April 2006

 

April 30th, 2006

I have been flying all day and I am tired.

P.S. Enjoy the latest Visions.

 

 

 

 

April 29th, 2006

Rain on My Parade

Rule #1: If you live in NW Oregon, you're planning to go on a motorcycle trip with a gaggle of other enthusiasts, and the weather report says slight chance of intermittent rain, then the reality is you live in NW Oregon, you're going on a motorcycle trip with a gaggle of enthusiasts, and the weather will be a slight chance of intermittent lack of rain followed by long stretches of constant rain, foggy face shields, frozen knuckles, and water logged water proof clothing.

Rule #2: If you find yourself twenty miles away from your destination while this happens you don't turn back but instead make haste to the first available restaurant with comfortable seating and hot cups of coffee.

Rule #3: Though it will stop raining as soon as you sit down with your mates it will begin as soon as you get outside again. Enjoy your coffee.

Rule #4: There's nothing worse than needing to take a leak while riding a motorcycle. So don't enjoy too much coffee.

So I got up at 7:15, took a shower, then Vipassana and I headed to my work where we met up with three other bikers, one a coworker, the next his friend, and the last someone who works in the same building but not for our company.

The lineup:

Vipasanna - 2001 Kawasaki Vulcan 500 Limited (Red & Silver)
The Russian - Triumph Thunderbird (Green)
The Hawaiian - Triumph Legend (Black)
The Tech Guy - Aprilia RSV 1000 (Black)
Pygmie1 -2005 Honda 919 (Black)

The weather and much of the ride was miserable, but that's not what I'm going to tell you about. What I will share with you is the experience of tasting the absolute best vegetarian sandwich I've ever eaten: a broiled portabella mushroom covered in melted cheese on slightly toasted bread. I'd like to tell you about these wonderful people who I got to know better (though I know The Russian pretty well given his cube and mine share a wall). I'd like to tell you about that one stretch of dry tarmac and sunny sky just 15 miles west of Beaverton on the way back home and how I thought I wouldn't have gotten out of bed in the morning if that's all the dry I'd get out of it...Then I thought about life. If I could have chosen every twist and turn my life has taken I would have asked for clear skies, dry traffic free roads, and a temperature somewhere between 70 and 90 degrees. I didn't get to pick the weather, though. The weather just happens and either you learn to prepare or you don't, you learn to take responsibility for your body, for your gear, and for your bike, or you don't, and you learn to appreciate the moments of sunshine that present themselves or you don't.

It's not any more complicated than that,

April 28th, 2006

Aslynn's Angry Muzak Trakz

So it's late and I should probably get in bed so I'm well rested for tomorrow's twisty ride to Astoria but I "had" to sit down and get some new music on the MP3 player for the trip. As promised I put together a playlist. Some of the songs are dark, some are angry, some are aggressive, some are bluntly honest, all promise to lead me safely through the tightest corners and I will know sweet joy.

In no particular order...

Angel - Sarah McLachlan
Berserker - Love Among Freaks
Confusion (Pump Panel Reconstruction Mix) - New Order
Crazy (Acoustic) - Seal
Cruel - Tori Amos
Die Another Day - Madonna
Hard Wax - Manchild
Heart of Gold - Tori Amos
I Got Money Now - Pink
Let It Will Be - Madonna
Nobody Knows - Pink
Nothing Else Matters - Metallica
Sorry - Madonna
Spybreak (Short One) - From the Matrix Soundtrack
Sweet the Sting - Tori Amos
Toxic - Britney Spears
Waiting for You (Acoustic) - Seal
Who Knew - Pink
Wish (Komm Zu Mir) - Franka Potente & Thomas D.
Humble Neightborhoods - Pink
Oh My God - Pink
Extraordinary Machine - Fiona Apple
I Stay Away - Alice in Chains
No Excuses - Alice in Chains
I Wish I Was Taller - Skee Lo
Vitro Feat - Cast of South Park
Living Dead Girl (Subliminal Seduction Mix) - Rob Zombie
The Distance - Cake

Goodnight,

April 27th, 2006

F!O!U!L!

I have been in a foul mood lately. When I use the word "Foul" in this context I mean Fucking Oversensitive to Unimportant Life (Events). By Fucking Oversensitive to Unimportant Life (Events) I mean:

Aaarrrrggh!

Long story short, I've come to see that I've repressed a lot of anger over the past year and a half. Anger at people who have taken advantage of me, anger at myself for allowing others to take advantage of me, anger, anger, built up anger that I've put aside as I learn the value of breathing and listening and dying to the moment, to the ego, and learning to listen to the universe.

I haven't been at all sure what to do with this anger. I don't find myself repressing it but I must admit the last week at work can be described with the ever so wise words of Homer Simpson who once expressed his frustration, "Desire to kill increasing...desire to kill decreasing..." I haven't been able to jog as much as I'd like due to my knee and the sun, oh my Goddess the sun this week has been beautiful and I just want to be out there in the country cruising along on my 919, breathing in the air, and being immersed in the smells of spring.

I have so much on my mind these last few weeks...and I would like to share everything with you if my computer would stop crashing.

*sigh*

And so in the interest of expressing my anger in a creative and productive way I'm going to put together a playlist of Aslynn's angry music. And if you're curious to see into my prism I'll post that playlist for you here in a few days.

Until then, goodnight and enjoy the sun,

April 24th, 2006

Ignorance is a Four Letter Word

This weekend was absolutely beautiful.  Saturday I woke up and went to my daughter's room to look out the window and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.  That day we rode from Portland to Seaside and no clouds, not one!  First cloudless day of 2006!  Beautiful, absofreakinlootly beautiful!!!!!!!

This morning while I was in the shower listening to 1190 KEX (oh Rush, thou art an idiot and a liar) I heard a news report that a motorcyclist had died this weekend.  I didn't hear the entire story so this morning I went to their web site as well as the Oregonian's to find out what had happened, hopefully learn something from it.  Apparently an "experienced motorcyclist" had "crossed the center line" and was "struck" by an oncoming truck.  The three other riders with him also "wiped out".  The cause of the accident, so said the news media, was a "momentary lapse of attention."

The most common response I hear from non-motorcyclists to something like this is, "Motorcycles are dangerous."  To that I have to say look at this photograph to the right, it wasn't just the motorcyclist (who was going an insane 160mph+) who was crushed like a tin can but the two occupants of the car.  Which proves several things, most of which people forget to mention when they're lecturing me:

  1. Motorcycles are dangerous.
  2. Cars are dangerous.
  3. Being hit by a motorcycle or a car hurts (a lot).
  4. Anyone can be hit by a motorcycle or a car.
  5. Life is dangerous.

And so I read these articles and here's what I discovered:

Educational tip #1:  Don't lay down your bike!

First and foremost, the first writer's intent was not to educate but to give a news blurb and make it sound exciting by saying the other riders had "wiped out".  What the fuck does that mean?  The Oregonian actually did a slightly better job by mentioning that they had laid down their bikes to avoid the collision.  That's better. 

So should they have laid their bikes down? 

I would have liked to see some statistics from years that have shown that purposefully laying a bike down is not terribly effective and that applying the front and rear breaks correctly slows the bike down much better than laying the bike down.  Put another way:  using the breaks to slow your speed from 50mph to 10mph and running into a tree is a hell of a lot better than going from 50mph, sliding on your ass, then hitting the tree at 30mph.  It's can mean the difference between a few bruises or road rash + broken bones.

The news shouldn't just be facts but facts + education (and hopefully by the educated!).

Educational tip #2:  Don't exceed your stopping distance!

I have a problem with the whole "experienced motorcyclist" description.  I've only been riding for a year but I know it's not a smart idea to exceed my stopping distance whether I'm riding a bike or in my car.  Another way of saying that is, "Don't go faster than you have the ability to safely stop in."  So if you're going at 55mph you should have about a 2 second buffer between yourself and the biker in front of you so if they, say, veer into oncoming traffic, you can hit the breaks and stop without running into them and if your buddy riding behind is doing the same thing he or she should similarly be able to stop without doing much more than locking up the back tire. 

Play it safe, don't go faster than you can safely stop in to avoid hazards!

Educational tip #3:  Experience is a function of knowledge, not time!

In my view "experience" isn't defined by the number of years one has been riding but the amount of preparation and attention one puts towards the ride.  So what you've been riding since you were fourteen, does it matter if you think you'd rather be cool and wear a half helmet, no protective clothing, space out, and ride into oncoming traffic?  Those aren't the hallmarks of an experienced rider.  Experience, in my view, isn't a function of time but the accumulations of knowledge and the implementation of that knowledge in an effective manner that, at least in this case, keeps you in one piece.

Although I am being somewhat insensitive I am sorry for the family's loss and send them my prayers.  At the same time I think everyone should understand that most traffic accidents, as with most accidents in day to day life, can be avoided.  Here are three simple rules for driving, riding, for friendships, for relationships, three simple rules for life.  Follow them and we'll all be a lot safer:

  1. Don't exceed your stopping distance.
  2. Don't exceed your sight distance.
  3. Don't be a dumb ass.

Yours sincerely etc. and stuff.

P.S.  Someone nearby has sent Vipassana and I a great deal of negative energy this weekend and just for the record neither of us appreciate it.

April 23rd, 2006

On the Walls

Vipassana made the mistake of telling me she doesn't read the quotes on the doors to The Temple so I'm here to suggest, in a friendly manner of course: READ THEM (damnit)!

Today I was riding up NW Skyline on my hooligan with Pink's new album going in my helmet and I heard these lyrics, "I'm not here for your entertainment"--and I really needed to hear that today so like Martin Luther I took out a hammer and nailed them too the doors.

You see, yesterday I rode my bike to the beach with daughter on the back and I was shooting up the hills and zooming around those long double lane corners on the way to Seaside thinking about the last five or six years of my social life and that's the way I feel most people have treated me, like I'm some sort of object. Sometimes I'm a pair of shoes to be tried on then taken off and thrown in the closet with two dozen other pairs--and then brought out again when I'm back in style. Sometimes I'm just a toy. And sometimes I'm a prize. And at least once I was used for someone to live out some kind of twisted revenge. But rarely am I understood or accepted for who I truly am. Guess I was asking too much, eh?

Taste, touch, close my eyes and breath you in. That's how I know when you walk in the room you feel satisfaction and fullfillment but you're unsure and even doubtful and you question but you don't say anything. But you're throwing pebbles in the water and I can see the ripples. I take the time to read the writing on the walls.

This is just one way I provide constant weather reports. There is no "quote database" here in The Temple, no ASP.NET or JavaScript spitting out random quotations for your cerebral enjoyment. Yeah, baby, I type the quotes in manually as a synchronistic universe presents them to me to share, to gleam, to learn from, and to sing.

Taste, touch, close your eyes and breath me in.

April 22nd, 2006

I'll make this as simple and straight forward as I'm capable. This is the spot, there in the picture to your right. I prefer flowers. Roses, tulips, lilies, iris, but I prefer roses. Or if that's not your thing a card would do but I'd rather a hand written letter or personalized poem. Oh, anything unique and beautiful and honest and loving would be fine, just set it down softly and with conscious intent.

No games.

I get frustrated when someone has a hidden expectation then judges me when I don't magically and spontaneously materialize satisfaction. Say for instance the girl who said nothing was bothering her but months later complained that I was doing X instead of Y (I had actually asked them at the time if X was bothering them to which they'd said, "Not at all"). Or the woman who lashed out at me for not picking up her bag (after I'd taken time off from work to drop her off then pick her up). Maybe if those expectations had been clearly articulated I would have had a chance to either adapt to the them or walk away entirely.

Choice is a beautiful thing, choice based on a clear roadmap is even better!

So as not to be a hypocrit I'm writing tonight to admit something to you, sharing a hidden expectation, a fantasy of sorts, you might say, that I've had for years. I want flowers, I want roses, I want poetry, I want recognition, I want an apology, and I want friendship. I want to find it in some way, shape, or form on my doorstep. I want it to be late at night and I remember I left something in the car so I go out and woah, there's a gift wrapped up with a bow on top that says I'm sorry or I care or I'm here for you or you're special or all of the above. I want roses, I want love, and I want to be more than a good lay while someone's son's outa town, I want loyalty to extend farther than empty promises and unreturned phone calls, I want to be accepted for who I am not what I "should" be.

Okay, so it's not really a huge deal but it's no longer a hidden expectation, I silent hope I have from time to time when I leave the house in the morning or step out to check the mail at night. There, I've said it, it's out there in the open and you can do whatever you choose with that knowledge. This is the spot, there in the picture above and to your right.

April 20, 2006

Reports from a Fifth Grader

Why I'm Against Animal Testing, by Aslynn S. Meyers

I am against animal testing because it is cruel, unnecessary, and hypocritical.  Animal testing is mean.  Animals are poked and prodded and chemicals are shot in their eyes just so cross dressers can wear mascara.  Animal testing is unnecessary.  People a long time ago had makeup that didn't make their eyes all red and had medicine that they could grow in their back yards.  Animal testing is unfair.  We eat at McDonalds and we drink soda pop and spray food with chemicals and drive cars and treat our planet like crud and then we act surprised when we get cancer.  Love an animal, grow herbs, go jogging.

What a Friend Is by Aslynn S. Meyers

A friend is a person who you know really well and who knows you really well and who likes you really well too.  Friends aren't perfect.  Sometimes they don't share their toys.  But friends will eventually share their toys if you ask.  A good friend is someone who will tell you secrets and not tease you or talk behind your back.  A good friend will invite you to their birthday party and will bring really good presents to your birthday party.  A friend will share their desert at lunch.  A friend will write you a letter while they're on vacation in Europe with their artsy fartsy parents.  A friend likes to go do stuff with you.

Always Do Your Best by Aslynn S. Meyers

You should always do your best because your best is the best you can do.  If you do your best then you can be proud of yourself and other people will see and say you did a good job.  If you do your best you have less to worry about.  If you learn to do your best all the time, your parents don't make you sit down at the table for a talk.  When I do my best I feel good about myself.  In conclusion if you do your best then you will be really amazed by yourself later.

Weird Food by Aslynn S. Meyers

Sometimes my parents make me eat weird food.  Like there was this one time where they took me to this restaurant where the food moved around and it was all Sushi and you could pick whatever you wanted.  Some of it smelled really funny but I tried it with soy sauce and that green stuff all mixed up in a little dish.  I don't like sea food but I like rice and I like the green stuff and it makes crab and stuff okay, I guess.  Then there was one time where we went to a place where you could put all this Chinese food on your plate and they'd cook it for you right in front of you and they had sushi too.

I Want To Go To Outer Space by Aslynn S. Meyers

I want to go to outer space.  Outer space is really huge and goes in every direction.  When I was younger I thought I was from outer space just like Superman and my parents found me in my spaceship crashed on the front lawn.  If I were to go into outer space I could fly and find my real parents.  They would live on another planet where animals weren't tested on, friends were everywhere, everyone did their best, and every bite of food was cherished.  What I don't like about outer space is there are no bathrooms.

Thank you,

April 19th, 2006

...stepping back...

That afternoon we ate a rather hectic lunch.  Vipasanna made mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, and deviled eggs.  I went to the grocery store to pick up a few things for the lunch, including mayonnaise for the eggs.  My dad wandered around the house obviously ready to hit the road and go home and my mom stared at the big screen TV as if that's all there was.

I love my parents.  I always have.  Though there was a time where I had enormous anger at them for the way they'd raised me, a time where they didn't know where I was and where I didn't want anything to do with them (at least that was my conscious belief), I've come to accept them for who they are.  And sometimes that's easier said that done.  When I was a smoker it was easy enough listening to them harp on me about the health issues it would have because I was just as "stuck" as they were.  Now that I'm moving forward, learning, experiencing life, trying new things--it's hard to watch them not only stick in their same grooves but start lashing out at each other in a way and with an intensity that's only worsened since my grandmother died.

Sloth.  That's my mother's sin.  If given the opportunity she'll sit in front of the television and eat, non-stop, for periods of eight hours at a time.  I shouldn't be surprised by this pattern and frankly I'm not, it's something I've lived with since I was a child and a reason I have a difficult time with those who stare at entertainment for the sake of staring.  So I've come to accept that's simply how my mom is, I can give her the opportunity to get out but when push comes to shove she'd rather drive a hundred miles and sit in front of the TV than go for a walk or visit a museum or what not so I usually pick up some diet Pepsi and munchies for her.  Cop out?  Not exactly.  The thing is, we all, knowingly or otherwise, choose our paths and nobody, absolutely nobody, can force you or I off the path we've chosen.  My mom has her own path and though I sometimes consider it overly depressive she can only accept what she's willing to accept and if that's a movie, a Pepsi, and a bag of Cheeto's, then who am I to argue with the universe?

On the other hand, I did get overly frustrated at one point.  The Easter Eggs were ready to be hidden so I grabbed the carton and went in to include my mom in hiding them (and yes, get her off the couch).  It took her a moment to show interest then she forced herself off the couch and hid four or five before getting right back down and staring at the TV again.  Fair enough, I thought to myself.  But then as my daughter started the hunt and I followed her snapping pictures with my camera my mother seemed much more interested in the television than her granddaughter.  I felt more than validated that night when my daughter said to me, "You know dad, sometimes Grammie and Grampie frustrate me because they just sit and stare at the television and don't want to do anything."

Pride.  That's my father's sin.  He thinks he's always right, does not listen to other people's points of view, and has never really demonstrated an ability to compromise.  Case and point I asked if they'd be staying until Sunday and he said no, they needed to leave on Saturday to get home in time to meet my sister's family who were coming up from California.  "Well," I suggested, "it's Easter.  Why don't you guys stay here another night and we can give them a call and invite them up this way.  The traveling time is about the same."  My intent wasn't to push an agenda but open the floor to discussion.  I asked Vipasanna what she thought and tried getting my mother (guess what she was doing) involved.  The discussion, though, was immediately slammed to a close by my father to which I jokingly acknowledged "I guess that's it, the lord has spoken."

What makes the situation truly upsetting is that my parents are now demonstrating more and more animosity towards each other.  My father is privately disappointed with my mother's sloth and does not give her much, if any, freedom, while my mother drowns her sorrows in cop shows and potato chips while complaining about my dad behind his back.  To say it's become passive aggressive is too kind and I for one don't know the solution except to say I've offered an ear, I visit, I invite them over, I try to get them involved and thinking and moving, but when it comes down to it my dad thinks he's right and my mom thinks she's right and they're slowly bludgeoning each other to death because the battle is more important than the relationship.  Joy is out of the question.  Love, beyond the obvious loyalty of their commitments, is sorely lacking.

That said and done I don't judge them, I love them.  They're who they are, what can be done?  And to be quite frank, I have experienced (and sometimes still experience) the shortcomings I perceive them to have.  For instance the easiest way to determine I've had a bad day is to spot the fast food--a quick run through Jack'n'the'Box or McDonald's is sometimes how I cope when I'm feeling miserable, depressed, or just unwanted.  It doesn't happen that often anymore but when it happens that's what to look for.  Likewise, I have a tendency to get stuck on a certain idea or concept and come across as overly arrogant and one sided.  I've grown a lot in this area over the years and continue to grow but there are times...

...stepping back...

6:30am for a Saturday morning is about four hours earlier than I like to get up however, there was a Toastmaster's speech-a-thon in Tigard that I'd invited Vipasanna and my father to so I had to get up and put a smile on my face (or at least be moderately sociable--no easy thing for me at such an early hour).  So everyone got together, hopped in Satori, and off we went.

The meeting was much as I'd remembered last time, except this time around I wished I had a speech prepared.  Instead, I would be the "silent evaluator", that is, I would evaluate the entire meeting and take down my notes on my laptop (which as I write this I'm still to rewrite and send out to the meeting organizer).  And so I sat and observed and took notes and Vipasanna got her first experience at a Toastmaster's meeting and my father gave a speech about how he was a pessimist and that was better than being an optimist and everything in the government was completely fucked up and people should get off their asses and not stare at the TV all day (no hidden animosity there!).  As always there were all levels of speakers talking on all manner of subjects and I learned something from each, not only about their chosen subjects but about how they spoke and presented themselves.

I love Toastmasters.

So we drank coffee and ate coffee cake and listened to speeches.  My dad did his thing.  Vipasanna learned that Toastmaster's is for everyone that wants to improve themselves, and I learned the value of having a laptop with a quiet keyboard.

...stepping back...

It was a few months ago when I started seeing the signs.  I'd setup the Team Oregon class and I knew a lot would happen that weekend and a lot did, a lot more than I've shared with you here at The Temple.  Maybe if you ask I'll share it with you :-)

April 18th, 2006

...stepping back...

We spent four hours in the parking lot practicing our motorcycle skills. Most of the other twelve or so students had ridden before and were simply taking the class to get their Oregon license waivers. For me it felt like Deja Vu, the two day Basic Rider's Training squeezed into a single day except this time I wasn't on some piddly little 250cc scooter but a super powered 900cc sports hooligan.

And (OMG) doing 10-20mph in circles!

About forty minutes into the practice I killed my engine, something I haven't done since last fall. I felt a bit stupid but then I don't typically find myself holding in the clutch so often that my hand cramps up and slips so I gave myself leeway there. And though I enjoyed the structure the class provided and being forced to perform slow maneuvers, which are the most difficult for many riders, myself included, when I looked at the odometer and saw I'd only ridden 20 miles after three hours of class (including the ride home for lunch) I promised myself as soon as five hit I'd hit the road for at least an hour and if it was dry enough find some decent corners to kiss.

I have to admit I don't like motorcycle tests. They simply don't reflect what it's like riding out in the "real" world. Once we got to that portion I screwed up, especially on the very slow speed maneuvers. In my defense as an empath the moment fifteen people start stairing at me a significant amount of my psyche is picking up on them which makes it more difficult to concentrate on the track--and it doesn't exactly help when my glasses fog up because it's raining and they won't clear up at 10mph!!!

...stepping back...

I went home briefly for lunch, though I only had a few chocolate chip cookies my daughter baked and grabbed the strawberry Odwalla for an afternoon doing circles in a parking lot. I saw Vipassana for a few minutes before she took off to pick up our daughter from spending the night at a friend's so we didn't get much time to talk. I thought about that morning and wondered if I'd taken the wrong motorcycle training course. The first four hours of the day were spent quickly covering the handbook I'd already mastered last summer and I've studied so much (Proficient Motorcycling and More Proficient Motorcycling + numerous web resources) that it felt like learning the A B C's again. So I grabbed my mp3 player, the FRS radio, and hit the road for a bit before I'd be trapped within the confines of a small parking lot running circles around little orange cones.

...stepping back...

That morning I woke up at 6am. I forced myself out of bed not wanting to miss my class and sat in the shower brushing my teeth, trying to wake up. I kept looking at the clock and brushing my teeth, looking at the clock, thinking about getting ready for the class, feeling overly anxious, wanting to get back in bed, wanting to go to 7-11 and pick up a Red Bull and one of those $1 taquitos so I'd have something in my stomach in case we ended up riding our bikes in the morning. And so I got ready and put my gear on and rolled the bike out of the garage and started the engine and donned the helmet and took it easy around the neighborhood. I was a little surprised how little traffic there was for an Easter Sunday morning, I remember being young and the whole family getting up bright and early for Easter service--where were all the Christians this fine morning?

As I'd promised myself I stopped at 7-11, drank a Red Bull and ate two of those Mexican-ish things then gassed up the bike before heading to class. I parked by a Harley then walked over to the training area where I saw two lines of beginner riders practicing. I remember how that was last summer, never having ridden before, being put through the paces, yelled at by instructors who sincerely wanted us to learn our shit so we didn't become a shit stain on the road. "Look, look," I can still hear Officer Bob screaming, "Keep your head up! Push left, push right! That's better, now do it again and again and again!!!!"

Ah, nothing like two days of being screamed at by people who care! :)

The class session was held in the same room and when I saw the same book I had last time I realized we'd just be covering the same thing. And so when the teacher started he had us introduce ourselves and why we were taking the course and I felt a bit silly. Most of the other students were either long time riders who had moved from out of state and wanted to get a license waiver or hadn't ridden in years but wanted to get their licenses renewed. I felt a little alien, especially since only a few of the riders, including myself and a BMW owner, would be riding their own bikes. And so I sat and listened and participated and during the breaks used the restroom and went out to watch the beginners get yelled at.

I don't often want a cigarette anymore but when I went outside and found the other guys there watching the beginners, sucking on their fags, I felt a moment of extreme envy. I actually saw the devil appear on my shoulder and tell me one wouldn't hurt! And so I tried to enter the social group without a cigarette in hand and I found I wasn't really accepted--and it was frustrating as hell! One of the reasons I liked smoking was that it was and is the most easy way I've ever known to start a conversation with a stranger and be immediately accepted by them. "You smoke?" "Yeah, me too, lets chat!" Of course that's never said outright but that's how it works.

So now I've found the reverse is true, "You smoke?" "Nope, not anymore, wanna chat?" "Uh..."

On the bright side having a motorcycle is another good way to start a conversation. All manner of people will come up to you when you park and start talking. "I used to ride," some will say. Others, typically those with little to no knowledge regarding bike safety, will drop in and give a safety lecture. And then there's just the fact that bikers gravitate towards each other, "Hey, cool bike. What a nice day to be out enjoying the sun, aint it?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

...stepping back...

I spent the last few hours the night before painting the planters I built and putting finish on a hat rack a beloved friend gave me many years ago. As soon as I went into the garage I turned on the radio, as I usually do, and heard Art Bell's voice. And what did he say just as immediately as I'd turned the radio on? That he had gotten married, that he was leaving the lovely little town of Parumph, Nevada, and was moving to the Philipines with his 26 year old wife--and all this coming from a man who's wife and soul mate died earlier this year.

I knew when I heard this all the psychic energy focused so tightly on this one weekend had peaked at this moment. I breathed out a deep sigh of relief then got in the hot tub, read, and finally went to bed.

April 17th, 2006

Abraham Lincoln once said, "I am a slow walker, but I never walk backwards."  If he were here today I'd tell him about something called walking meditation and he'd say sure, he does that when he needs to think deeply on something then I'd say, "Well, try walking backwards."

Once and awhile when I'm out on my jog I'll notice a little old oriental lady walking backwards.  She isn't going that fast and I must admit I find it more than a little disconcerting that I'm running towards someone who's headed in the same direction I am but they're looking straight at me.  I suppose there's a level of avoidance present, this mostly unrecognized comfort that comes with focusing on the path and not the faces. 

The irony here is that "real" life is more like walking backwards than forwards.  We see more of where we've been and make assumptions about the path ahead based on the path behind.  Those of us who like to play it safe walk slowly, those of us who like a little adrenaline walk a bit faster, and those of us with eyes in the back of our heads...well, that's not something easily explained.

And so in the interest of learning from backwards meditation, the last few days of my life presented backwards starting with the following entry...

This morning I slept in.  I felt I deserved to because I'd gotten up early (6ish) both Saturday and Sunday after having what you'd call a "full" weekend.  This was my reason, my excuse, for telling my daughter I wasn't going to take her in to her early maths class.  I didn't feel like tumbling out of the top bunk into my clothes, down the stairs and into the car, through the intersections, goodbye, have a good day, and back home again to get ready.  No, I "deserved" to sleep in.

And so I had this dream, most of which I don't recall.  I remember visiting many strange homes, some of them were mine, some were not.  I found a half empty pack of cigarettes.  They were Vipasanna's, she must have started smoking again.  I became angry and upset.  Why had she backtracked?  Why was she doing something so unhealthy again?  I lifted a single cigarette out and I felt a welling of envy.  I wanted to do something stupid and feel good.  I wanted that cigarette.

Slowly, consciously, I slipped the cigarette back into the box and walked away.

I then found I wanted to cry--but not so much that tears came to my eyes.  Frustration welled from deep within my soul.  Why couldn't I have something that would bring me joy, even if temporary, even if for a moment, even if addictive and horrible and unhealthy, why not damnit?!  I then found that if I could not cry I would try to force myself, I would take the emotion and amplify it and I wanted to push this self pity and magnify it a thousand times so that everyone could see--yet I found myself fighting against this.  This is not me, I thought.

I found myself walking down a clean and newly built sidewalk.  It ended at the west wing entrance of the middle school I went to.  There were others around me, people I knew from back then, and I thought that I'm more confident now, more beautiful now, and I no longer had a desire to ask them to pity or empathize with me but simply admire and experience who I'd become. 

Then I woke up.

In the shower I found myself thinking that sixth grade was a crucial time in my life.  It was the time where a part of me that had been bright and beautiful started to wither and die.  It was the year I gave up on drawing.  It was the year I started fearing abandonment.  It was the year I learned that sometimes the only way to get attention is through sympathy.  It was the year I learned to fall then ask everyone to sign the cast and that this worked better than anything else I knew how to do.

...stepping back...

I went to bed just after midnight.  I know, I know, I should have hit the sack earlier as it had been a long, physically draining day and a long, emotionally draining weekend, but I needed a few hours to be alone.  Sometimes I'm surprised by how much time I need alone to just think, to write, to watch the tele or read a book, doesn't matter as long as there are no distractions.  I checked my e-mail at work, watched a seriously stupid movie, thought about an x-girlfriend who I had allowed to take me on a ride, and wrote last night's journal entry. 

Tired as I was I felt refreshed.  I didn't have to get ready for anything.  Though I still had to complete my written evaluations there was no Toastmaster's speech-a-thon to prepare for.  I didn't have to inspect and clean the motorcycle and have my clothes and gear laid out and ready for the Intermediate Rider Training.  Nope, I just had to get enough sleep to wake up Monday morning, get to work, and get back to the proverbial grind and spend the week looking forward to the following weekend which promised sunny weather and no responsibilities. 

At ten I turned the heat off and opened my window to get some cool air.  At eleven thirty I brushed my teeth and used the bathroom.  At twelve fifteen I crawled into bed and fell fast asleep without even acknowledging the two cats, Kitten and Monkey, who were climbing on the covers vying for my attention.

...stepping back...

Vipasanna and I had just gotten back from our ride down to Wilsonville.  I called her while on my motorcycle using that wonderful bluetooth gizmo I bought and installed a few months back then met her at the house.  I didn't promise her good weather but said we'd most likely see a bit of everything which we did.  The first ten minutes or so we spent completely drenched and then the sun started to peak out behind some beautiful cumulous clouds and then the roads were dry and the traffic was sparse enough to dodge in and out of when needed.

We were headed to Fry's to pick up some DVD's and a 4-pin DIN adapter for a switch on Vipasanna's motorcycle but the main reason to be out was to be on the bikes and enjoy the air and the road, the sun and the rain.  She needed to since she hadn't ridden in a week, I needed to because I'd been trapped in a parking lot riding around cones all afternoon.  And so we arrived at our destination and found it closed for Easter and I said, "Well, gosh darnit!" and we stopped for a moment before heading back up the freeway.  Wanting to practice my counter steering and give her some practice other than straight freeway riding I took an exit and went up some twisty roads through some hills and neighborhoods that have always reminded me of the lush, rolling hills of SW Eugene, then back down Multnomah, past the old apartment, and finally to Hollywood Video where we parked, grab three DVD's, then went home.

Vipasanna ordered pizza and wrapped some presents she'd bought for her sister-in-law earlier that day while I was at class.  I used the opportunity to put things away and stretch my legs.  Then we sat down, our non-standard nobody gets us family, watched a terrible movie, enjoyed some yummy pizza, then off to bed the girls went.

April 16th, 2006

Sometimes it takes awhile. It takes awhile for the storm to pass. It takes awhile for the seeds to root. And it takes awhile for the stems to flower and the flowers to bloom and even longer for us to enjoy the flowers if indeed we can slow down enough to notice them.

There is nothing wrong with this. The driest ground does not easily accept the rain. An object at speed remains at speed until acted on by an outside force. And 2 + 2 equals four.

How does God explain the ways of the weather when all we ask for is sun? How does the Goddess breath wisdom upon us when one hand is on the cell phone and the other on the steering wheel? How does the earth teach us to root when we're busy trying to live other lives?

The past has meaning. The present has meaning. The future has meaning. They are all the same. 2 + 2 = 5 for sufficiently large values of 2. The driest ground can be prepared to accept the rain. Yet the song remains the same.

The laws are simple. Before you enter the curve slow down and start from the outside where you can see more. Before you commit turn your head to see the apex and exit point then roll on the throttle and lean. Ready, aim, fire, that's what they say. Once you commit there's only forward, once you're leaned over there's only joy, once you're out there's only the next curve.

Choice is the variable. Choose what was, what is, and what will be. And in the fall till the soil again and in the spring plant seeds again and choose what was, what is, and what will be. Choose who you were, who you are, and who you will be. When you doubt choose to doubt, when you cry choose to cry, when you scream choose to scream, when you smile choose to smile, when you love love without expectation, excuse, or reason.

Shape and form or flesh and blood?

Choose now.

April 12th, 2006

As described on Amazon.com the Asics GT 2110 running shoe has an "incredibly smooth, stable ride, this shoe may be the first, and last shoe you will ever try."

It should also add, "This is an unattractive shoe that will sharply contrast with your black running pants and it's blue, yellow, and white colour scheme should remind you of your high school days when jocks called you all manner of names including but not limited to Robin Hood, Teacher's Kid, and Skinny Ass Mother Fucker."

That being said the Asics GT 2110 is the first shoe I discovered by asking someone I know and respect what I should look for in a comfortable and well cushioned running shoe. It is the first shoe I ever read user reviews about ( and surprisingly I don't feel dirty! ;) It is the first running shoe I've spent more than $30 on and by far the most expensive sneaker/tennis/running type shoe I've ever owned. It is, in every way, an affirmation that like it or not I'm a runner. I didn't buy these things for looks, I didn't buy them for price, I bought them because they feel like pillows on my feet, I bought them so I can run 10 to 20 miles a week and enjoy the sun and the clouds, the warm and the rain, and, like it or not, run in circles, without killing my knees.

Additionally...and I couldn't believe it...this last week at our team meeting (insert work talk here) my co-worker, who suggested the Asics GT 2110, brought up a marathon she's been training for and she asked, "Why don't you sign up?" My first emotional response was to give a lame excuse--after which followed four legitimate reasons (motorcycle training course, Easter, family, and Toastmasters)--after which I realized that I was actually ready to do a 5k marathon AND I wanted to!!!

Woah!

Blew me away. I haven't been "training" for anything. I run for my body, I run for nature, I run for joy, I run towards enlightenment (insert humorous joke here). I don't run to look cool or socialize and I don't run to compete with anyone--besides, of course, myself. So the very idea that I might want to take part in a marathon, or perhaps many marathons, took me completely off guard.

Running, walking, driving or riding: always moving forward. Go figure.

April 11th, 2006

Ever hear of a place called Google? It's a virtual place I like to sometimes visit when I need to find something and sometimes it's just a place I go to in order to indulge my curious nature.

If you visit this virtual place you'll find some neat little buttons above the search box. These are (as I write this):

  • Web
  • Images
  • Groups
  • News
  • Froogle
  • Local
  • More >>

I click on Images. Then I type in a word or a phrase. Here are some examples:

  • Beautiful People
  • Silly People
  • Stupid People
  • Weird People
  • Twat (please note the first two images)
  • Monkey Love
  • Punk Monkey
  • Monkey, Monkey, Monkey, Monkey Butt

Today I was at work and while waiting for one of my machines to creat ISO images I went to Google images and "Googled" my last name. Curiously, there were hundreds of images but none of them were of people I am (knowingly) related to--except this one.

This is a picture of my dad's old Ford Galaxie convertible. When I was a kid my mom would drive this, along with the speed boat, on the lawn and my brother and I would wash and wax both before the family went to the local resevoir. When I was old enough to drive it was one of the first cars I drove and when I worked my first job out of high school, which was over 30 miles away, I often drove this classic to work; because I worked the night shift I'd drive home in the dark with the top down, heaters and music blaring, the stars streaming overhead.

My dad gave the convertible to his brother, my uncle, a few years back when they (my mom and dad) moved. Seeing this picture today on (Goddess-knows website) brought me both joy and sorrow and for a moment a good part of me wished I owned this car instead of my beautiful and spritie Satori. I'd replace the top, refinish the interior, add a new stereo (hidden, of course), and enjoy the summer air while I wasn't running about on my hooligan.

Sorrow and joy, so often I find these two forces intertwined gracefully, beautifully, and without struggle or resistence. Yin and yang, dancing closely, perfectly, and with peace.

I digress as I often do (though usually for good, though not readily apparent, reason)...

A few moments of curiosity. A creative toss of words. Google Images. Free advertizing. And another journal entry for your enjoyment. And thought.

Take care. And goodnight.

April 10th, 2006

I am presently experiencing my first ever "sports related injury". It's not major, not anything requiring a doctor, and there has been no pomp and circumstance on this very special occassion where I feel like I've gone from normal goober to offical thirty-something jock (at least between the hours of 5-6pm, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays).

It's my left knee, you see. Must have agitated it last weekend when I jogged ~14 miles in three days--the most I've ever run in my life in such a short period. Now that I've built up the stamina I need to focus more on ways to better cushion my aging knees--and although I make an effort in this area I find running downhill, although easier on my muscles, isn't so easy on my cartilage and ligaments.

So now I'm going to have to do something I never thought I'd do, go to the mall and purchase some $70 - $100 pair of jogging shoes, something that "pumps" up because I am a big wuss. And since it seems all the running shoes look like they were manufactured in Charlie's Chocolate Factory I'm sure to look like a colourful twirp as my feet go flip-flap-flip-flap-flip-flap up the path.

In the meanwhile I let my knee heal. And I build four planters for the kitchen windows (they just need to be sanded, painted, and filled), get a replacement part for the hot tub, get the oil in the car changed, then begin measuring the living room for several home improvement projects that should keep me busy for months and months to come. Oops, and my parents come this weekend, I must remember to clean and prepare for Toastmasters on Saturday and then busy Sunday and oh, gotta be the Easter Bunny too!

Never a boring moment in the life and times of...

the Thunderbunny Meyers...

April 9th, 2006

Daydreaming: The creative exploration of multiple solution spaces or mental masturbation?

This is one of the few pictrures of someone I once considered my best friend. I took it about seven or nine years ago when I lived alone in a small one bedroom apartment just one block from the Eugene Public Library. I didn't have many friends at the time and he lived over a hundred miles away so I was excited when he decided to stop for a night on his way from Prineville to Ashland to Portland and back home again.

If I had looked at this picture closer I would have noticed that my friend was out of focus while the pictures on the wall were sharp. I would have noticed that his attention was on the television just to the right of the frame while his hands were on the keyboard playing a video game he'd already played (and beaten) dozens of times. If I had recalled the last five or so years of our friendship I would have felt an intense moment of deja vu, as if this wasn't the first time I spent hours memorizing the hair on the back of his head.

Perhaps I should have developed the film sooner; maybe then I would have seen the whole picture. Perhaps I should have looked more closely; maybe then I would have spotted the signs. Perhaps I should have been more honest with myself; maybe then I wouldn't have been so lonely.

Or perhaps we make the mistakes we make because we've agreed to make them. And perhaps we make the mistakes we make because we've agree to learn from them. And perhaps that is the simplicity behind the power of choice. And perhaps choice is the lesson, the real magic that lights the way.

So I ask again, is daydreaming the creative exploration of multiple solution spaces or mental masturbation? Can it be both? Or neither? When is daydreaming useful? When does it help us see what is real and what is not "real"? When does it help us find a path towards knowledge and balance, happiness and fullfillment, when can our daydreams bring about peace?

And joy.

Here is what I know:

    1. There are an inifite number of daydreams.
    2. Be open to them all.
    3. Be committed to none.
    4. Do not linger too long on any one lest the dreamer become the dreamed.
    5. You are dreaming now.

April 7th, 2006

I'm a huge film buff. I love Hollywood films and independent films, feature length films and shorts, and everything in between. I love action films and dramas, comedies and children's films, musicals, animation, and science fiction. I love foreign films, English, French, German, Japanese, Chinese, and Korean. If a movie has something meaningful to say, if it's a piece of art, if it's something I can empathize with, something I can learn from, something I can discuss with someone, I want to watch it. And if it's really good I may watch it two or three or four times.

One film I watch at least once a year is a rather bizarre film directed by and staring Steven Soderbergh (in case the DVD cover at right isn't obvious enough it's called Schizopolis). I remember years ago people used to ask me what my favourite film was and though I don't tend to have favourites I couldn't help but say Schizopolis was my favourite film of all time.

"What's that?" they'd ask.

And I really didn't have a way of explaining. And since there were no trailers (that I was aware of until today) I hooked my computer up to the VCR, grabbed some footage, and used Adobe Premier to create a two minute trailer which, quite frankly, didn't help explain the movie any better than any other trailer might.

The film starts out bluntly. Soderbergh stands on stage and says:

"In the event that you find certain sequences or ideas confusing...please bear in mind that this is your fault, not ours. You will need to see the picture again and again until you understand everything."

And so every year or so I watch it again and every time I watch it I learn something new.

For instance the first time I watched it I just thought it was funny and witty and strange, the perfect combination for someone who considers himself funny and witty and strange. That next week I kept thinking about the movie and making connections. "Oh!" I'd say as the lightbulb in my head flickered on. This wasn't just a strange and unique film, but perhaps one of the most intelligent commentaries of human society that I've ever seen.

So (hint) WATCH THIS FILM! And if it makes no sense, watch it again. And if it still doesn't make sense watch some French or South Korean films until you've got those down then come back to Schizopolis and try to make sense of the chaos until you recognize it for something deeper.

As for me, I get a lot out of this film. So go watch it. Rent it. Buy it. It's not really $3.99 though, it's more like $14.99. Tell other people about this film. Sit down and have coffee and talk about it. Relate it to your own life, to your work environment, to our society.

Do not watch the movie with Soderbergh's commentaries until the 10th time you've watched it (otherwise you're cheating). You may eat popcorn while watching it. Or not. You may watch it with clothes on. Or not. It doesn't matter either way.

Steven, if you ever stumble upon this page because it's been hit by an internet search engine (Schizopolis, Schizopolis, Schizopolis, Schizopolis, Schizopolis, Schizopolis, Schizopolis)--I want to be in one of your films one day. I have no acting experience except one play in high school but must I beg, must I get down on my knees and say please, please, please, give me enough $$$ to ride my motorcycle to wherever the hell you're filming so I can be in whatever breakthrough film you are making (except Oceans 14).

And so these are my suggestions: 1) To everyone: Watch Schizopolis, 2) To meester Soderbergh: I want to be Fletcher Munson, I want to be Elmo Exoygen, I'll even be Nameless Numberhead Man or Attractive Woman #2. Please, please, let me be in your next film meester Soderbergh sir!

Okay, so I must to bed with me. My VHS now goes to another soul, a co-worker of Vipasanna who is a huge film buff, suggests really good and deep films to us, and when she saw this said, "Huh?" So she's inheriting my VHS and Vipasanna being so kind and thoughtful and nice and a brown noser bought me the DVD which is good and better and wonderful and oh, did I say I was going to bed?

Goodnight.

April 6th, 2006

I am not perfect and it frustrates me to no end.

When I was growing up my dad had a den.  Against the far wall was a window and below the window his desk, type writer, and a mess of odds and ends.  On the wall to the right were seven or eight book shelves covered with books on subjects ranging from fiction to non-fiction, psychology to politics, the paranormal to the mundane, and of course the Encyclopedia Britannica which, back in the 80's, was the closes thing to Google.

At ten years old I believed that not only one day I'd have read and soaked in all the knowledge from these thousand books but I'd also have the opportunity to read every book ever written.  I imagined that my physical life in this body, though finite, would give me ample time to learn everything there was to learn and know and by extension that it was possible to know and learn everything.

As I matured I began to see this was not the case. 

For one thing, there are approximately 100 billion neurons in the human brain.  If we make the radical yet somewhat inaccurate assumption that the neurons of the brain are like binary bits in a computerized device, our brains have the ability to store 100 billion bits of information (the equivalent of 100 gigabits or ~12.5 gigabytes).  Assuming my calculations are correct (my math is rusty in the morning) the human brain barely has the capacity to store three feature length films stored in MPEG2 format (i.e. DVD's).  Needless to say that's nowhere near enough memory, much less processing capacity, to comprehend the complex workings of a universe made up of nearly 1068 (or 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000) atoms.

Next I began to see that as flawed, imperfect beings we're limited by our locality.  That is, because we're stuck in physical bodies our perspectives are severely limited and due to our need to survive we build up personal identities in order to "look out for number one".  Our egos have a self-serving need to reinforce our identities by accepting thoughts, ideas, and circumstances that are in line with what we believe is beneficial to us and rejecting everything else regardless of the correctness or "healthiness" of them.  And for a truth seeker that's frustrating as hell, you may have the intent to know everything but regardless of how wise you might think you are there's always going to be a part of your psyche that filters perceived "good" from "bad" and there's always going to be a perspective, a bias, a certain level of rationalization regarding what reality is and how it works.

To a large extent that's why Zen Buddhism is so attractive, it takes the understanding of this bias, accepts it, and provides a set of initially alien tools for simply accepting what a thing is without labeling, categorizing, sorting, or reacting to it.  This segues into the subjects of psychology, philosophy, self-help, and spirituality.  These are fields of study that in my view should be studied, developed, and experienced to help one become more knowledgeable on the personal and social levels. 

To use an analogy I am presently reading a book on home improvement.  My plan over the next six months is to pull down the wallpaper in my entertainment room, paint the walls, build wainscot onto them, then build or purchase an entertainment center.  We're not talking a small project here, we're talking about at least $1,000 and weeks of work.  So I'm reading and gaining knowledge.  As I gain knowledge I make a mental list of the tools I need that I have and the tools I need that I don't have.  I also make a list of materials I will need, wood, primer, paint, wallpaper steamer, etc.  I come up with a plan.  I purchase the tools and materials according to that plan.  I learn how to use and maintain the tools I purchase.  As I move forward with the project I find I'm missing tools or materials, knowledge or experience, and I make the proper adjustments to gain those things with the end goal of completing the project successfully, within budget, and without causing the cats (and roommate) undue stress.

The final aims of psychology, philosophy, self-help, and spirituality should be the same, to move forward, gain the tools and materials, knowledge and experience, to evolve, grow, and meet goals without becoming a basket case or causing others to become basket cases.  That, at least according to my identity's need to reassert its limited shape and form, is an excellent place to start--and necessary for a better world.

Knowing this I can't help but constantly second guess myself.  Being a truth seeker this is doubly so.  Being intuitive, pre-cognitively speaking, exacerbates this behavior.  This is what frustrates me about trying to navigate the grey areas of illusion created by the human ego.

It gets me into trouble.

I sometimes find myself ignoring logic, intuition, and precognitive insights simply because I don't want to become cocky, arrogant, or self-righteous.  Next thing I know I get taken for a ride and asking myself, "Why didn't you trust your gut instincts?" only to answer, "Because I didn't want to be trapped in ego," only to say, "I can understand but that was dumb"--and so on and so forth, the proverbial dog chasing it's tail.  So now instead of assuming one thing or the other, that I am correct or that I am incorrect, I assume both and neither and believe that since I can experience mentally, emotionally, and/or spiritual experience both points of view they can exist harmoniously and independently regardless of objective tangibility.  I explore all sides of the puzzle which, needless to say, leads me to experience a roller coaster of emotions.  One moment I'm validating myself, the next I'm rejecting my perceptions and giving my identity a difficult challenge.  It causes me to always be dying and renewing myself, death, birth, birth death, over and over and over again.  I gain strength and perspective from it.

On a related note I've found people often have a difficult, if not impossible, time accepting much less understanding this sort of behavior.  When we accept identity as a solid, tangible thing, when we live lives by our stories, we tend to have an expectation that others do the same thing, that though we may recognize the world isn't black and white we expect others to choose what side of the fence they're going to stand on, whatever that fence might be, and have a solid, static identity.  Perspective is fixed, the truth is static, and either you agree with me or you don't, end of story.  Sure makes us feel nice and secure, doesn't it?

If only things were that simple.

Sometimes I am imperfect in my perception of myself.  Typically, though, I understand that any perception of my imperfections are a demonstration of a well ordered universe simply doing its thing.  We are all perfect.  God may play dice with the universe, but dice know how to behave.

April 5th, 2006

I'm lucky.  If shit isn't hitting the fan I can spend my entire day programming, surfing the net, and listening to music, the most enjoyable of these being the latter, of course.  Today it happens to be some Tori Amos.  When I go to jog this afternoon I dunno, but something mellow.  Then again, what can be mellow right now?  I can't help but feel there's something around the corner.  I mean, I had a dream the other night that I'd shaved my head and I only shave my head when the universe is about to pull something big, even if it's not something I'm immediately made aware of.  Or perhaps that only happens if I decide to shave my head which I'm not about to do!  OMG, the fate of the universe rests on the length of my hair!!!

Teehee... :-)

So yes, when I'm not busy going to meetings or making phone calls or what not I'm sitting here working with the music going on in my ears (and dodging nerf darts from my co-workers).  Faster paced music is best for programming, you know, industrial, techno, rave and dance music, that sorta of thing.  I like something a little slower and more passionate when I'm writing documentation (like Tori) and if about anything's good for going through e-mail.  And more often than not I listen to various podcasts keeping up on those aspects of the universe I try not to tune into too much empathically or otherwise (i.e. there's a lot of shit going on in the world and it's best to know about it through only one sense, i.e. hearing).  But for this afternoon it's kinda sad music, kinda, "Hey, there's the past, the good, the bad, do you miss it, do you want it to stay where it is" kinda tearful music, 'cept it takes a lot to make me cry, especially now that I'm a cantankerous old fart.  Oh well.

So if I have time tomorrow I'm going to rent an Alto Sax for my daughter so I can teach her the scales.  Of course I'll have to learn how to play the bloody thing but that won't be too difficult, I mean, you blow in one end and move your fingers up and down the middle.  And isn't life like a sax, you blow in one end and move your fingers up and down the middle and you either practice and get better or you sit on yer arse and sound like crap but no matter how beautiful the sounds you make are a little hot air's gonna come out the other end.

And that's the secret of apartment #10.

April 3rd, 2006

I had a bad day. So I'm going to eat this ice cream. I had one of those nights where I couldn't sleep last night. So I'm going to eat this ice cream. I had an emotionally draining weekend. So I'm going to eat this ice cream. I got up at 6:45am to take my daughter to work and am still working...so I'm going to eat this ice cream. I paid the bills. So I'm going to eat this ice cream. And I ran fifteen miles in the last three days so I'm most definitely going to eat this ice cream.

Dangit, now it's all melted. Oh wait...I like it that way!

Goodbye, I must eat my ice cream!

April 2nd, 2006

How to start?

Option 1: I ran 4.3 miles today.

Option 2: I ran 4.3 miles today stopping only once to clear my nasal cavities.

Option 3: I ran 4.3 miles today without loosing my breath.

Option 4: I ran 4.3 miles today mostly uphill and in the rain.

I never thought I'd become a runner.

I ran a few times in my life but I'd give up rather quickly. For one thing I didn't have the stamina. And it seemed like my body was against the idea. My knees would give out, my ankles would hurt, and I couldn't run farther than a quarter mile before my internal organs felt like they were mixed up with a handful of gravel. So I'd run one or two or three times then I'd just give up.

Ten years or so ago I lived near a beautiful track in Eugene, almost a mile long loop that traced the contours of a tiny "forest" across the road from Ferry Street. There was a time where I'd put on some shorts, a t-shirt, and my tennis shoes, and I'd go out there and run. I enjoyed the sun, the trees, the high grasses around the track, and the occasional sun basking snake I'd have to leap over. Yet I gave up, just felt like I was going in circles.

Two or so summers ago when I started jogging again it wasn't any easier. It was harder. I was older, in the kind of shape you'd be after years of psychological hell and physical abuse, and the path behind my house is flat, hard tarmac. I did well for awhile there, jogged for a month or two, about once a week, then gave up again. It was too hard, I didn't seem to be making any progress, and time, time, there never seemed to be enough time what with a job that sometimes required my attention 24/7 and a daughter and a roommate and a thousand hobbies and interests!!!

Then about a year ago I stopped smoking and started to get serious about my physical health. Dunno why. I didn't have a heart attack, I didn't see the light at the end of the tunnel, I didn't suddenly realize something like wouldn't it be grand to be there for my daughter's college graduation, and I didn't think oh wow, what a swell way to put on some muscle and attract the sheilas.

I just started running. And I kept running. Every one or two days I'd run a little farther and a little farther and a little farther. I'd connect with my past and I'd connect with the future and I'd connect to the present with every step against the pavement. I'd connect with the divine. I jogged to Tori Amos and Nirvana, I'd jog to music I'd sent other people and music people had sent to me, I'd jog to NPR and Coast to Coast AM and Ghostly Talk and the weekly Zencasts. I jogged in the sun and I jogged in the rain, I jogged in the morning and in the evening. I jogged when I wanted to escape from life and I jogged when I wanted to escape from jogging. This weekend I jogged 8.6 miles because I wanted to prove something to myself.

I could quit tomorrow but I don't want to and it's not because I get a runner's high. I don't. I don't want to because it is hard. Some days it feels downright impossible. And that makes it worth it, you know?

April 1st, 2006

When I heard that The Fuhrer's daughters were signing up for military duty I had to do a triple take. Fortunately I was in the shower when I did this which allowed me to wash the conditioner out of my hair that much faster. I digress, I was going to say, and rightly so, that though most of us don't recognize it as such I find myself experiencing a rather strange sense of satisfaction that there is a day dedicated to the entire human race, myself included.

Oh, I'd love to think we are all constantly changing and learning and improving ourselves but I sometimes wonder. I mean, when's the last time you did something completely foolish that, quite frankly, is something you knew better than to do because, quite honestly, you'd done it before and said to yourself, "Well, I'm never going to do that again!" And think not just on your own personal life but on all the lives around us, haven't we learned from all these experiences of others how to change and improve ourselves? So why don't we? Or are we? Or are we simply deluding ourselves into thinking we are when we're not or that we're not when we in fact are?

I sometimes chase my tail. I try to stop before I get too dizzy.

So the thing is, I suppose, to find one thing that "needs" improving and improve on it. You live your life in fear? Well, it's silly to think you can simply stop so how about taking one small leap of faith a day? Irritated at your weight or physical health? Then eat a little healthier today and get a little more exercise today (not to brag [too much] but I'm up to jogging 4.3 miles instead of 2.8!). Frustrated that people won't listen to you? Then consider listening to them a little more. Strange idea, I know, but it could work! :)

I still wonder though. I mean, the laws of the universe are what they are, even in the strangest of places, and people tend to follow the shortest perceived path from A to that yummy boston cream pie even if it means causing tension, heartbreak, and the like. I spend a lot of time thinking about why this is, especially in terms of myself. I mean, I have a gift, I can see things coming and yet sometimes I find myself doing the foolish thing anyway as if somewhere deep in my psyche I know I need to be foolish before I can be wise or maybe that in itself is the most foolish of all things, I mean, they couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again could they?

For now I'm looking for God. If, in the meantime, I stumble upon some boston cream pie that would be absolutely wonderful, don't you think?