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Sadatay, I'm back in the mix writing this blog. It has been some time since I posted, not because nothing odd has happened, but because I've been rather busy. Tonight, the word is that on campus the communist organization RKSK is constructing (cooking?) a giant 6' quesedilla. Why am I not there? Analysis homework being put off to write a blog. On the other hand, a lot has been in the mix. Chickens live at our house. I've made a vegetable garden. I built (refurbished rather) a cold smoker for cheese and salmon. I build a chvnk bike. (To Be Explained Later). What is Chvnk? Rock on.
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Notes from the New York Underground The subway doors open. A hobo enters, holding a bottle of windex in one hand and a tube of toothpaste in the other. Hobo: Which is the better time to read Dostyevsky? Winter? He sprays the windex. Hobo: Or Spring? He squeezes toothpaste out of the tube. Japanese girl: Spring! Hobo: You are correct. --F train Overheard by: Pete Johnson
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So last night (here's a little gem), I got a haircut, in the dark, in the rain, wearing a garbage bag, from a drunk girl who was dancing to the radio while she trimmed my mop. Furthermore, just to the right of me at the time, some intrepid scientists were in the process of constructing the largest white russian that I've ever seen. This thing must have weighed in at somewhere around three litres+. I must admit, it's not the best haircut that I've ever had. But, to quote one of my intoxicated stylists, "If we fuck it up, there are many trained professionals that can cut it all off.
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It's been some time sine I wrote an entry, largely due to the fact that I had shoulder surgery two days after Christmas and have since been confined to a sling. I've now regained enough mobility that I can type with two hands instead of one, so an entry it practically obligatory. The surgery went really well and my shoulder should be fixed, but we wont know for a while. In the days since surgery I've used almost all of my prescribed 60 percosets and I've rarely been comfortable, but there's good news as well. Today, Jane arrives! Her aunt Patricia, in an act of great compassion, paid for her flight so that she could come visit me after my surgery, and she arrives this afternoon. Since surgery Jane has been a saint to me, and phone calls with her have been the few happy times that I've had. I can't wait to be back with my girl. The weather up here in the mountains is beautiful and sunny without a cloud in the sky. Every now and then there is a tremendous crash outside as one of the Volkswagen sized icicles falls off of our roof. The snow this year is tied to within inches with the 2005 season, which had near record snowfall, so needless to say my father has had his faith restored in the Wasatch. It is somewhat depressing that I can't ski, and disheartening to think that I won't be able to do anything active, including riding my bike to school, for three months. If everything happens for a reason, maybe the reason for this is to give me some time to myself to settle my life a bit and find some simple ways to be happy that don't rely on anything beyond my immediate reach. I'll undoubtedly have more time for reading and meditation, and I'll have a nice an quite house to myself on the weekends when my friends drive up to Mt. Hood to go ski. So, it's a new year now. Perhaps later I will come up with resolutions, but it'll take some thought first. I wish everyone peace in the new year.
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It's Christmas Eve here in Park City, and everywhere else as well. It's a perfect night, and it's dumping more snow. It's going to be a white Christmas. We're planning on skiing tomorrow until about 2pm and then returning home to do presents by the fire and such. My only regret is that Jane can't be here to share Christmas, but she's coming out here in a week. She is perhaps my greatest blessing. There is no one more tolerant of me and my shortcoming and idiosyncrasies than she. My surgery is now scheduled for the 27th of December, a mere 3 days from now, and I must admit that I'm a bit worried about it. My dad put it best: "Anytime that someone's cutting open your dermis and poking around with metal instruments you have a right to be nervous". The pain aside, everything should go smoothely. And knowing that Jane is going to be here is an enormous comfort. So now, with the snow falling softly outside, I'll leave it at this: "In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it 'Christmas' and went to church; the Jews called it 'Hanukkah' and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say 'Merry Christmas!' or 'Happy Hanukkah!' or (to the atheists) 'Look out for the wall!'" ~Dave Barry, "Christmas Shopping: A Survivor's Guide"
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I'm now sitting at Gate C16 in Portland I.A. on my way out to Salt Lake. It's so strange to be leaving Portland, which has truly become my home. Jane said, and i agreed with her, that it is difficult to be away from Reed for so long. Yesterday I went skiing at Mt. Hood Meadows for the second day of the year, after spending the night at the Reed Ski Cabin. Overnight it had snowed four to five inches, so in the morning the lift lines were very long. The snow was still excellent though, and by one o'clock the lines had thinned out. I spend most of my day running laps through the rock garden and cliff bands above Shooting star. I've been working on killing my fear and jumping bigger and bigger cliffs. I did maybe 5 runs though this one band of rocks that had a short drop on one side and grew gradually larger into a fairly un-leapable height to the skier's left. On my 'last' run through (I had decided to stop being so risky the day before I left for my ski trip) I dropped roughly an 8'-10' cliff and skied away quite comfortably. On my way down I spotted a small bump off of which I'd jumped several times on previous laps and I pointed my skis for it. Upon hitting the bump, I leaned too far forward, making for an awkward landing that pitched me forward into a hell of a fall. In the course of the fall, I turned a full summersault down the slope, but my right arm did not, and I sat up to find it fully dislocated. My shoulder has a history of distention, which is when it comes out of the socket but goes back in of its own accord. This is the first time that it has ever stayed out. I lay on the slope for a few moments silently in my pain and surprise before my rational mind kicked in and started making decisions. I yelled to some boarders across the gully to get ski patrol, and tried to make myself comfortable. It was then that I remembered the WFR (Wilderness first responder) technique to reduce a dislocated shoulder, which involves moving the arm of the dislocated shoulder slowly into a position as if it were about to throw a baseball, with the upper arm perpendicular to the torso, and the forearm vertical. After a few attempts, it went back in and the pain subsided dramatically. I gathered myself and skied slowly back down to the lift where I called off ski patrol and rode back to the base thinking only of how I'd probably just replaced my ski trip with surgery on my shoulder. When I reached the bottom I headed for the ski patrol clinic and went in to ask for a sling for my arm. They asked me what happened and when I replied that I had dislocated my right shoulder but had reduced it myself before ski patrol arrived, they just looked at me with faces that said loudly, "You did what!?". But they soon tied me up and gave me a solid dose of ibuprofen before I headed home. I will admit, I am worried that I will have to have surgery, and I'm scheduled to see an orthopedist in Salt Lake some time during vacation. On the other hand, last night I discovered the book "Turning the mind into an ally" by Sakyong Mipham, the well spoken reincarnated head of Shambahala buddhism. In it, he describes the teaching of tibetan buddhism in terms that the western mind can understand. It seems a strange kind of gift from above that this book walked into my hands right after I hurt myself, but it has been helping me to understand my ways of thinking and I believe that I can turn this injury into a positive experience regardless of the outcome. On a side note I am now wearing two fantastic temporary tattoos. On my abdomen, to the right of my belly button is the head of a very dirty looking, opium headed chinaman (thats not the preferred nomenclature donnie), and on my left forearm is a very understated looking face with 'goatee of the year' printed beneath it in small text. They're perfect. I tried to find a picture for 'goatee of the year' to give you an idea of what I'm talking about, but apparently searching goatee of the year on google images yields only a few funny looking computer nerds, one 'V for Vendetta' poster, and a lot of gay porn.
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Our world is so automated that it can even take the effort out of new years' resolutions, how amazing! In 2008,  zenfeline resolves to...Learn to play the judo. Cut down on my welding. Take evening classes in home. Go to love every Sunday. Spend more time with my chunk bikes. Become a better zen. |
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As I sit here counting away the remaining minutes before my chem final exam, I'm struck with a sense of peace. The light coming in through the window is soft in an early morning way, though the clock is drifting towards 1pm. Today there is the first hint of sun that we've seen all of exams, and I'm reminded that I am after all a human being with needs that extend beyond the reach cup noodles, mate, and no-doz. I can practically feel the free and open touch of winter break that awaits me in no more than 24 hours. Perhaps even sooner. I look forward to many days with my family in the snow of Utah. The West Coast may be the best coast, but Mt. Hood has nothing on Utah when it comes to the most consistent light and fluffy powder day after day. To be able to spend my days as I choose in the snow globe, and then come home to sit in my hot tub looking out over the soft, twinkling lights of old town, is a luxury that I dream of these days. The only thing that I don't look forward to is my separation from Jane, which will be far too long for my preferences. Short breaks can be a great thing for the relationship- they let us catch a breath of air and do our own things. But the long breaks just make me yearn to be back in her arms. There will be no one to give me sympathy without judgment, and no one to share my bed so that I can wake up to the smiling eyes of a girl who loves me. But these things are inevitabilities I suppose. And if I trust in Dogen at all, these things are as they should be and everything will reveal its purpose in time. It's a bit of a Panglossian idea, but the optimism is certainly one with which I can side. Recently having read the commencement speech delivered my Steve Jobs at Stanford about his years at Reed and how they've taken him to where he is, I've felt the weight of my impending death on my life. Sounds dark? Nah, it's a very good thing. He's right to say that death is the best gift ever given to any life, because it clears out the old to make way for the new. More practically, knowledge that we may die soon, and that we will quite certainly die eventually, helps us to cut away all of the fears and doubts and hesitations that we might have. These things are irrelevant hindrances to the beauty of a finite life. So, I will end this post with the sign that I have written for myself on my study desk in the halogen basement of the library. The first part comes from the "whole earth catalog"s final issue back in the seventies, and the second comes from Steve Jobs himself. I found both in his commencement address.
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An hour away from my calculus exam and I'm procrastinating to no end. My *free* time has been *well spent* and so I bring you this strange story found courtesy of reedlj.livejournal.com. Milk by Barry Yourgrau On a bet a man climbs inside a cow. Once there he decides to stay. The cow's interior is warm and soft, although very dark. But the man's eyes get by with the driblets of light that do manage to seep in. Food is no problem: there's milk and more milk. 'Fresher than diary fresh,' the man wisecracks to himself, chuckling, as he pulls off his socks. No need for clothes, after all, so why bother keeping them on? He bundles them up and stuffs them down the appropriate cavity, thinking slyly of how they'll end up. Then he lies back and dozes. The movements of the cow, now that's she quieted down, are lulling. The man's friends are still out there, beside themselves: every once in a while they band their hoarse voices into a collective shriek of protest - protest from the world of sanity and reality. But their cries grow hoarser and feebler, and then disappear altogether into the milky stomach mucus with which the man loads up his ears. Slowly, with contented grace of a baby, he falls into a deep sleep. Outside the sun creeps away and the moon climbs up over the pasture. The cow wanders slowly, still cautious in her gait, chewing cud. Finally she sinks with heavy care onto the grass, well away from the rest of the herd. Her large, sensitive eyes brim with concern as she tries to fathom her new fate and responsibility.
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I'm now taking a break from my calculus studies. Last night someone decided that the best thing for them at that moment was to steal several of my anthropology books off of my study desk as well as my second favorite coffee mug. Ah well, some people I may never understand. Yesterday i spent the day at Bagby Hot Springs. They're way out d Portland on I224 about 2 hours and then up forrest roads 63 and 70 to the middle of nowhere. It was wonderful. The drive in incredible beautiful, next to a clear river of snow runoff, and there was just the lightest dusting of snow on the trees. The hot springs themselves are actually fairly developed in that it's not just a hole in the ground. The two springs have been built around such that they flow into large hollowed out logs that lead to two bathing areas. At one, there are several private little structures inside of which are very large halves of logs that have been hollowed out to become two-person tubs. To fill the tubs you just pull the cork out of the lob flume and out starts to pour 130 degree water for your own little private relaxation area. We, as part of a Reed Outing Club (ROC) trip, used the other area, which was a large communal tub that fit the eight of us comfortably. The time to relax and watch the steam rise was a welcome change from the night before when I was slaving away in the library. After soaking for several hours, we decided on a short exploratory hike before returning to our van. Five minutes of walking found us in front of a beautiful waterfall. The mist from the waterfall had covered a small sapling at its base with a few millimeters of perfectly clear ice, and the falls had done the same to all of the boulders and rocks around it. It was incredible. The falls were also such that you could walk behind them and feel the air stirred about by the falling water. The world is a beautiful place, no?
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Well, I'm back I suppose. I used to frown upon livejournal users and bloggers of all types for producing an endless heap of worthless words. It's funny how we all hate what we don't like about ourselves; I guess I really do want to write things from time to time in the hopes that someone is interested. It sounds sad maybe, but at least being creative and expressive with my free time will be better than using Stumbleupon or Digg... It's now past midnight and I'm taking a jittery break from my Anthropology essay. My day has been brightened by a total stranger who offered me a Voodoo donut by the ETC without provocation- inspiring in me the feeling that the world isn't that bad after all, despite anthropology. What do I expect that I'll write in this blog? Well, there's far too much meaningless drivel out there, and I include in this category those who blather on about deep deep thoughts while sitting bored in the airport. Instead, I'll try to limit my writing to minimal musing and maximal chronicling of the strange, beautiful, humorous, or otherwise actually interesting things that I come across in my life. So now, as my eyes begin to blur a bit, I'll sign off, hopeful that this will not become what it scorns.
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groggy
Anticipatory
apathetic
productive