilarious one he did for Jerry Seinfeld’s Comedian. (via The Guardian)

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I’ve been thinking a lot about Malaysia Airlines flight 370 which went missing days ago. I suppose everyone has. It’s strange and sad, and right now it’s an open-ended mystery, which I think must be excruciating for the family members of the 239 people who were on board.

I honestly can’t imagine anything worse that not knowing.

Sunset on our flight coming back from Palm Springs.

I am not a nervous flyer. It’s hard to be with Rand. He constantly spouts out facts (or, at least, I assume they are facts. I’ve never bothered to check, because he says them with such confidence. And perhaps that’s for the best) about how flying is far safer than driving. About the infinitesimal odds of being in a plane accident. About how there is absolutely nothing to worry about.

Most of the time, I believe him. I dread turbulence not because I’m afraid we’ll fall out of the sky, but rather because I will inevitably start feeling sick. My concerns are not when I fly with him, or even when I fly alone. But when Rand takes a flight without me, I get nervous. I feel like facing the issue of my own mortality is way easier than facing the issue of Rand’s.

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I love Portland.

A familiar last name on a street sign in PDX.

 

I think it’s because Portland doesn’t seem to care whether or not I love it. I find that sort of apathy-fueled confidence appealing, I think because I lack so much of it. I really, really, at all times want people to like me, and if they don’t, I spend way too much time obsessing about it.

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Things never seem to turn out how I imagine they will.

I don’t know if it’s because my expectations are too lofty, or if they aren’t lofty enough. But on some trips, things don’t quite fall into place. Nothing is how I envisioned it to be.

Later, I scroll through my photos and find that several which I thought were crystal clear are blurry and out of focus. There is some weird poetry in that, isn’t there? That not even my pictures are how I pictured them?

The Friday before last in Portland was one of those days. Things were not as I had anticipated. And that turned out to be a wonderful thing. (more…)