Put your music player on shuffle and write the first 3 songs that play and what your initial thought is:
Mark Lyken & Emma Dove Douglas from “Mirror Lands”
This is a beautiful piece of sonic art from Lyken and Dove, recently released on Colin Herrick’s wonderful Time Released Sound label. Herrick spends a lot of time obsessively packaging his releases to make them special, and this one is no exception (check out the link above). Ultimately, it’s about the music though, and fortunately, that’s beautiful too, with haunting strings and nautical-sounding embellishments over a seabed of mournful synths. A subtle, wordless vocal melody drifts in and out. This is part of a soundtrack to a film which I haven’t seen yet (although the package comes with a link to a page where it can be viewed), and incorporates appropriate field recordings into its musical tapestry to the extent that the sounds here straddle the fence between soundtrack and sound design.
Volcano the Bear The Following Him, from “Commencing”
This is from the box set that I mentioned getting in the mail a couple of posts back (many purchases made online come with a free download). Volcano the Bear are sonic adventurers of the purist sort, taking a surrealist, kitchen sink aesthetic and applying it to everything they do. This song is no exception, layering sped-up voices and strange squeaks over a slow, grinding rhythm abetted by a cheesy synth melody. The amount of music on this release is overwhelming. I haven’t had a chance to process it all yet.
Thy Catafalque Oldódó formák a halál titokzatos birodalmában from “Sgurr”
This is a 15-minute, Hungarian folk metal song from an album that came out last month, so Like the other songs here, it is relatively new. There is a narration in the middle that, like the rest of the lyrics here, I can’t understand because I don’t know Hungarian, but I listen to enough music in foreign languages that it doesn’t matter at all. The vocals are just another instrument, and the emotion and intent shines through despite the language barrier (strangely enough, possibly due to the fact that I listen to so many songs in languages I don’t understand, I often find myself not paying attention to lyrics when they’re in English). This is like a sonic travelogue for part of the world that I may never visit. The music evokes vast natural vistas and epic questing.
Friday, November 20, 2015
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Fear
Five fears that you have:
I’ve always been acutely aware of the possibilities of miscommunication and misunderstandings, which can lead to becoming embarrassed and/or looking like a fool. This might be at the root of my mild phobia of talking on the phone. I intensely dislike looking like a fool, to such an extent that sometimes I act like a fool on purpose, thus taking charge of my foolishness. Is it a fear? I suppose so. Comedy is my armor.
Terminal disease scares me. The possibility of something lethal quietly growing inside of me is terrifying. I read about people dying of cancer all of the time, most of them my age or younger. It just doesn’t seem fair. Then again, nobody ever said that life is fair.
That’s pretty much it. I could break these two into sub-categories in order to reach the number of fears requested by the prompt, but these are the only two that really ever occupy any space in my head. I suppose I have a fear of bodily injury, bad things happening to my loved ones (parents are always more vulnerable than people without kids), and all of the other usual things, but I would categorize these under “an awareness of possible danger” rather than outright fear. To me, “fear” is a strong word, much like “hate”. People use these words much too freely, hating this and fearing that. Me? I dislike this and am wary of that.
As I was thinking about this, the following picture popped up in an article I was reading:
My fears are in the "daily life" and "personal future" categories. I am aware of the other hazards, especially the "environment" category, since part of my job is teaching kids about environmental stewardship, but I don't consider it a fear. Despite its seriousness, it's more of an abstraction to me. It's also something I'm actively involved in making better. Action often negates fear. Fears are behavioral adaptations (to help keep us safe) and as such, are sometimes beyond our ability to easily control (like phobias involving spiders, heights, etc.).
I’ve always been acutely aware of the possibilities of miscommunication and misunderstandings, which can lead to becoming embarrassed and/or looking like a fool. This might be at the root of my mild phobia of talking on the phone. I intensely dislike looking like a fool, to such an extent that sometimes I act like a fool on purpose, thus taking charge of my foolishness. Is it a fear? I suppose so. Comedy is my armor.
Terminal disease scares me. The possibility of something lethal quietly growing inside of me is terrifying. I read about people dying of cancer all of the time, most of them my age or younger. It just doesn’t seem fair. Then again, nobody ever said that life is fair.
That’s pretty much it. I could break these two into sub-categories in order to reach the number of fears requested by the prompt, but these are the only two that really ever occupy any space in my head. I suppose I have a fear of bodily injury, bad things happening to my loved ones (parents are always more vulnerable than people without kids), and all of the other usual things, but I would categorize these under “an awareness of possible danger” rather than outright fear. To me, “fear” is a strong word, much like “hate”. People use these words much too freely, hating this and fearing that. Me? I dislike this and am wary of that.
As I was thinking about this, the following picture popped up in an article I was reading:
My fears are in the "daily life" and "personal future" categories. I am aware of the other hazards, especially the "environment" category, since part of my job is teaching kids about environmental stewardship, but I don't consider it a fear. Despite its seriousness, it's more of an abstraction to me. It's also something I'm actively involved in making better. Action often negates fear. Fears are behavioral adaptations (to help keep us safe) and as such, are sometimes beyond our ability to easily control (like phobias involving spiders, heights, etc.).
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Colors
Your favorite color and why:
I know it’s not technically a color, but I’ve always really liked black. To me, it represents mystery, a veil across hidden corners. I’ve always liked nighttime and fog for the same reason.
As far as real colors go, I have a fondness for natural colors, especially green. I like the way various shades of green blend together in the forests and fields. Mossy greens, lichen greens, evergreens, and many more. I can feel my blood pressure lowering when I’m surrounded by green.
I know it’s not technically a color, but I’ve always really liked black. To me, it represents mystery, a veil across hidden corners. I’ve always liked nighttime and fog for the same reason.
As far as real colors go, I have a fondness for natural colors, especially green. I like the way various shades of green blend together in the forests and fields. Mossy greens, lichen greens, evergreens, and many more. I can feel my blood pressure lowering when I’m surrounded by green.
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
A Day In the Life...
Bullet your entire day:
I've actually done this a couple of times before, but have been hesitant to repeat the exercise because for some reason, the other two days ended up being kind of crappy. This attempt was yesterday's writing prompt, but I exchanged it for today's because my work "day" straddles dates, meaning I was still bulleting when I would have had to publish it. It turns out that, due to a simple oversight, I didn't manage to get anything published on Monday anyway though.
11:57 AM - I swing my feet out of bed and into my slippers.
Noon - I turn on a couple of lizard lights and my laptop. There is a package on my chair. I open it and discover it's the new Volcano the Bear 5 LP box set, "Commencing". Joy!
12:03 - I check e-mail on my phone while waiting for my laptop to boot up. 35 out of 53 messages are unimportant enough to be deleted unread.
12:09 - I make breakfast and pat Brian the kitten.
12:18 - Breakfast is 2 eggs, 2 strips of veggie bacon, cinnamon toast, and coffee (from yesterday, microwaved). Time to check Facebook.
12:28 - Listen to voicemail from my bank, informing me that there were some fraudulent attempts to use my credit card (I received an e-mail to this effect a couple of days prior). Wonder if the e-mail and voicemail are themselves fraudulent. Jeanine checks the website she uses to reverse-dial numbers. Some people claim the phone number is legitimate, but others seem unsure.
12:39 - I call the number on my bank's website.
12:55 - Call done. It turns out that the messages I received were legitimate. It's a good thing I never keep large amounts of money in that particular account. Old card is now deactivated, and new card is on the way.
12:57 - More coffee, recheck e-mail and Facebook while drinking it.
1:08 - Done with computer for now.
1:09 - Time to listen to a cassette. I finish listening to Circle "Tavastia", a live document from the end of the last century, and a very good one at that.
1:56: Shower time.
2:09 - Out of the shower and getting dressed. Listening to NWOFHM Attack Vol. 1 cassette.
2:15 - Make bed.
2:29 - Done with side A of the cassette. Time to go do something productive.
2:30 - Do dishes.
2:44 - Check e-mail and Facebook again. Delete 6 out of 11 unread messages and skim remaining.
2:56 - Paying bills.
3:00 - Get distracted by a video in which a Jumping spider attacks an Orb Weaver.
3:08 - Bills ready to mail.
3:09 - Tidy up. Delete 2 more unread e-mails.
3:13 - While listening to side 2 of NWOFHM Attack Vol.1, I look through the Volcano the Bear box set. It's beautiful, but causes me to reflect on my out of control music consumption habits.
3:38 - Done with the cassette. Jeanine is back from getting Eva from school. I notice that she is spreading peanut butter on cinnamon graham crackers. I make one for myself, and add some wasabi snapea crisps to the menu. Brian wants some too. Brian always wants whatever he sees going into our mouths. Brian has yet to learn about wasabi.
3:43 - I go out into the yard and pick up several dozen fallen avocados. Most of them have been partially eaten by the neighborhood squirrels. We're past caring, because the tree has produced way too many avocados this year, perhaps in reaction to the drought. Afterward, I lift some bricks for the chickens so they can check for cockroaches. There aren't any roaches, but the chickens find some other bugs worth eating.
3:51 - Done. Jeanine comes out to give the chickens water and snacks. We hang out in the yard for a moment or two.
4:00 - Recheck e-mail and Facebook. Delete, delete, delete. Check Brainwashed and Post Secret sites, which are updated weekly. Chat with Jeanine while aimlessly clicking around online. Write tomorrow's prompt/post (or should I say yesterday's?)
4:33 - Jeanine and Eva leave to go see The Misfits at the Catalyst in Santa Cruz.
4:35 - I leave to go get Willow from her mom's house. Swans "The Gate" is playing while I drive. It's brutally beautiful. The tops of the East Bay hills are bathed in the ruddy light of the setting sun. The bottoms are in shadow.
4:57 - I arrive at Willow's mom's house. I ring bell and can hear Willow rushing around to get ready. Alex comes home while I wait. We briefly chat. His new girlfriend is in the car and late for work, so we don't talk long. Willow comes out. We decide to eat out somewhere. We head for Aqui in downtown Campbell. "The Gate" has ended. I put in Zbigniew Preisner/Lisa Gerrard "Diaries of Hope" as we drive. Willow waxes poetic about the new One Direction album, and explains that she wants four copies of the CD version for Christmas (each cover features a different band member, apparently). She is getting her braces tomorrow too.
5:16 - We arrive in downtown Campbell.
5:23 - Our food is on the table in front of us already. Aqui is fast. I'm having a falafel roll up (instead of my usual goat cheese quesadilla), and Willow, as she always does, is having the kid's chicken bowl. Willow wants me to solve a debate between her and her best friend: Is death metal considered rock? I get all pedantic about it for a moment. She calls me on it.
5:45 - Done with dinner, we head across the intersection to Rocket Fizz. I buy a peanut butter cup for now and a coriander/orange soda for later. Willow wants a cardboard stand-up of some pretty boy actor. I don't buy it. She doesn't want any candy though.
5:57 - We're back in the car.
6:05 - We're back home. It's dark, so I go out and lock up the chicken coop for the night. Brian is in his pen (one of Jeanine's balloon bins turned on its side), so I get him out. I cuddle with him while checking e-mail and Facebook (damn, I really do spend too much time on the computer).
6:23 - I make coffee, and while it's percolating, wheel the garbage and recycling bins out to the street.
6:26 - Oops. I'm on Facebook again.
6:32 - I hang out with Willow while drinking coffee. She is watching Full House on TV, although she's more focused on scrolling around on her iPod. Kids these days... She shows me several pictures of a happy looking elderly gentleman holding an enormous onion. From his expression, one would think the onion contains the secrets of the universe.
7:18 - I pack lunch (leftover manicotti) and shut down my laptop, then play with Brian and talk to Willow.
7:36 - We head back to Willow's mom's house so I can drop Willow off.
7:46 - We arrive and I say goodbye to Willow. Now, it's time to go to work.
8:06 - I arrive at work.
8:08 - I check in with Otter, who is the hub host this week. There are only 93 kids at camp, which is well below the average number. He tells me that they're good kids. We discuss other random things while I wait for the cabin leaders to arrive from the hillside amphitheater. One of my duties as night host is to have a quick meeting with the cabin leaders on Monday night. The cabin leaders arrive, and I introduce myself. There are only seven cabins with kids in them this week, rather than the usual eleven. The meeting goes quickly because nobody has any issues or detailed questions. One of the leaders mentions that the Raccoons cabin is cold, so I grab the key to the heater room and go turn on the heat.
8:28 - I walk over to the hillside amphitheater and catch the end of a skit, then join Tiger Lily and Squirrel in singing "On the Loose", which is a quiet song to help mellow the kids out. Then, Tiger Lily calls out the names of some kids who need to take medicine before bed. They head for the hub while I introduce myself (every Monday is like the first day of school) and give the night talk, during which I describe my role, our behavior expectations, and the night time routine. The kids seem like a respectful group. After I dismiss the kids by cabin (with a quiet challenge), I grab the nearby hose and put out the campfire, soaking it thoroughly. I turn off the big light above the amphitheater as I had back to the hub. The hub is full of kids, some there for medicine, some there to borrow books (I mentioned this during the talk because with the end of daylight savings time, it gets light before the official wake-up time in the morning, which means kids sometimes wake up before they can get up, so books give them something quiet to do), and some there because they're missing home. I help out as needed, finding time to go outside and play my drone flute. I make periodic announcements about how much time the kids have left before I ring the warning bell, and meet a boy who I might have to wake up in the middle of the night so he can use the bathroom. He decides that he doesn't need to be awakened, but I note where he is sleeping in case he changes his mind later in the week. A girl comes up and tells me that she heard a cabin leader swearing. I ask her who, but she doesn't know his name. She describes him as a blonde male, and I tell her I'll figure out who it was. I find out that there are no cabin leaders answering to that description. I find the boy with the lightest brown hair and ask him about it. He says it wasn't him (either truthfully or because he doesn't want to get in trouble, but he looks genuinely surprised to me, so I think he's telling the truth), but I give him the talk anyway.
9:25 - I ring the warning bell.
9:30 - I ring the final bell. The teachers start night patrol (checking to make sure that lights are out and kids are silent).
9:32 - I watch a cute puppy video with Tiger Lily, followed by the video currently making the rounds about how cats get freaked out by furtively placed cucumbers. I realize that it would make an interesting introduction to an adaptation lesson.
9:35 - We're interrupted by a homesick kid named Night Owl. He says he picked the name because his anxiety often keeps him up at night. He says his stomach really hurts. His teacher and I walk him to the bathroom, and he goes inside and pukes. We look at the stars while we wait. He comes back out and we return to the hub. I get him a hot water bottle to help soothe his stomach, and then we all talk some more. We finally convince him to return to his cabin and try to sleep.
10:15 - The hub is empty of kids, so I return to chatting with Tiger Lily. We watch YouTube videos of arachnids while we talk.
10:30 - Another homesick kid shows up, this time a girl named Hurricane. She is with her partner (we have a buddy system at night, so no kids are allowed to leave their cabins alone). I help her feel better, and the girls return to their cabin. Tiger Lily and I watch more YouTube videos.
11:00 - Our security guard, Apple Juice, arrives.
11:15 - Tiger Lily leaves for the night. I go check the lodge and turn off lights. Then, I check my e-mail and Facebook.
11:30 - I resume reading the novel I'm working on, "Fever Dream" by Preston & Child.
11:45 - Night Owl is back in the hub with his partner, wanting me to put more hot water in his hot water bottle. I do this, and he goes back to bed.
12:15 AM - It's lunch time. I go microwave my manicotti, then continue reading while I eat. I drink my coriander/orange soda too. It's good. Not too sweet - almost more like flavored mineral water.
1:22 - Check e-mail, Facebook, and Discogs.
1:31 - Start my walk around camp (I walk circles at night, ostensibly to patrol, but really just so I can get a little exercise and be outside). I put on my scarf (it's quite cold) and my headphones. I'm listening to "Gore Motel" by Bohren & der Club of Gore. 74 minutes of music that would provide the perfect soundtrack to a spaghetti western in slow motion. The music is appropriate and the stars are beautiful.
2:43 - On one of my circuits of camp, I notice a girl and her cabin leader heading for the hub. The girl is named Waterfall, and she misses her mom. I give her a pep talk which seems to work. They return to their cabin. I finish my walk.
2:48 - I'm done with my walk. I walked 4.16 miles. That's 32 loops around camp. I do some more internetting.
3:00 - Back to "Fever Dream".
3:55 - Done with "Fever Dream". It's a page turner. I finished it in two days.
4:00 - I hang up the little wooden plaques with cabin names on them for the breakfast and lunch hoppers (meal servers) for Tuesday. Hawks are handling breakfast, and Raccoons lunch. I bring my used mug (oh yeah, I had mint tea earlier) and fork to the dining hall. Then, I realize that I never posted my Monday writing challenge prompt. It's Tuesday already. I rectify my oversight.
4:13 - I'm leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes. It's quiet and chilly.
4:20 - Oops. I notice an Indiegogo campaign to raise money for the new Alejandro Jodorowsky film, "Endless Poetry". I donate $15.00. That's the problem with sitting there in front of a laptop all night. Problem for me, not for Jodorowsky, who is now $15.00 closer to meeting his goal (although it looks like the initial goal has already been surpassed).
4:24 - Leaning back in my chair again...
5:55 - Night Owl is back for more hot water. He seems to be doing better though.
6:03 - I turn on the cabin heaters (which I had turned off around midnight). More internetting ensues.
6:35 - Six boys from the Newts cabin get sent to the hub for talking. I lecture them and show them where to put their names on the discipline clipboard. I then take six points off of their night patrol score. Their perfect 10 becomes a less-than-acceptable 4.
6:45 - I wake up the Hawks and tell them they're hoppers. Then, using an old trombone, I play loud music to wake up the other cabins. One day I'll learn to play the trombone correctly, but for now, it's a useful tool for ending sleep. Our health aide, Moonlight, arrives. We briefly talk about how the night went. Her husband,Scooby, who tells stories in the morning, is sick, so I'll be taking over the storytelling part of the routine this week.
7:10 - I ring the bell that calls the kids to the amphitheater. Once everybody is gathered (the Newts are lagging this morning), I dismiss the cabin leaders to go meet with Moonlight (she is taking over that duty for me so I can take over for Scooby), and then arrange the kids around the Scooby Tree (yes, he has a tree named after him) and tell them a story (it's a creation story about how the stars and the moon came to be, and also answers the question about why moths are attracted to lights) that I used to tell during our astronomy program years ago. The kids laugh and clap in all of the right places. About five minutes into the story, and hawk calls from the top of a Douglas Fir tree on the east side of camp. I pause so the kids can all get a good look at it. It's really big, and kissed by the morning sun. It's either a Red-tailed Hawk or a Red-shouldered hawk, but it's far enough away that I can't tell. I'm leaning toward Red-tailed though. Then, I finish the story and introduced the kids to Eagle, our custodian. He does his usual schtick about helping keep the bathrooms clean, and the kids laugh in all of the right places. Kids make such good audiences. Then, I turn the kids over to Spider, who is one of the early shift field instructors this week. He'll be leading the pledge, telling the kids their night patrol scores, and dismissing them into breakfast.
7:57 - I depart. Blyth Power's "Ten Years Inside the Horse" accompanies me on the drive home.
8:22 - I arrive home. I chat with Jeanine and play with Brian for a few minutes.
8:49 - I get into bed. Good day.
I've actually done this a couple of times before, but have been hesitant to repeat the exercise because for some reason, the other two days ended up being kind of crappy. This attempt was yesterday's writing prompt, but I exchanged it for today's because my work "day" straddles dates, meaning I was still bulleting when I would have had to publish it. It turns out that, due to a simple oversight, I didn't manage to get anything published on Monday anyway though.
11:57 AM - I swing my feet out of bed and into my slippers.
Noon - I turn on a couple of lizard lights and my laptop. There is a package on my chair. I open it and discover it's the new Volcano the Bear 5 LP box set, "Commencing". Joy!
12:03 - I check e-mail on my phone while waiting for my laptop to boot up. 35 out of 53 messages are unimportant enough to be deleted unread.
12:09 - I make breakfast and pat Brian the kitten.
12:18 - Breakfast is 2 eggs, 2 strips of veggie bacon, cinnamon toast, and coffee (from yesterday, microwaved). Time to check Facebook.
12:28 - Listen to voicemail from my bank, informing me that there were some fraudulent attempts to use my credit card (I received an e-mail to this effect a couple of days prior). Wonder if the e-mail and voicemail are themselves fraudulent. Jeanine checks the website she uses to reverse-dial numbers. Some people claim the phone number is legitimate, but others seem unsure.
12:39 - I call the number on my bank's website.
12:55 - Call done. It turns out that the messages I received were legitimate. It's a good thing I never keep large amounts of money in that particular account. Old card is now deactivated, and new card is on the way.
12:57 - More coffee, recheck e-mail and Facebook while drinking it.
1:08 - Done with computer for now.
1:09 - Time to listen to a cassette. I finish listening to Circle "Tavastia", a live document from the end of the last century, and a very good one at that.
1:56: Shower time.
2:09 - Out of the shower and getting dressed. Listening to NWOFHM Attack Vol. 1 cassette.
2:15 - Make bed.
2:29 - Done with side A of the cassette. Time to go do something productive.
2:30 - Do dishes.
2:44 - Check e-mail and Facebook again. Delete 6 out of 11 unread messages and skim remaining.
2:56 - Paying bills.
3:00 - Get distracted by a video in which a Jumping spider attacks an Orb Weaver.
3:08 - Bills ready to mail.
3:09 - Tidy up. Delete 2 more unread e-mails.
3:13 - While listening to side 2 of NWOFHM Attack Vol.1, I look through the Volcano the Bear box set. It's beautiful, but causes me to reflect on my out of control music consumption habits.
3:38 - Done with the cassette. Jeanine is back from getting Eva from school. I notice that she is spreading peanut butter on cinnamon graham crackers. I make one for myself, and add some wasabi snapea crisps to the menu. Brian wants some too. Brian always wants whatever he sees going into our mouths. Brian has yet to learn about wasabi.
3:43 - I go out into the yard and pick up several dozen fallen avocados. Most of them have been partially eaten by the neighborhood squirrels. We're past caring, because the tree has produced way too many avocados this year, perhaps in reaction to the drought. Afterward, I lift some bricks for the chickens so they can check for cockroaches. There aren't any roaches, but the chickens find some other bugs worth eating.
3:51 - Done. Jeanine comes out to give the chickens water and snacks. We hang out in the yard for a moment or two.
4:00 - Recheck e-mail and Facebook. Delete, delete, delete. Check Brainwashed and Post Secret sites, which are updated weekly. Chat with Jeanine while aimlessly clicking around online. Write tomorrow's prompt/post (or should I say yesterday's?)
4:33 - Jeanine and Eva leave to go see The Misfits at the Catalyst in Santa Cruz.
4:35 - I leave to go get Willow from her mom's house. Swans "The Gate" is playing while I drive. It's brutally beautiful. The tops of the East Bay hills are bathed in the ruddy light of the setting sun. The bottoms are in shadow.
4:57 - I arrive at Willow's mom's house. I ring bell and can hear Willow rushing around to get ready. Alex comes home while I wait. We briefly chat. His new girlfriend is in the car and late for work, so we don't talk long. Willow comes out. We decide to eat out somewhere. We head for Aqui in downtown Campbell. "The Gate" has ended. I put in Zbigniew Preisner/Lisa Gerrard "Diaries of Hope" as we drive. Willow waxes poetic about the new One Direction album, and explains that she wants four copies of the CD version for Christmas (each cover features a different band member, apparently). She is getting her braces tomorrow too.
5:16 - We arrive in downtown Campbell.
5:23 - Our food is on the table in front of us already. Aqui is fast. I'm having a falafel roll up (instead of my usual goat cheese quesadilla), and Willow, as she always does, is having the kid's chicken bowl. Willow wants me to solve a debate between her and her best friend: Is death metal considered rock? I get all pedantic about it for a moment. She calls me on it.
5:45 - Done with dinner, we head across the intersection to Rocket Fizz. I buy a peanut butter cup for now and a coriander/orange soda for later. Willow wants a cardboard stand-up of some pretty boy actor. I don't buy it. She doesn't want any candy though.
5:57 - We're back in the car.
6:05 - We're back home. It's dark, so I go out and lock up the chicken coop for the night. Brian is in his pen (one of Jeanine's balloon bins turned on its side), so I get him out. I cuddle with him while checking e-mail and Facebook (damn, I really do spend too much time on the computer).
6:23 - I make coffee, and while it's percolating, wheel the garbage and recycling bins out to the street.
6:26 - Oops. I'm on Facebook again.
6:32 - I hang out with Willow while drinking coffee. She is watching Full House on TV, although she's more focused on scrolling around on her iPod. Kids these days... She shows me several pictures of a happy looking elderly gentleman holding an enormous onion. From his expression, one would think the onion contains the secrets of the universe.
7:18 - I pack lunch (leftover manicotti) and shut down my laptop, then play with Brian and talk to Willow.
7:36 - We head back to Willow's mom's house so I can drop Willow off.
7:46 - We arrive and I say goodbye to Willow. Now, it's time to go to work.
8:06 - I arrive at work.
8:08 - I check in with Otter, who is the hub host this week. There are only 93 kids at camp, which is well below the average number. He tells me that they're good kids. We discuss other random things while I wait for the cabin leaders to arrive from the hillside amphitheater. One of my duties as night host is to have a quick meeting with the cabin leaders on Monday night. The cabin leaders arrive, and I introduce myself. There are only seven cabins with kids in them this week, rather than the usual eleven. The meeting goes quickly because nobody has any issues or detailed questions. One of the leaders mentions that the Raccoons cabin is cold, so I grab the key to the heater room and go turn on the heat.
8:28 - I walk over to the hillside amphitheater and catch the end of a skit, then join Tiger Lily and Squirrel in singing "On the Loose", which is a quiet song to help mellow the kids out. Then, Tiger Lily calls out the names of some kids who need to take medicine before bed. They head for the hub while I introduce myself (every Monday is like the first day of school) and give the night talk, during which I describe my role, our behavior expectations, and the night time routine. The kids seem like a respectful group. After I dismiss the kids by cabin (with a quiet challenge), I grab the nearby hose and put out the campfire, soaking it thoroughly. I turn off the big light above the amphitheater as I had back to the hub. The hub is full of kids, some there for medicine, some there to borrow books (I mentioned this during the talk because with the end of daylight savings time, it gets light before the official wake-up time in the morning, which means kids sometimes wake up before they can get up, so books give them something quiet to do), and some there because they're missing home. I help out as needed, finding time to go outside and play my drone flute. I make periodic announcements about how much time the kids have left before I ring the warning bell, and meet a boy who I might have to wake up in the middle of the night so he can use the bathroom. He decides that he doesn't need to be awakened, but I note where he is sleeping in case he changes his mind later in the week. A girl comes up and tells me that she heard a cabin leader swearing. I ask her who, but she doesn't know his name. She describes him as a blonde male, and I tell her I'll figure out who it was. I find out that there are no cabin leaders answering to that description. I find the boy with the lightest brown hair and ask him about it. He says it wasn't him (either truthfully or because he doesn't want to get in trouble, but he looks genuinely surprised to me, so I think he's telling the truth), but I give him the talk anyway.
9:25 - I ring the warning bell.
9:30 - I ring the final bell. The teachers start night patrol (checking to make sure that lights are out and kids are silent).
9:32 - I watch a cute puppy video with Tiger Lily, followed by the video currently making the rounds about how cats get freaked out by furtively placed cucumbers. I realize that it would make an interesting introduction to an adaptation lesson.
9:35 - We're interrupted by a homesick kid named Night Owl. He says he picked the name because his anxiety often keeps him up at night. He says his stomach really hurts. His teacher and I walk him to the bathroom, and he goes inside and pukes. We look at the stars while we wait. He comes back out and we return to the hub. I get him a hot water bottle to help soothe his stomach, and then we all talk some more. We finally convince him to return to his cabin and try to sleep.
10:15 - The hub is empty of kids, so I return to chatting with Tiger Lily. We watch YouTube videos of arachnids while we talk.
10:30 - Another homesick kid shows up, this time a girl named Hurricane. She is with her partner (we have a buddy system at night, so no kids are allowed to leave their cabins alone). I help her feel better, and the girls return to their cabin. Tiger Lily and I watch more YouTube videos.
11:00 - Our security guard, Apple Juice, arrives.
11:15 - Tiger Lily leaves for the night. I go check the lodge and turn off lights. Then, I check my e-mail and Facebook.
11:30 - I resume reading the novel I'm working on, "Fever Dream" by Preston & Child.
11:45 - Night Owl is back in the hub with his partner, wanting me to put more hot water in his hot water bottle. I do this, and he goes back to bed.
12:15 AM - It's lunch time. I go microwave my manicotti, then continue reading while I eat. I drink my coriander/orange soda too. It's good. Not too sweet - almost more like flavored mineral water.
1:22 - Check e-mail, Facebook, and Discogs.
1:31 - Start my walk around camp (I walk circles at night, ostensibly to patrol, but really just so I can get a little exercise and be outside). I put on my scarf (it's quite cold) and my headphones. I'm listening to "Gore Motel" by Bohren & der Club of Gore. 74 minutes of music that would provide the perfect soundtrack to a spaghetti western in slow motion. The music is appropriate and the stars are beautiful.
2:43 - On one of my circuits of camp, I notice a girl and her cabin leader heading for the hub. The girl is named Waterfall, and she misses her mom. I give her a pep talk which seems to work. They return to their cabin. I finish my walk.
2:48 - I'm done with my walk. I walked 4.16 miles. That's 32 loops around camp. I do some more internetting.
3:00 - Back to "Fever Dream".
3:55 - Done with "Fever Dream". It's a page turner. I finished it in two days.
4:00 - I hang up the little wooden plaques with cabin names on them for the breakfast and lunch hoppers (meal servers) for Tuesday. Hawks are handling breakfast, and Raccoons lunch. I bring my used mug (oh yeah, I had mint tea earlier) and fork to the dining hall. Then, I realize that I never posted my Monday writing challenge prompt. It's Tuesday already. I rectify my oversight.
4:13 - I'm leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes. It's quiet and chilly.
4:20 - Oops. I notice an Indiegogo campaign to raise money for the new Alejandro Jodorowsky film, "Endless Poetry". I donate $15.00. That's the problem with sitting there in front of a laptop all night. Problem for me, not for Jodorowsky, who is now $15.00 closer to meeting his goal (although it looks like the initial goal has already been surpassed).
4:24 - Leaning back in my chair again...
5:55 - Night Owl is back for more hot water. He seems to be doing better though.
6:03 - I turn on the cabin heaters (which I had turned off around midnight). More internetting ensues.
6:35 - Six boys from the Newts cabin get sent to the hub for talking. I lecture them and show them where to put their names on the discipline clipboard. I then take six points off of their night patrol score. Their perfect 10 becomes a less-than-acceptable 4.
6:45 - I wake up the Hawks and tell them they're hoppers. Then, using an old trombone, I play loud music to wake up the other cabins. One day I'll learn to play the trombone correctly, but for now, it's a useful tool for ending sleep. Our health aide, Moonlight, arrives. We briefly talk about how the night went. Her husband,Scooby, who tells stories in the morning, is sick, so I'll be taking over the storytelling part of the routine this week.
7:10 - I ring the bell that calls the kids to the amphitheater. Once everybody is gathered (the Newts are lagging this morning), I dismiss the cabin leaders to go meet with Moonlight (she is taking over that duty for me so I can take over for Scooby), and then arrange the kids around the Scooby Tree (yes, he has a tree named after him) and tell them a story (it's a creation story about how the stars and the moon came to be, and also answers the question about why moths are attracted to lights) that I used to tell during our astronomy program years ago. The kids laugh and clap in all of the right places. About five minutes into the story, and hawk calls from the top of a Douglas Fir tree on the east side of camp. I pause so the kids can all get a good look at it. It's really big, and kissed by the morning sun. It's either a Red-tailed Hawk or a Red-shouldered hawk, but it's far enough away that I can't tell. I'm leaning toward Red-tailed though. Then, I finish the story and introduced the kids to Eagle, our custodian. He does his usual schtick about helping keep the bathrooms clean, and the kids laugh in all of the right places. Kids make such good audiences. Then, I turn the kids over to Spider, who is one of the early shift field instructors this week. He'll be leading the pledge, telling the kids their night patrol scores, and dismissing them into breakfast.
7:57 - I depart. Blyth Power's "Ten Years Inside the Horse" accompanies me on the drive home.
8:22 - I arrive home. I chat with Jeanine and play with Brian for a few minutes.
8:49 - I get into bed. Good day.
Quote
A quote you try to live by:
I try to live by the so-called Golden Rule, “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. It’s a good, solid rule, whether one looks at it from a religious or evolutionary standpoint (after all, it’s a good behavioral adaptation). Technically, it’s a paraphrased version of a quote from the Bible, but that doesn’t change my answer.
I simpler version of this is simply, "be nice". I'm not nice 100% of the time, but I try.
I should have posted this before midnight, but I was busy working on my next post (which involves keeping track of every damn thing I do until I next go to bed) and I lost track of the time. The days get away from me sometimes.
I try to live by the so-called Golden Rule, “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. It’s a good, solid rule, whether one looks at it from a religious or evolutionary standpoint (after all, it’s a good behavioral adaptation). Technically, it’s a paraphrased version of a quote from the Bible, but that doesn’t change my answer.
I simpler version of this is simply, "be nice". I'm not nice 100% of the time, but I try.
I should have posted this before midnight, but I was busy working on my next post (which involves keeping track of every damn thing I do until I next go to bed) and I lost track of the time. The days get away from me sometimes.
Sunday, November 15, 2015
Pet Peeves
Three pet peeves:
I spend a lot of time and money buying music, and often treat the internet as a kind of 24-hours-a-day record shop. Over time, I’ve noticed that there are a lot of people who treat it as a 24-hours-a-day cash cow, buying low and selling high. These people are called record flippers. A lot of the music I buy comes from niche markets, which means that physical releases are often very limited. People who buy them up just to make a profit take them out of the hands of people who buy them for listening pleasure. A $20.00 record becomes a $100.00 record in no time. People who actually buy these releases at the inflated prices are only adding to the problem by encouraging this kind of behavior. I’m aware that this nasty capitalist phenomenon occurs in other markets as well (such as homes – one of the reasons we got our current home for the asking price, with a free new roof thrown in, was because we weren’t flippers – the woman who owned the house told us that she was happy that we were planning to move in with our family rather than fixing it up and reselling it).
I’m usually pretty quick on the draw, but occasionally something I want sells out and gets flipped. Get a real job, assholes.
Another thing that really pisses me off is willful ignorance. These days, there is more information at our fingertips than ever before, yet some people seem to know nothing about anything. I sometimes joke that we’ve forgotten to ask the correct questions, but in many cases, people seem to just not care. I’ve definitely met some horrifyingly uninformed individuals over the years, and some of them even seem proud of their lack of knowledge. Unfortunately, a lot of these people are currently vying for the republican presidential nomination. Just what the world needs.
And then there are people who act like they’re entitled to more than the rest of us. We’ve all seen them, stepping to the fronts of lines, imperiously grabbing things from under our noses, stomping their little feet like enraged toddlers when they’re thwarted. That’s ugly.
I have more pet peeves, maybe even enough for them to qualify as a menagerie, but these are the first three that popped into my head.
I spend a lot of time and money buying music, and often treat the internet as a kind of 24-hours-a-day record shop. Over time, I’ve noticed that there are a lot of people who treat it as a 24-hours-a-day cash cow, buying low and selling high. These people are called record flippers. A lot of the music I buy comes from niche markets, which means that physical releases are often very limited. People who buy them up just to make a profit take them out of the hands of people who buy them for listening pleasure. A $20.00 record becomes a $100.00 record in no time. People who actually buy these releases at the inflated prices are only adding to the problem by encouraging this kind of behavior. I’m aware that this nasty capitalist phenomenon occurs in other markets as well (such as homes – one of the reasons we got our current home for the asking price, with a free new roof thrown in, was because we weren’t flippers – the woman who owned the house told us that she was happy that we were planning to move in with our family rather than fixing it up and reselling it).
I’m usually pretty quick on the draw, but occasionally something I want sells out and gets flipped. Get a real job, assholes.
Another thing that really pisses me off is willful ignorance. These days, there is more information at our fingertips than ever before, yet some people seem to know nothing about anything. I sometimes joke that we’ve forgotten to ask the correct questions, but in many cases, people seem to just not care. I’ve definitely met some horrifyingly uninformed individuals over the years, and some of them even seem proud of their lack of knowledge. Unfortunately, a lot of these people are currently vying for the republican presidential nomination. Just what the world needs.
And then there are people who act like they’re entitled to more than the rest of us. We’ve all seen them, stepping to the fronts of lines, imperiously grabbing things from under our noses, stomping their little feet like enraged toddlers when they’re thwarted. That’s ugly.
I have more pet peeves, maybe even enough for them to qualify as a menagerie, but these are the first three that popped into my head.
Saturday, November 14, 2015
The Future
Your life in 7 years:
One of my faults is that I often passively wait for things to happen, rather than going out and making them become reality. Luckily for me, this strategy has worked out pretty well. Then again, I’m pretty good at accepting my present conditions, whatever those conditions happen to be at the time. This kind of acceptance is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because I’m almost always content, and a curse because I might not know what I’m missing by not taking initiative. I guess I could say that I’m not overly ambitious.
This prompt also makes me think about what my life was like seven years ago. Seven years ago… 2008. In 2008 I was going through a divorce. I had just moved into a small studio apartment, and I still had both of my parents. Willow was 5 years old. Currently, I’m married again and living in a house we own, and both of my parents are dead. Willow is almost a teenager. A lot has happened in the last seven years, and I guess that the marriage and home ownership part are events that I helped make happen (these are things that don’t just happen on their own, after all). The latter was helped by getting an inheritance though.
In seven years, I’ll be about to turn 55. Willow will be 19. I have no major plans that are likely to come to fruition in the next seven years. Maybe I’ll clean the garage or something… More seriously, I’d like to make music. I feel that my creativity needs a jump start. I was talking with a friend on Facebook recently, and she mentioned wanting to collaborate on a creative project. Will it happen? Only if I step up and make it happen.
The short answer to this question is that, barring the influence of outside forces, I don’t see any major changes happening between now and then. Life is good. Sure, it could be great, but I am content.
One of my faults is that I often passively wait for things to happen, rather than going out and making them become reality. Luckily for me, this strategy has worked out pretty well. Then again, I’m pretty good at accepting my present conditions, whatever those conditions happen to be at the time. This kind of acceptance is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because I’m almost always content, and a curse because I might not know what I’m missing by not taking initiative. I guess I could say that I’m not overly ambitious.
This prompt also makes me think about what my life was like seven years ago. Seven years ago… 2008. In 2008 I was going through a divorce. I had just moved into a small studio apartment, and I still had both of my parents. Willow was 5 years old. Currently, I’m married again and living in a house we own, and both of my parents are dead. Willow is almost a teenager. A lot has happened in the last seven years, and I guess that the marriage and home ownership part are events that I helped make happen (these are things that don’t just happen on their own, after all). The latter was helped by getting an inheritance though.
In seven years, I’ll be about to turn 55. Willow will be 19. I have no major plans that are likely to come to fruition in the next seven years. Maybe I’ll clean the garage or something… More seriously, I’d like to make music. I feel that my creativity needs a jump start. I was talking with a friend on Facebook recently, and she mentioned wanting to collaborate on a creative project. Will it happen? Only if I step up and make it happen.
The short answer to this question is that, barring the influence of outside forces, I don’t see any major changes happening between now and then. Life is good. Sure, it could be great, but I am content.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Commute
Your commute to and from work/school/etc.:
At the moment, I have a reverse commute which has the benefit of not involving any freeways. The only bottleneck happens when I hit the morning “dropping kids off at school” traffic.
It takes me around 20 minutes to get to work. I start at home in the suburbs and end in the hills. The elevation change is just enough so that it can be overcast at home and sunny at work. Very occasionally, a storm will bring down a substantial tree near work, and on a couple of occasions, I’ve had to be creative to get in or out (parking and shuttling or borrowing a co-worker’s vehicle, like I did one morning when Jeanine and I had just started dating – I refused to miss our date).
The round trip gives me about 45 minutes of music listening time each work day, which always puts me in a good mood.
I realize how fortunate I am, living in the Bay Area and not having an interminable commute. The freeways keep getting worse and worse, with miles of stationary vehicles clogging the arteries each day. Morning rush hour has blended with the afternoon commute, so I try to avoid freeways completely during the week.
At the moment, I have a reverse commute which has the benefit of not involving any freeways. The only bottleneck happens when I hit the morning “dropping kids off at school” traffic.
It takes me around 20 minutes to get to work. I start at home in the suburbs and end in the hills. The elevation change is just enough so that it can be overcast at home and sunny at work. Very occasionally, a storm will bring down a substantial tree near work, and on a couple of occasions, I’ve had to be creative to get in or out (parking and shuttling or borrowing a co-worker’s vehicle, like I did one morning when Jeanine and I had just started dating – I refused to miss our date).
The round trip gives me about 45 minutes of music listening time each work day, which always puts me in a good mood.
I realize how fortunate I am, living in the Bay Area and not having an interminable commute. The freeways keep getting worse and worse, with miles of stationary vehicles clogging the arteries each day. Morning rush hour has blended with the afternoon commute, so I try to avoid freeways completely during the week.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Words
Two words/phrases that make you laugh:
Poor word usage or atrocious spelling sometimes makes me laugh, but in a derisive way. Same goes for unintentional oxymorons.
The thing about words and phrases is that it is often the unexpected that makes me laugh. If I hear something often enough to remember it well, it loses its comedy power.
As authors go, I often find myself literally laughing out loud while reading the words of Joe R. Lansdale. He can turn a phrase with the best of them, often with darkly hilarious results.
Poor word usage or atrocious spelling sometimes makes me laugh, but in a derisive way. Same goes for unintentional oxymorons.
The thing about words and phrases is that it is often the unexpected that makes me laugh. If I hear something often enough to remember it well, it loses its comedy power.
As authors go, I often find myself literally laughing out loud while reading the words of Joe R. Lansdale. He can turn a phrase with the best of them, often with darkly hilarious results.
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Ferocious Fruit
A fruit you dislike and why:
I’m not a fan of grapefruit, finding it too tart. I’m not a fan of this question either. It doesn’t really lead anywhere interesting. If I disliked a fruit because it insulted me in some way, we'd have a story, but in this reality we share, the average fruit tends to be well-behaved, barring those incidents when rotten individuals are propelled toward the deserving, in which case human help is had.
Inspired by the insipidity of this question, I'm going to come up with an alternate 30 day writing challenge.
I’m not a fan of grapefruit, finding it too tart. I’m not a fan of this question either. It doesn’t really lead anywhere interesting. If I disliked a fruit because it insulted me in some way, we'd have a story, but in this reality we share, the average fruit tends to be well-behaved, barring those incidents when rotten individuals are propelled toward the deserving, in which case human help is had.
Inspired by the insipidity of this question, I'm going to come up with an alternate 30 day writing challenge.
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Anniversary
This particular writing challenge prompt almost coincided with our anniversary. It was off by a day, but I flipped the order of a couple of the prompts, saving the much less interesting one about fruit for tomorrow.
Your current relationship; if single, discuss that too:
Jeanine and I have been married for exactly three years now. Happy anniversary to us!
Strangely enough, we went to high school together, but didn’t know each other then. She remembers sitting behind me in algebra class. In fact, that’s how we re-met on a dating site – I got a message saying something like, “I think I sat behind you in Algebra class”. I never would have had a profile on a dating site in the first place, but after talking to a coworker who had tried it, the whole thing made sense. Online dating opens up a whole new world of people who you wouldn’t meet in your day to day life, which means you’re more likely to find somebody compatible.
Our first “date” was a walk along the trails at Rancho San Antonio Open Space Preserve, and that’s also where I proposed to her (no, not on our first walk together, but sometime later). That was in 2009. Now, in 2015, we’ve been married for three years, owned a house together for slightly longer, and we’re still going strong. The honeymoon period is over (due to various responsibilities, our actual honeymoon was a brief trip to nearby Carmel), but I find my love and appreciation for her still growing. I can only hope that this feeling continues to be reciprocated. Sometimes I feel like I could be a better husband – taking more initiative to get things done in a timely manner and things like that. There is always room for improvement, I guess.
She is quietly competent, owns her own business (she is a party entertainer, with balloon twisting and face painting being her specialties), likes the same kinds of pets I do (I got her a slightly dangerous spider for Christmas a couple of years ago, and she not only liked it, but named it George), puts up with my musical tastes (although occasionally raises her eyebrows and the piles of records and CDs that threaten to take over our living space) and odd hours, is completely unflappable, has a couple of cool kids (Eva is currently fourteen, and Steven is in his early twenties and doesn’t live with us). We’re both introverts, and both make our livings working with kids. She is also selfless and kind, and has as sense of humor compatible with mine. What’s not to love?
Her mom, Irene, lives with us too. She has mobility issues which are slowly getting worse. I know that for some, living with an in-law might sound hazardous, but I genuinely like her too.
Another important thing to mention is that neither of us drink or take any recreational drugs, which makes us part of a small minority. I never used to think that having a significant other who abstained from these substances was crucial for me, but now I realize it really is. She’s not a vegetarian though, but that’s okay. I wouldn’t want to marry somebody who was exactly like me in every way. That would be boring.
Here's to many more years!
Your current relationship; if single, discuss that too:
Jeanine and I have been married for exactly three years now. Happy anniversary to us!
Strangely enough, we went to high school together, but didn’t know each other then. She remembers sitting behind me in algebra class. In fact, that’s how we re-met on a dating site – I got a message saying something like, “I think I sat behind you in Algebra class”. I never would have had a profile on a dating site in the first place, but after talking to a coworker who had tried it, the whole thing made sense. Online dating opens up a whole new world of people who you wouldn’t meet in your day to day life, which means you’re more likely to find somebody compatible.
Our first “date” was a walk along the trails at Rancho San Antonio Open Space Preserve, and that’s also where I proposed to her (no, not on our first walk together, but sometime later). That was in 2009. Now, in 2015, we’ve been married for three years, owned a house together for slightly longer, and we’re still going strong. The honeymoon period is over (due to various responsibilities, our actual honeymoon was a brief trip to nearby Carmel), but I find my love and appreciation for her still growing. I can only hope that this feeling continues to be reciprocated. Sometimes I feel like I could be a better husband – taking more initiative to get things done in a timely manner and things like that. There is always room for improvement, I guess.
She is quietly competent, owns her own business (she is a party entertainer, with balloon twisting and face painting being her specialties), likes the same kinds of pets I do (I got her a slightly dangerous spider for Christmas a couple of years ago, and she not only liked it, but named it George), puts up with my musical tastes (although occasionally raises her eyebrows and the piles of records and CDs that threaten to take over our living space) and odd hours, is completely unflappable, has a couple of cool kids (Eva is currently fourteen, and Steven is in his early twenties and doesn’t live with us). We’re both introverts, and both make our livings working with kids. She is also selfless and kind, and has as sense of humor compatible with mine. What’s not to love?
Her mom, Irene, lives with us too. She has mobility issues which are slowly getting worse. I know that for some, living with an in-law might sound hazardous, but I genuinely like her too.
Another important thing to mention is that neither of us drink or take any recreational drugs, which makes us part of a small minority. I never used to think that having a significant other who abstained from these substances was crucial for me, but now I realize it really is. She’s not a vegetarian though, but that’s okay. I wouldn’t want to marry somebody who was exactly like me in every way. That would be boring.
Here's to many more years!
Monday, November 09, 2015
Quarry Park
We got some more rain this weekend, and even a bit of thunder and lightning. Dexter the cat spent some time in the closet with his tail all poofed up. He's not a fan of thunder. Brian the kitten isn't fazed by it at all.
Willow and I checked out the new Quarry Park in Saratoga yesterday. It's near my work, and features the remnants of an old quarry, as well as information about the mining (copper and lime) that used to take place there. All of the facilities are sparkling and new, and the gravel-lined pathways are pristine. I think Willow took more pictures than I did. She looked inside the restrooms just so she could marvel at how clean they were. All of the trash cans and picnic tables were brand new too.
From the overlook at the park, there was a decent view of the cloud-enshrouded South Bay.
Today, in the backyard, a gravity-defying squirrel was spotted eating lunch. We no longer care if they eat our avocados. There are just too damned many of them. Have at it, squirrels.
Willow and I checked out the new Quarry Park in Saratoga yesterday. It's near my work, and features the remnants of an old quarry, as well as information about the mining (copper and lime) that used to take place there. All of the facilities are sparkling and new, and the gravel-lined pathways are pristine. I think Willow took more pictures than I did. She looked inside the restrooms just so she could marvel at how clean they were. All of the trash cans and picnic tables were brand new too.
From the overlook at the park, there was a decent view of the cloud-enshrouded South Bay.
Today, in the backyard, a gravity-defying squirrel was spotted eating lunch. We no longer care if they eat our avocados. There are just too damned many of them. Have at it, squirrels.
Ageism
Your feelings on ageism:
I’m betting that nobody ever says, “I’m all for ageism!”, even if they happen to be practicing ageists.
From what I’ve read, for most of human history, people respected their elders. I’m sure there were exceptions, of course, but during a time of very little technological progress and/or in societies without written language, the survival of a group (whether it be a tribe, farming community, or any other similar grouping) depended on the passing down of information through the generations. More often than not, the village elders were founts of information and wisdom. They were the torch passers.
The older you are, the more life experience you’ve accumulated. That said, I’m sure that even then there were people who were so full of being young and in their prime that they resisted the advice of their elders.
These days, one doesn’t have to look far to come across evidence that elders are no longer always treated with respect. With technology changing faster than people can keep up with it (I’ve often said that our technological progress has long outstripped our social progress), a lot of people stick with what they know and avoid new innovations. This leads younger people to sometimes discount the life experience accumulated by the elderly due to their perceived helplessness when it comes to navigating modern technology.
Sure, grandma can’t figure out the computer, but have you ever sat and listened to what she has to say? Yes, grandpa would rather use his rotary dial phone than an iPhone, but he has accumulated 80 years of life experience. For all I know, it has always been this way, at least to a point. We tend to romanticize the past to a certain degree, even if we sometimes discount the people who have actually lived it. As a species, we’re maddeningly inconsistent, aren’t we?
Our society is centered on the young. Just look at who the ads are aimed toward. We tend to infantilize the elderly, and some of them, after enough treatment of this kind, almost seem to buy into it. The next time you watch a funny YouTube video of an octogenarian trying to navigate Facebook or a grandkid’s iPhone, thing about why you’re laughing and realize that your grandkids will most likely be laughing at you for a similar reason.
At the very least, if you’re middle aged or older, you can almost feel the wind from the giant broom as it sussurates across the floorboards to sweep you under the carpet. It’s an iBroom, of course, with all of the bells and whistles of modernity.
My feelings? It’s a shame.
I’m betting that nobody ever says, “I’m all for ageism!”, even if they happen to be practicing ageists.
From what I’ve read, for most of human history, people respected their elders. I’m sure there were exceptions, of course, but during a time of very little technological progress and/or in societies without written language, the survival of a group (whether it be a tribe, farming community, or any other similar grouping) depended on the passing down of information through the generations. More often than not, the village elders were founts of information and wisdom. They were the torch passers.
The older you are, the more life experience you’ve accumulated. That said, I’m sure that even then there were people who were so full of being young and in their prime that they resisted the advice of their elders.
These days, one doesn’t have to look far to come across evidence that elders are no longer always treated with respect. With technology changing faster than people can keep up with it (I’ve often said that our technological progress has long outstripped our social progress), a lot of people stick with what they know and avoid new innovations. This leads younger people to sometimes discount the life experience accumulated by the elderly due to their perceived helplessness when it comes to navigating modern technology.
Sure, grandma can’t figure out the computer, but have you ever sat and listened to what she has to say? Yes, grandpa would rather use his rotary dial phone than an iPhone, but he has accumulated 80 years of life experience. For all I know, it has always been this way, at least to a point. We tend to romanticize the past to a certain degree, even if we sometimes discount the people who have actually lived it. As a species, we’re maddeningly inconsistent, aren’t we?
Our society is centered on the young. Just look at who the ads are aimed toward. We tend to infantilize the elderly, and some of them, after enough treatment of this kind, almost seem to buy into it. The next time you watch a funny YouTube video of an octogenarian trying to navigate Facebook or a grandkid’s iPhone, thing about why you’re laughing and realize that your grandkids will most likely be laughing at you for a similar reason.
At the very least, if you’re middle aged or older, you can almost feel the wind from the giant broom as it sussurates across the floorboards to sweep you under the carpet. It’s an iBroom, of course, with all of the bells and whistles of modernity.
My feelings? It’s a shame.
Sunday, November 08, 2015
Books Abide
A book you love and one you didn’t:
Since I would categorize my word consumption as “voracious”, there are many books I could write about. My first instinct is to mention Richard Adams’ “Watership Down” as a book I love, but instead I’m going to write about George Stewart’s “Earth Abides”, since at different times in my life, it has been both a book I loved and I one I didn’t.
The first time I read it, I was because it was assigned reading in high school, and while I enjoyed the post-apocalyptic theme, I was disappointed that there were no supernatural elements to the story. I was still young and immature enough to require monsters in order for my interest to be fully engaged.
The second time I read it, I was finishing up my sociology degree at San Jose State, and I enjoyed it much more, realizing that it was the human story at the core of the book that made it interesting, not the trappings of apocalypse. The collapse of civilization doesn’t need the supernatural to render it fascinating. After all of the intervening years since I last read it, I still consider it one of the more thoughtful entries in that particular sub-genre.
These days, with TV shows like The Walking Dead leading the way, one doesn’t have to look far to delve into the what-ifs of post-civilization survival stories. We’re at our best when our surroundings are at their worst, or are we?
I posit that this cultural interest in the collapse of civilization is tied in with our fears that it might happen in our lifetimes. After all, much of the science fiction created during the mid twentieth century seemed to revolve around the idea of alien invasion, and many of these stories, like “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”, featured alien infiltrators. Behind these fanciful stories was a very real fear of the Soviet Union. Our entertainment choices often reflect our fears and help us work through them.
Perhaps George Stewart was ahead of his time, or perhaps we’ve always feared societal collapse.
Since I would categorize my word consumption as “voracious”, there are many books I could write about. My first instinct is to mention Richard Adams’ “Watership Down” as a book I love, but instead I’m going to write about George Stewart’s “Earth Abides”, since at different times in my life, it has been both a book I loved and I one I didn’t.
The first time I read it, I was because it was assigned reading in high school, and while I enjoyed the post-apocalyptic theme, I was disappointed that there were no supernatural elements to the story. I was still young and immature enough to require monsters in order for my interest to be fully engaged.
The second time I read it, I was finishing up my sociology degree at San Jose State, and I enjoyed it much more, realizing that it was the human story at the core of the book that made it interesting, not the trappings of apocalypse. The collapse of civilization doesn’t need the supernatural to render it fascinating. After all of the intervening years since I last read it, I still consider it one of the more thoughtful entries in that particular sub-genre.
These days, with TV shows like The Walking Dead leading the way, one doesn’t have to look far to delve into the what-ifs of post-civilization survival stories. We’re at our best when our surroundings are at their worst, or are we?
I posit that this cultural interest in the collapse of civilization is tied in with our fears that it might happen in our lifetimes. After all, much of the science fiction created during the mid twentieth century seemed to revolve around the idea of alien invasion, and many of these stories, like “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”, featured alien infiltrators. Behind these fanciful stories was a very real fear of the Soviet Union. Our entertainment choices often reflect our fears and help us work through them.
Perhaps George Stewart was ahead of his time, or perhaps we’ve always feared societal collapse.
Saturday, November 07, 2015
Tattoos
What tattoos you have and if they have meaning:
I have three tattoos. The first was done in the field during lunch in junior high, back in the late seventies or very early eighties. We used a pin and a bottle of ink. If the lunch bell hadn’t rung, I would have a Black Sabbath styled cross on my right wrist. As it is, I have something that looks either like a lightning bolt or the Sowilo (sun) rune, which is the rune of guidance, goal setting, and success. When kids ask about it, I tell them that Voldemort tried to kill me but I put up my arm to block his spell, hence the lightning bolt shaped scar on my wrist, instead of on my forehead like the one Harry Potter has.
The second tattoo is of a crow. I got it in Flint, Michigan in 1995 while on a road trip with my friend, Chad. On our way to Flint, we kept encountering crows, and while in Flint, I took advantage of the fact that one of Chad’s friends owned a tattoo shop. These days, Chad has a much bigger and more intricate tattoo of a crow himself, across his chest like the boy in Santa Sangre. Chad also sung at my wedding to Jeanine almost exactly three years ago. Oh, and these days we both call ourselves “Crow”, me for work, and him because it’s an abbreviation of a family name. Chad sings and plays washboard on this album, which features a song called General Crow.
The third tattoo I got while I was married to Jen, or perhaps almost married to Jen – sometime in 2002 or 2003, I think. I got the image out of a Brian Froud book – it’s of a wood faerie playing what looks like a sitar. At the same time, she got a tattoo of a lavender faerie on the small of her back. I think, from what Willow has said, that she regrets having it now. I like my wood faerie though. It doesn’t have any real meaning – although at the time, the fact that Jen and I got our tattoos together did.
I have no plans to get more tattoos, although I know who I would get them from if I ever change my mind. Josh Visher, an old coworker of mine from my Tower Books days is now a phenomenal tattoo artist. Check out his work here.
I have three tattoos. The first was done in the field during lunch in junior high, back in the late seventies or very early eighties. We used a pin and a bottle of ink. If the lunch bell hadn’t rung, I would have a Black Sabbath styled cross on my right wrist. As it is, I have something that looks either like a lightning bolt or the Sowilo (sun) rune, which is the rune of guidance, goal setting, and success. When kids ask about it, I tell them that Voldemort tried to kill me but I put up my arm to block his spell, hence the lightning bolt shaped scar on my wrist, instead of on my forehead like the one Harry Potter has.
The second tattoo is of a crow. I got it in Flint, Michigan in 1995 while on a road trip with my friend, Chad. On our way to Flint, we kept encountering crows, and while in Flint, I took advantage of the fact that one of Chad’s friends owned a tattoo shop. These days, Chad has a much bigger and more intricate tattoo of a crow himself, across his chest like the boy in Santa Sangre. Chad also sung at my wedding to Jeanine almost exactly three years ago. Oh, and these days we both call ourselves “Crow”, me for work, and him because it’s an abbreviation of a family name. Chad sings and plays washboard on this album, which features a song called General Crow.
The third tattoo I got while I was married to Jen, or perhaps almost married to Jen – sometime in 2002 or 2003, I think. I got the image out of a Brian Froud book – it’s of a wood faerie playing what looks like a sitar. At the same time, she got a tattoo of a lavender faerie on the small of her back. I think, from what Willow has said, that she regrets having it now. I like my wood faerie though. It doesn’t have any real meaning – although at the time, the fact that Jen and I got our tattoos together did.
I have no plans to get more tattoos, although I know who I would get them from if I ever change my mind. Josh Visher, an old coworker of mine from my Tower Books days is now a phenomenal tattoo artist. Check out his work here.
Friday, November 06, 2015
Fascinating
Someone who fascinates you and why:
I’ve thought about this off and on for around a week now, and can’t come up with a satisfying answer. There are plenty of people who I admire, respect, love, like, dislike, and am disgusted by, but nobody comes to mind when I think of the word, “fascinate”. Or maybe I just don't want to single anybody out. I sometimes have a hard time writing about specific people.
Taking a more general approach, I guess I am fascinated by our human capacity for acting contrary to our best interests. If one looks at the life choices made by fellow human beings (or at one’s own life choices, for that matter), it becomes obvious that some of these choices (what we eat, how we spend our time, etc.) aren’t doing us any good at all.
That said, much of the time, I’m motivated by pleasure. If something feels good, I tend to overindulge. Eating ice cream is quite pleasurable, but it sure isn’t doing me any favors. And don’t get me started on cheese. Putting off objectionable tasks feels good, but comes back to bite me later. The list goes on. I don’t even have any of the usual addictions (smoking, recreational drugs, etc.) and I still don’t have to look very far to find fault with myself in this regard. Fascinating.
Lack of understanding also leads to fascination. The less I know about a person (whether that person be an inscrutable artist or someone whose motivations are unclear), the more fascinated by that person I'm likely to be. Some of my favorite lyricists are those whose work is layered and full of hidden meaning. I'm also fascinated by cultures I don't understand. If more people were fascinated rather than fearful when it came to foreign cultures, the world would be a nicer place.
In general, as a species, our pathological behavior is fascinating. In true punk fashion, I blame society.
I’ve thought about this off and on for around a week now, and can’t come up with a satisfying answer. There are plenty of people who I admire, respect, love, like, dislike, and am disgusted by, but nobody comes to mind when I think of the word, “fascinate”. Or maybe I just don't want to single anybody out. I sometimes have a hard time writing about specific people.
Taking a more general approach, I guess I am fascinated by our human capacity for acting contrary to our best interests. If one looks at the life choices made by fellow human beings (or at one’s own life choices, for that matter), it becomes obvious that some of these choices (what we eat, how we spend our time, etc.) aren’t doing us any good at all.
That said, much of the time, I’m motivated by pleasure. If something feels good, I tend to overindulge. Eating ice cream is quite pleasurable, but it sure isn’t doing me any favors. And don’t get me started on cheese. Putting off objectionable tasks feels good, but comes back to bite me later. The list goes on. I don’t even have any of the usual addictions (smoking, recreational drugs, etc.) and I still don’t have to look very far to find fault with myself in this regard. Fascinating.
Lack of understanding also leads to fascination. The less I know about a person (whether that person be an inscrutable artist or someone whose motivations are unclear), the more fascinated by that person I'm likely to be. Some of my favorite lyricists are those whose work is layered and full of hidden meaning. I'm also fascinated by cultures I don't understand. If more people were fascinated rather than fearful when it came to foreign cultures, the world would be a nicer place.
In general, as a species, our pathological behavior is fascinating. In true punk fashion, I blame society.
Thursday, November 05, 2015
Living Somewhere
A place you would live, but have never visited:
This is a hard one to answer, because I’m not going to commit to living somewhere I’ve never visited. I wouldn’t buy a house without seeing it first, and I certainly wouldn’t commit to living in a geographic region (whether it be a city, county, or country) without visiting first. That said, for some reason, Scotland and Ireland come to mind. So do New Zealand and Australia. I’d rather live in a temperate or even arctic region rather than live near the equator. I’m not into constant heat and humidity. Scotland, from what I’ve seen in pictures and film, looks ruggedly beautiful. I know people in Ireland, which is helpful. Come to think of it, I have at least one friend in Switzerland too, so I’ll have to add it to this list. New Zealand and Australia are full of interesting wildlife. Living somewhere in Scandinavia might be interesting too, although it would involve having to learn a new language, and at my age, that wouldn’t be much fun. How would I make a living in these places? Not sure.
As for U.S. states that I haven't visited, maybe somewhere like Maine, Alaska, or Hawaii.
The short answer is: somewhere beautiful and interesting, without excessive heat, and populated by people who I share a language with. I'm getting too old to be able to easily learn a new language.
This is a hard one to answer, because I’m not going to commit to living somewhere I’ve never visited. I wouldn’t buy a house without seeing it first, and I certainly wouldn’t commit to living in a geographic region (whether it be a city, county, or country) without visiting first. That said, for some reason, Scotland and Ireland come to mind. So do New Zealand and Australia. I’d rather live in a temperate or even arctic region rather than live near the equator. I’m not into constant heat and humidity. Scotland, from what I’ve seen in pictures and film, looks ruggedly beautiful. I know people in Ireland, which is helpful. Come to think of it, I have at least one friend in Switzerland too, so I’ll have to add it to this list. New Zealand and Australia are full of interesting wildlife. Living somewhere in Scandinavia might be interesting too, although it would involve having to learn a new language, and at my age, that wouldn’t be much fun. How would I make a living in these places? Not sure.
As for U.S. states that I haven't visited, maybe somewhere like Maine, Alaska, or Hawaii.
The short answer is: somewhere beautiful and interesting, without excessive heat, and populated by people who I share a language with. I'm getting too old to be able to easily learn a new language.
Wednesday, November 04, 2015
Ten Facts
Ten interesting facts about yourself:
Hmmm. Another list. I notice that a lot of online articles I see (and sometimes actually read) are produced in the form of a list. That’s an obnoxious trend, and is one more nail in the coffin of literature, but I’ll do my best to put my dislike of lists aside and answer this anyway. I refuse to number it though.
I have a mild phobia about talking on the phone, especially when it comes to making cold calls. I wouldn’t have a cell phone if it weren’t for the fact that they keep being given to me. My first one was given to me by Jen, who I was then married to, because she was tired of not being able to get hold of me. It was her old one (strangely enough, a few weeks ago, and around a decade after Jen gave me the phone, I got a text from her sister, thinking it was still her number - she probably still had it stored in her phone somewhere). That phone eventually became so decrepit that Jeanine got me an iPhone, so I find myself more or less keeping up with technology even though I have no real interest in doing so.
On a similar note, I’m suspicious of new technology until I’ve worked out the human cost of owning it. This is probably due to my interest in sociology (which I have a BA degree in) and my general Luddite tendencies. I’d probably be better off not owning a computer, but now I’m hooked. It also bothers me when I become dependent on technology that I can’t fix (let alone make), were it to break. I just watched a video yesterday in which a man built a whole house using stone-age technology, and it was fascinating. That said, making things like that isn’t a skill I possess. I seem to think better either abstractly or in two dimensions.
Sometimes I get the feeling that I think I’m smarter than I really am, maybe because most of my knowledge and intelligence doesn’t appear to be of the practical variety.
I’m a hardcore introvert, although my profession involves working with groups of people. Jeanine is the same way.
I feel that I often take the path of least resistance, but so far, this has worked out pretty well for me. I have a good life. That said, I tend to be very accepting of whatever my current circumstances are, a tendency that is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I’m always relatively happy, but on the other hand, I’m not often inspired to improve my life (with occasional exceptions that seem almost cyclical or seasonal in nature).
My favorite season is Autumn. I like transitions in general, and Autumn is a transitional time. I love wind, rain, and fog, and Autumn is full of promise when it comes to winter weather. Winters, especially lately, have been disappointing in this regard. My interest in transitions is due to the fact that I’ve always been a fan of possibilities and anticipation, and Autumn scratches both of these itches.
The qualities I most admire in others are ones that I don’t feel I possess myself: bravery, self-discipline, humbleness, selflessness, etc.
The qualities I least admire in others are the ones most opposite to the ones I think I possess.
I highly value intelligence. Plus, if your spelling is atrocious, my first impression of you won't be favorable.
I’m reserved around other people, unless I really like them and/or feel comfortable around them, in which case I’m kind of a goofball.
Hmmm. Another list. I notice that a lot of online articles I see (and sometimes actually read) are produced in the form of a list. That’s an obnoxious trend, and is one more nail in the coffin of literature, but I’ll do my best to put my dislike of lists aside and answer this anyway. I refuse to number it though.
I have a mild phobia about talking on the phone, especially when it comes to making cold calls. I wouldn’t have a cell phone if it weren’t for the fact that they keep being given to me. My first one was given to me by Jen, who I was then married to, because she was tired of not being able to get hold of me. It was her old one (strangely enough, a few weeks ago, and around a decade after Jen gave me the phone, I got a text from her sister, thinking it was still her number - she probably still had it stored in her phone somewhere). That phone eventually became so decrepit that Jeanine got me an iPhone, so I find myself more or less keeping up with technology even though I have no real interest in doing so.
On a similar note, I’m suspicious of new technology until I’ve worked out the human cost of owning it. This is probably due to my interest in sociology (which I have a BA degree in) and my general Luddite tendencies. I’d probably be better off not owning a computer, but now I’m hooked. It also bothers me when I become dependent on technology that I can’t fix (let alone make), were it to break. I just watched a video yesterday in which a man built a whole house using stone-age technology, and it was fascinating. That said, making things like that isn’t a skill I possess. I seem to think better either abstractly or in two dimensions.
Sometimes I get the feeling that I think I’m smarter than I really am, maybe because most of my knowledge and intelligence doesn’t appear to be of the practical variety.
I’m a hardcore introvert, although my profession involves working with groups of people. Jeanine is the same way.
I feel that I often take the path of least resistance, but so far, this has worked out pretty well for me. I have a good life. That said, I tend to be very accepting of whatever my current circumstances are, a tendency that is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I’m always relatively happy, but on the other hand, I’m not often inspired to improve my life (with occasional exceptions that seem almost cyclical or seasonal in nature).
My favorite season is Autumn. I like transitions in general, and Autumn is a transitional time. I love wind, rain, and fog, and Autumn is full of promise when it comes to winter weather. Winters, especially lately, have been disappointing in this regard. My interest in transitions is due to the fact that I’ve always been a fan of possibilities and anticipation, and Autumn scratches both of these itches.
The qualities I most admire in others are ones that I don’t feel I possess myself: bravery, self-discipline, humbleness, selflessness, etc.
The qualities I least admire in others are the ones most opposite to the ones I think I possess.
I highly value intelligence. Plus, if your spelling is atrocious, my first impression of you won't be favorable.
I’m reserved around other people, unless I really like them and/or feel comfortable around them, in which case I’m kind of a goofball.
Tuesday, November 03, 2015
Newts, Plus Some Kissing and Telling
A couple of months ago, there were little Chorus frogs everywhere. Now, no doubt because of the recent rain, the walkways are crawling with tiny newts. I think we can thank the absence of bullfrogs in the pond for these as well. Adult newts are extremely toxic and any bullfrog ingesting one wouldn't live to repeat the mistake. The larval stage, on the other hand, don't contain the tetrodotoxin that the adults do, and thus make yummy snacks for everybody. This morning, I rescued several from the pathways, one from our staff room, and one from the boy's bathroom.
Here are three of them, hanging out on a moist patch of concrete in the middle of the night.
This is day 3 of my November writing challenge, and this is the only time I'll ever kiss and tell in these virtual pages.
Your first love and first kiss; if separate, discuss both:
I’m going to use my context clues and assume this question means my first romantic love. I could feign ignorance and talk about my childhood love for dinosaurs and monster movies, but no…
My first love was a girl named Sara. I was kind of a late bloomer, not due to a lack of interest, but because I was shy around the opposite sex and had low self-esteem when it came to my confidence in attracting that kind of attention from girls I liked. So, it wasn’t until I was nearly 20 (or maybe already 20) that I had my first proper girlfriend. I’m not really counting the girlfriend I had in the sixth grade. My sixth grade girlfriend was named Christie Williams, and I still wince when I remember how I asked her out. It went something like: “my friends want me to ask you to be my girlfriend”. That’s right, I was so lacking in confidence that I left myself a backdoor in case she just laughed at me. If I blamed the whole thing on my friends, I could respond to rejection with: “I didn’t really want to go out with you anyway. It was all my friends’ idea”. She said yes though. We sat around together and sometimes held hands. She broke up with me at Redwood Glen, which was the sixth grade science camp back then (it’s actually the same program I work for now, although under a different name and at a different location) because I was a messy eater. I think it was the spaghetti dinner that did me in. Anyway, Sara didn’t come into the picture until nearly a decade after that. I had plenty of female friends in the interim, but I never asked any of them out because I didn’t want to take the risk of introducing a huge awkwardness into our friendship if my advances ended up being rejected. There’s that fear of rejection again. With Sara, she made it pretty clear that she liked me. She was a few years younger than me, and lived 90 miles away. We’d met at Gilman St. (the punk club in Berkeley where I spent the majority of my time on the weekends, and where I still occasionally attend gigs to this day), which was around halfway between our houses. We dated for around a year and a half, with me heading up to Napa on the weekends and often staying there until late Sunday evening. This is when I started drinking coffee. It’s scary when you start to fall asleep while driving. She broke up with me shortly after she got her own car. I think she’d started seeing a previous boyfriend again, or maybe she just wasn’t excited at the prospect of driving all the way down to see me. In my relative naivety, I thought our relationship would last forever, and my agony at having her end it precipitated my move away from home. I suppose that was the lemonade that came from that particular lemon. It was good while it lasted, I suppose. We became friends on Facebook a few years ago, and had an interaction or two there, but she has since dropped off of that particular social media platform (maybe for one or more of the reasons outlined in my answers to the first question in the writing challenge).
I had my first kiss in the 5th or 6th grade, so I must have been 10 or 11 years old. There was a line of redwood trees along the fence at our elementary school, and like many kids, we were drawn to the trees, mostly because if we sat under them or between their thick trunks and the fence that separated the schoolyard from the backyards of nearby houses, we weren’t under the direct supervision of the “yard duty” (in retrospect, it’s funny that we would call a person “yard duty”, as if it were an official title rather than the description of a thankless task – that aside, I actually liked the old lady, Mrs. Larson, who performed yard duty and acted as a crossing guard – she often gave me things, like little wind-up monsters and candy and such). Anyway, one day a bunch of us played a game of Spin the Bottle, and I ended up kissing a girl named Lisa (who, strangely enough, just sent me a Facebook friend request a few days ago). It was very clinical – we pressed our mouths together, inserted our tongues, and moved them around. Our tongues were like two fish, alarmed to run into each other in the dark and frantically slipping past one another. I felt no real spark of excitement, other than the excitement that accompanies doing something forbidden. I was intrigued by the mystery of this weird adult ritual. I also remember going swimming at Lisa’s friend Melissa’s house, where the girls would jump into the pool in such a way that their shirts would ride up. The boys, myself included, were underwater with goggles. Not that there was much to see at that age.
I didn’t kiss anybody else (maybe not even my so-called 6th grade girlfriend, who I have no memory of actually ever kissing), until early in high school, when my friend Cristie drunkenly kissed me at a Michael Schenker show. In the interim, I’d matured enough to really enjoy the experience, and one of my other friends had to pull me away because he was impatient to leave. Due to the fact that Cristie was actually seeing somebody else at the time, neither of us ever followed up on that one kiss. We're still friends though, even after all of this time, and even if these days it's mostly limited to occasional Facebook interactions.
Here are three of them, hanging out on a moist patch of concrete in the middle of the night.
This is day 3 of my November writing challenge, and this is the only time I'll ever kiss and tell in these virtual pages.
Your first love and first kiss; if separate, discuss both:
I’m going to use my context clues and assume this question means my first romantic love. I could feign ignorance and talk about my childhood love for dinosaurs and monster movies, but no…
My first love was a girl named Sara. I was kind of a late bloomer, not due to a lack of interest, but because I was shy around the opposite sex and had low self-esteem when it came to my confidence in attracting that kind of attention from girls I liked. So, it wasn’t until I was nearly 20 (or maybe already 20) that I had my first proper girlfriend. I’m not really counting the girlfriend I had in the sixth grade. My sixth grade girlfriend was named Christie Williams, and I still wince when I remember how I asked her out. It went something like: “my friends want me to ask you to be my girlfriend”. That’s right, I was so lacking in confidence that I left myself a backdoor in case she just laughed at me. If I blamed the whole thing on my friends, I could respond to rejection with: “I didn’t really want to go out with you anyway. It was all my friends’ idea”. She said yes though. We sat around together and sometimes held hands. She broke up with me at Redwood Glen, which was the sixth grade science camp back then (it’s actually the same program I work for now, although under a different name and at a different location) because I was a messy eater. I think it was the spaghetti dinner that did me in. Anyway, Sara didn’t come into the picture until nearly a decade after that. I had plenty of female friends in the interim, but I never asked any of them out because I didn’t want to take the risk of introducing a huge awkwardness into our friendship if my advances ended up being rejected. There’s that fear of rejection again. With Sara, she made it pretty clear that she liked me. She was a few years younger than me, and lived 90 miles away. We’d met at Gilman St. (the punk club in Berkeley where I spent the majority of my time on the weekends, and where I still occasionally attend gigs to this day), which was around halfway between our houses. We dated for around a year and a half, with me heading up to Napa on the weekends and often staying there until late Sunday evening. This is when I started drinking coffee. It’s scary when you start to fall asleep while driving. She broke up with me shortly after she got her own car. I think she’d started seeing a previous boyfriend again, or maybe she just wasn’t excited at the prospect of driving all the way down to see me. In my relative naivety, I thought our relationship would last forever, and my agony at having her end it precipitated my move away from home. I suppose that was the lemonade that came from that particular lemon. It was good while it lasted, I suppose. We became friends on Facebook a few years ago, and had an interaction or two there, but she has since dropped off of that particular social media platform (maybe for one or more of the reasons outlined in my answers to the first question in the writing challenge).
I had my first kiss in the 5th or 6th grade, so I must have been 10 or 11 years old. There was a line of redwood trees along the fence at our elementary school, and like many kids, we were drawn to the trees, mostly because if we sat under them or between their thick trunks and the fence that separated the schoolyard from the backyards of nearby houses, we weren’t under the direct supervision of the “yard duty” (in retrospect, it’s funny that we would call a person “yard duty”, as if it were an official title rather than the description of a thankless task – that aside, I actually liked the old lady, Mrs. Larson, who performed yard duty and acted as a crossing guard – she often gave me things, like little wind-up monsters and candy and such). Anyway, one day a bunch of us played a game of Spin the Bottle, and I ended up kissing a girl named Lisa (who, strangely enough, just sent me a Facebook friend request a few days ago). It was very clinical – we pressed our mouths together, inserted our tongues, and moved them around. Our tongues were like two fish, alarmed to run into each other in the dark and frantically slipping past one another. I felt no real spark of excitement, other than the excitement that accompanies doing something forbidden. I was intrigued by the mystery of this weird adult ritual. I also remember going swimming at Lisa’s friend Melissa’s house, where the girls would jump into the pool in such a way that their shirts would ride up. The boys, myself included, were underwater with goggles. Not that there was much to see at that age.
I didn’t kiss anybody else (maybe not even my so-called 6th grade girlfriend, who I have no memory of actually ever kissing), until early in high school, when my friend Cristie drunkenly kissed me at a Michael Schenker show. In the interim, I’d matured enough to really enjoy the experience, and one of my other friends had to pull me away because he was impatient to leave. Due to the fact that Cristie was actually seeing somebody else at the time, neither of us ever followed up on that one kiss. We're still friends though, even after all of this time, and even if these days it's mostly limited to occasional Facebook interactions.
Monday, November 02, 2015
November Writing Challenge
It started raining at 1:50 this morning, and as the noon hour approaches, the ground is wet and the sky is heavy. The rain seems to have stopped for now, but we got some good, solid hours of downpour, including some power outages. This makes me happy.
The work week whipped by in a flurry of darkness and starlight. One of my favorite teachers, my friend Les, was up with his class. This meant I finally got to return all of the books and DVDs I'd borrowed from him. It was a by-the-numbers sort of week though, so no stories to tell.
Halloween came and went. I actually went to a party, but it was as a hired hand. I brought reptiles, plus a tarantula and a Hissing Cockroach, to a birthday/Halloween party in Los Altos. This was the second time I'd been to this particular house, although the first time was three years ago, so the birthday girl was correspondingly older. It went well, and in addition to my fee, I was sent home with a pizza and a ton of leftover spaghetti.
At home, Jeanine counted around 120 trick-or-treaters. For some reason, a lot of kids really don't know how to ring doorbells or say "trick or treat", instead electing to stand quietly on the front step and hope that somebody notices them. Modern parenting paranoia (not allowing kids to go to friends' houses on their own) is probably to blame. This year, I didn't dress up or carve a pumpkin. Inspiration just didn't strike. Jeanine carved all three. She never seems to lack inspiration for such things.
Shifting gears a bit, recently, I stumbled across an online writing challenge, and I thought I'd give it a try. The challenge consists of responding to one writing prompt/question per day for a whole month, and it appeals to me because it will shake me out of my comfort zone (or rut) as far as the kinds of things I post here go.
It's already the second of the month, so here are the first two:
Five problems with social media:
The following answers are based on my experiences with Facebook, since that’s the only social media I currently use.
The omnipresence of clickbait and targeted advertisements simultaneously empty the minds and wallets of the unwary. Even if the user genuinely wants the subjects of the ads, it still results in people having too much of a good thing and not enough of a bank account. My Achilles’ Heel is music and literature. That said, most of the music I find through social media comes from pages I choose to follow, not targeted advertising.
It’s the place where good grammar goes to die, sort of like the fabled lost graveyard of the elephants, except it’s all too depressingly real.
Social media insidiously changes the way people think. Like monkeys, we reach our little questing hands toward the objects of our desires, but the objects are forever changing, and suddenly we find that we desire things that aren’t conducive to health and happiness (for instance, stupid viral videos, arguments that go around in downward spirals of ever-increasing fallaciousness, blood-pressure-inducing articles about human idiocy, etc.). It’s like a drug that leaves the user wanting more and more. Since it’s updated in real time, there is always a new fix to be had, 24 hours a day. It’s easier to sit down in front of one’s favorite electronic device and scroll than it is to spend time accomplishing real world things.
Did I mention that social media is the grandfather of all time sucks? It’s like a black hole where all of our good intentions go to die.
It’s passive entertainment masquerading as active interaction. What we see is chosen for us, mainly because it’s easier just to scroll down the page than it is to premeditate our reason for being there.
Social media reveals that many people in our lives are rather vapid, which is kind of depressing. For example, many people tend to “share” things on Facebook as true, when they are obviously satire. It’s pretty simple to take the extra seconds to either closely read the article or do some quick background searching.
Oops. That was more than five. It might have been more challenging to come up with five advantages of social media. Writing only about the problems sounds too much like complaining, although it's probably more fun. The best way to write about problems is to pair them with solutions, and the best solution here is to be aware of the problems and simply use social media in moderation. Being human though, a lot of us, including me, have trouble with moderation.
Your earliest memory:
I’m not sure how old I was at the time, but I have a really clear memory of breaking a lamp in my room. If memory serves, the base of the lamp was in the form of a man holding a bunch of colorful balloons. I knocked it off a table (or something to that effect) and proudly went into the other room to show my parents what I had done. I remember feeling confused when they weren’t happy at my ingenuity. My destructive tendencies ended up being the cause of many other minor incidents over the years, often involving my own possessions. I thought it was a laugh riot to hit things (usually toy cars) with a hammer and pretend that they’d been in horrible accidents. The lamp might have been where it all started.
The work week whipped by in a flurry of darkness and starlight. One of my favorite teachers, my friend Les, was up with his class. This meant I finally got to return all of the books and DVDs I'd borrowed from him. It was a by-the-numbers sort of week though, so no stories to tell.
Halloween came and went. I actually went to a party, but it was as a hired hand. I brought reptiles, plus a tarantula and a Hissing Cockroach, to a birthday/Halloween party in Los Altos. This was the second time I'd been to this particular house, although the first time was three years ago, so the birthday girl was correspondingly older. It went well, and in addition to my fee, I was sent home with a pizza and a ton of leftover spaghetti.
At home, Jeanine counted around 120 trick-or-treaters. For some reason, a lot of kids really don't know how to ring doorbells or say "trick or treat", instead electing to stand quietly on the front step and hope that somebody notices them. Modern parenting paranoia (not allowing kids to go to friends' houses on their own) is probably to blame. This year, I didn't dress up or carve a pumpkin. Inspiration just didn't strike. Jeanine carved all three. She never seems to lack inspiration for such things.
Shifting gears a bit, recently, I stumbled across an online writing challenge, and I thought I'd give it a try. The challenge consists of responding to one writing prompt/question per day for a whole month, and it appeals to me because it will shake me out of my comfort zone (or rut) as far as the kinds of things I post here go.
It's already the second of the month, so here are the first two:
Five problems with social media:
The following answers are based on my experiences with Facebook, since that’s the only social media I currently use.
The omnipresence of clickbait and targeted advertisements simultaneously empty the minds and wallets of the unwary. Even if the user genuinely wants the subjects of the ads, it still results in people having too much of a good thing and not enough of a bank account. My Achilles’ Heel is music and literature. That said, most of the music I find through social media comes from pages I choose to follow, not targeted advertising.
It’s the place where good grammar goes to die, sort of like the fabled lost graveyard of the elephants, except it’s all too depressingly real.
Social media insidiously changes the way people think. Like monkeys, we reach our little questing hands toward the objects of our desires, but the objects are forever changing, and suddenly we find that we desire things that aren’t conducive to health and happiness (for instance, stupid viral videos, arguments that go around in downward spirals of ever-increasing fallaciousness, blood-pressure-inducing articles about human idiocy, etc.). It’s like a drug that leaves the user wanting more and more. Since it’s updated in real time, there is always a new fix to be had, 24 hours a day. It’s easier to sit down in front of one’s favorite electronic device and scroll than it is to spend time accomplishing real world things.
Did I mention that social media is the grandfather of all time sucks? It’s like a black hole where all of our good intentions go to die.
It’s passive entertainment masquerading as active interaction. What we see is chosen for us, mainly because it’s easier just to scroll down the page than it is to premeditate our reason for being there.
Social media reveals that many people in our lives are rather vapid, which is kind of depressing. For example, many people tend to “share” things on Facebook as true, when they are obviously satire. It’s pretty simple to take the extra seconds to either closely read the article or do some quick background searching.
Oops. That was more than five. It might have been more challenging to come up with five advantages of social media. Writing only about the problems sounds too much like complaining, although it's probably more fun. The best way to write about problems is to pair them with solutions, and the best solution here is to be aware of the problems and simply use social media in moderation. Being human though, a lot of us, including me, have trouble with moderation.
Your earliest memory:
I’m not sure how old I was at the time, but I have a really clear memory of breaking a lamp in my room. If memory serves, the base of the lamp was in the form of a man holding a bunch of colorful balloons. I knocked it off a table (or something to that effect) and proudly went into the other room to show my parents what I had done. I remember feeling confused when they weren’t happy at my ingenuity. My destructive tendencies ended up being the cause of many other minor incidents over the years, often involving my own possessions. I thought it was a laugh riot to hit things (usually toy cars) with a hammer and pretend that they’d been in horrible accidents. The lamp might have been where it all started.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Another Week in the Field
This week, I became temporarily diurnal. Our machine needs oil, at least as far as scheduling goes. This means that I occasionally get desperate, last-minute messages about trading in my night supervisor hat for a field instructor one. Not that I mind, although I think scheduling difficulties are generally stressful for all involved.
My group this week included the usual spectrum of students, and we spent some quality time out on the trails. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. At the Friday meeting, we found out that our old dining hall is going to be demolished soon, and other facilities changes are in the offing.
Thursday, as I often do, I took my group up to Lake Ranch Reservoir. The sky was mostly blue, but it's obvious that Autumn is here, both from the slightly cooler temperatures and the drifts of colorful leaves decorating the trails. Everything is dusty and dry, and the water level in the reservoir is lower than ever.
One of the kids found a dead bat. I'm not sure which species it is.
At home, after getting back late from a night up in the city (to be detailed soon on my music blog), I went out to close up the chicken coop and saw this little guy looking down from the back fence.
I wonder if he was pondering a possible chicken dinner. We saw him again the next night as he investigated the front "lawn" (in quotes because, due to the drought, it's not actually a lawn at the moment).
Brian the kitten has decided that he likes books. As I type, he is on another rampage.
My group this week included the usual spectrum of students, and we spent some quality time out on the trails. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. At the Friday meeting, we found out that our old dining hall is going to be demolished soon, and other facilities changes are in the offing.
Thursday, as I often do, I took my group up to Lake Ranch Reservoir. The sky was mostly blue, but it's obvious that Autumn is here, both from the slightly cooler temperatures and the drifts of colorful leaves decorating the trails. Everything is dusty and dry, and the water level in the reservoir is lower than ever.
One of the kids found a dead bat. I'm not sure which species it is.
At home, after getting back late from a night up in the city (to be detailed soon on my music blog), I went out to close up the chicken coop and saw this little guy looking down from the back fence.
I wonder if he was pondering a possible chicken dinner. We saw him again the next night as he investigated the front "lawn" (in quotes because, due to the drought, it's not actually a lawn at the moment).
Brian the kitten has decided that he likes books. As I type, he is on another rampage.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Killing and Biting, Plus A Kitten
Over the last week, we have had a few days of almost-rain, with just enough water falling from the sky to pit the dust, giving it a cratered appearance somewhat like the surface of the moon. The temperature has been vacillating back and forth between unseasonably hot and crisply autumnal. Autumn is, after all, a transitional season, although it remains to be seen what kind of winter we'll transition to this year. The possible impacts of the current El Nino have been in the news, but it's all just talk until the effects are actually felt.
A couple of noteworthy events, both of which I found out about second hand due to my nocturnal schedule, have happened at work over the last couple of weeks. I found out early last week (or was it the week before?) that one of my coworkers found a dead Mountain Lion over by the creek. He initially reported that it had been shot, which is worrying, because that means that somebody was wandering around with a gun in the hills above camp. If a ranger or somebody else official had shot it (which wouldn't have been any better), the carcass would have been removed. The Santa Cruz Puma Project people were called in to investigate, and they reported that, no, it hadn't been shot. It had been killed by another Mountain Lion. Mountain Lions are very territorial, so this does happen occasionally.
Last Wednesday, one of the night hike groups heard a Mountain Lion, so it was probably the voice of the killer.
The other noteworthy event happened the same Wednesday, to a kid in the same group. Down by the pond, this kid started hassling a small snake, reportedly poking at it until it bit him. Unfortunately for the kid, he picked the wrong snake to hassle, so for the first time in our history, a camper got bitten by a rattlesnake. The incident was handled well, with an immediate 911 call being made. The camper got one vial of antivenin and reportedly will have no lasting repercussions from his little misadventure. From what I heard, the fellow members of his field class weren't surprised at his lapse of judgement, and didn't want to send him get well cards.
There is also a nest of rattlesnakes under a boulder near our front gate. I'm in the field again this week (another last minute staffing snafu - I awoke to an e-mail and a voice message this morning), so I'll check the area out at some point.
My own work weeks have been very routine, with nothing much of interest happening. I get to work, hang out with my swing shift friends, Weasel and Tiger Lily, and then share space with our security guard, Apple Juice, until it's time to wake the kids up. I've been waking the kids up with some poorly-played trombone music, although I bought a kazoo horn for a dollar at the Clown Club auction on Thursday, so on Friday morning I discovered that yes, it is possible to wake up 150 kids with a kazoo. What fun!
At home, we have a new resident. His name is Brian. He looks like this:
A friend of Jeanine's found Brain abandoned at a campsite. He was originally going to be part of a trade because Jeanine was trying to give away our young roosters. As it ended up, somebody else took the roosters but we got the kitten anyway. We have one possible rooster left. it's just androgynous enough that we can't tell the gender. If it starts crowing, it's going to have to move.
A couple of noteworthy events, both of which I found out about second hand due to my nocturnal schedule, have happened at work over the last couple of weeks. I found out early last week (or was it the week before?) that one of my coworkers found a dead Mountain Lion over by the creek. He initially reported that it had been shot, which is worrying, because that means that somebody was wandering around with a gun in the hills above camp. If a ranger or somebody else official had shot it (which wouldn't have been any better), the carcass would have been removed. The Santa Cruz Puma Project people were called in to investigate, and they reported that, no, it hadn't been shot. It had been killed by another Mountain Lion. Mountain Lions are very territorial, so this does happen occasionally.
Last Wednesday, one of the night hike groups heard a Mountain Lion, so it was probably the voice of the killer.
The other noteworthy event happened the same Wednesday, to a kid in the same group. Down by the pond, this kid started hassling a small snake, reportedly poking at it until it bit him. Unfortunately for the kid, he picked the wrong snake to hassle, so for the first time in our history, a camper got bitten by a rattlesnake. The incident was handled well, with an immediate 911 call being made. The camper got one vial of antivenin and reportedly will have no lasting repercussions from his little misadventure. From what I heard, the fellow members of his field class weren't surprised at his lapse of judgement, and didn't want to send him get well cards.
There is also a nest of rattlesnakes under a boulder near our front gate. I'm in the field again this week (another last minute staffing snafu - I awoke to an e-mail and a voice message this morning), so I'll check the area out at some point.
My own work weeks have been very routine, with nothing much of interest happening. I get to work, hang out with my swing shift friends, Weasel and Tiger Lily, and then share space with our security guard, Apple Juice, until it's time to wake the kids up. I've been waking the kids up with some poorly-played trombone music, although I bought a kazoo horn for a dollar at the Clown Club auction on Thursday, so on Friday morning I discovered that yes, it is possible to wake up 150 kids with a kazoo. What fun!
At home, we have a new resident. His name is Brian. He looks like this:
A friend of Jeanine's found Brain abandoned at a campsite. He was originally going to be part of a trade because Jeanine was trying to give away our young roosters. As it ended up, somebody else took the roosters but we got the kitten anyway. We have one possible rooster left. it's just androgynous enough that we can't tell the gender. If it starts crowing, it's going to have to move.
Sunday, October 04, 2015
Weekend Whips By
The weekend is already almost over. I watched Willow play three soccer games and one softball game. Her soccer team won one, tied one, and lost one, and I'm not sure what the final score at the softball game was. It's always a pleasure to watch her do things she likes and does well. I've said it before: I'm not a spectator sports fan, and I'm not sure what the big deal is with watching highly paid athletes play, but I love watching my daughter play because it is not only fun for her, but good for her in multiple ways.
I sometimes get overly scornful toward sports fans, but I guess if one applies entertainment preferences to Gardner's Theory of Multiple Intelligences, it makes sense that the more physically and socially (and less emotionally, intellectually, artistically...) oriented people in the population would gravitate toward events where physical and social skills are needed. Of course, if you look at professional athletes, the news is rife with examples of poor social graces amongst the sporting elite (ie: a lot of them are spoiled babies). This is yet another reason I'd much rather watch my daughter play. These games are just training for war anyway, at least war as it used to be fought, where things like physical skill and teamwork made a bigger difference.
Eva has started her annual gig working for Deadtime Dreams. Here is how she went to work yesterday:
On a completely different note, here's a nice picture of Venus, taken at camp toward the end of the week.
I sometimes get overly scornful toward sports fans, but I guess if one applies entertainment preferences to Gardner's Theory of Multiple Intelligences, it makes sense that the more physically and socially (and less emotionally, intellectually, artistically...) oriented people in the population would gravitate toward events where physical and social skills are needed. Of course, if you look at professional athletes, the news is rife with examples of poor social graces amongst the sporting elite (ie: a lot of them are spoiled babies). This is yet another reason I'd much rather watch my daughter play. These games are just training for war anyway, at least war as it used to be fought, where things like physical skill and teamwork made a bigger difference.
Eva has started her annual gig working for Deadtime Dreams. Here is how she went to work yesterday:
On a completely different note, here's a nice picture of Venus, taken at camp toward the end of the week.
Thursday, October 01, 2015
The forecast for today called for possible thunderstorms, but I'm looking out the window at an expanse of blue sky, with a few white, fluffy clouds around the fringes. Yesterday, it actually rained a bit, making the roads slick enough to bring cars together in expensive ways. It occurred to me that there are probably a lot of drivers in California who had never driven in the rain before yesterday.
Then, yesterday evening, we got yet another spectacular sunset.
We've been getting a lot of those lately though.
So far, only one of the Safeway chicks is crowing. Jeanine has named him "Pot Pie". He sleeps in a cat carrier in the garage so he won't wake up the neighborhood every morning. Anybody want a rooster? Maybe two or three roosters?
The nights at work this week have been relatively easy, with the exception of Tuesday night when a kid decorated his sleeping bag and mattress with his dinner. That's when I found that the washing machine still isn't working. I've also been waking up too early every afternoon, which means I'm operating on about five hours of sleep each day, instead of my preferred eight. Coffee is my friend.
Then, yesterday evening, we got yet another spectacular sunset.
We've been getting a lot of those lately though.
So far, only one of the Safeway chicks is crowing. Jeanine has named him "Pot Pie". He sleeps in a cat carrier in the garage so he won't wake up the neighborhood every morning. Anybody want a rooster? Maybe two or three roosters?
The nights at work this week have been relatively easy, with the exception of Tuesday night when a kid decorated his sleeping bag and mattress with his dinner. That's when I found that the washing machine still isn't working. I've also been waking up too early every afternoon, which means I'm operating on about five hours of sleep each day, instead of my preferred eight. Coffee is my friend.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Problems and Solutions
We only have around 140 kids at camp this week, which is down around 50 from last week. Every week, there seems to be a theme. It may be a little premature, since it's only Tuesday afternoon, but the two themes of the week so far seem to be "kids needing their inhalers in the middle of the night" and "technology not working properly".
I must have been visited four or five times by kids who needed their inhalers. There was one nosebleed too, just for variety.
At 2:30 AM, the power went out. I was walking through the middle of camp while listening to Current 93's "Thunder Perfect Mind" on my discman (sometimes I even walk around with an actual walkman, although occasionally with an iPod when I'm feeling modern) under an impressively large moondog, when all went black. I could hear the generator trying to turn over, but it gave one desultory chug and died. Our new security guard, Frank, came out with his flashlight, and we investigated. Fortunately, it was a quick fix, requiring only the flipping of a switch.
Then, this morning, my car wouldn't start. I eventually got it started (moments after I'd texted Jeanine to let her know it wouldn't start, of course) and got home. Then, it was dead in the driveway. Long story short, it turns out that the battery in the "intelligent key" needed replacing. Maybe I should have been paying attention to the flashing indicator on the dashboard. The first time this happened, at Lava Beds last month, I thought it was a fluke. The second time it happened, I shrugged it off. This time, out of necessity, I finally took action. I don't have a physical owner's manual for my car, so it's not there in the glove compartment (which has never actually held gloves - instead being a catch-all for the usual sorts of detritus like pens that don't work, odds and ends I've picked up off the floor and seats, and the like) for quick reference. I quick check online revealed that the flashing indicator meant that the battery in the key was low. A quick walk to Radio Shack remedied the problem.
Lesson: fix things before they become bigger problems.
My friend Scooby was on hand for the second and third events. I've been giving him rides home in the mornings. He's no longer officially an employee, but he comes in to tell stories like always, and then heads home to his new life as a stay-at-home dad. In the back seat, strapped into her carseat, his daughter sang quietly to herself while the adults tried to get the car going. Eventually, alternate transportation was arranged.
My friend Tiger Lily has been drawing cartoon versions of the staff lately. Here's the one that includes me.
Here's a frog, lurking in the shadows near the kitchen. Right before this, I saw a cat, barely out of kittenhood, chewing on something nearby. It ran off almost immediately. It's somewhat unusual to see cats out in the woods. there are so many larger predators willing and able to snack on them.
I must have been visited four or five times by kids who needed their inhalers. There was one nosebleed too, just for variety.
At 2:30 AM, the power went out. I was walking through the middle of camp while listening to Current 93's "Thunder Perfect Mind" on my discman (sometimes I even walk around with an actual walkman, although occasionally with an iPod when I'm feeling modern) under an impressively large moondog, when all went black. I could hear the generator trying to turn over, but it gave one desultory chug and died. Our new security guard, Frank, came out with his flashlight, and we investigated. Fortunately, it was a quick fix, requiring only the flipping of a switch.
Then, this morning, my car wouldn't start. I eventually got it started (moments after I'd texted Jeanine to let her know it wouldn't start, of course) and got home. Then, it was dead in the driveway. Long story short, it turns out that the battery in the "intelligent key" needed replacing. Maybe I should have been paying attention to the flashing indicator on the dashboard. The first time this happened, at Lava Beds last month, I thought it was a fluke. The second time it happened, I shrugged it off. This time, out of necessity, I finally took action. I don't have a physical owner's manual for my car, so it's not there in the glove compartment (which has never actually held gloves - instead being a catch-all for the usual sorts of detritus like pens that don't work, odds and ends I've picked up off the floor and seats, and the like) for quick reference. I quick check online revealed that the flashing indicator meant that the battery in the key was low. A quick walk to Radio Shack remedied the problem.
Lesson: fix things before they become bigger problems.
My friend Scooby was on hand for the second and third events. I've been giving him rides home in the mornings. He's no longer officially an employee, but he comes in to tell stories like always, and then heads home to his new life as a stay-at-home dad. In the back seat, strapped into her carseat, his daughter sang quietly to herself while the adults tried to get the car going. Eventually, alternate transportation was arranged.
My friend Tiger Lily has been drawing cartoon versions of the staff lately. Here's the one that includes me.
Here's a frog, lurking in the shadows near the kitchen. Right before this, I saw a cat, barely out of kittenhood, chewing on something nearby. It ran off almost immediately. It's somewhat unusual to see cats out in the woods. there are so many larger predators willing and able to snack on them.
Monday, September 28, 2015
A Belated Happy Autumn
Summer has ended and the Blood Moon has risen, its image recorded countless times and spewed out across social media. This cartoon, courtesy of AsapSCIENCE, made me laugh out loud this morning. It succinctly sums up the typical social media response to widely-viewed natural phenomena. More is more.
Due to the fact that our new (I'd say "interim" or "temporary", but it looks like he's here to stay for awhile) director is still learning the ropes as far as scheduling is concerned, I ended up being in the field this past week. The week started off on the hot side, which made me glad I wasn't working the night shift because hot days/nights means that the campers don't sleep as well. My field group was active, and on the young side (due to the time of year, if nothing else). As the days creep by with no rain, everything just keeps getting dustier and drier.
We did find a mother scorpion and her brood, which was neat.
There was a nice, big Argiope spider up at the reservoir, and the reservoir itself was lower than I'd ever seen it.
The sunsets have been nice too. This was what the sky looked like right before the night hike.
This weekend, Willow played two soccer games and one softball game. Her teams won all three.
On Saturday night, we went to the annual Mayhem in the Mountains party celebrating the birthdays of our friends Chris and Kate. With their house situated on a mountaintop, they have a nice view. The food was phenomenal and the karaoke was silly. Willow even got up to the mic. I helped her out on one song.
The usual sorts of shenanigans happened.
Facepainting:
Dogpiling:
This week, I'm back working nights. When I got up around noon today, I found out that my cousin Peter got the local job he interviewed for recently, and he and his family will soon be moving to the area from Boston! Very cool.
Due to the fact that our new (I'd say "interim" or "temporary", but it looks like he's here to stay for awhile) director is still learning the ropes as far as scheduling is concerned, I ended up being in the field this past week. The week started off on the hot side, which made me glad I wasn't working the night shift because hot days/nights means that the campers don't sleep as well. My field group was active, and on the young side (due to the time of year, if nothing else). As the days creep by with no rain, everything just keeps getting dustier and drier.
We did find a mother scorpion and her brood, which was neat.
There was a nice, big Argiope spider up at the reservoir, and the reservoir itself was lower than I'd ever seen it.
The sunsets have been nice too. This was what the sky looked like right before the night hike.
This weekend, Willow played two soccer games and one softball game. Her teams won all three.
On Saturday night, we went to the annual Mayhem in the Mountains party celebrating the birthdays of our friends Chris and Kate. With their house situated on a mountaintop, they have a nice view. The food was phenomenal and the karaoke was silly. Willow even got up to the mic. I helped her out on one song.
The usual sorts of shenanigans happened.
Facepainting:
Dogpiling:
This week, I'm back working nights. When I got up around noon today, I found out that my cousin Peter got the local job he interviewed for recently, and he and his family will soon be moving to the area from Boston! Very cool.
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Ramblings of the Aged
Every once in awhile, I have one of those thoughts that I've had hundreds of times before, but it will suddenly seem to be accompanied by a new sense of profundity. This week, it was, "every second I'm alive is a second I'll never get back again". In other words, time wasted is irretrievable. Maybe this is the kind of thought that becomes more common as one ages. At a certain point, we all pass from having more future to having more past, and one never knows when that point is or was. I'm reasonably certain that I've passed the halfway mark. In fact, I'd be very surprised if I haven't.
Time's a-wasting.
I also got asked a pair of questions this week that I had to think about before answering. On the way home yesterday, Willow spoke up and said, "I have a question, but you don't have to answer it if you don't want to." Then, she asked if there was a specific reason her mom and I divorced. She has never asked that before. The answer is that there wasn't. I briefly explained the concept of irreconcilable differences to her. Her mom and I are very different people, something that perhaps we should have figured out before marrying. Despite it all, I'm glad that we got married because if we hadn't, there wouldn't be a Willow. There were some good times too. We have to get through where we were to get to where we are.
The other question was asked by one of my younger friends at work, who asked what my fears were. I eventually came out with "failure, and I used to fear rejection.". Later, after giving it more thought, I decided that "embarrassment" and "terminal disease" are better answers.
I think back to a time when I was younger and realized that the conversations I had with friends were often much more intense than the ones we all have now. Is this too something that happens as we age? I don't feel like I've mellowed out, but in some ways, I guess I have.
I'm thankful to have younger friends who still have more future than past. They help give life a needed edge.
Time's a-wasting.
I also got asked a pair of questions this week that I had to think about before answering. On the way home yesterday, Willow spoke up and said, "I have a question, but you don't have to answer it if you don't want to." Then, she asked if there was a specific reason her mom and I divorced. She has never asked that before. The answer is that there wasn't. I briefly explained the concept of irreconcilable differences to her. Her mom and I are very different people, something that perhaps we should have figured out before marrying. Despite it all, I'm glad that we got married because if we hadn't, there wouldn't be a Willow. There were some good times too. We have to get through where we were to get to where we are.
The other question was asked by one of my younger friends at work, who asked what my fears were. I eventually came out with "failure, and I used to fear rejection.". Later, after giving it more thought, I decided that "embarrassment" and "terminal disease" are better answers.
I think back to a time when I was younger and realized that the conversations I had with friends were often much more intense than the ones we all have now. Is this too something that happens as we age? I don't feel like I've mellowed out, but in some ways, I guess I have.
I'm thankful to have younger friends who still have more future than past. They help give life a needed edge.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Kin
My cousin Peter came to town for a job interview, and we met up yesterday evening for some Ethiopian food and conversation. My brother Greg came down from Berkeley for the occasion too. The last time the three of us were together was back in 2012, when Greg, Willow, and I went east to visit family (has it really been three years already?). If Peter gets hired locally, this will mark the first time a relative outside of the immediate family has lived in the same state as I do. I feel fortunate to have relatives I actually like. Hopefully soon I can add "relatives who live nearby" to the list.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
First Night Back
After a day trying to rent (one on hand that nobody could start), then buy, a chainsaw (which ended up being cheaper than the rental fees would have been), and then reducing the huge branch laying across our fence and into the parking area behind our house, I headed off to work and resumed my school year duties as night supervisor.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, Jeanine took a picture of me in action:
There is a new security guard sharing my space, and he seems nice enough. He also seems more competent and is definitely more comprehensible than the the one from Spring and Summer. The new schedule is a bit confusing (I have new start and end times, but I don't quite know what they are), but things more or less went as they usually do. In fact, it was an easier than usual Monday night for me.
While out walking, I encountered a toad in the usual spot.
Today, my cousin Peter, who currently lives in Boston but is in town for a job interview, is stopping by. It's his first time in California. The possibility of him moving out here is exciting. I've never lived in the same state as any of my relatives (immediate family excluded, of course).
Unbeknownst to me at the time, Jeanine took a picture of me in action:
There is a new security guard sharing my space, and he seems nice enough. He also seems more competent and is definitely more comprehensible than the the one from Spring and Summer. The new schedule is a bit confusing (I have new start and end times, but I don't quite know what they are), but things more or less went as they usually do. In fact, it was an easier than usual Monday night for me.
While out walking, I encountered a toad in the usual spot.
Today, my cousin Peter, who currently lives in Boston but is in town for a job interview, is stopping by. It's his first time in California. The possibility of him moving out here is exciting. I've never lived in the same state as any of my relatives (immediate family excluded, of course).