bell - a verbalization of consciousness

Demand of Yourself

Sometimes when the going gets tough, when i’m not living up to my best, when i catch myself making simple errors in my simple little life, that’s when i sometimes find myself frozen, standing between me and the ten things i feel i have to do that day.

Now is one of those times, and i realize i can’t even bring myself to action without first a verbalization. I need to admit my impasse outloud before the possibility of manifesting right action. The truth is i recently more than ever recognize my lack of permanent will. I can fall into a funk at a moment’s notice. Can’t get up, can’t respond, can’t do whatever it is that is needed of me in a given moment. Groceries ready to be cooked are not bigger than me. Papers ready to be filed are not bigger than me. Clothes ready to be laundered are not bigger than me. A body ready to be toned is not bigger than ME.

I can get up early for work. I can appropriate time for letter-writing. I can do what is asked of me, and I can live up to the things I tell others I will do. It is just me, my word, and my action in this world, and that never changes. I must recognize in every moment my inseparability to these three eternal notions. I must demand more of myself.

I have lived long enough now to see that I am a man of quality. I need no longer seek the easy way out. I am a man of effort. The time i spend avoiding action under the all too comfortable guise of deliberation is time better spent simply on working. I can lift myself up from my spine and walk tall into the crisis of now; inevitably there is something asked of me there. I will not rollover at the sound of this alarm. I cannot. I hurt too much to see me in this way. I will pay as I go, and not have the carpet pulled out from under me because of folly.

My growth in this life will not be violent awakenings; it will not be shocks of an unforeseen nature. I will grow because I am working in every moment I manage to will. I will grow because of this demand on myself to awake by my own efforts. This challenge too is not bigger than me because it is possible within me.

It's my Birthday Today... "28 yrs"

…. Woke up today, and to my surprise, for the next year I’ll be admitting that i’m 28 years old to anyone who asks. Sheesh! Seems like a big deal all of a sudden.

Where have I been for the past 3 months? In the groove I guess, putting traction down into my trajectory. Seeking to infuse body, mind and spirit in all things. Living in New York these past 16 months has been quite a ride. Feels nice to have a sense of “arrival” somewhere, like a belong here, full-welling knowing I want to stay and grow…and each day I’m making modest commitments to maintaining all of the plates i have in the air. The capacity for humans to “do” is a limit I hope i never reach. Right now, i find myself walking many avenues at once… but that’s the New York Way right? Maybe its just the Aaron Bell way… but for the first time, i’m feeling residual wisdom emerging from the 28 years of the life i’ve lived to date, and its telling me that there are things to be done, and morever, that I “can do!” That old adage of “know thyself” is becoming more and more clear. Not that I know myself through-and-through already, but I am beginning to cement my “style” for living… No matter what i tell myself, there are tenants of pace and ambition that have characterized my years over and over again, whether I admit them or not. I’ve certainly maintained a tradition for many of my behaviors, and if I don’t take the time to prune the good from the bad, next thing i know, I’ll be old and unchanged. (for the record, I’m still a young twenty-something, people!).

So, going forward, no longer should i feel content to talk the talk of inner change. Regret & dismay are no useful tools if I only talk about it the want to “change” or to “grow”. Real effort is required. Real focus. I can be a man of compassion. I can be a man of presence. I can be man who loves and shares his one and only gift…. Attention.

That’s right folks. “Attention” is a gift. What you do with it is your destiny. Who you give it to is the web of relation we weave. Ahhh… to be young again. Wait a minute,… aren’t I? ;)

….so, again, where I have been for 3 mos? I know it hasn’t been just going with the flow. there have been very honest moments of reflection in there. There have been real moments of grappling. Sincere moments of feeling the body in motion, and of pure emotion at work in me, of intellect compounding with intensity. There have been ups and downs, but its the downs that interest me most. The times where I let myself down, where I make promises i don’t fulfill to satisfaction, or when I don’t take advantage to put my best foot forward when opportunity presents itself. When I fail to be my best self its beginning to feel less of a mild bummer, and more of a wound, a deep remorse of conscience, felt throughout my being. This quality i’ve identified in me will be my point of departure into this birthday season.

The Best of Vital Speeches....

With Obama and McCain about to duke it out… perhaps, like me, you’ll find interest in
looking to 25 of the greatest speeches to have ever changed our world. I found
a site that features a DVD where you can listen to them.

The following are thought to be the most provacative 25, each selected based on an
evaluation of their historical relevance, the events that followed, and the rhetoric used.

25. Albert Einstein… Peace in the Atomic Era
24. Ronald Reagan… President’s Farewell Address
23. Richard M. Nixon… Presidential Resignation
22. Newton Minow… Program Control
21. Leonid Brezhnev… Peaceful Coexistence
20. Golda Meir… Political Problems of the Middle East
19. John F. Kennedy… Freedom’s Cause
18. Jimmy Carter, Anwar Sadat, and Menachem Begin… Israeli Egyptian Peace Treaty
17. J. Edgar Hoover… Our Achilles’ Heel
16. Winston Churchill… Alliance of English-Speaking People
15. George H. W. Bush… War with Iraq
14. John F. Kennedy… For the Freedom of Man
13. Douglas MacArthur… Don’t Scuttle the Pacific
12. Mao Tse-tung… People’s Democratic Dictatorship
11. Harry S. Truman… Communist Attach on Korea
10. Dwight D. Eisenhower… Liberty Is at Stake
9. Lyndon B. Johnson… United States Vietnam Policy
8. Harry S. Truman… Warning to Japan
7. Adlai Stevenson and Valerian A. Zorin… Has the USSR Missiles in Cuba?
6. Winston Churchill… The Retreat from Flanders
5. Franklin D. Roosevelt… Good Start Toward Lasting Peace
4. George W. Bush… The War in Iraq
3. Adolf Hitler… The Position of Goverment
2. George W. Bush… A Nation Stunned
1. Franklin D. Roosevelt… The President’s War Address

Anize Con 2008

Last weekend, i found myself in Syracuse, for a competitive frisbee tournament. But, the most
special part of the trip was meeting up with the Anize crew… these are the wizards behind the
curtain who stand guard at night, keeping the Anize interface running smoothly. Here’s a pic of us:

Bell, James, DFC, DBGrandi

Round two (solemn faces): Bell, James, DFC, DBGrandi

Slowing Down to Almost a Stop...

Well, its just me and my breath, now. Breathe in… and breathe out… Before I begin to ask myself how this “living thing” really works, I first realize that: here I am. All alone. For the first time since this holiday season got started.

Life’s a funny thing. We’re all out there living it, Life that is, and that necessarily means we’re all in motion—living, moving, doing. And around the holiday season we all rolled our mass of inertia towards each other, and did so on purpose—to visit with old family, and old friends near and far. We flew into each others’ lives, and paused for just a moment… relished… and then OFF WE WENT! Back to where from we came…

And tonight I’m feeling the dizzying distance again for the first time. I just dropped Lydia off at the busstation, and waved goodbye. Aside from my 5-day stint in Wisconsin over the Christmas holiday, she and I had spent the last 4 weeks inseparably together. I had gotten used to having her around, used to seeing her smile, to seeing her stuff, to feeling her warmth, to enjoying her smell and her special looks, and I’ve just come back to my apartment and all of that is absent now. I realize I haven’t had all this space nor all this time to myself since seemingly forever ago, and its saddening for me. It didn’t feel empty before she came, but that’s changed now.

Among all the feelings, I can’t help but wonder if I made the most of her stay. When I was my most excited, did I share with her enough? Those moments when I most loved her, did I tell her enough of my fondness? When I was my most bratty, did I apologize enough? I also drift off into my thoughts for my family, asking much of the same for my short holiday visit with them. I think of my friends too— my buddies in Wisco, and those from other places like New York and London who I managed to see in between— did I tell them how I too often think of them, did I hug them hard enough to make it last until we greet again? Only heaven knows when our momentum will bring us back together.

We’re all out there now, carving out some Life for ourselves. Few of us are in the same place where we started our sagas. Few of us now are where we forever plan to remain. But one thing’s for sure, we’re all in motion. And in my tender solitude tonight, i can’t help but cry a tear for the simple fact that it all comes to a stop one day. And for each of us, the saga we spend a lifetime building will one day have no new tales to tell…

… I guess you could say, I’m feeling a bit older in ‘08. …Yup… “Aging” seems a little more real for me tonight.

Where I Work... the motto is: "Changing Lives Forever"

Yes, since I graduated with my MA in Philosophy from University of Oregon, I turned to the real world and immediately knew that I sought to strike the balance between: continuing a life of learning AND helping people navigate the world we are living in… Having always admired the diligent financial foresight of my VERY practical step-father, I attuned my interests to the Finance sector and ultimately pursued work with a financial firm in Portland, Oregon called North Star Resource Group, the largest independent financial firm in America.

After five interviews, I was hired in March, was allowed to defer abroad to London for four months, and as of late August, I have returned to the office to begin the hard effort. I have set forth on a career as a Investment Advisor and Portfolio Manager, and am currently working with my firm to help friends, family and young professionals manage and grow their money, and to ultimately specialize in helping small business owners provide benefits for their employees. I feel very lucky to work for such a prestigious company, one that provides such a high quality professional advising program, and I feel even luckier(!) to have the Regional VP as my direct mentor. Over the next 3-4 years, I will be building my business while earning my CFP, ChFC, and my MA in Finance with the American College.

Basically, I sit down with people all day and talk to them about their dreams. Then I help folks through the confusing financial stuff (e.g., risk & debt management, legislature, tax advantaged investments, capital growth & savings, retirement planning, etc) to bring those dreams to reality.

Compared to teaching, its nice to deal with people everyday who are ALL willing to face the hard issues in life, and I believe in doing my best to help such people build a foundation for their lives—one that deeply considers and responds to the world into which we are born.

Should be a good time. :)

** If ever you, or someone you know, might benefit from learning more about the services we provide at North Star, of course(!) feel free to contact me: 503.423.2749 (work)

Mixed Emotions

I’m plugging back in… signing back on… putting down the travel shoes, and picking up the pace. I’m beside myself in how little I’ve reflected in the last 4 months. And well, that’s left me even farther beside myself. So… where am I?

Back in “The States” for starters. More specifically, Florida. Spent the last 4 months touring the world, from Paris,
to Venice, to Rimini, to Barcelona, to London, to Kopenhagen, back to London, then off to Switzerland, and then
back to London where I worked and lived with my best friend from “University” and my girlfriend of over 2 years.
And as suddenly as this international ride began, the trip has come to a stop— and to a “change carriages.” I’ve got 13 days before starting the next tour, and already these 13 days have begun to feel just as thrilling… but less of chillin’.

The body feels good. Strong and lean. From toetips to eyelids, I’m feeling rested and vibrant. My color is more
dark than usual as I’ve allowed myself the patience to feel the good sun on my skin for several days over. Beach life will do that to you. The hair is short, and the beard is trim. My teeth are freshly brushed, and my shoulders and thighs still tingle with a certain soreness after a recent morning’s run and subsequent push-up routine. Feet firmly planted on the floor below, I’m sitting tall in my chair, and lifting at my chest as I breathe. The fingers have more energy to type than I know what to say, and I must admit I’ve just now wet my palate with a cool refreshing Yuengling Lager— apparently the oldest brewery in America… sort of like the Leinenkugels of the east coast. With the very first sip, I could feel the liquid pour over my tongue and rush down the length of my throat, delivering a pleasant quenching feeling right at the center of my being. Every sip to follow hasn’t quenched the fullness of my body quite like the first, but you know me… I keep on sipping :)

Life is good when you make a moment for the body. I can feel the fullness of my presence, from the weight of my rear against the chair, to the angle of my still knees, to the length of my spine. How real everything can be when you notice it. But the body is too rich and too constant a joy to be the reason of my writing today. For me, there is little perplexion in confronting the body. It is a matter of taking the deep moments to breathe and explore the psychosomatic peripheral. The emotive and intellectual forces in me require a consultation, and a wrestling that can’t be ignored…

— unfinished entry…

Diatribe Seven: Waking Up.

It’s been a long time coming now…. making the moment to sit down and write. Here I am, in Mother England, Land of the Queen. I have a job, a great place to live, the weather is good, I have more opportunities than I have time, and here I am again, to find myself as far away from home as what felt like my first move to Seattle and again to Costa Rica; and so I ask myself: “What does it mean to travel?” … What does it mean to be away from home, family, and friends? To know that time keeps ticking, and that as much as I am in the hearts and minds of those I love, and they in mine—what does it mean to admit that our lives are incomprehensively separate? We put a great trust in the world that familiar faces and familiar landscapes will always be there for us to return to… But when I look into the eyes of wrinkled, withered faces that I pass on the street, I wake up to our mortality. They are old. I am young. What am I doing with my life? If I should stop a moment to ask them, would my living live up to the advice they would heed me? …Choices. How incredibly true. My mother was right… opportunities come and we consult the dreamer inside us, and then we weigh in the fear, our current comfort and last, the lethargy— and either we leap! … or, we sleep. Everyone’s got advice. But who’s really listening to your story? You’re alone in your thinking, unless you’ve got a partner, and if that’s the case, I hope you two take on the world together, instead of playing games and telling make-believe. It’s half a bunch of rubbish—the deadlines, the paperwork, the long queues, the littered streets, the fast-paced never-ending days… Can we remember the other half? What about the scenic sights earned after a long hike? What about your hands in the soil? … dirt under your nails as you put a few inches between each seed? What about your bare feet in the grass and your head in the clouds? …. I remember going skinny dipping, at dusk, and the water so frigid. I remember getting off a plane once, with anxious nerves running from my toes to my fingertips, as I searched the crowd until I laid eyes on my most beautiful girlfriend and her special smile as she awaited my arrival. I remember horseback riding at a gallup and skipping rocks in both oceans. I remember dancing, and losing myself in a melodic series of swirling and twisting. I’ve swum in the biggest great lakes, and I’ve listened to Loon orchestras under a moonlit sky. In the wild, I’ve seen black bears and beavers, wild otters and blue whales… I’ve seen dolphins and eagles, alligators and giant snails. … but when I sit on this train, or this tube, or this plane, who knows where I’ve been? Who knows my story? … No one. I am alone in my thinking, and as I make the rare moment to drift into the reflective, who knows what I’ve already allowed myself to forget. How do I begin to qualify? I’m a traveler on a little ride called ‘Earth’, but how do i tell my story?… Not the story for all the tomorrows or all the yesterdays, but the story for now. How do I do? What do I remember? Is it the kind things? The pretty things? The breathtaking things? The frightening things? The proud moments? The pleasurable moments? There’s plenty of ways to give up on it all. To give up on the effort. In the newspaper everyday I read of people who do so, and turn their back on the physical world, turn their back on the living spirit inside us all. Just yesterday, a suited London businessman sailed 8 floors, from the window of his private office above to the rooftop of a public bus below, exploding on impact, and ending his story. But many of us do this in other ways, we bring about the same kind of death—> when we tell the same story for too long, when we never remember our memories…. when we give council before console. When we forget to watch. When we forget to wake up. When our story never gets told because our story never got started…

$5 Message...

Today I got a $5 bill, and stamped on the back was the following message:

“I wouldn’t call it facsism exactly, but a political
system nominally controlled by an irresponsible,
dumbed down electorate who are manipulated by
dishonest, cynical, controlled mass media that
dispense the propaganda of a corrupt political
establishment can hardly be described as democracy
either” — Edward Zehr.

www.informationclearinghouse.info

Disclaimer to my Peoples.

Hey, quick retort to my peoples:

If you happen upon this site, and something grabs your eye, but you’re like,
“Bell! I’m at work… I can’t read all this shit, are you kidding me?”

Print it out.

Curious about those papers and other excerpts?
Make time and read that shit one morning…
Write on the pages as you go, if you should feel the need.
Slow it all down for a moment. And get back me.

N'Kisi the Parrot...

An old friend showed me a recent scientific study about the human language.

Emoticons

One entry found for emoticon.

Main Entry: emo·ti·con
Pronunciation: i-‘mO-ti-“kahn

Function: noun
Etymology: emotion + icon

: a group of keyboard characters (as :-)) that typically represents a facial expression or suggests an attitude or emotion and that is used especially in computerized communications (as e-mail);

As in, “whatever you do, no emoticons in your MA thesis…”

Today I am Frustrated.

It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to feel deep frustration, but today, I can’t help it. I’m consumed. I’m identified. I’m sad.

Every once in a while all of the things on the plate pile up, and suddenly you’re left in your own tiny little corner, with your own tiny little cloud overhead, and it dumps on your tiny little self. No one can every really understand the pain and stake you put into you efforts. No one can ever truly empathize with all of the things you (claim to) juggle in your life. Any shoulder you were to lean on can never truly know the specifics… the specifics of how it all fell apart, of which piece of hay broke your back, but a good shoulder might listen. That’s true. But even then, it doesn’t make it easy to speak.

Today I let myself down. For the first time in a long while. In the grander sense of it all, I know that many of my deadlines and activities are abitrary; but in my little world, as a twenty-five year old graduate student of philosophy, I had hoped to absolve myself of my petty habit of underachieving. Even with no ultimate anymore, I admit that I’ve got a lot on my plate again, but I’m pretty sick of my own excuses. Everything can be justified. The mind is a wonderful tool in this regard. But the truth of it all is that we set out to do things because we believe that we can achieve them. Either my eyes are too big for my abilities, or I’m making mistakes throughout the process.

I’m starting to realize (with some precision) the full extent of my character flaws. Often I don’t think enough before I make my commitments. Often I think I can use time more efficiently that I actually do. Often I think I’ll remember what I quickly forget. Often I take other people for granted, especially those I love, and worse, those that I know love me. Often I fail to do the things that mean the most me. Often I interupt my own schedule to accommodate the spontaneity of others. Often I get little sleep. Often I need more help then I’m willing to ask for. Often I’d rather work harder than ask someone to compromise with me. Often I do little to overcome each of these deficiencies. Yes, on the one hand, it’s important to make such valuable self-observations, but like Ivan Osokin, I’ve quickly come to repeat my errors over, and over, and over again, ad infinitum. What good does it do to declare once more: “The buck stops here!”.

Truth be told, I’ll fail again.

(I just hope my next failure doesn’t blind-side me like today; I’d rather a gamble where I’m more aware of the risk).

I’ve often referred to my college years as a rebellion against a kind of tyrannical rule over my adolescent social life, more specifically, over my ability to entertain my closest teenage friends and loved ones. I’ve since taken nearly every opportunity to give and share and be in the interests of my social world. But I won’t allow myself to be a product of my past. These old habits are of my own creation, and they are meant to be overcome. As I slowly slip deeper and deeper into the grip of academia (which is of my choosing, remind you), I realize my ability to maintain an extensive social equilibrium is a delicate and near impossible possibility. But here’s the best part: I know this! And I’ve spent the last 7 days in near isolation, working and grinding— a true slave to the pen. I even let Halloween pass me by as just another weekend. And it felt quite good to not participate in such a cultural charm. But my efforts were not good enough. TA‘ing four 25-person biology discussions, taking two courses whch total 6 papers and two presentations, writing two thesis chapters of 25 pages each, leading a weekly reading group and working 25 hours a week at the corner market might just demand a bit more discipline from me if I’m going to complete this program unscathed by March.

Here’s a taste of the week: Hume Paper due Monday. Confucius Paper due Wednesday. Thesis chapter due Friday. Hume Paper due next Monday. Confucius Presentation next Wednesday. Grade 100 papers next Friday. Next Saturday: Drink all night…

The stakes are newer and higher than ever before. My ability to perform is all that people can judge. No one has time for your juggling act. They want results. I understand this. Yes, I know that progress was built on struggle.

But today I turned in a shitty, incomplete paper on Confucian Ritual, and I somehow ripped my favorite pair of sweatpants on the chair as I stood up to retrieve the paper from the printer. So, Today, I’m frustrated.

My Commitment

(an excerpt from my journal…)

These last few days have been a whirlwind.

Somewhere in the last week I turned 25 years old and almost solo-taught a course on Ouspensky in the Psych Department, almost broke up with my girlfriend, almost accepted a Graduate Merit Fellowship from the Vice Provost, almost wrote my first Thesis chapter, and lastly, was awarded a last minute teaching position in the Biology Department, where I am to teach four 25-person discussions for Bi132: ‘An Intro to Animal Behavior’. Whew!

For a while, I had $30 in my bank account, owed the University $2,600 from the previous quarter, and with my final MA requirements in reach, I was at a loss on how to finish/fund my final quarter at Oregon. I met with every contact I’ve ever respected at UO: Carla Gary- Asst. Vice Provost, Marian Friestad- Dean of Grad School & Vice Provost, John Lysaker- Chair of Philosophy & Advisor, Sara Hodges- Chair of Psych, Robert Gordon- Adjunct Psych/Advisor, Courtney Smith- GTFF president, etc… I found council in their perspective and even Naomi Zack played a decisive role. At the end of the day, I’ve earned a teaching position and will make enough money to pay for school this term and for my debts of yesteryear.

At moments I felt ashamed. Other moments I felt deflated. But I never felt entitlement; I never showed ‘attack,’ and I took rejection with integrity… I hope. Since I turned 25, I’ve made some very determined realizations. Above all, I’ve wanted to work harder than ever before. In all aspects of life. I now have an opportunity to do so. I must focus & take advantage. I have been afforded many things that men only dream of… I musn’t finish this saga in tragedy. I must over-achieve, as it is in my potential. I commit here on paper to finish my MA coursework, teach & write 2 thesis chapters by Christmas.

The Final Push...

I’m not entirely sure where I want to be.

Here I am, about to begin my last push in my MA program, and I’m slightly flustered. Not so much with what must get done, but more so with what comes next. I have my work cut out for me over the next 3 months: finish two classes, and write my five chapter MA Thesis. In this sense, I’ll be very busy, and I’ll have to be very focused. I can handle that.

But in every other sense, I will soon be done, and I’ll have a very liberating feeling of freedom to quickly follow. How shall I live? My girlfriend will be leaving me for Spain shortly thereafter, and I imagine I’ll find myself very much alone in January. Where to go, what to do? I imagine my pockets will be deep in debt, anywhere between $1,700 and $8,000. Resolving this will be of the utmost importance. But where? Certainly not in Eugene. I don’t think I could handle it for another moment. I’ll miss the facilities at school, the neighborly appeal of the Eugene social scene, but that’s about it.

I’ve always fantacized about returning to PLU to coach ultimate and maybe teach. I’ve always thought myself a better coach than a player, and I’ve spent so much time figuring out the college ultimate ropes. The challenge of continuing to reshape PLU Ultimate is so very enticing… but alas, it sounds that the position will be filled by another quality player. And thus, the chapter on my eventual re-orientation will remain open. What comes next bell.tron?

I’ll just keep my work on the forefront, and my eyes and ears open to opportunities. This must be the only way to proceed. I’m in good spirits. I’m capable. I’m learned. I’ll be ready for the world. Just give me an open door, and I’ll make my mark.

I worked in the trenches, pushed my limits to maximum, for four weeks last November. Now, I’m asking myself to do the same for the next four months. Every year we make petty resolutions that we don’t keep. I tend to make mine in September. But this time, everything in me doesn’t want to let myself down. And there’s no ultimate to distract me. What a pity. What a liberating pity.

I hope you’re ready for a knock-out thesis. The time for refocus begins…. now. This is the Final Push.

Jammin'... oooh yeah...

We’re jammin’, and I hope you like jammin’ too…

They think that jammin’ was a thing of the past,
We’re jammin,’ and I hope this jammin’s gonna last.

Holy Mount Zion… what a month. Time flies when you don’t pay any attention to it. I’ll say, times like these have been a long time coming. I’ve had moments in life that seem to fly, but never so discreetly as february ‘06. It’s gone. What happened to it?

I’m in Tacoma today. It’s raining outside, and every twenty minutes it gets cold enough for the rain drops to bundle up and put on their winter outfits. The drive up from Eugene last night was snowy-slushy, low visibility, and cluttered with timid PNW drivers. Needless to say, I put on some good tunes, and made good time, and next thing I know, I’m at the frisbee house, a day early for a winter weather tourney in the name of PLU Alumni.

I made use of my time today and allowed the nostalgia of PLU to come over me in full fledge force. I saw the same old UC, and the same old campus aesthetic. I saw some familiar faces that seemed to not have aged a bit, and others that I remembered but couldn’t place for the life of me. What a rush. I shared my latest stories with Wendy during office hours and accused me of being in a ‘developmental stage’ in my life. Ha! I tried to defend, but what could I say…. she caught me. I’m yet again, on the verge of transition. So what does that mean?

This blog has been so good to me throughout such transitions. My latest, and largest life turns have taken place in some proximity to anize.org, and here I shall return. My hiatus was shortlived, but deeply indulged, and I recognize that I’m found once again in the straight-away of another dream finishline, the last leg of a tremendous ride. College ultimate is reaching its dawn, its peak. And then what? I can’t imagine. I just keep telling myself: one season at a time.

One year left in the philosophy program. One year left in Eugene. One year left with my social world. One year left with this routine. And then I’m out. Then I’m off? One season at a time.

Gotta finish strong…

Dear Diary.

The last day of 2005. It’s supposed to feel different, I think. I was hoping to wake up today with some revelation, but, alas, nothing. Hopefully, something will come tonight. The day is young, and I’m about to blow up, in the figurative sense.

Last night was my uncle cliff’s 46th birthday. I know my dad was lookin’ on us with smiles. 17 peeps celebrated the life of Cliff over tequila shots and margaritas at La Fuente, which was off the chains!! Later I went to Jeremy and Caitlyn’s new house, saw kyle and Karin, Wahn and Sckleiks, Chuck and freakin’ Jason Crantz… we hit up the bars after a couple mean games of poker and presidents, and my dart game was on point. I slept until 1pm. My little dog, Taylor, woke me up. She does this funny thing where she scratches on my door when she thinks I have had enough sleep. The minute I let her in, she comes tearing through my room, hunting for socks and kisses. More often then not, she finds both… usually by distracting me with the latter. The truth is, I’ll always be a better wrestler than her though… Mom brought home a giant sub sandwich from Cousin’s Subs for me, and I thought that was mighty positive. Then, I watched Arizona beat UW in double overtime. Pretty tight game. Bradon Roy blew up and hit TWO at-the-buzzer 3-pointers to take the game into overtime and then double overtime, but AZ pulled out the upset in the end, 96-95. Next up, go Ducks! I like the parity in the Pac-10. Then I hit up the gym, saw some peeps and finalized the ridiculousness for tonight’s festivities. It’s on.

Latest book I’ve finished this break: “The Secret Life of Ivan Osokov” by who?, yep, you guessed it: P.D. Ouspenksy. The book is the only novel ever written by my favorite philosopher. I liked it very much, and it was a quick read. It put me somewhere between Gurdjieff and Jorge Luis Borges. It helped me question some things, but most of all, I found words for a lot of otherwise inarticulate sensations.

CD getting the most airtime these days: “Voices in Your Head” by “Undermind & G_Force”. It’s so tight. Blessed be the one who turned me on to it. Chill. And right on.

I’m in my basement. This is where all of my child hood memories at the house took place, more or less. Here lies all the childhood toys i’ve ever had. All the legos, the he-man figures, my kites, my starwars battleships, my rollerblades, puzzles, notebooks. All of my video games, squirt guns, national geographic magazines. I look around and I can see baskets of lanyard, all of my sister’s barbies, space man boots, micro-machines, cub scout derby cars, and regatta boats. Old shirts hang on old hangers, and glow in the dark moons and stars cling to the walls. I’m 24 years old…. almost a quarter of a century. But! I still wanna play with them all. I could build a lego castle right now that would make people’s jaw drop! What used to be wide open carpet space to ‘play,’ is now an old table with an even older computer on it. It can’t even read most email attachments, so it’s virtually worthless. But I keep it real. This is the only time I’ll use the internet at my house. I try not to touch anything here anymore, mostly because I don’t feel allowed or invited. Plus, the house is so caught up on never changing that everything here is severely outdated anyways. The irony is that I could single-handedly bring everything into the 21st century, but I’ve lost much of my appetite for allegience. All the old stuffed animals, my first dartboard, and more card games than you can imagine. A glow-in-the-dark creepy-crawler-making machine, my old stereo, old umbrellas and old blankets. Old couches, and an old train set… packed up and put away. An old ping pong table cluttered with boxes so as to make space. Oh, the fun we used to have. It’s just a room full of artifacts now. A room full of what used to be. Old crafts, old masks, old laughs. Crayons, chalk, markers… All run down and worn out. I remember my little fingers pushing their weight to paper and to popsicle sticks and to sidewalks. Time sure changes. We don’t forget, we just don’t remember. Remembering keeps you honest. Keeps you thankful. Keeps you trill.

I used to build forts down here, and re-arrange stuff. I’d sneak friends over when my dad was away and we’d play like my life depended on it. The phone just rang. The same old phone that has always been down here. It must be a hundred years old. It’s the perfect shade of 1950’s yellow/green and has one of those obnoxious rings that’s piercing and redundant. I miss it, though. It used to always ring for me. All my friends had it memorized, and I would spend HOURS on the phone in my junior high days. Now, I hit my head on the lights that hang from the ceiling, and I’m reminded of my age.

I think it’s good to remember the passage of time. My mom asked me what I want to do with my future, and I told her that it’s hard enough to live in the present. I insist that this is as philosophical as I’ll ever get…. living in the present. Key word: live. I’m not talking about ‘being’ in the present. That’s to easy, and everyone is doing it. But to actually live in the present is a bit more challenging than all of us realize. The grow and breathe, and change in the now. To love and to strive and to sacrifice in the now…. ooh, it sends chills down my spine. I will never abandon the infinite moment of now. It’s too big, and too vast, and we can’t overlook or control or run from it. In these ways we lose our chance for peace.

And with that, I step into a night that will carry me into my 25th year of life. Here’s to another quarter century of good fortune and good health and good times.

Homeward found?

(breathe).

Schliecher’s house. Wahn and Erik are watching 21 grams. I’m at the computer for the first time in a week, wearing the same clothes I partied in last night. Not in the most ideal setting for sitting and deliberating, but I’m feeling generally relieved for the first time in months. I’ve been blessed with good family and good cheer, and have spent my last few days spreading holiday mirth in a very typical wisconsin winter wonderland way. Snow on the ground. Blue skies above. And that familiar chill from the evening air that sends a slight tingle down your spine and into your soul. The nostalgia is refreshing…

I could talk a bit about my family, and about the implications of this being the most ackward christmas celebration ever. I could talk about the angelic proportions with which my mother seems to carry herself around this time of year, and about the general joy she brings to all she greets. I could talk about the Bell Family side of things, and about my slow but rewarding re-emergence with a family that finds its strength in its ability to love. I could talk about my amazing high school friends, about the drinking games, about the poker tables, and about the dartboard competitions. About all the television I’ve recently been watching, and about the demise of the packer franshise. I could tell stories of our new family dog, and of her loveful nature. New Year’s is going to be off the chains, and I could very well talk about that too… but the truth is, I don’t know what to say. I’m stuck… and I have all of this philosophical residue from the year that has immobilized my thinking… Earlier I said that i was generally relieved, but I think I meant that the stress of it all is of little concern to me now.

To be honest, I’m not quite sure what’s up. I’m just a drifter, I guess. Patiently watching from the outside, looking in. Here or there, it’s all the same. DIfferent people, same stories. Different locations, same place. It’s all so overwhelming. Everywhere I look, people are painful. Ok, that’s a lie. Many have the special ability to be shiny, radiant gems that inspire and motivate us. But, what I mean to say, is that the painful is never hard to find if you look close enough, and if you think about it long enough. I’m talking in abstracts. I recognize this. But for me, it is meditational. I just wish I had some answers. Instead, I have only ears, and so I listen. That’s simply it: I come home, and I listen.

In fact, I almost feel so distrusted in my own home, that I am reduced to nothing more than this. Aww, who am I kidding? It’s not my home at all. My home begins at the end of the driveway. The minute I cross into the street, I get to be me again.

Bell is off limits for a while

I, Bruce, do hereby declare my appointed position as liaison, chief of staff, and director of communications for Mr. Bell “the Bellman” Belltron. This arrangement is effective immediately and will expire at 5:00PM Friday the 9th.
This appointment is created in accord with Belltron for the expressed purpose of increasing efficiency and the liberation of time. Implementation of this policy includes, but is not limited to, the regulation of communications (electronic or otherwise) and a serious kibosh on the cell phone.
Belltron shall be released to the public at the stated time and date.
Thanks,
Bruce

The Gray Hue Skies...

And with that, I’m back in Eugene. In my absence, the leaves have already changed their colors and fallen from their branches. The sun has left our region, and the painful tears of winter have rushed in under a gray blanketed sky. It’s dismal at best. Everything in Eugene is unfinished business, but it feels homey nonetheless. And in an all too strange way, it’s good to be home. I’ve fallen pretty hard in Eugene, and I realize that I have much to prove… to myself. The mild patience of a northwest winter is all that I could ask for.

I’m happy to have caught the “Batman Begins” movie on my flight home from Tampa Bay last night. Don’t you remember why we fall in the first place? …The good Mr. Wayne would insist, “so we can learn how to get back up.” This will be my lesson for the next 6 weeks. I have much climbing to do. The term is half way over, and I must evolve into a writing machine. Hopefully, I can use my blog as a place to keep me mentally accountable. A place to digest and re-hash some of my school work. A place to keep my academic appetite fresh and fluid. I’m very nervous, but I need this moment of admittance to propel me.

Everything is on the line, Bell. Are you a competitor or what!

I need a job. I need to keep working out. To keep throwing hard. To keep writing daily. To keep making time for me. I just need to keep on keepin’ on… with diligence. That’s the key. I will be my own strength or my own weakness throughout the coming weeks. And in the end, my life’s reality will fall on my own two shoulders.

Already, before I begin, I feel the fatigue of Sisyphus without having carried his burden. It’s as if I know that I have this boulder to roll uphill, but I find myself refusing to begin. I don’t know how to explain it. That attitude must leave. I must plunge forth. I must leap, and hold myself accountable from this moment forward. I wonder why this is so hard for me, why it is so hard to just sit, and read and write, and get it done. I must have the skills, right? I must be smart enough. I must have the ability. Do I lack the patience? Do I lack the focus? Do I depend on pressure? How could I know, especially if I never let myself operate without? I am twenty-four years old. I have lived a long time, and done a lot of things, but I must take ownership of my future. If I don’t insist on keeping my grip, the world will let me slip. And once more, I must revisit Miss Nature’s most honest motif: the world is a striving, and who am I to defy such an order?

It’s always a ‘beginning’ with me… and I realize that I lose my continuity. This is not a new beginning for me. I left these responsibilities on the table, and now I return. This is not a fresh start. This is a second half comeback. This is resilience, not a beginning. On second thought— “I must continue…”

So, what IS happening in cajun country?

I’ve had serious trouble identifying with and negotiating this whole New Orleans tragedy. I’ve visited the city three times in the past, for orchestra concerts, for church functions, for ultimate tournaments, and especially for fun… I’ve danced in cajun dance halls, jammed out in the superdome, eaten live oysters on Bourbon Street, followed Mardi Gras parades until the sun came up, and did it all in the company of the best of friends, old an new; I can only imagine the scene now. As of late, I feel such a disconnect to much of the political and social happenings in this country - mostly because I have my head in the books, or my heart in the field… but I received an email from a friend of a friend that really made me pause. Nelson, my roommate’s New Orleans travel buddy and a reporter for the Daily News covering Katrina, took the time to share his experience with us. And I must share his words with you:

Subject: New Orleans

I was born in September but have come to dread this month.

I am just returned from doing eight straight in New Orleans, where America’s willful ignorance of its own historic failings was on vivid display. I waded on foot and floated on flatboat through that septic sea of human waste and petroleum products. I learned to tell a floater was nearby by the sudden change in smell, a smell that is unique and invades the soul like a hand in the dark. This was Third world squalor hard by McDonalds and Toys R Us. Outside the Convention Center 10,000 people were told lies about buses as they baked in the 90-degree Louisiana heat. A man swigged Crown Royal and accosted every photographer who tried to pass by. Nearby a corpse with a bullet hole in its head lay in the street for days. It had silver box tape on its right wrist with the name “Sonny” and an uptown address scrawled on. A woman clearly eligible for the senior citizen discount at the local Cineplex lay in the street next to rotting food, moaning and alone, with no medic in sight. She died and was placed inside a freezer usually used for frozen foods. With night approaching, people who last week bought Lotto tickets and worried about their rent now stole snow-white queen size beds from the Holiday Inn and placed them neatly on median strip near piles of garbage. A father recounted how he stepped in front of his five-year-old son so he wouldn’t have to watch some guy getting stabbed in a row of seats nearby in a building that will never be viewed the same. On Saint Claude Avenue, a family of ten took refuge in an elementary school with 190 other strangers and two dead bodies in the basement whose decomposition hit you like a baseball bat when you walked in the door. Fearful that they’d be split up, they passed up several rescue choppers because there wasn’t enough room for everybody. A hooker who had no such worries swigged from a bottle of Night Train at 7 a.m. as she prepared for the first time in her life to ascend to a U.S. Army chopper pounding the air 15 feet above. In the Garden District a mom and dad dressed their children in church clothes as they prepared to evacuate to a hardware company van commandeered by cops. In the drowned Ninth Ward still immersed in hip-deep shit-brown water days after Katrina was spent, people huddled in the shade of front porches as if it was any Sunday. The music of choice there was a symphony of a thousand dogs abandoned by owners, trapped on porches, barking to no one. On Napoleon Avenue, cops in a commandeered fishing boat were returning to dry ground after rescuing a mom, a grandmother and an 11-year-old boy when a toothless man appeared in the chest-deep murk pulling a large construction bin full of booze. They pulled him into the boat, but chucked him back when he threatened them with a hammer. On Washington Avenue, men in a flatboat led a roan mare by rope to high ground after she’d been trapped in the water for four days, unable to sleep. In the Garden District, helicopters dumped giant red balls full of Mississippi River water on fires but the fires jumped from house to house at will. A woman whose diabetic kit was filled with maggots from disuse refused help and insisted on living in her home on Magazine – even though the entire back of the house had been ripped away in the hurricane. An LSU doctor and a team of cops carefully wrapped a body lying in the sun on I-10 in shiny black trash bags but did not know what to do with it. They left it lying there, where it sat for the rest of the day, broiling.

New Orleans, September 2005.

I’m not even going to bother about the monumental failure of government and corporate America on all levels, although the Bush people – above everyone else — should be prosecuted. Katrina was on TV for days. Long before she hit FEMA knew there were 100,000 people in the city – most of whom lived on low-ground — who don’t have vehicles of any sort. They simply did not get it together to bus them the hell out. Had that single task occurred, you would not have witnessed the decline and fall of one of America’s greatest cities as you did. Those who had means escaped; those with none did not. Make no mistake about this. On Sept. 11, 2001, the face of suffering crossed all boundaries. The mother of the waiter from Windows on the World, the firefighter’s widow, the little boy whose Wall Street father disappeared – all suffered equally. The face of suffering on 9/11 was black, white, Asian, Muslim, Jew, Christian. Here in New Orleans the vast majority of those who took it in the neck were poor black people. Period.

This was not abstract. This was not Haiti or the Sudan or even Baghdad on the BBC. These were Americans, with rent payments, kids with homework, jobs servicing wealthy people’s endless needs.

Since you’ve been here so often, you know how deep the sadness goes. I warn you that your relationship with New Orleans can no longer be a purely romantic one. This place is wounded and will never be the same. The recovery is inevitable but will have to be incomplete. For the record, the French Quarter and the Garden District missed the worst of it. The Maple Leaf, Snug Harbor, Commanders Palace, Brigtsens, Gallatoires, Molly’s at the Market, Praline Connection, Tipitinas, Casemento’s, most of the Warehouse District, Magazine Street – all are fine. Mid-City Rock ‘n Bowl and Donna’s on Rampart were both underwater. Eddies was underwater. The entire middle of the city was underwater.

When I go back, and I will, it will be difficult. I’m sure that some day we’ll all travel again to Jazz Fest and find ourselves once again lost in the unique love affair with a city that could only happen in New Orleans. We’ve collected quite a few memories there, most having to do with being young and believing that all possibilities are endless. For me it can never again be like that. The septic smell of standing water and the sight of all those bodies will be mine forever. I have concluded that I really can’t see the place again until they’ve truly fixed it up. It’s hard to for me to accept that the memories we gathered in all those visits – when we were 20-something, then 30-something, before kids, mortgages, all the rest – could be replaced by this, but I believe that to be the case. I’m sorry about all this. Maybe it’s just something that had to be.

Keepin' my eyes on the ground...

People are calling me anti-social. I know they are joking, but I suspect that there’s some truth to it; it still hurts just the same.

When you live to be social, it hurts to be told you’re otherwise… or perhaps it’s the fact that, as a social person, I know that I’m concerned with negotiating other people’s ToM’s (i.e., “theory of mind” - perceptions, identity, desires and the like), and it’s like a stab through the heart to have to put your own priorities above other people, and have them hold it against you. Maybe that last bit is too harsh… it’s not that they hold it against me, but if it’s not the case, why say it? Why call me “anti-social?” What do you have against what i’m doing? Why do you even begin to care about what I’m up to anyways? And further, what thoughts about me are you not saying? Maybe the bigger picture is: why does this even bother me? Why does it get under my skin? Why is it painful to hear?

Whatever. To them I say, ‘Move on’… do your own thing, for the love of all that’s good. I mean, why spit out some spiteful comment in the first place? To get a response from me? To persuade me to change my mind through guilt? If I respond, it gets laughed off as if its only kidding, but its hurtful and venomous just the same. I mean, let it go. Understand that I’m a person with goals, and ambitions; are you just trying to make the rest of my life one big scramble? Do you even notice, or care about the work and attention I put into living? It takes effort and discipline to keep things in balance, and I’m admittedly not that good at it. This whole ‘me-time’ thing is very new for me. I’m still figuring it out. Perhaps my sensitivity is pay-back for all those times I’ve convinced people to hangout, when they (and I) both knew it was probably in their best interest to tend to other priorities — both of our best interests for that matter (ha!)…

I remember meeting a man once…

…I was walking along a thin running trail on a banana plantation in Costa Rica, back in January of 2004. At a place like this, men and women, some poor costa ricans and other illegal nicarguans, would sign away their lives for three months at a time for a couple cents a day. Three months was the perfect contract for laborers because it meant you could adjust the employment with every quarter, and you never had to give anyone any benefits because they were all technically part-time help —- but the sad truth is, this is how people made their life’s living, and how they (meekly) provided for their family. The entire plantation workforce got paid the same, regardless of their specific job task — so whether they were sorting bananas at the factory, boxing up the bananas for the trucks, or out in the field picking and running bananas to the conveyors, they all got paid the same. Of course the most physically demanding job was the runners, all men with raging quad muscles and chisled frames; and what’s worse, people’s incomes specifically depended on their productivity; payment was determined by the # of boxes of bananas actually shipped each day, so the question always was, “why aren’t the runners working harder to bring bananas to the assembly lines???” — Everyone was working at least 11 hour days at these plantations as it was, but I can’t imagine that anyone felt each minute more painfully than the runners.

Back and forth from the conveyors to the fields, these guys would ceaselessly sprint across hills and irrigation creeks to the banana trees fields, they’d find a few ready trees nestled nearby eachother, chop down their limbs of bananas, pack thousands of their bananas on a system of interconnected hanging wires, and pull hundreds of pounds of bananas back to the factory conveyors as fast as they could possibly run. They were given two 5 minute breaks a day, but most people wouldn’t take both, for productivity demands. Under-hydrated, under-nourished, and under-appreciated, these were the work-horses behind every banana you eat, and every paycheck that the workers took home. Thankless.

I remember coming across this particular nicaraguan man, a nico, who was a very good runner. I had seen him twice in the field, once on the way out to the trees, and once more sprinting back to factory, pulling thousands of bananas along behind him, keeping his eyes on the ground ahead. He seemed to be working exceptionally harder than most of the other runners I had seen. Often these men were in good spirits, despite their arduously physcial work environment. “He’s all business,” I thought to myself. At the time, I was with a group of Americans, touring the plantation, most of us with cameras around our neck, bright white tennies on our feet, and a whole host of other name brand clothes and backpack gimicks on our bodies. Meanwhile, this nico, and countless other men were literally running heaps of sweat, drenched in their own efforts, and most had the nerve to toss us a smile or a wave as they’d pass. But for some reason, this one runner, silent and stoic, stood out in my mind.

Maybe it was the solemn look on his face. He harbored a very weathered brow and thick, dark skin; I remember thinking that he had such distinct features for such a young man. He seemed about twenty years old, strong, lean, reserved but innocent, and I began to imagine my life as his, and tried to imagine what he was thinking, and who he was as a person. As we passed, there was no invitation in his expression. I don’t remember him making any efforts for eye-contact, he didn’t show the least bit of interest in meeting, we were just two different bodies simultaneously found in passing for just a moment in time; nothing special, nothing worth noting - but I couldn’t forget him. There felt like so much more to this character — I mean, he’s a complete and living being too, right? He must have a life, and thoughts, and goals… Before leaving, half of our group found themselves chatting it up with another runner on his break, also a nico. A dozen men on break were huddled in a circle nearby him, including the young gentleman I had seen twice in the field; they were gobbling down some sandwiches from paper bags, while my group practiced their spanish with the friendly talker. I still don’t know quite how it came up, but somehow someone got to asking questions about the comradery of the group of runners, and among other things, I heard the guy say that he’s been working at this plantation for one and half years, and never once heard a word from the young man who had made an impression on me. He said he thought the young man to be friendly and a hard worker, but he tended to keep to himself. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to find myself in a social situation with a group of co-workers, or any group for that matter, and not say something. How could that possibly be? No conversations? Nothing? Just complete and utter removal from the social (verbal) scene… I don’t think I could do it, especially working as hard as he did — and since that day I’ve always wondered how that would be possible, to be so silent, so humbly removed. But honestly, these days, i wish i could be …

[deep pause]

Let’s face it. I’m stuck. I need to be alone, and I need to get work done, and I need to be diligent, and I need to be disciplined, but I know that I need people in my life, and I need to depend on them, and I need to feel included, and I need to be invited, but I’m pushing people away, and I’m afraid they won’t come back…

… and so I leap —- and they tell me that tomorrow is the first day of school. It begins.

one thing I forgot to mention: The nature of the interconnected wire system was that the banana baskets that hung from the wire were strong enough to hold a person, and on your way back to the trees, if you got to running at a fast enough speed, you could grab on, and leap into the folds of fabric the hung from the wire and coast above the trail for a good hundred yards, until you lost speed, and would have to dismount so as to run and gather up more. The runners would often attempt this when they were running over ravines, or just trying to keep a good pace, but sneak in a quick break. The first time I saw him, I remember that same nico boy, on his way out to the fields, run and hop into the banana basket — as he soared passed us, he just laid there, causally in the folds of the hanging material as he faded into the distance. But as we passed, I remember the look on his face: it was as if he was just thinking. That’s it. Staring right at us, and wondering, contemplating. But yet, saying nothing. This was by far the most compelling moment. And it was at this time that I first realized both our similarities, and later, our obvious difference.

It’s funny, I haven’t thought of this moment, or that worker for a very long time. I once had dreams of living in Costa Rica and trying to be a runner on a banana plantation for three months. It would definitely be the most physically demanding job, and I wonder how I’d take it… One thing is for sure, my quads would be like those of a greek god when I returned.

Responsibility vs. Chappelle?

So, Dave Chappelle is one block away on campus, making 4,500 people roll in their chairs as we speak, and I’m in my office about to get working on a paper. Damn. That’s pretty much all I can say.

I have a friend who works in the same building that hosts tonight’s show, and I stopped by for a little bit and thought about how cool it would be to meet Dave backstage, and how badly I wanted to see the show… and most of me felt like I could have controlled all the energy of the moment, and pulled together all of this to happen, — I mean, I could hang with Dave Chappelle, right? I think he would feel where I’m comin’ from, and be willin’ to chill for a bit before kickin’ off his show… ;) — but when it came down to it, I realized that I HAVE to get some work done. Even if I don’t come away with a finished paper tonight, I HAVE to put in the time; and that’s just my reality right now.

Unfortunate? Maybe. It just is. I must admit that I’m pretty happy with my life right now, and the situation I’m in. I have many incredible opportunities at my fingertips, and I feel like I’m living the dream. Granted, to live the dream one has to put in the time. And let this be the first lesson. I won’t admit that I’m behind, but I do feel a sense of urgency, and the office is pretty much the only place I can justify spending my evenings this week. I just have to remember, ‘next week will come’. And if next week comes, and it has to be this focused, well, then next month will come… and that’s just how it is. I got goals, ma’an. Things to do, teams to beat, degrees to earn, you-know-what-I’m-sayin’? If I’m meant to chill with Dave Chappelle, then the divine laws of Nature will take care of me, and make it happen when the time is right… but for tonight, Schopenhauer beckons. (sigh)

Knock ‘em dead tonight, Dave… you know I’d be there if I could.

three rows of three candles

I officially have $2.19 in my bank account and I’m over on my daytime minutes, but I’ve still got my health, as they say. With health, comes age, and with this weekend came that trusty reminder that time keeps on tickin’, and that this ‘Life’ thing is still workin’ out…. that’s right, I turned 24: uh! Not too shabby. September 17th was the big day, and look how, with vigor and ambition, I’ve left my golden birthday in the dust! [insert: the crowd goes nuts!! “woo-hoo!” clap, clap].

So, I was out on the ultimate field that saturday morning by 9am, cleats on, workin’ up a sweat for a good stretch; it was Mixed Club Sectionals in Corvallis, OR. Outkast was bumpin’ from the trunk while we warmed up for our first game, and I felt good. I carried a little secret with me: it was my birthday — but I didn’t care to make a deal out of it. I mean, what’s “24” all about anywayz?

I received some midnight phone calls from the night before and took my annual Birthday Shot with my b-day brother, Kevin Wright. A few text messages came my way, and a couple missed phone calls carried good cheer to my ears, and already at mid-morning, I couldn’t help but smile inside and out. There’s something to be said for being on the the thoughts of those who live and love to make our lives feel whole. Time and time again, I found myself huddled up with my Whor$hack teammates, out on the field, feelin’ the groove of life between our arms. Parents, opponents, some happenstance friends & acquaintances all seemed to poke their heads around our games, and though most were unaware, they all helped make my Birthday feel rich and rewarding. Listen, being in one of your favorite places with positive people and vibrations all around you is about as sensuous and marvelling as life can get - let alone on your birthday.

I felt great, and I didn’t need to make it any more obvious than that… but things happen, and the word slips out. I blame Meghan DiNero. After the games (3-0), we went to Matt Melius’ parents’ house to have dinner, watch the UO football game, and soak in the hot-tub with a few ice cold coronas in our hands. One word: heavenly.

Adrian and I got back to the pad just in time to see the Ducks go on a 20 point scoring streak to take half 20-17. Hummus, turkey sandwiches, salsa & chips and ice-bags were all at our disposal, and the team started showing-up shortly thereafter. I was all showered up, any feeling so fresh and so clean. The food was going down easy, and I was posted up in the comfort of a living room couch. [Can I mention again how great ‘homes’ are? They have everything!] So, DeNiro comes in and we get to talkin’, shootin’ the shit, keepin’ it chill, and somehow I think we got to talking about age. There was one of those moments where we’re all talking about how old we are, and I felt the invitation to respond. “Well, I’m 24 years old,” I said. “And, actually, today is my birthday…” And, really, the look on her face was priceless! ha! I had to feel good, I had to feel proud that it was my birthday… she was right. And accordingly, it was essentially her duty to let everyone know. (…chuckle…)

So, one by one, peeps came in to check out the status of the Ducks game, and Meghan would be all like, “yeah, ducks are up 20-17,… oh, and did you know it’s Belltron’s Birthday?” I dunno if she really said ‘belltron’, but I really like re-telling the story like that. I should start with this: People go nuts for birthdays in Portland. By the end of dinner time, and we’re talking ‘endless-lasanga-and-goodness’ dinner time, there was a crowd of good friends singing me a birthday song while I sang the ol’ “I’m 24 years, I’m 24 years old” bit, and cut a homemade cake — with 3 rows of 3 candles… add it up how you will, but my jersey represents the duuurty Thirty-Three for a reason, and the cake candles were in mighty good fashion.

To top it off, everyone couldn’t help but tell me how young I was, and how they would never have suspected that I was only 24… I remember hearing that twenty-eight was much more reasonable of a schematic fit for me. “Sweet,” I thought — I didn’t really see that coming. For the record, our team’s average age is probably around 29, with Melius at 21, I’m probably third youngest, and a few players are said to be pushing 40… but hey, we all play like we’re 18 (yeah, i’m talking to you Shazam, beware! mu-hahahaha!)…

So, the ducks won a big game against Fresno State, our Whor$hack team went on to win all of our games on Sunday to officially earn the title of Oregon State Champions, and I went to bed that night with a full birthday belly, and piece of mind. Life is swell at twenty-four years old. That’s all I know. … well, that, and giving birth is a very, very strange concept to grasp.

Thanks mom for pushing through on that…

"Bell, where have you been?"

September, here we go. This was definitely the summer that just kept on giving. I’m not really in the mood to fire up the ol’ memory bank, and reflect upon all of my summer happenings, but damn!, it’s been a great, great summer. Most of my good friends still in school have already started by now, but for us quarter-system oregonians, the dream keeps on going… and I’m cool with that. But the boss-man (my own guilty conscience, that is) tells me that its time to get back to the books, and gear up for the fall. If 2006 is going to be all that I think it can be, my effort has got to be big, and its got to start now.

Ok, so I’m blogging at the moment, I see what you’re saying. But whatever. This is progress, I tell you. Collecting the ol’ thoughts, tearin’ through some old emails, spending some alone time with Mos Def on the ‘phones while lookin’ out the library windows — this is right where I need to be right now. It’s like stretching: it just has to be done before you get out there and play hard.

… (I just checked out for a moment there, just letting my thoughts twist and turn in space.)

What am I even feeling right now? Anticipation? Anxiety? Wonderment? I dunno, it’s hard to say. It’s really hard to access the feeling for some reason. It’s as if I’m swelling. The body is fit, but the person inside feels full, feels tight, feels as if we’re at the limits. It’s new territory over here. I’m at a place within my person that has officially taken on a whole new level of goals and ambitions. The plate has been full for a long time, and you know what people say: “hey listen bro, you gotta take some stuff off of your plate,” or, “hey, you gotta be careful not to put too much on your plate, man.” — I feel you. I hear what you’re sayin’ ya’ll… but I’m goin’ for it. I’m pushing the limits and every day is, consequently, exciting to the thirty-third power. Trim the plate? Nah, I’m just upgrading. I’m ready for it. Pass me a larger plate… afterall, its just a matter of efficiency, right?… and appetite, maybe. So pass me that larger plate, busters, and I will balance that shit, and live the dream.

Cuz Living is ‘right now’. You know what I’m sayin’? It’s this moment. Living is not a series of future plans and possibilities. It’s a matter of what you can put into right. freakin. now. But, … the secret to growth is to stretch and stabilize the moment, which, ha!, is no easy task at all. Literally, I realize that every foothold currently supporting me is physically grounded in school: my income, my ultimate passions, my friendships, my academic ambitions, my immediate career possibilities,… my gym membership. Figuratively, and I feel this in my soul, I’m in the same mental moment now in the beginning of September as I’m going to be at the end of May - the same energy, the same anticipation. But to stretch out this whole situation (aka, Life), to bring to cohesion my mental and physical state, I need to stabilize school. (pause)… “okay, I hear you, self: we’re on it!”

Now, some of these things on my plate, well specifically college ultimate, have a shelf-life, and they come and go, and with their retirement, comes free space. Space and time.

These days, I have a lot of things on the back-burner, things to do, papers to write, people to love, places to see… but I fear (and this is rare of me) that this year will allow me very little room to ignore/waste any bit of my finite alottment of time and space. I will get behind, I know this. Hell, I’m already behind, (whatever ‘behind’ means)… But if I keep my focus fixed on the essentials, I’ll be blessed with newfound time and space next fall. And to be honest, this promise of forthcoming time and space is the one thing that has got me so jazzed and so freakin’ motivated to try to do it all this year. Never again will I be in college with ultimate on my plate. That being said, I’m going to make damn sure that this last year of ultimate is the best one it can possibly be.

So what does that mean? It means I get my work done, I teach my classes well, I finish my courses strong… and let the ultimate speak for itself.

You gotta problem with that? Den, do sumfin.

Paris...

I’m in Paris right now. It’s awesome. Everything is simply awesome. And I gotta go….

Poor student, looking for a computer...

Anyone with any hook-ups out there? I get by just fine without, but a new and trusty laptop by my side would make life MUCH, MUCH easier.

Mac or PC, it’s all the same to me. Wireless internet access would be a dream. And I’m a music guy too, so any ridiculously large hard-drive capacities are a definite plus… but I’m open to any sweet deals or suggestions that people might know of or have access to…

[ insert: crossed fingers and adorable smile… ;-) ]

Hiatus...

Well, i’ve been living in the moment of “despite”. Not in the sense that I’ve been feeling resent or contempt towards anything or anyone — that’s just not my style —- but in the sense that i’ve been having a whole lot of fun, and doing a whole lot of things, despite all the things I ‘should’ be doing.

Time, lately, has been spent in the form of a mental and physical hiatus for me… but more importantly, from me. While on the phone the other day, catching a distant friend up to speed with my latest life events, I brought to fruition, for the first time, an over-arching, all-encompassing narrative for my reaction to my first year in grad school. And what a year it was. I might still be in the process of finishing up a few classes, but that’s not to say that I didn’t work and think my ass off this year — beyond the point of exhaustion. Every conversation, both in academic and in social settings, was hopelessly driven towards some discussion of the universe, or the self, or purpose, or … what-have-you. Typically, these conversations are either funny or insightful, but never resolved, and never taken lightly.

As a result, my life at times has somehow taken on the persona of a deeply heavy, and saturated, and lethargic perspective of inquiry that might just be enough to make a man go mad. At the very least, I grow sick of myself, or at least my routines. People ask about ultimate, and there’s no question that it has served as a motivation and an outlet for me, but only as it counteracts something else, something more primal — and that something is called ‘school’; which, put plainly by one Andy Matranga, “is everything if you do it right.”

Well, I don’t know if I did school ‘right’, per say, but I have managed to make nearly everything I do, nearly every action I take, a matter of philosophical/psychological interest. I’ve added ‘psychological’ only because I think a philosophical query rooted in questions of ‘how to live’ necessarily begins with psychology, which for me, simply means “the study of the (human) self.” I’m concerned with the consitution of the Self, its many layers, its many perspectives, its many conflicts and successes. Who/How I am as a person and who/how I find myself becoming, are necessarily my focus, and unfortunately, the issue becomes quite the exponential predicament with every new question and response.

But I gladly toughed out 9 months of effortful thinking. I feel like I’ve only taken steps backwards, but in grad school they call that ‘progress.’ However, as soon as the summer months hit, as soon as I turned in all the final grades for all of my students, and as soon as my own academic routine faded, I needed to ‘digress’ before I could proceed any further. Yes, I have unfinished business to attend, but I needed to free my mind from self-scrutiny. I needed to take myself out from under my own microscope. I headed for Canada, and Seattle. For the Mckenzie river, and for the Oregon coast. I put my body in the gym and on the track, and I gave my mind all the freedom to roam and wander.

Needless to say, it’s been mindless. And wonderful.

But, today marks the dawn of a new day. I have priorities, you know. And I have a MA program to finish, and a thesis to write. Books have piled themselves high on my desk, while the rest of my house has slowly cleaned-up around them (believe it or not!). For once in a long while, I’m feeling that my social and personal lives are fairly organized, and it’s time to re-address the academic creature that lurks within me. Not to say that I’m about to drop all the “summer fun” and return to my 24/7 office routine, but I’ve got to start paying deliberate attention to the passage of time. I have 7 days before I leave for San Francisco’s Reggae-on-the-River Festival, and a day between that and my 10-day trip to France. I plan to take full advantage of this next week, and to gear up for my eventful return. The hiatus is over…

Game time.

Jah bu.

Lots o’ things are happenin’ these days… and i’ve got plans in the works - trust me. I’ve been working for the philosophy department this last month. I’ve put in quite a few hours on the front end, organizing all that I could for a week long philosphy conference hosted by our department at the UO. The conference was last week, and all was extremely positive. I’m coasting into this week with a long list of things to do, and the energy to do them. Right now, i’m headed home to meet some friends… we’re headed to Spencer’s Butte. We’re givin’ her the old hike-a-roo, and going to catch a view of the setting sun. THEN!, and this is the best part, we’re hiking down under the light of the full moon. Afterwords? Yup, you guessed it — live jazz at Joey Federico’s bar on 5th. Things are good. Damn good…. almost, TOO good.

and i’m out. But i’ll be back… like I said, ‘plans in the works!’

Summer Agenda 2005

Welp, a man’s gotta have his plans, right? And what would summer be without an activities forecast? Nothing, exactly. So, I’ve got a lot on my plate as per usual. I have some dreams stewing on the back-burner; part of me wants to take off the lid, and see how they’re doing, but part of me realizes I’ve got some stuff in the oven that is getting burnt! So, i’m fighting my urges, and putting in the time to get stuff done. On the priority list:

- Complete Grading for Students: Check. All 58 student exams are graded.
- Emerson Final Paper on Deconstructing the Self: 2 more pages left
- Psych ToM Research Paper: severely disorganized, but w/ promise.
- Aristotle Final Paper on Aporia: In progress; the most needy.
- Final Paper on Philosophy of Art: Incomplete from last term. ah!
- Final Paper on Schopenhauer: Incomplete from last term; halfway done.
- MA Thesis: Due next spring, and clearly I need to start on this early.
- Job: Well, I’m working for the philosophy department this summer. I’m the chief organizer of an event we host called, Summer Institute of American Philosophy. The actual event takes place on July 11-16th, but I have tons of work to do on the front end. Hopefully, if I do my job well, I can keep it for next fall, and that makes life all the easier.
- Funds: I may have a job, but I’m not getting paid very much. It’s one of those summers where you wanna do stuff, but every move involves careful budgeting. I’m going to have to keep my eyes and ears open for little odd jobs, for sure.
- June 25 & 26th: Ho-Down Ultimate Tournament in Calgary, in Alberta Canada. I’m going up with a bunch of cool kids from Eugene, and we’re just going to have a sweet time. Lots of beer and BBQ, and someone told me there’s a 40foot hot-tub. I dunno….good times?
- July 2, 3 & 4th: POTLATCH — easily the greatest frisbee tournament in the world. I’m playing with “Causey Services” and it should be a great fritzen time.
- July 11-16th: The Summer Institute of American Philosophy, etc.
- August 5, 6, & 7th: Reggae on the River in San Francisco. I’m trying to make this dream a reality… but again, I have to attend to the things in my oven.
- August 9th - 18th: France with the Family. This is quite a treat. I feel blessed just to have the opportunity. Paris is rich with existential inspiration, and the city is (supposedly & obviously) absolutely incredible. I’m excited to know that in just a matter of days, I’ll be standing under the eiffel tower. Mind boggling, isn’t it? … and then, my 18yr old sister and I will go grab a beer in the middle of the afternoon, and talk about college and boys…
- 5 Weeks of Summer left: I really don’t intend to know what to do with myself for the rest of the summer. I get back from France, and I have no school until September 26th. That’s a lot of time. I might have to get a job. I might have to keep working on my Philosophy papers. I should definitely check in with Wendy at PLU, and pull some of my old research data out from their boxes, and do some regression analysis. But, there still is the off-chance that, as a returner, I could play out the rest of the club ultimate season with Shazam. I don’t know if the team could make a late season accommodation, and I don’t know if I’ll be up for it… but it’s all on the plate, you know? Plus, this would be the first time in maybe 14 years that I’ve had a 5-week chunk of unscheduled summer time. This might be a call for some serious road tripping, and some serious backpacking solitude. Everything sounds so tempting at this point… oh, and after picking up the book again for 30 minutes last night, I do intend to finally finish, The Fourth Way.

So, that’s where I’m at.

Peeing in Urinals...

Okay, (at least) all the men in the house can agree that there are some social complications that are associated with peeing at the urinal, specifically in a public place. Clearly, any home with a private urinal is a dream, but that’s neither here nor there. I just wanted to say that I recently got back from the bathroom, and I’m so freakin’ jazzed! Why?

I firmly believe that there’s nothing more thrilling than peeing in a urinal that already has pee in it!

Seriously. It’s like I’m doing my small part to save the world! Hazaa, one more flush-worth of water saved! The feeling is so affirming. You can pee all you want to and not flush it, but your achievement remains uncertain; there’s no justice being done unless the NEXT guy chooses not to flush your efforts away. Only by taking advantage of another’s conservation attempt can you really begin to feel some vindication… and, boy, do I! I can only hope the next guy adds to the joy!

I should add, but this is only for the real do-ers in the crowd, there’s something to be said for staying well-hydrated. Not only is it sweet to pee clear urine, but your chances of fooling the next guy (most likely a typical, 1st-world ‘square’) into embracing our water consciousness scheme are THAT much higher. He looks down, only sees clear-ish water, and thinks nothing of it… next thing you know, you’ve suckered him into saving the planet… Brilliant! I rest my case.

Mu-hahahahaha!!!

Back to that faithful place...

… that faithful place of stress and stress:

ahhhhhh….

I just tried to make that sigh as long and as deep as possible. It’s been a very long weekend, and if monday didn’t happen to be Memorial Day, I probably would have stayed home all day anyways. The weather is its usual perfect grayness for the time of year, fully equiped with a calm coolness, and light breezes. The front door is open, along with the porch and all the windows, and my roommate and I sit together at the red table in the middle of our apartment, doing our repsective activities and listening to Big Youth throw it down on the loud speakers. For some, this time of year is liberation, to the fullest: schools out, the summer sun hangs overhead, and we’ve got a 3-day weekend. But for others of us, we’ve got two weeks left of the term, and nerves are frantic and the days seem to be getting shorter. Taking some time to sit and digest the moment is about as therapeutic as it can get for me…

I’ve found that I’ve been relying on the sun to get me through the past couple weeks. I’m at school until it gets dark, then I ride home, eat food, and try to muster the strength to read again. These days, dusk is taking her sweet time to show herself, and in the meantime, I delusion myself into going outside and making ‘the most of a beautiful day.’ Don’t get me wrong, Oregon is simply gorgeous on a mid-May afternoon and I can gladly justify time spent eating ice cream on the quad and people-watching on a park bench, but, by the time I get home, it’s 8:45pm; another hour and a half goes by and I’ve finished making and eating dinner, but what do I have to show for myself? In terms of production: Nothing. And on top of it, I’m tired. So, I toss on some tunes, put the feet up for what feels like the first time in 80 hours, and open up a book that has nothing to do with my coursework. Next thing I know, it’s 7am, the sun is back, looming over me like a fresh organic carrot, and I have to do it again, with the same sloppy repetition.

But it’s the home stretch. Time to tighten up. Others may have already begun this tighten process, and that’s okay, I’m okay with that, as they should have; you know what I’m sayin’, I’m happy for them, but at least we can all agree that by now in the term, the focus has to be sharp. My game is officially stepped. The goals are explicit, and follow-through must be thorough. I can do it. Three papers to write, 134 to grade - and then I’m done with my first year in grad school.

My roommate and I have been talking a lot about girls, lately. It’s not very hard to do, and quite frankly, it’s a very confusing subject. Recently, he’s (we’ve?) been struggling to negotiate ideological differences between partners, specifically between contrasting (if not opposing) faiths. Are we over the line to not be committed to loving someone because we understand the bible differently? How do we justify that? On the one hand, I know families that have found a way to stick together and raise a family under a blanket of religious compromise. However, whole wars have been fought because of such tension.

So we spun our wheels, and shared some perspective and when it was all over, Jake had a pretty sweet thought: “You know how there are ideas like ‘religion’, or ‘war’, or ‘faith’, or ‘love’, or ‘government’? You know, words that have a deep meaning like music, or movie, or karma, or meditation… what if there was a whole other construct out there that we’re just not thinking of?” Now, maybe it was one of those moments where you had to have been there, but I could feel where Jake was trying to go. It was ambitious, but he kept on. “And it could even be the case that there was once something that played a role in ancient human civilizations, but has now faded to the background of our contemporary cultures?” I was intrigued.

What if there had been something more, some critical construct, some missing piece of human experience that has unjustly been lost to our past? Or what if this additional mental concept has yet to be discovered… Either way, it was fun to feel the feeling of what it might be like to experience a whole new way of the world. I wonder what it could be? … for now, I guess, I’m happily content with the invention of music.

I’ve dilly-dallied enough. It’s time for business. It’s time to get org.anized in this biatch.

Btw, Brown won the Ultimate College Championships this weekend. And that’s good for them. In the back of my mind, I gear up for College Nationals 2006 at Ohio State, in Columbus, OH.

Summer Plans...

Yesterday, I woke up and my body hurt. My left knee was sore, and my back was wrenched. My left pinky still feels like it’s broken, and I’ve had it buddy taped for almost 2 weeks. I rolled my ankle at practice on Tuesday - even while wearing my high-tops! — and, impatiently, my ankle demanded some attention that morning. My body was still warm after getting out from under my sheets, and I was up early enough that a mid-morning stretch sounded more and more appealing. I laid on the ground and for the first time in a long while, I just felt the sensations of my body. Of being IN my body. Its aches. It’s tired. It yawned with a fury.

It’s almost like everyday I try to achieve peak performance, but the problem with ‘everyday’ is there’s very little room for recovery (e.g., none). I’ve been doing my leg workouts, doing my icing, taking my vitamins, and eating a balanced diet. I hit my glycogen windows after every workout and every practice. I drink a lot of freakin’ water. My pee is generally clear, and I brush my teeth like it’s my job —- but the thing about the body is: it can’t handle 365 days of peak performance. It just can’t do it. “Peak” performance is performing at the level that is ONE remove, one step away from overdoing it. I feel like the world record sprinter from Ani-matrix. There’s the level where at a certain point all of your muscles give out and snap, or strain, or cramp, and peak performance is a tiny hair of a step before it. And, sure, there’s something to be said for practicing hard, but there’s also something to be said for not taking proactive steps towards overall health and recovery. It’s time I start thinking about the abuse my body is taking verses the unquenchable desires that my mind is hoping to satisfy.

I will always, always, always love ultimate. I think it is the greatest sport in the world, played by the greatest people. There’s something about the way the disc floats, and the way the bodies fly through the air that excites a passion in all of us flatballers, and drives us to keep competing — though, we might still be playing just because of the sweet pics that Scobel and Bil keep taking! Maybe it’s the shoulder-love before the games, or the party thumbs, or the hand salmons… maybe it’s the smiles that erupt after a ridiculous grab or a filthy lay-out D… maybe it’s the gratuitous disc spikes, or all of the irresistable women at frisbee tournaments, but I can assure you one thing: my love for ultimate will never fade.

If I play ultimate this summer, I would hope to play on a nationals contending team (Seattle Shazam, Seattle Sockeye, Portland Axe), and I would hope to qualify for Worlds, so as to represent the United States at the Ultimate Championships in Australia in the summer of 2006. First of all, that would be awesome! Second of all, that would be AWESOME! We’re talking about playing ultimate frisbee, on an international level, in AUSTRALIA! I really cannot imagine anything sweeter. I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it. The drawback is that, once I add my last college season (Oregon, 2006) into the mix, I will have played 5 consecutive seasons of ultimate. Essentially 3 years of straight ultimate with 3-6 practices every week, and full weekend 8-game tournaments once or twice a month. More specifically, out of 1000 days, I will have practiced at least 500 of them, played over 175 games, and God only knows how many miles of running - how many hours of stretching, and icing, and exhaustion. On one level, I’ve never been healthier, and on another level, I’ve never felt so fatigued — phsyically and mentally.

I need to refreshen. I need to lighten up. I need to tighten up. I need to be freeeeeeee… I need to be me.

Ultimate is TOO big right now. Taking up too much time. Pushing over too many other priorities. I’m compromising too many other parts of me. And i’m ‘burning daylight’ as they say. I can’t forget about my mortality. I can’t forget that tomorrow cannot be taken for granted. I can’t forget that I’ll never get yesterday back. I can’t forget how big this world is. In the end, the world doesn’t care about me, but i still want to see everything it’s got! I have lived the dream in ultimate. And I hope to live the dream again with my last year of college eligibility and with whatever club experiences may come thereafter… but this summer, I’ve decided, I’m not playing club ultimate.

Plus, I’ve got this sweet new Arc’Teryx pack and I haven’t even used it yet. I’ve got a free ticket on United Airlines to anywhere in the states. Coincidence? I think not. It’s time to clean up. I finished college and never looked forward. I was living in the clouds, fueled by the dream. It’s time to take a summer and finish those incomplete papers from last term. It’s time to take a summer and analyze all of the data from the second chunk of my repression experiment still in the lab at PLU. It’s time to take a summer and get my application in for the Western Psychological Association convention for 2006. It’s time to buy a new set of camping cookware, and then, finally, my aresenal of outdoor gear will be complete, complimented nicely with the dozen non-cotten, water-wicking ultimate jerseys i’ve acquired over the years. And who knows; after shazam wins nationals again this year, and gears up for Australia 2006, maybe they’ll pick me back up on their roster! A man’s gotta dream, right?

Term III, the Aftermath

Nothing to report. I’ve got too much going on that I can’t quite get my finger on a single thought. Tell me about it… this is (almost) the story of my life. I’ve just returned from a spring break, but it was one of those spring breaks that led me farther into the mess I’ve been so desperately trying to get out of.

Back in Eugene, I’ve already moved on from it. Of course, last week is all anyone wants to hear about, but it’s the farthest thing from my mind. You know how it is, everyone you meet throughout your day asks you the same (damn) question and in acknowledging them you become as creative as possible to switch up your response, only to fall asleep at night knowing that no one else really cares — neither about what you actually did nor how you spent your day trying to switch up the way you told everyone what you did. Anyways, I don’t have time for such (petty) questions. “I’ve got things to do, people!” But they don’t understand. They want the stories. But I insist: “spring break was the break,” I tell them. “I’m interested in your life too, but do we have to talk about it? Let’s just acknowledge that we both like eachother as people, and move on — we can talk for real on Friday, or something. As for now, well, I’ve returned, and I’ve got things to do. Oh, and yes, to answer your other question, I am felling pretty good today.” Well, maybe I didn’t tell them all of that… and to be honest, despite my present squabbling, it’s nice to hear from people throughout my day. It adds a new freshness quality to it all, and at every beginning of a conversation is a smile — and while we’re being honest, I’ll admit, a smile is always pretty hard to beat.

Coming back to this mess, I’ve learned my lesson, however. At this stage in the game, you can’t help but cut your losses, clean up your act and strive for the top yet again. It’s a long road back up there, but I’ve got Sisyphus to accompany me on the journey —- almost literally in fact. I’m TA‘ing Existentialism 211 this term: the most wonderful assignment I could have asked for! Today was the first day of classes, and the introductory class this afternoon was just what I needed; almost a personal recommittment of sorts. There was a reason I began this whole philosophical pilgrimmage in the first place, and it’s nice to get a refresher of my intellectual roots — or, perhaps I should say, where my intellectual interests first took root. The readings alone have me giddy.

Back to that moment of now: I’m feeling up to the task of being the grad student I’m supposed to be. It’s been a long time coming, and I’ve not quite felt the feeling with this much fervor until now. I admit, it feels good. I’ve got my whole routine lined up, jam packed with activity. Barely anytime for me — just how I like it. Once I get too much time under my hands, I screw the whole thing up.

My journal is on fire these days, but no one is reading it… Once life starts rolling into a steady pace again, I’ll bring out the cyber verbalization a bit more. It’s a mental exercise for me, above all, but I appreciate the vulnerability and the responsibility that comes with it’s relationship to the outside world via anize. — which is growing by the way, and that’s always good to see. Despite personal belief, you can never surround yourself with too many good people. It’s just becomes an issue of managing them all, but that’s neither here nor… exactly.

Welp, you’ve all guessed it — Schopenhauer awaits, yet again; another night, he and I grow together under my fingertips, fumbling at the farthest expanses of my contemplative potential… and I’ll probably make very little tangible progress. Ooops,… that’s him talking again! “Aaron, you know you can do it!,” says the Self.

Ahhh, the Self.

Nothin' in particular

The frequency with which I post entries, or lack thereof, is certainly most indicative of … well, of something. I guess I’m not quite sure ‘what’. I’ve often thought that the more I post/write, the more patient I am with working to understand my troubled thoughts or to synthesize my daily experience —- but I’m not convinced that it’s a ‘patience’ thing. I also thought it was just a ‘time’ thing and the more time I have free, the more I could address my blogging tendancies… but there are times where I DO have a free moment, but I’d rather just lay there. I’ve come to the point where there really is no rhyme or reason to when or what I post. This site has just become a conglomeration of all that I am, from the inside out, literally.

Yesterday, I had lunch with a few close friends at a little pub and burger joint right next to campus. We were all talking about our lives and how busy things have gotten during finals, and I found myself saying to my good friend, Grishkin, “You know what, sometimes you get so far behind in life that you just gotta slow down, you know what I’m sayin’?” That was my moment of zen. I think in all honesty, I live in accord to such a statement. I mean, you know how it is: sometimes you feel so overwhelmed with what you have to do, and the priority list just gets longer and longer, and you start to realize there’s absolutely no way you could POSSIBLY get it all done, … and that’s when I take a nap. But, hey, that’s just me. I know for sure it’s not like this all the time for me, but then again, maybe it is. In the end, it all works out. But to my credit, I am in the library about to attack this philosophy paper and that puts me a full week ahead of schedule! That’s progress… right?

Tomorrow I leave for PLU. It’s the annual PLUBBQ tournament, and I’m helping organize the first PLU Alumni Team! I’m absolutely stoked. Unfortunately, I pulled my groin last weekend at the Stanford Invitational, so I’ll be resting my body, but i’ll be there to cheer everyone on, and check out the whole scene. For what its worth, my tireless running earned some small-time publicity: my friend, and now famed photographer, Andrew Davis, caught some sweet pics at Stanford, and one of yours truly — it was a layout attempt on a D’ed hammer, but I came up with nothin’ but jammed fingers. Oh, and Ultivillage.com caught some footage on film of a grab and some layouts — I felt pretty honored, and I have to imagine that my mom is proud (or, at least she better be!). I mean, you gotta ask yourself, if it wasn’t for pictures and video, how many of us would still be playing ultimate? Exactly.

Ultimate has been a wild ride so far. I’m stoked to head up to PLU this weekend and see the old (and new!) faces… and I’m stoked to head out to Austin, TX next week for the infamous College Centex Tournament,­x05/college/ one of the, if not THE, most competitive spring tournaments (other than nationals). We’re gonna have to play our asses off, and when it’s all over, it’s a week-long, team-get-away in Corpus Christi! … right on the beach! Should be a good time. Hazaa for Spring Break.

Now, if only I can get those two papers in before next Thursday….

"You, Reading This, Be Ready"

Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
Sound from outside fills the air?

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
Than the breathing respect that you carry
Wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
For time to show you some better thoughts?

When you turn around, starting here, life this
New Glimpse that you found; carry into evening
All that you want from this day. This interval you spent
Reading or hearing this, keep it for life —

What can anyone give you greater than now,
Starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?

…. William Stafford

—————————————-
P.D. Ouspensky would probably clap, nearly as vigorously as I did smile.

Ultimate and "The Price is Right"

This is one of the funniest posts I’ve ever read on Rec.Sport.Disc, and so I decided to share it.

Copycat II

You’re blue! You care a lot about people - that’s a good thing.

Everybody’s doin’ it on anize.org; Here’s the site

All My Days.

Fruit. Water. Vitamins. Ice. Reading. Paper. Floss.

The way it is.

The topic today is: (the positive side of) Isolation.

Despite my colleague, David Taus, anize.org has been all too inactive. I’m rather glad to be back in Oregon, with time and attitude to contemplate. I got in last night, crashed on the floor of my new living arrangement (aka, the Werblow-Bell Estate) and went to class this morning at 10am. I know I’m in the right area of academia for me when I meander into class and nearly drool at the foreshadow of the intellectual feasts I’ve signed up to eat this quarter. Today’s discussion: the introduction of the philosophical challenges of phenomena verses noumena and how 19th Century German thinkers, namely Schopenauer, chose to address it. A year ago, I would have felt a little odd about wanting to buy the books tonight and begin reading ahead, but now, … I’m just plain excited.

The break, I must admit, was too long. I enjoy coming home to Wisconsin; always have. And, after having been gone from its rolling foot hills and hearty patronage for a full year, I was more than excited to return. But alas, the shift was a bit abrupt and I found myself acting as someone I was, as opposed to someone I am — which is wonderful from time to time, especially amongst old friends, but somewhat digressive when done so for 3 weeks and admist many, perhaps TOO many, of those good friends. I’m beginning to think that there are just too many quality people in this world and as privileged as I feel to know so many of them, I would be fooling myself to think that I can continue to remain a big part of their lives — and they mine. Right now, I am teetering on being a reliable and loyal friend to all those I know… ‘teetering’ is the key word. It will not be long before the impossibilities of my situation are unveiled, and my inability to maintain the very relationships that I so honestly adore becomes obviously apparent. This will be my point of departure …

Lately, and by ‘lately’ I mean my flight back to Oregon, I’ve been feeling a progressive sense of isolation … I don’t know what that means. This isn’t the type of isolation that is alienating, or ostracizing. It isn’t the type of isolation that is depressive or self-defeating. It’s almost liberating, on one hand, and utterly, inescapably saddening on the other (I know these aren’t quite opposite terms). I feel like I’m at this delicate equilibrium state, where all my social involvements hang/balance on a very thin wire.

More than most people I know, I feel very blessed and fortunate to feel a sense of belonging to so many incredible, dare I say, ‘groups’. For the sake of ease, I will describe these ‘groups’ as complete social circles. ‘Complete’ in the sense that I feel an overwhelmingly unique sense of belonging and unique ability to contribute to them AND, at the same time, I feel that as a person, my being is fully challenged and satisfied (which are almost one and the same). For clarification and example:

• My high school friends are easily the most loyal and tight-knit group that i’ve ever seen. In comparsion, many if not most of my college friends don’t have the intimate and extensive relations with their childhood friends as I do… and I am ever so thankful. The 12 year run of all of our relations is a testament to the trials of time that defeat most friendship circles. We are still 20 people strong and Jeremy and Caitlyn’s wedding is a testament to that…
• In addition, I’ve managed to explore another society of infinite friendship — Camp Minikani. Infinite in the sense that these relations are so permanent and so ‘in progress’ that they will continue to manifest themselves in my life and identity for as long as I live, PLUS the connections between LT group, past counselors, past campers, past LT’s and past/present role models (heros) is so vast, after looking at the whole picture the ‘reflector’ (our email group), plainly, falls short of being a petty attempt to unite all the camp people who share this deeper cosmic connected to eachother.
• The list goes on. At PLU I made friendships in a way I never knew how - vigorously searching and seeking out the people that really complimented and inspired me. These were people that, from all the ends of the earth, managed to similarly cross paths on the 285 acres of a small liberal arts college in Tacoma, WA. Even now, I could begin to remember all the great friendships that came, changed, and went during my 4 years at PLU, but it would be a shame for that thought to overshadow the ridiculously close and intimate relationships that came from my 2 year-old Housemates, and Reign Family. We shared in an innumerable amount of common goals and common passions and supported/loved eachother through it the entire way (my tattoo is a testament to them and that). An unimaginable bond arises from these types of relations, and I’m just beginning to know what that feels like (now that we have spread into the wake of our undergrad experience).
• And now I am at the University of Oregon, where the people are just as perfect, and the friendships are just as meaningful. I have a family of 60 other ultimate brothers and sisters, and a department of philosophy fellows and grad student companions. We share a common plight, and our similarities provide the grounds for a rare cognitive connection. I feel completely at home here, and, even so early in the game, I can barely imagine leaving.
• But i’m a clinger - I am reluctant to let quality people slip in and out of my life. Life is too absurd to lose track of people. And I have felt a connection with certain Others through random experiences that seems to offer a gentleness and openness that leaves me confident that I could stop what I’m doing and at the drop of a dime and fuse my life with theirs (be it in Seattle with my Shazam family, Costa Rica with my latino family, Florida with an old college friend, Idaho with a fellow Ben Harper fan, up and down the West Coast with Ultimate acquaintances and countless others….). Where do I begin? Or more so, how do I begin if I wanted to?
• And to top it off, I make mention of my Family. The most obvious of social circles. The most obvious of my foundations for belonging. To have a family and avoid/ignore it may very well be the saddest possible scenario for man, the social being. We have nothing if we don’t have family. However, I have been aware of the complete nature of my Pignolet/Kuchler family (and all the joys and losses therein) for quite some time. Even those under this umbrella of relation provoke a feeling in me of overwhelmingness, and to top it off, i’ve begun reconnecting with my, what I’ll term ‘long-lost,’ Bell Family. And even here, at the surface of getting to know the Bell Family, I can feel it’s completeness. Again, I ask, how can I begin to address all of these complete social worlds? The numbers alone make for a near impossible task!

Life demands a certain permenance — one that cannot be afforded to all things. Back when life was shorter and harder, and back when there were less tools to get around (cars, phone, email) maintaining closeness with neighbors and friends was just as challenging, but perhaps easier… proximity-wise. But as social creatures we have blown-up. We have exceeded what was ever thought to be possible. Some of us have networks of friends so vast that we laugh at the statements like “the world is so small sometimes” and chuckle when people think it takes 6 degress of separation to know every human on earth —- it feels more like 3 or 4!

Not only are we dealing with an explosion of social potential, but the technology is so far behind (it causes more problems than it can solve: people begin to rely on email, but there isn’t enough time to address an inbox with 60 new emails a day), the majority of jobs are too demanding to allow one to indulge (or even ‘maintain’ for that matter) the countless friends we have made in life, and to top it off —- we all live far apart yet expect and desire those that love us to show it often and be involved in our (pointless?) lives.

And even now I’m faced with a reality that is becoming more and more dillusional. I believe that I can maintain a closeness with my friends, despite the obvious problems of proximity… but even if that were possible, I have to face issues of time and money. On the one hand, I am a student, and a grad student at that. On the surface, my friends might see this as quite similar to the undergrad lifestyle: felixible. non-chalant. fun. Let me explain upfront: this is not the case! Graduate school is a job; of the most rigorous nature (i’ll come back to this). However, those on the ‘outside’ with real jobs and pseudo-permenant lifestyles can more easily confront the impossibilities of their reality. For example, their realities includes only a few annual Vacation days. These people necessarily CANNOT make time to see all of the people they have come to love and enjoy. Their lives become more permanent in place and in the social contexts they find themselves in. If you really expect to be their friend, you must understand a working-person cannot make time to see you often, not even occassionaly. Even holiday breaks become more of a fly-in, ‘hello’ and fly-out kind of routine. And now let me address what I aforementioned:

Because of the common perception of Graduate School and the university life (mostly by people who have never been, or haven’t been yet), it may be assumed that a grad student would have more felixibilty. Heck, they have 2 or 3 classes a week, and really have only a few days of fixed time commitments. Right? Probably. But it’s not that simple: Grad school is a game/job, where you have things to do, and they are as difficult as your ideas are good, and the game becomes testing it’s students to see how they organize their life in order to be successful. This inherently allows for a flexibility that most jobs don’t have, I agree, HOWEVER —- it forces a relentless level of personal stress and strife to match. I address this concern only to head-off any retort that the life of a student is any less disabilitating on the closeness of social relations. I go on…

This is a passage about ‘isolation.’ I admit that I am beginning to feel the overwhelmingness and inability to maintain the intimate mental and physical proximity that involves me with so many friends and family members across so many social worlds. And even if I were to pretend that this wasn’t the case, and even if I were to continue living the illusion that I can email, call, and visit friends for an entire lifetime —- I would surely receive my wake-up call down the road. Even if I were able to stave off a life of permenance so as to maintain relations with Others, I would slowly see the lives of my friends pick up momentum towards permanence. People get married, have steady jobs, live in the same house and neighborhood for years upon years, and soon, my (in)frequent visits would turn into being the random, nostalgic third wheel, crashing on the couch of my happily married friend for 3 or 4 days before disappearing — out of sight, and probably, usually out of mind. This, obviously, isn’t the ticket to maintaining relations.

I suspect we trust that our friendships will always pick-up where they left off. I suspect that for the rest of our lives we will always welcome old friends under our roofs and relish in past events over a glass of whine(!) and special dinner — but what more could we really imagine? What more could we actually achieve? It’s at this point in my thoughts that I’m begninning to think that putting a commune together doesn’t sound half bad. I mean, how else could you get all of your friends and family living in the same place? I admit simply: you can’t.

2005 will be a year of social honesty for me. I can’t possibly begin to make promises to people. I still owe promises of the past to old friends (which I will carry out … mark my words!). I hope to be a man of my word. If absent from my friends’ lives for any period of time, I at least hope to be a trustworthy and loyal friend. I will always serve as a dependable soldier, and I hope with all my being that my friends will call me into action, in the same ways that I would hope they do the same for me. I admit, i have a world of resources to offer, and nothing would please me more than to be motivated for some cause, and to help a friend in need/transition.

But for now, I will retreat to my quarters day-in and day-out, basking in my solitude, relishing my isolation. I have much to do. Personal goals to accomplish. I am at a place now where 70% of my time is spent on my own, with other people’s books and with my own thoughts. I realize that the nature of my job, as a grad student, demands of me more concentration than I’ve ever been asked to give. This is something I will do for me, and I will sadly watch the common comforts of my social relations with others metamorphosize. There’s no telling what will come of it. There’s no telling who will be there at that Thanksgiving dinner in 2025, myself included. But for 2005, this is where I am…. and it’s where I need to be. That’s just the way it is, and I’m the first to be a little sad.

My only comfort is that there are 6 billion people living on earth right now, and billions that have come before us, each living in a different way. There is no one right way to live for all, but there may be one right way to live for you. I am rigoursly hoping to discover the nature of myself, so as to live right for him (me). My only comfort, revised, is that there have been many great thinkers and influencers that have lived astonishingly lonely lives, and though I see life-long isolation as an impossibility for me, I don’t fear that it may be the life with which I end.

… with that, I go forward.

Wisconsin...

It’s cold. I went downtown; saw some friends. I went to Chicago; saw some good people. I went to Madison last night; great camp faces. Saw the Packers game at Lambeau last weekend. Did the Aunt’s wedding. Saw the Nutcracker Ballet. Passed up tickets to the Buck’s game. Right now, I’m headed to Dana’s corner bar for that Wednesday night taco special. More to come…

Winter break is something more than a social swirling of sorts…

cellphones are weak...

This is December, celebrated for many reasons. But, at this moment, I can’t help but realize that this December marks the 1 year anniversary of my cellphone. What a celebrated prize that is. I mean, not really. I’m not writing about my cellphone in order to celebrate it, but rather, to condemn it.

I was never a cell-phone guy. Always against them, in fact. I prided myself on my ability to remember numbers. I fashioned the calling card in my wallet (or satchel), and even, eventually, had my pin number memorized. Life was good. But slowly my social life expanded. I moved west. Other kids moved east and south. Time zones became an obstacle. I was working hard, and getting home late - too late for a call 3 hours ahead. I became disconnected.

So, Santa gave me a cellphone last christmas… to take advantage of the down time that pops up periodically throughout the day. Santa only gave me 250 day-time minutes, but that’s another story. It took a while to make the full transition, but after many months, and many over-charged phone bills, I became that guy with a cellphone. I admit that now. One of the first symptoms of being that guy is not knowing your own friends’ phone numbers. Without my phone, I wasn’t going to call anyone. I couldn’t. I didn’t know their numbers. Luckily, I never lost it… and a year has passed and I feel rather responsibile. However….

And there’s always a ‘however.’

My phone just quit yesterday. It threw in the towel. Heaven knows why, but it decided to stop displaying it’s screen. Great. It wasn’t fancy in the first place. No cool camera gadget. No hip-hop download tune action. No fancy rings. No fancy colors. Just a simple, single-colored screen for a simple guy, single-colored guy (…yeah, i don’t know what that means either, but parallel structure made me do it).

So, now I can’t get any calls. Can’t make any calls. Everything sucks. I will hunt down the kids at Cingular on Monday. Here I am trapped in a 2 year contract, and they can’t even give me a phone that will last that long… what a joke.

a few updates

I’m happy to announce a few updates. Nothin’ special. But thanks to dfc, the home page is a little re-vamped and I’m working on getting acquainted with the gallery.

That’s all. I just needed to take a break in between readings and doses of DayQuil.

Playa del Carmen and beyond

The wedding-thanksgiving-reunion trip to mexico was a good ride. “All you could eat and drink inclusive” was a miracle… Amazingly, I didn’t spend a dime the entire trip (though, i do have some friends to thank for that!). Pictures will come, and with them… tales. Tales of Hahn and the flabongo. Tales of Greg and getting cut off from Francisco, our personal bartender. Tales of Schleicher, and what was her name? Tales of Burcham and projectile vodka in the face. Tales of Joe G. and booty-dancing at the Blue Parrot. Tales of Shoop and being that guy, over and over again. Tales of Balke and our mutually disdainful re-confrontation with Tequila shots. Tales of Wahn and his attempt to reinstitutionalize the color ‘pink.’ Tales of Lindsey and the envy of every man on the dance floor. Of Amie and the word “shwooom!” … and of course, the couple of the eternal hour: Jeremy and Caitlyn — my, how they looked beautiful on the Caribbean beach, under a wedding arch of flowers and rhythms.

I should add, for the first time in a while, I felt pretty comfortable with my spanish. (That’s for you Linzi! … thanks for showing up by the way…) That, and I finished reading, “The Way of the Gladiator.” What a ride that was. Man! I finished the book and had this to say, “This book makes me feel as if our present day personalities must be awfully mild. Our contemporary notions of entertainment bear no trace of the sadistic debaucher (in comparison); we instead distract ourselves from the painstaking desperation that is Life with delightfully fruity sitcoms, and lovey-dovey dating shows. What a miserable group of cowards we are! The Romans would have had each of us in the arena in a heartbeat!…”

But for now, I must address this sore throat, and progressive cough. Two weeks of school left, and millions of hours of focus. Yes, millions.

a brief aside...

today is a busy day, for which i’m thankful. i generally enjoy knowing that I have a lot to do, and feeling that now is the only time I have to do it. It keeps me racing. It keeps me at battle. However, i try to keep it real, and take moments each day to step out and step back. Having friends like Jake Werblow makes this even easier. Today, he sent me the following “link of the day”. Naturally, I checked it out, and seeing these famed men really put in perspective the many ways I COULD be living my life right now. Thankfully, my projects in Oregon feel validating enough … though I am enjoying beard-status.

Secondly, i went out to the movies last night with my friends Seth and Aly. This felt like the first time I’ve been out to the movies (I mean real cinema, not independent movie theatre) in what felt like an eternity. We went to see the movie, Friday Night Lights, and rest assured it was a good flick. I got into it, fa sho’. But what blew my mind was how the 20 minutes of previews were commercials! I couldn’t believe it. Commercials for perfume, and clothing, —- things that i couldn’t even get at the concessions. I underestimated the luxury that I live in … an apartment with no television. That stuff will wear you down fast! But I digress…

Once the actual movie previews/trailers began, I felt right at home. I love watching movie trailers. They’re so epic. Each trailer is designed to evoke some particular emotion in you. I saw an awesome trailer for a movie called, Alexander. I am going to like this movie, especially when i finish this book I’m reading, The Way of the Gladiator, which should happen on tomorrow’s plane ride to Cancun!

Moving right along, I also saw this trailer that scared the hell out of me. This movie is easily going to be one of the scariest and most horrifying films of the year, guaranteed! It’s called, White Noise. Just plain terrifying. Dude, i’m serious. I shook with fright over the 30 second preview.

Okay, that’s a ramble. I gotta go. Tonight, i get to have dinner with my long-time college friend, Michael Fox, in Portland. Oh, and one more thing: After hearing it first on NPR, I recently picked up a new CD, and I’m diggin’ on it, hard — Citizen Cope, especially (originally?) the song called, “Penitentiary.” He might not be for everyone, but I find his CD provides a certain musical, sentimental nauseaum that reverberates deep in my soul. Maybe it’s just me.

Florida, here I come!

I have this much time right now: [insert: “no time”]. I’m in my office, frantically taking up a week’s worth of work and cramming it into the second of two days. Calling people, arranging meetings and booking flights couldn’t seem more trivial, considering I’m 6 hours from hopping on a plane to Sarasota for what will be my first trip (of hopefully many) to the Show. I’m ecstatic. I’m elated. But I’m overwhelmed with the infamous “stuff-I-gotta-get-done-before-I-go” phase. But, I’m wearing this sweet new Oregon mesh hat that Volker got me, so I’m feeling much better about it all!

Yesterday I felt like a kid in a candy store —- the entire day. Just so excited and anxious to go ‘play my game.’ I just wanted to suit up and be in that moment. That Ultimate moment. I think we all want it. It’s like wanting to get through the week so you can go to that tournament … but 10 times better! The feeling is so … so… so all-encompassing. From my fingertips to my soul I feel this ‘giddy-ness’… this extraordinary passion for what is to come. Anxious? Yes. Nervous? No. I just want to play. Get me out there. Let the disc rip, and let it be “Game Time,” please.

I’ve got a million things I could write about at length…. but there’s no time. Even if i tried to write something it would look like this:

“So, i’ve always been perplexed by this idea … huck it!… that common souls rest in distinct and disparate … POACHED! … yet mutual bodies, however … dump it, DUMP IT! … there seems to be an interplay reached through … SICK LAY-OUT … you are a champ… I love this game … ULTIMATE! … “

… I dunno, something like that. Really, that’s pretty much the verbatim content of my every thought (aside from the one’s I’m coherantly typing). I gotta go.

PS: and before I go, I thought I share some mutual sentiments that I think Peet and I share, but which Peet actually wrote. (Not to say that I want to be a librarian, but I feel the same zealouslessness about the confines of academic progress…)

PPS: I don’t know if Score-O-Matic will get itself together to post game scores of Natties or not, but if not here, I don’t know where else it would be — so, let’s hope. Ok, Now…. yes, now, i gotta go…

Hats, Varja, Buttes and the like...

I’m beginning to realize more and more (and thankfully so) that i’m generally writing these entries for me, but in a way that allows others to see; well, anyone, really. There’ something quite liberating about that … about the idea that someone can be subject to someone else’s inner thoughts and reflections. The verbalization of that consciousness, naturally, makes for feelings of apprehenson and vulnerability —- but I welcome it.

I’ve slowly found out a thing or two about myself, about what excites me and what intrigues me. I’ve found that watching the many ways in which people put on their many hats and switch between their many identities are ridiculously fascinating. I hope ya’ll would agree. Think about the few people you know very very well. To some degree, the reason one feels they know another person well is because they have numerous shared experiences, they’ve seen that person encounter a variety of circumstances, and have had a chance to see, to some degree, into that person’s other relationships —- ie: who that person is at a college party, when s/he is studying in a dorm room all sunday afternoon, or leading a hiking trip with 3 of his/her peers, or bringing you a special birthday gift wrapped in careful thought and love, or interacting with the relatives at a family reunion, or on stage acting out a lead role in a play or volunteering time to a needy non-profit organization… or whatever. The intrigue is the intimacy that comes from watching a person grow and interact in relation to the changing scenery … in reflection to the many people and circumstances to which we’re constantly adjusting.

For me, that’s become of personal interest. And I call this the “many hats” addiction. And this very principle makes people-watching on a city bench so rewarding. It’s all about just trying to imagine what outfit that person in the pressed-suit changes into when she gets home, or whether that CEO puts on grass-stained jeans and plays catch in the park with his little girls. What it takes for that young woman to laugh, or that young man to cry. Wouldn’t you, if you could, follow all these people around to just satisfy that thirst to find out? To seek the very mechanisms that make that other person whole? I would. But, then there’s that issue of time. Ugh!

In bringing it all back, the “many hats” addiction for me has made blogging of personal interest. It is a way for me to understand the many hats that I might wear, and has become an effort to determine quite how many I might actually wear (vs. have). The hope is to arrive at a point where it’s just one hat for me … or is that really no hat at all? Anyways, Verbalization of Consciousness has become a place for people (and that removed, reflective, inner ‘me’) to not only see where I go or where I am but to also see how I might be thinking about that place, which, in theory, blows my mind. How amazing to actually hear that inner monologue… in virtually real time. Maybe the idea of it is more exciting than the actuality of it.. but whatever. We roll on.

Now, I’m not fishing for compliments. I realize i’m just one person. And there are many other people in this world that can bring an abundance of more intrigue and puzzlement, but my own personal hope for me, is to capture a fraction of those thoughts we all have each day in rhetoric… exploit it, expand it and subject it to any other consciousnesses that happens to cross its path.

So where am I at? I’m here. In eugene. Taking it easy. Currently, I’m sleeping 12 hours a night, and busting my ass 12 hours per day. I head out for Florida on Tuesday night (7:45pm) for the UPA Mixed Nationals Championship. I’ve been going to bed earlier and earlier in the night to get on east coast time. I figure my body is not going to benefit from much more of a workout, so I get a good jog in each day, stretch thoroughly and toss for about 2 hours. Then it’s to the books, to the office, to class and back to bed. It’s just how I roll… and I roll deep. Varja showed up for me yesterday, courtesy of Eric Hoffman, and the house is clean (dishes and all) for the first time in what seems like a while. I’m staying hydrated. Always nice.

Also, yesterday, my officially new Grad school friend, Jake Werblow, and I went for a 5 mile hike. We had talked about doing something like this for a while, but I’ve been gone every weekend until now, so we jumped on it. My first weekend in Eugene was a good one. I busted out this little “Oregon Handbook” that I bought this summer and found half-a-dozen hiking trails within 15 minutes of my house. We zipped over to 52nd and Willamette and hit the Ridgeline Trail and summited Spencer’s Butte [2,052 ft] all before noon. Atop Spencer’s Butte we could see incredible sights - all of Eugene was covered in light whispy clouds, dashed with brilliant rays of sun and against the backdrop of the greenest forest I’ve seen in a long time. There were a few deciduous trees showing off their turning leaves and the air was calm and crisp. Werblow and I talked a lot about things and I think our friendship will prove solid. He’s a good guy. We stopped for ice cream at Prince Pucklers and talked about his trip to Niger. Peace Corps is sounding more enticing by the day. But, then again, so was this Ceasar-gladiator-colliseum book he was talking about. Perhaps I’ll make that happen.

I bought Maddie more food today cuz she’s been complaining, so now I think we’re definitely in a relationship.

The Oregon boys and the PLU ones are down in Chico playing ultimate as we speak. That’s the second year in a row I’ve missed that tourney. Bummers.

I should probably head out and go make dinner… (and The Roots keep rockin’ for me…)

sure, why not...

All right, Volk-master, this one’s for you…

1. What is your Full name: Aaron Morgan Bell
2. What color pants are you wearing now : Green
3. What are you listening to right now: The Roots - Tipping Point
4. What are the last 2 digits of your mobile phone number: 22
5. What was the last thing you ate: Apple Cinnamon Pancakes
6. If you were a crayon what color would you be? African-American
7. How is the weather right now? Puffy white clouds against a bright blue sky
8. Last person you talked to on the phone: Ira Meiling
9. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex: Mouth
10. How are you today: chilled out, for sure…
11. Favorite Drink: Ensure, Banana Flavor
12. Favorite Alcoholic Drink: Wisconsin Lunch Box
13. Favorite Sport: Ultimate
14. Hair Color: Dark Brown
15. Eye Color: brown
16. Siblings: 1 sister
17. What do you do for a living? engage graduate studies
18. Favorite Month(s): September, and May
19. Where do you call home? Milwuakee, WI
20. Last Movie you watched: Before Sunrise
21 Favorite Day of the Year: hmmm…. not sure
22. Are you too shy to ask someone out? nah…
24. Chocolate or Vanilla: swirl, for sure
25. Hugs or Kisses: swirl, for sure
26. Do you want your friends to write back? I mean, whatever needs to happen..
27. Who is most likely to respond: 1e
28. Who is least likely to respond: Vicki Garbanzo
29. Living Arrangements: Single Apartment-Duplex thingy
30. What books are you reading? Being and Nothingness (Sartre), The Influence of Darwin on Philosophy (Dewey), the 16th Round
31. What’s on your mouse pad: a smiley face

Oregon Weather...

At this very moment in time, it is absolutely POURING in Eugene. I’m looking out my window and am baffled by the buckets upon buckets of water that seem to be dumping from the heavens. Pretty incredible. I’ve not seen it rain with such enthusiasm in quite a long time. The question becomes,… how long will it last? (The PNW has a reputation for wussy Rain Showers, in terms of duration).

Rush Week

I feel like the entire west end of campus has turned into a playground for hoodlums and hollering… After 5 hours of work, 2.5 hours of throwing and an hour in the pool, I came back to my lab for a casual checking of the email, and some random mental wandering in the form of a blog entry — but to be honest, I can’t even think straight. I have no idea how many people are gathered outside in the mall in front of my building, easily in the hundreds, but it seems more like a fit of chanting and yelling than anything very structured.

To be honest, it’s kind of amusing. Really, I’ve never heard such a variety of hoots and hollers. At the peak of every crescendo, or at the sudden eruption of a triumphant roar, I’m tempted to run to the edge of my floor, and look to see what the commotion is all about. It must be something — I mean, these kids are fired up! The greek system has it’s allure… and I’ve often tried to picture my participation in such a lifestyle - but I imagine I’d pay way more homage to the “Hops & Barley” Gods than I’m comfortable with… then again, I do play ultimate! (where we don’t call them ‘Frats’, we call them ‘Teams’…)

I tell you, people and their rituals; the two seem to go hand and hand.

I’m off to go find some dinner, and mentally prepare for my trip to Salt Lake City tomorrow.

Howard Dean

In light of the Vice Presidential Debates that occured tonight, which I so happened to watch with my dad in the Eugene Hilton, I am reminded of an on-campus event that took place last friday afternoon at the Student Union … Howard Dean came to campus! He was greeted by a couple thousand students and faculty who were, more or less, eager to hear him speak some praise and pledge his support for the Kerry Campaign.

He certainly was a very passionate and charming speaker. I took note of his political poise and temperament. He was greeted by a whole slew of liberal Kerry-sign-holding passionists, an organized group of satirists dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns hoisting signs that read, “Billionaires for Bush,” “4 More Wars” and “Who Needs More Species Anyways?”, and, surprisingly, a fair amount of pro-bush supporters that arrived confidently enough with Bush paraphanelia raised high. Either way, Dean began to speak and you could feel the energy of the crowd. I have to admit, it was exciting. I had goose bumps when he teased us with talk of “a system of health care for every american” … but oh, what a dream. Regardless, I took note of some things he said, and why not share:

He put a lot of empahsis on “Trust.” This has almost become a buzz word in the current election. If you’re not using the word “trust” than you’re probably not getting it from the American People, but then again, the more I hear it, the more I question it’s sincerity. He talked about balancing the budget, and endorsed Kerry as having a means to doing this. He spoke of the environment and people cheered (it’s Oregon for god sakes…). He made mention that Bush doesn’t seem to trust the Pentagon, and made a quick-witted joke - “if you’re going to pay someone to give you advice, you ought to take it every once and a while!” I admit, I laughed. He reminded us of the problems in the public school system, he reminded us of the 1052 American soldiers that have died fighting overseas, and explained how he thinks that if Bush remains in the presidency, that there will be a draft. (!!)

Dean then explained that 95% of ‘us’ all want the same thing, and he said he’d tell us what that is: we all want jobs, we all want economic security, we all want an education system, and we all want a president that will restore relationships with Foreign Policy. It seemed that everyone nodded, and who wouldn’t? Howard went on. He proclaimed that that Republican campaign was trying to divide us…. i nudged him, “go on, I’m listening…,” I remarked to myself. He explained that all the issues Republicans seem to bring up are, “Guns, Gods, Gays and Abortion” - he’s tired of an election that attempts to divide us as voters, and he’s tired of this election to be about hate. He got plenty of applause. It was powerful. He spoke a bit about how he’s not against the ideals of the republican party, and how the democratic party is not all that perfect itself. He talked about how the parties have differed/evolved/changed throughout their pasts, and how, over time, they’ve both slid farther, and farther to the ends of the spectrum; but he wrapped everything up nicely and gave us a message in between.

He urged us all to join a campaign. Any campaign, on ANY level. Help them raise money, help get involved with the issues, help support and exercise your democracy-given freedoms. He said, in his closing sentence(s) - “stand up for what you believe! … and person by person, house by house, state by state … we will take this country back - for the people who built it, and that’s us!” The crowd roared and it was over.

He might have said a few more things, but that was the jist of it. I’m glad I went. The second it was over, though, I hopped in the car and drove to Seattle. Had practice, came back to Eugene, and two days later my Dad came to town. We just watched the VP debates (yes, poor segway at the start… what can I say) and had dinner at a nifty little restaurant, the Marche. My dad and I may differ with some political perspectives, but we agree with this verdict:

Bush/Kerry Debate Winner: Kerry (for round one, that is)
Cheney/Edwards Debate Winner: Cheney

PS: It’s been a real treat to watch the Presidential debates in a living-room full of hyper-liberal Democratic students, drinking cheap beer and dipping stale chips in salsa, and then to watch the Vice President debates in an executive club room at the Hilton with staunch conservative Republican businessman sipping fine wines and tasting complimentary h’orderves. I’ve appreciated both sets of company, … but maybe because I’ll eat pretty much anything these days….

Pick it up a notch!

I’ve been playing ultimate a lot these days. Shazam practice on every Saturday and most Sundays. Practice with Oregon two to three days a week. Pick-up games on thursday on the turf fields, and again at PLU on Sunday afternoons. I’m feeling healthy, weighing 174lbs. I remember being big football player in High School, working out in the gym everyday with Schleiks and Big Wahn, and Burcham, and the gang. I weighed just over 200lbs. Today, I feel faster, and more competent competitor in my sport, and I feel expectations resonating from within myself, and from my peers. Perhaps the expectations from my peers are secretly projections from myself, but either way, i welcome the pressure. I want to rise to that pressure. For the first time in my athtletic career I really feel like a competitor; a confident and energetic competitor. I have no fear of another player. I will gladly mark any player on any field. Hoping either to teach a lesson, or learn one. I’m at a point of no return… my head is focused and goals are clear. I want to be better then the day before. And with each new day, that goal seems to grow even stronger and more clear.

But there are times where I play with less focus, and with a more haphazard, lackadaisical approach. I feel like despite my lightheartedness, there may be a turnover I half-heartedly throw or an out-of-bounds pull I carelessly throw, but the I’m finding more and more that those imperfections affect me. I know there might be a danger from striving to play perfect ultimate at pick-up, but I think there needs to be a level of focus that will help my more competitive games. If I could ask myself to work on a particular goal, it would be to maintain that competitive focus, even in positive ways, at all levels of my play. Turnovers and poor execution aren’t acceptable. This doesn’t me that they shouldn’t or can’t happen, but rather that I know I can do better, and that I shouldn’t be satisfied. I want to be the best that I can be, and that will require that I take my level of focus up a notch - to the next level, even if I have to define that level for myself. I want better. I want that better play to happen THIS time, not next time. I want to commit to striving, and with this attitude, i know I will be proud of my athletic accomplishments when it is all said and done…

Speaking of, this weekend, the Seattle team that I play for, Shazam, will be having Regionals in Salt Lake City. We are seeded 3rd stiff competitition. The saturday pool play is a little screwy with a cross-over game against #1 Brass Monkey, but if we hold seed, we’ll have a semi’s match against Whoreshack (#2) who we owe a lil’ sumthin’, … either way, the weekend will be tough — especially at 5,300 ft elevation. There are three bids to nationals in Sarasota, FL. With some focus, we’ll make that dream a reality. Jabu!

Maddie II

Man, people b luvin ‘dem some Maddie!

I mean, cats are cute and all, but mind you, this one is kinda scruffy, and desperately needs a bath. Whatever happened to the self-cleaning aspect of the feline family? I have standards, you know. And if Maddie is going to sweet-talk her way into my life, she better clean-up her image. Or is that my job? Sure, I might be falling for her innocent looks, and cute charm, but I play hard to get with the best of them. For now, we have a feed-hate relationship.

Animal shelter? I’ve heard that suggestion. But maybe, despite her attempts to sneak between my legs into the house everyday, Maddie truely enjoys the freedom and independence she gets from being in the elements and roaming the countryside. I mean, she’s a free kitty. To choose and create her own bath. She is existentially free to create her own essence, and to establish her own identity by the hand of her own adventuresomeness. I’m almost envious. But the idea of making her a make-shift hut is an idea that is beginning to weigh more and more on me.

What am I even thinking about this for? I’m not even allowed to have a cat in my house. Period. Landlord’s rules. I can’t argue with that. And even if I was going to (which I can’t, mind you) who’s to say I wouldn’t follow through on this advertisement I saw in the Philosophy department the other day — a 4 year old little kitty named Munchkin doesn’t want to go with her family that is movie to Alaska and wants a new home and friend. Munchkin is way cuter — and has all of its shots! So there! (insert: sticking my tongue out) — I will admit, however, that having a little philosophizing cat would be pretty sweet. But she would have to enjoy sitting on my lap, and thinking. (i’d probably settle for sleeping too, if the thinking bit was too ambitious of a stipulation).

In other news: I was cleaning out some boxes of stuff in my house today; you know, getting organized — and I found $87 … cash! Nice. AND, it’s sunny outside. Things are lookin’ up.

Oh, and in other, other news: I recently went to the Nike employee store with my friend Huge, and I purchased (among other things) a sweet pair of Nike Shox Socks. Black of course, as I’m hoping to slowly fade/faze out every pair of white socks I own. So, anyways, these socks are incredibly comfortable, and while checking out, I realized I hadn’t picked out a pair - so I ran back to snatch up a quick set (thus, showing you how essential they were to the experience). Today, i took them out of the bag, and put them on; they were a little tight fitting - uncomfortable even … and then it hit me! I totally forgot to look at the size when I yanked them off the rack. What an idiot! Turns out, they are size 8.5 in mens. Looks like I’ll have to give them away. Bummer. Tad might be the lucky winner…

ongoings, in a short breath...

Well, my first week of school is technically over. that’s right, it’s wednesday. I somehow managed to hook-up a schedule where all my classes start after 10 and are done on wednesday. Not that I tried to make that happen, but rather, in taking the classes I really wanted to be in, the schedule gods shown down on me with respect and understanding. I guess it behooves me to have the philosophical interests that I have; so, with that, let the classes stand aside, whilst the reading begins! hazaa!

I do have a ton of reading, most of which I’ve diligently completed — in advance, mind you! Most of you would probably have guessed otherwise, but living alone has its advantages. Somehow or another I’ve managed to be pretty efficient with my time. I’m putting in my 9 hours of administrative work, 9 hours of weekly ultimate practice, and completed all of my reading —- plus, (and there is a plus), I’m working out and doing a tiny bit of pleasure reading. Not bad. The question becomes, can I keep it up? And let me be the first to respond - you betcha!

I’m finding my 3 classes super exhilarating. If I had more time, I would type some excerpts from some of the text in my American Philosophy class. It’s taking such a fantastic and interesting twist. It’s mostly and account of how Native American struggles have led to the supposed success or failure of pluralism. It’s fascinating. I’m learning more about Native American history than I had ever hoped to fathom, and at a time in my life where I’m really having a personal investment in Native American history (courage?) as I enter a stage of my adulthood where I’m specifically putting my sense of self-identity at the forefront of my thoughts and realizations. I know, as many if not all of us do, that I have a particular, undisclosed relationship with certain Indian Nations, and I know there is Blackfoot and Choctaw blood flowing through my veins. I feel a certain responsibility to better understand and identify, at the very least, with the events in history that so suddenly and dramatically changed such an exciting and beautiful set of peoples. As this course progresses, I will no doubtedly be sharing many insights (and profound stories) about the predicament of native peoples between 1620 through around 1930…. it’s absolutely astounding.

My Jean-Paul Sartre class has been exceptional as well. So far, we’ve began the course with an introduction from Sartre himself. He’s dead, you say. How is this possible, you ask. Well, there is a 3.5 hour interview with him where a handful of people prompt Sartre to explain the progression of his life and his writings and to provide potential explanations as to each stage. It’s been an amusing video, mostly because of how odd and, naturally, fascinting Sartre (’s character/attitude?) really is. I’ve jotted down a few great thoughts of his, and hope to readdress them (for myself) in hopes of ingraining them into my own ways of thinking; these notes will inevitably be a ‘verbalization of consciousness.’

The third class is an hour long teaching seminar that meets once a week and allows everybody to improve their TA‘ing skilz, and prepare for a time when WE‘ll be creating the syllabus and the lectures. Ah… so far away, yet … so absolutely close! These are truly exciting times.

And in other news, I’ve taken up on the suggestion of adding more zinc to my diet in hopes of defeating this cold/headache that’s been stalking me. With that, plus three full meals today (thanks to the freshman ultimate players!) I feel back on top of my game. And off I go to the comfy pleasantries of my own little apartment….

Vitamin I

The Vitamin I that i’ve relied on for so long to carry me through the aches and pains that come from playing competitive ultimate, is doing very little to ward off this painstakingly uncomfortable headache that I’ve had for the last 2 days. I don’t know what it’s from; it’s not like I’ve an incredible amount of stress or anything like that. I really have done very little. I attribute it to not eating very right (much?), frankly. I’ve had one meal a day for the past several days, mostly because I have zero dollars in my bank account. But yesterday after practice, i managed to sneak into the freshman cafeteria and pile the food on - plate after plate after plate. I thought that would have done the trick. But no. Last night I came home after a short frisbee meeting (regarding the Oregon Fall Ultimate Kickoff Tournament - which is Nov. 6th and 7th) and the pounding continued. I made some tea, turned on some tunes, tried to read… and passed out. Thinking it was gone this morning, I became the target of its return around 11am. I went and had lunch with a friend at a nice little pizza place, and am hoping to reap some benefit - though no progress has been made yet. I’m also drinking plenty of water (I’m on my 5th nalgene for the day), but who knows??? At the very least, I hope I don’t acquire the horrific cold that John Ryan brought to Sectionals this past weekend. He was coughing up a storm, with all the stuffy and runny symptoms that follow. I’ll find my antioxidant fix somehow…

Maddie...

My biggest problem in Eugene these days is dealing with Maddie. Everytime I come home, she’s at my door, and she wants to come in for a bite to eat and a little bit of conversation, but I just don’t feel right about the whole situation. She never appears very clean, and her manners aren’t necessarily the spitting image of dainty etiquette, but my heart goes out to her. I don’t think she has a lot of friends, or a warm home to go to at night, and, basically, I’m torn about what to do with this cute little cat.

I found a bag of Purine in the cupboard, and I’ve started feeding her every now and then. I know Doug and Meryl (the people from whom I’m subletting) have fed her in the past, but was their relationship with Maddie THIS difficult??? I can’t imagine. Today, Maddie followed me halfway to school, and once I came to Agate Alley, she just stood and watched me go, meowing and crying the whole time. It was sad. I don’t know what to do.

This whole situation with Maddie just tugs at my empathetic strings. I’m suddenly reminded of a rather interesting book I once flipped through which begs the question of ‘how did humans come to sever their ancient reciprocity with the natural world?’ - The Spell of the Sensuous. (a short review ). I’m not sure how much a part of the natural world ‘cats’ really are, but, regardless, I will definitely have to readdress this book in the coming weeks.

In other news, “The Lion, the Witch and Wardrobe” Book on Tape is off the chains. Easily the best book on tape I’ve ever fixed to my ears. The full cast version with theatrical music and sound effects is a true joy. I can’t wait to finish…

And I’m off to my first day of classes as a big ol’ graduate student. Ahh… the academic joys of Jean-Paul Sartre’s psycho-analytic theories await me!

Stagnation...

Like cement slowly rolling.
Like syrup slowly pouring.
Like ice slowly forming.
I’m feeling unenthused.

Like grain slightly swaying.
Like sloths slightly playing.
Like rocks slightly laying.
I’m feeling unamused.

As if I were the ocean,
Or an object lack of motion.
Something without devotion,
I know not what to choose.

Hippies - still criminals...

Orientation has been happening for days now. I’m meeting people, I’m making friends, and everything is seemingly “all good.” Yesterday, I walked into this big large lecture hall where all the incoming grad students were assembled. I sat in the third row, in the third seat, and just before the presentation began, this super tall cat named “Jake” walked up and sat next to me. It was like Forrest Gump, but with a slight role reversal. He said, plainly, “what are you in for…” I replied, “philosophy” and we began talking. Ultimate came up, and, thus, we had a connection. Later, the speaker prompted the audience for three volunteers to come up and introduce themselves. My new friend Jake persuaded me, and I got up - spoke about Milwaukee, jabbed at Seattle, and explained my two interests: philosophy and ultimate! People laughed, and I got a shirt.

But what i didn’t expect was people to come up to me later, and share their interests. i met like 3 or 4 other philosophy students, and coincidently, my office partner, Jasmine. Each were chill, and I can tell we’ll all be having a good time over the coming years. BUT, I also met about 3 solid frisbee prospects. Jake, of course, standing at a solid 6’5” from Connecticut, a kid named, Matt from South Dakota, and a gal named Leslie, who got her ultimate kicks at Skidmore. These people had that special flare, that special ultimate look in their eye — people that “know” and that got me excited. We’ll have to do some hangin’ out.

In other news, I woke up this morning to find all the pairs of shoes that I leave out front my house, on the porch, to be gone! Yup, some dastardly daring hippy bum stole my shoes. Nothing against the dastardly daring, the hippies or the bums, but something about the combination of all 3, combined with a need for footwear and a complex for stealing, ended up in a criminal act against little old me. So, I lost two pairs of good shoes, Adam’s sweet nike suedes that he left here, and gwen’s brand new running shoes. Serves me right, i guess, for putting that same trust (that’s been with me for so long throughout the years) to Eugene. When will I learn?

Lastly, we had a “gong show” or, rather, a talent show on the Shazam frisbee team last Saturday. It was a success and people really got into it. Patrick gave us coach speeches for double-game point in the game-to-go at regionals, tad jammed on a song he wrote on the car ride to seattle, Charlie, Ellen, and John Ryan busted out some great songs; Janet and Sarah did some hip-hop dancing, Steve played the dulcimer, Bil tricked everyone, I taught some African Tribal songs and dances from Senegal, and there was more … but the point of my mentioning these things is because John Ryan has pictures to share! Feel free to check out Shazam’s Gong Show, 2004 (I suggest the slide show). Oh, also, I recently got some photos from Finals (Shazam vs. Brass Monkey) at the Santa Cruz Labor Day Tourney. Gwen’s aunt took all these close-up shots of me playing ultimate, and it’s kinda overwhelming. I look so intense! I’ve never had an Aaron Bell Highlight Reel. They’re prints, but rumor says there are digital copies somewhere, and maybe I’ll try and get them for my biggest motherly fan. But then again, people like trangy would probably rib on me for posting something like that…

I’m off to more Philosophy orientation meetings, and a dinner at the chair of our department’s house. Jabu!

Phil. Office, #329

Things are starting to settle out here in Eugene. After a whirlwind weekend of Kevin Wright and others, the pleasantries of Oregon life have been more than overwhemling. The Eugene Celebration was this weekend, along with the Slug Queen Pageant and the Eugene Parade — which, by the way, was easily one of the most entertaining parades I have ever witnessed, save for the unbeatable mystique of New Orlean’s Mardi Gras parades.

This is my first entry in my new philosophy office. I recently got hooked up with my own little office, desk, comfy chair and shelving space. Did I mention the coat rack? It’s chill. Pictures will come eventually. They even gave me a computer (mac, desktop) because I didn’t have one. I’ve got one week left of summer, and I’ll be spending the most of it attending orientations and administrative duties. I’ll throw a little bit in the in-between time, and gear up for school mode tambien. This will be a good place. With good people. I’m happy.

Now if only those Ducks could do a thing or two about their saturday performances… but who am i kidding, the packers lost to the bears —- the entire sport of football is doomed this season, on every plane.

Eugene... and Kevin?

So, leaving tacoma was difficult and wonderful in and of itself. Seeing all those great faces and meeting all the new enthusiasm for ultimate really made me a bit nostalgic. I wanted nothing more than to be able to come back to the security and comfort of the frisbee house, and that livestyle I worked so hard to make over the last 4 years. But I knew my journey must continue…

Wednesday afternoon I found myself in NPCC having a tasty burrito and a spicy conversation with Jill. Matt Melius soon joined and I could feel 2pm fast approaching — i would be leaving shortly. It was at that moment that I got a phone call. I looked down at my cell, and saw that it was Kevin Wright. I knew that there really couldn’t possibly be anything that Kevin had to say that couldn’t wait an hour. I decided I would call him back. 10 minutes later, he calls again, to my surprise. “It must be urgent,” I thought to myself and chose to answer it.

“Hey man, what are you up to?” he asked. “well, I’m just hangin’ out with Jill (who says hi) over a little lunch at the coffee house at PLU. Where are you?” Kevin replied that he was out and about and wondering when I was coming to Eugene… and I made a small joke that it seemed as if he was alluding to the idea that he was walking around the streets of EUGENE… He giggled, so as to confirm the irony, and said that he was waiting out front of “1461-A east 20th Ave” —— my new address in Eugene!

What!

I didn’t believe it. So, I hung up, hopped in my car, and was at the doorstep of my own house in 4 hours. Inside I found a delivery box with a six-pack of Miller High Life - empty of course (at this point), some flight itinerary info from Milwaukee, some bags, and a fake UPS hat, a mullet wig with a black stick-on mustache…

5 minutes later, kevin returns from the corner grocery store with a half rack of Milwaukee Pride and the euphoria began. Ahhh….. welcome to eugene, indeed!

poetry

a very cool link:

http://www.lovepoetry.com/poemlist.asp?x_searchname=WynnMiriamM%2E

yup.

Back in the Lute-dome

Yes, i’m back in Tacoma — for a few days. To hang out with the ol’ chums, and to finish up some research analysis. My time in Seattle has just ended, and my time in Eugene is on the horizon. Ahh,…. life right now is fresh. Fresh and real. I’m about to head out to pick-up on Foss (on sundays at 2pm) like the good ol’ days. Freshman players will be plentiful. I’ve also managed to make a new friend as we speak (type?), named Troy. We’ll see where that goes.

It’s interesting to be sitting here next to this cat that physically resembles me in many ways, yet is nearly a spitting image of me and my first few days at college, and at PLU for that matter. Outgoing. Disciplined. Excited. And others. I will stay in touch with this cat. For sure. It may very well be the vicarious experience that I will need to keep me attached to this great place. Or not.

We threw down at the Frisbee house last night. Mad peeps. This morning, after clean-up, we had 9 recycle bins of crushed cans and bottles. Wow. It may very well be a record. I mustn’t forget about the VIP lounge and the induction of Spencer, Graham, Carly, this guy named Ben and some others into the frisbee clan by way of Wisconsin-Lunch-boxes. Who’d of known that Kevin Wright’s favorite drink would trickle over to the west coast with such power, grace and metaphore?

I talked to Bakken last night on the phone as well. Told him we had a secret in store for his return, but was very deliberate about saving the details for that reunion at that time. To be honest, seeing reid again couldn’t come soon enough. It was good catching up.

My time with Causey Services has abruptly ended as well. Sadly. It was a good run, and I may not be working under the title again for quite some time, save the Causey Services Ultimate team that we will rally together for Potlatch, 2005. Did I just say “2005”? Wow. Can you believe that 2005 is around the corner? We’re half-way through this decade. Makes you think a bit, doesn’t it?

I’m takin’ that thought to the bank.

Where am I?

Yes, I’m still feeling that way. It’s like a real live game of pinball — I’m still bouncing from one place to the next. It has it’s ups (for sure), but I’m quickly getting more and more amped to peace this town, and head to Eugene. One week. One week, and it’s all new.

I just got back from San Francisco yesterday afternoon. It was a wonderful weekend of ultimate, Gwen, and … Volker??? (how’d that get in there…). As for the tournament, my knee hurts and we got Second. I’m okay with that. As for my return to seattle, Snuffins was there to pick me up at the airport, and after a quick spell through Jill’s place, we were playin’ disc on Foss with 40 new freshman — all right, indeed! PLU ultimate looks good; and there are crazy people out there that already have throws. We walked out of Foss (15 minutes late) and someone yells “ULTIMATE” and you could hear a thousand voices cheering. Needless to say, I got goosebumps.

That night, 6 of us crazy frisbee kids went and checked out “Napolean Dynamite”. It was $5, had it been more, I would have asked for my money back.

I’m headed to Lake Chalan right now, for three days to varnish some wood, and seal some marble at this mansion. I’m cool with it. Perhaps I’ll find internet there. Soon, I’ll be on the ball again with the anize crew, which I’m sure misses me so dearly. Say, speaking about that, is DFC alive? Rumor has it that he is not (…cyberly speaking).

Oh, and if you haven’t noticed, Bakken has crazy stories goin’ on. I may not be responding these days, but I’m lovin’ the entries.

Oh, and super-lastly, I’ve been watching loads of “Sex in the City” —- it’s almost like the Seinfeld for women… I’m not gonna lie, I’m diggin’ on it. More comments to come (but for now, Miranda’s gotta tell Steve how she feels about him - I can’t take much longer).

Vesper

I have just recently finished spending a glorious amount of time playing with candle wax - yup, candle wax… It was absolutely wonderful. Never have I given into my inner and curious child quite as fully nor as wholly as tonight with these three candles. It was like all those years at camp were forgotten, all those nights of sitting around candle light, and giving my full, undivided attention to children was set aside —- tonight, I gave in and played with the wax. I let it drip on the table. I made stalactites of glory. I used the extra wax and built a wax-catching-reservoir and sealed all the cracks with, yup, you guessed it, more wax! For a small while, and alongside the pleasant company of one Ashley Miller, everything was right. With the gentle-flickering candles burning their sweet smells into my memory, and the bright New Mexican sky winking with its cool refreshing breezes, I could finally begin to think again … with a type of clarity that’s been all too absent.

the PNW

So, as of Monday night, I’ve been back in the Pacific Northwest. I’m living in University place doing some catsitting and housesitting. things are good, but things are different. From now on, I’ll be in a steady, lethargic transition until mid-september. Every week I’ll be somewhere new (pretty much), and that has its good things and its not-so-good things. I’m living out of my car, and a backpack. It’s chill. In other news, I ended up healing rather nicely from my rock-fall injury, and all the bruising sustained in my back/hip has turned into scar tissue and minor pain — which is chill. They (stanford trainers) tell me that it’s not broken and I’m doing the right things to take care of it… with that, I decided to play ultimate on Sunday. I picked up with this team called “Frizbee Nation” and being the lowest seed, we ended up losing in the semi’s of the beer bracket — which is chill… I mean, that means we one games on sunday, right? Whereas, they lost every game the day before. I won’t attribute that success to my involvement, but I’m glad I got to be a part of it. The worst part of it all was that after I full-sprint layed-out for this poorly thrown disc, I landed directly on my side and pulled my left oblique muscles. Sucks. I couldn’t even get off the ground… it was like my whole torso froze up and I had absolutely no movement. Gwen was right, I should have rested another day. But, hey, I’m back in the Seattle area, and taking care of myself (orange juice, heavy icing, lots of protein shakes, Vitamin I, Traumeel, warm baths and rest…). Though I didn’t practice last night, I hope to be ready for Kleinman this coming weekend (in Portland). Other than that, things are good, just different. I’m in the process of finalizing all of the clean-up at the ol’ house on 123rd. Getting all my junk out and preparing it for the frisbee cats that are taking it over in the fall. It’s sort of sad seeing all of these empty bedrooms and vacant living rooms. Even the kitchens look like no one’s been in them for centuries. Trangy and Taus have made their way to Portland and will be hiking in the Olympics this weekend… we’ll cross paths again and that will be chill. I’m reading this great book called, “The Fourth Way”, and I think it might be the greatest book in the world … for me at this place at this time. I’ll post on it soon enough. Weather is great — blue skies and 85+ degrees. I’m going to go suprise visit my guy Brian, and we’ll see what the day has in store for us. then it’s some QT with Melius and a surprise Birthday party for Bil Elsinger…. what a day. I’m off….

The Schedule

I kinda need this as a reference for my own sake:

ULTIMATE:

July 24 - 25th: Standford Co-ed Classic — Palo Alto, CA
July 31st - August 1st: Kleinman Eruption — Portland, OR
August 21st - 22nd: Spawnfest — Burlington, WA
September 4th - 5th: Labor Day Ultimate Frisbee Championships — Santa Cruz, CA
September 25th - 26th, Sectionals — Hanford, WA
October 9th - 10th: Regionals — Ogde, UT
October 28 - 31st: Nationals — Sarasota, FL

WEDDINGS:

August 7th - 8th: Minerva Rios and Phil Camp; — Albuquerque, NM
November 24-30th: Jeremy Jeffery and Caitlyn Hinnenthal; — Playa del Carmen, Mexico

CAT-/HOUSESITTING JOBS:

July 26th - Aug 2nd: Wendy Shore; — Tacoma, WA
August 1st - 11th: Eric Mattson: — Seattle, WA

UNIVERSITY OF OREGON:

Sept. 15th: First day on the job as Philosophy Department Grad. Asst.; Eugene, OR
Sept. 27th: First day of Classes; Eugene, OR

POSSIBILITY:

Aug. 13th - 17th: Trip to Wisconsin — Milwaukee, WI

3 quick things

1) Look at this kid. Good to see that you’ve found a place for all of those thoughts of yours, Ira- keep producing. Guess what, I just got my first book on tape, “The Da Vinci Code”… next road trip, I’ll crack into it.

2) Got a new digital camera today. Well, it’s actually Trangy’s mother’s camera, and I got it yesterday, … but it’s all worked out, and I’m taking care of it for a while. Pretty excited to begin trying to trap life in a 5 by 7.

3) My back still hurts. Yup. This weekend, gwen and I went camping in Big Sur Park in California. We were walking to some hot springs after dinner in the dead of night with a lousy flashlight, I slipped on a rock, lost my balance and landed on my back — an inch off my spine (could have been a lot worse). I was in a lot of pain, but I feel like it’s getting better. I’ve been icing and hot-springing/tubbing in hopes of a quick recovery. I’m really hoping that I didn’t crack the top of my hip— it was a good size fall, and I landed square on an edge of a boulder. Wish me luck… I’m mobile again, and going to try to pick-up with a team at this Stanford Co-ed tourney this weekend. Hopefully, my play will be some indication of how ready I am to come back to Shazam…. any suggestions with back injuries? Ice? Advil? Is that it??

Bonus item, #4) If you’re up to no good, pick up a Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry album. The one I have is “Maritime Hall” and I literally can’t get enough of it/(him? )…

Eat your heart out, Izar

(Pre-script: it’s weird, when you actually write an expression like that down, “eat your heart out”, you begin to wonder where something like that first originated… maybe Indiana Jones??? it’s hard to tell at this point…but, alas, I digress)

Izar! (and all those interested)… today was a miraculous day. So, I’m in San Francisco; Gwen’s at work and I’m looking for stuff to do. Turns out, my buddy Trangy is in town. He’s here via a great road trip with another great friend, Taus, but Taus was a little distracted (we’ll call this distraction .. Marta, for now). Anyways, so I call up Trangy, and he’s chillin’ at the intersection of Haight and Fillmore. Haight, being a very cool street with lots going on, I figure we can just grab some grub, walk the streets a bit, visit this rad CD store called, Amoeba, and then leisurely head back to our place for some hot-tubbing and story-swappin’. So, in a matter of minutes, I’ve left the mission district and picked up the Trang-ster. We hug, we laugh, and I notice that we are kitty-corner from this dope breakfast place called Kate’s Kitchen. Now, this little hole-in-the-wall cafe has some of the best pancakes and omelettes in the world, and I explain to Trangy that it’s well worth our time and effort to grab a bite.

So, I’m sitting in this great breakfast house, hanging out with a great friend and just feeling awesome. At this point, I’m relishing in the moment. Really, it couldn’t get much better — I’m talking, we’re laughing, we’re ordering…and then it happens! … just as if it was regular day, and as if nothing was out of the ordinary, He walks in, and I tell Trangy (who has his back to the door), “Hey look, it’s Ben Harper…”

Wow.

Andy (Trangy) turns back, does a huge double take, and then, after a choked-up attempt, he coughs out, “w..hat?… I … I .. I gotta go” and he grabs his phone, runs outside, and calls 2 cats immediately (one, being our currently indisposed friend, Dave, and the other, a good buddy of his named Steve). Anyways, Ben sits down with this guy at a table right next to ours - maybe 2 feet away. We respect his privacy and do nothing more than subtle head nods and comforting gestures of good spirits.

It turns out that Trangy is currently workin’ on this mandolin version of Ben’s song, Ashes, and was having some trouble getting the key and some of the chords right… so, our two parties finished a great meal, and then we leaned over, and started making conversation. Andy was just like, “So, Ben, … Hi, I’m andy…and I’m working on this mandolin version of ashes right now, and I was wondering if you could help me out”. So, we began chatting. Ben is a chill, chill dude. We were seriously thinking about inviting him back to our place for a beer or two, but figured that it probably wasn’t something he could fit on his agenda. We talked about tunes, and about the industry a bit. He told us he was up here lookin’ for a place to live, and was seriously hoping to move out of L.A. We assured him that San Fran was chill, and began telling him a bit about us and our situation. We just sort of sat and chilled for 10-15 minutes. It was like we were all good friends, just hangin’ out, and chatting over coffee and orange juice. Ben was rockin’ the beard and longer hair look that I’ve been workin’ on… i’m pretty sure it’s not just coincidence. So, yeah, that’s really it. We met and hung out with Ben Harper, and it was sooo, so sweet. I wish everyone could have been there to meet him, but at the same time, it couldn’t have been a more chill situation. Props to us, Trangy.

Oh yeah, and then we caught a slice of pizza at this New York Pizza Slice place, went to Amoeba records and scored some new tunes, picked up Dave and Marta, came back for some hot-tubbin’… and the night was history. Unreal. With that note - Reality Check - I only have 6 more days in this town… sad.

I’m out.

No Rhyme or Reason

I’ve found myself precariously awake this morning. I guess my nap through 1:30pm yesterday afternoon may be responsible for the extra energy, but i’m not complaining. Life has been really good to me these past few weeks. I’ve been doing and seeing so many things, it’s a wonder that I haven’t blogged more often. I think I find myself more likely to blog when my life is seemingly uneventful — when some particular, isolated event happens (or is happening) that demands prolific analysis. But lately, I’ve been doing so many things, that I’ve hardly taken the time to scroll it down, for future stories to my grandchildren. Oh, and I guess not having internet at Gwen’s house will make blogging an impeccably difficult task. Nonetheless, while I ramble I might as well bring your attention to some stuff.

The other day, Lisa, Jody, Gwen and I checked out this movie called, Coffee and Cigarettes - a very cool movie, indeed. Basically, it was a movie (shot over 17 years, or something like that) about people chatting over coffee and cigarettes. It was pretty fascinating if you’re in to people watching and conversations. But really, does life get more fascinating than that? I think not (… said rather loosely). What I liked most about this movie (and trust me, the sketches themselves were absolutely fabulous and entertaining) was how the movie offered a sneak peak into the conversational lives of more people, from different walks and ways of life, than I’ll probably ever come across in an entire lifetime. I’m always mystified and sincerely intrigued by the interactions of 2 people, and this movie, over and over again, provided ample opportunity to relish and savor good ol’ talkin’.

We saw this movie in lieu of Fahrenheit 911 - not because we actively chose to not see Michael Moore’s film, but Fahrenheit 911 was sold out, and by the hands of fate, the four of us agreed on C & C. Tonight, we might try again, and if one Michael Moore show isn’t available, we might have to check out the other, Corporation. Either way, I think we’d be in for a good wholesome capitalistic treat. Oh goody.

In other news, there’s a really incredible Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park, and if you’re ever in the area, I really recommend checking it out. It’s free after 5pm (-6pm), and well worth your time. On a side note, GG Park is a truely remarkable park. I mean, the city of San Francisco seems to really take full advantage of everything that park has to offer — from the botanical gardens, to the baseball fields, the tea gardens, the nature hikes, bike trails, ultimate leagues, and ponds. AND! apparently, it’s bigger than Central Park. I don’t know why San Francisconians feel the need to compare, but I should probably make a note of it if they do, you know?

This weekend, we’re headed to Big Sur to do some camping. Should be a good time. Hot springs. Big cliffs. The ocean — the whole sha-bang (9 yards?). If I had a digital camera, I’d show you where I’ve been and where I’m going, but, alas, this is not the case. Perhaps soon. … There’s much more to talk about, but when San Fran is sunny, you’ve got to get away from the desk… keep on, keepin’ on ya’ll.

Yes!

A break (through?)… yesterday I got word from Prof. Scott Pratt, chair of the philosophy department at Oregon, that I was nominated for the administrative assistant Graduate Position in the department. This is a .20 GTF that includes a fall tuition waiver and nearly $500 a month. I’m ridiculously excited. This is a job I’ve been waiting to hear about for nearly 3 weeks and, voila, the good news hit me when I least expect it. For all of those interested, I’ll be flying-in speakers, scheduling colloquiums and balancing some bookkeeping for the philosophy department. I’m excited to be doing some hands-on work, and rolling up my sleeves in the name of responsibility. It’s about time. Everyday I find myself getting more and more excited for Eugene this fall. Is it really even happening?… Well, there’s no time for that now; the streets of San Fran are calling my name…

Jeremy and Caitlyn; 2004

So, two of my closest friends from High School are getting married this coming Thanksgiving. It will go down in history as one of the coolest marriages that I could imagine, but also the first wedding in my young adult life that I’ve been invited to, specifically. Very cool. I will be there. Where, you ask… Mexico; I think Playa del Carmen to be exact. This is where we’ll be staying, I guess. I’m pretty excited. If you’ve got nothing to do, you should swing by thanksgiving break for all you can eat meals, and bottomless buckets of booze. They’ve even got a website.

San Fran

Luckily for me, the air transportation system we have established here in the united states continues to be efficient and reliable and as of yesterday morning, I safely landed at Oakland International around 9am. Let the good times begin. The climax of my summer begins to unroll as Gwen and Friends Co. [aka Judd and Babin, pronounced with a french accent (like, Bab-‘ohn)] were there shortly to great me with open-arms. My struggle to get to the airport and on the plane might very well go unrivaled for the remainder of my life —- I literally pulled up to the airport 25 minutes before my flight, with a line of Southwest passengers stretching the full length of Sea-Tac. No joke. Getting out of the car I thought, “will my checked baggage make it on the plane?” … walking into the airport I questioned whether I would make it on the plane! Then, somehow the airplane gods shined down on me, and low-&-behold, D.J., a good buddy from PLU who went to Costa Rica with me, was at the front of the line. We chatted, I skipped everyone in line, and off my bags went. The line to get through security was easily twice as long as the Southwest line, so naturally, I skipped to the front as if I knew what I was doing. The Masses never care about the questionable skippers that seem determined (and at the very least, down deep, I think they understand). So, needless to say, I made my flight. Some potlatch kids were aboard; we talked. But having not slept the night before, I pretty much was narcoleptic the second after I was instructed on how to use the seatbelt.

San Fransisco was guick to keep the good impressions coming. The four of us hopped over to the dopest Pancake dive in town — Kate’s Kitchen. This place has gourmet pancakes (and omelets!) that are out of this world. The cheese and bacon pancake is definitely the best! Then Gwen and I picked her car up from Palo Alto and headed back to the S.F. pad. Pretty cool situation, … with a hot tub and hammock to top it off. Think cozy. Think chill. Think convenient… and you’ll realize how lucky it is to find such a place. After a nap, and a bit of the greatest movie on earth to date, Wet Hot American Summer, the Anize Con fulfilled its west coast endeavor. It was good to see Taus and Trangy. Those kids are inspirations; really, two of the coolest people I’ve come to know and a definite good time was had. We chatted a bit about their trip, had a little food, and talked about when we’ll see eachother next. Hopefully we’ll squeeze a weekend trip one of the weekends that these kids are still around. I imagine they’re almost at Yosemite by now, as their Explorer trip headed out with music blaring from speakers and hands slapping on the rooftop sometime this morning. They’ve got new campers, and I’m excited for their return for closing campfire on Friday … or was it saturday? Speaking of Anize Con, apparently TMO was at Potlatch this past weekend. It would have been a real treat to meet the man behind the inactive blog. With shirts on the way, Anize is becoming awfully complete.

In other news, apparently I just missed a Fela Kuti (see links) Gallery this week in San Fransisco. It’s last day was monday, after a 3 month exhibition. Would have been a good time… but just knowing that it was here gives S.F. a whole new spirit and energy. I’m confident the days will only get better — which is pretty cool to say, knowing that my first day was outrageously awesome to begin with. And with that, it’s time to strap up the lumbar pack, fill up the nalgene and get to walkin’!

Tacoma Art Museum

So, I recently did some catsitting for Wendy (formerly known as “Dr. Shore”). The whole experience was definitely a hoot. The two cats, Angus and Amanda, were good times. We did some watching of the tele, some trompin’ around in the backyard, of course some eating, and suddenly, the weekend had passed. Thinking back, I realized I had done a lot of things in such a short period of time. Granted, this was exciting for multiple reasons. [insert: let me pause here to exclaim that the end goal of this story is to end up talking about this guy, Andy Goldsworthy - hopefully, this is an achievable goal]. On one hand, it’s always an exciting time to actually do things. I’m mean, I’m outside. I’m watering plants. I’m taking 3 hour walks in my new ‘walking shoes’, (courtesy of Adam’s situation at Nike, and the employee store). I’m taking naps. I’m watching the movie Casablanca for the first time. I’m talking on the phone with good people… —- I’m doing lots of things! All good things. This, … this is, by nature, very exciting. On the other hand, I can only remember so much. When i convey my experiences to other people — I only really recount a select few experiences … and what’s more, I only really describe them in minimal amounts of ways (often influenced by how much time I have to tell someone, or how much time that person is willing to give to me). The other day, I bumped into Sam Dollar at the gym. We hadn’t seen in eachother in well over a year. So, we bump into eachother, we start speaking, and inevitably, we ask eachother “what we’ve been up to.” Now, we only spoke for a few minutes; maybe 5 minutes at best. But in that 5 minutes we each highlighted events in our lives that seemed to provide an explanation of how this past period of time was spent. And, as a matter of fact, a good enough explanation that each of us was satisfied with the update, and proceeded to walk away as if we were genuinely informed about eachother’s lives. How interesting. How interesting it is that we come away with these feelings, but, even moreso, the things we end up saying in that particular amount of time, about a given period of time (my last year), are even MORE fantastical! I mean, this was a guy that I saw nearly every day last January (2003). We snowboarded quite frequently; shared in numerous party atmospheres (mostly at my house), and we have a plethora (infinite?) amount of common experiences to look back on. But, yet, I was somehow able to convey a whole year’s passage of time … in just a few short minutes. It’s surprising to ME … the things that I brought up. It’s as if I’m subconsciously (instantaneously?) re-evaluating an entire period of time (1 year), digesting it, judging it, molding it, re-shaping it, and, finally, forming it into a group of short, and succint sentences —- is this even possible? Think of all the influences that would be about me when providing such a summary… I mean, much of what I would say would be strongly affected by how I feel that day … what I’m looking forward to … what I’ve just accomplished … who this person is that I’m talking to … how and in what capacity we know eachother … my percepetion of the mood that other person is in… how much time I really have to talk … how much time I think the other person has time to talk … …. The possibile influences are nearly as infinite as the amount of ways one could recount single experience. How could one even BEGIN to trust the stories of another person??? [insert: remember, I’m hoping to take us to Andy Goldsworthy … and what’s more, this entry is called “Tacoma Art Museum”]. This is probably what makes ‘Blogging’ so fascinating. You’re summing up whole experiences, whole periods of time, in only a few short sentences. How exciting. I mean, we do the very same thing in phone conversations, regardless of how long and regardless for what purpose (only, in phone conversations, it becomes about establishing a balance of switching back and forth; about sharing the floor for speaking — blogs, i guess, are more selfish, though there is much room for 2-way interaction). Well, anyways… all in all, I want you to know that my time spent (2 days) at Wendy’s was exciting in and of itself — you’ll just have to trust me. But it gets better. Wendy comes home, half way through “Casablanca” (which we finish together), and i remember that i’m hoping to meet some friends (Hicks, et al) for dinner at “Bahama Breeze” in Tukwila. The movie ends, I grab my things and I’m about out the door, when I realize there are some Tacoma Art Museum tickets with “Free Admission” stamped on them, lying on the desk. I approach Wendy about them, curious if she’d be interested in going some time. Well, she quickly replies that she is a member and every year the museum sends her some free tickets. In fact, she had some tickets from the summer before that expire June 30th. I’m overyjoyed because, at the time, that day had not passed. She suggests that i take them both, and invite a friend. Smiling ear to ear, I thank her graciously, and drive off to the dinner party (which was a blast in its own right. Allison, good luck at Boulder … though I’m sure you won’te really need it). Later, I invite Brian to go, and we make plans to go this afternoon. …. (insert:…breathe….)…. so, I’ve just returned (well, actually, I dropped Brian off at his house, turned the music up louder in my car, drove rather quickly home, made a ridiculously good burrito with refried beans, rice, eggs, salsa, cheese and tabasco sauce and I came over to the lab… bumped into an old friend Shannon, who’s told me she’s already started the MA in education at PLU this summer, and checked my email….). My real intention isn’t to walk you through all of the exhibits at the Tacoma Art Institute, (though there are two pieces that deserve special attention —- but not in this entry) but, rather, to exclaim my feelings about Andy Goldsworthy. I will say, however, that other than the Goldsworthy exhibit, there were two pieces that caught my attention — well, enough so that I needed to never forget them (Hulda and another) . Trust me, there were certainly other pieces worthy of your time. I should probably say that there are also some pieces there that will make you questions, as much the same fashion as I did, how some things can be art? Nonetheless, the exhibit about Goldsworthy is simple marvelous, and I was compelled to seat myself down in front of the 90 minute video about him. … and let me tell you! This video was superb! Absolutely fascinating. I think that the movie portrays Goldsworthy as somewhat of an eccentric, but the longer I watched, the more I felt as if he was a perfect caricature of myself — or rather, a perfect replica of an inner personality, or better yet, an inner, specific voice of consciousness that is represented by both the mindset (thought processes?) and the work of Goldsworthy. His pieces seem to satisfy a part of me that I somehow had very little access to before — the intricacies of nature, and the flow and movement that binds it all together. Fascinating. Simple fascinating. He dropped a quote that he learned from another person. It went something to the effect of, “why talk about a sculpture when I can take a picture of it?” The idea struck me instantly. It’s virtually the same. With words (just as with pictures) we are trying to present a particular story, a particular interpretation. We’re trying to share one perspective. It’s THAT sharing, that intimate sharing, of ideas and perspectives that we find so appealing. And, with a picture, especially one that describes a particular instant, or a particular angle, we are able to share one moment. It seems that Goldsworthy’s work does just that. Captures a moment. A moment of balancing sticks that might have blown away a second after the shutter closed. An image of a thousand yellow leaves lightly laying on top of eachother on a slow summer’s stream — moments before the wind has its way. Or, perhaps, it’s the pleasant flow of streams of color from red clay rock as the water bends the lifeful color around rocks, and over ripples. All of it was incredible. It’s as if Goldsworthy won’t stopped until he has spent all of his days interacting with the cyclic nature that engulfs us. I thought the photos were great, but after seeing the power of and the dimensions that his film provided for his art, gave his work more life, and gave ME more life. He creates a lense for you to gaze at the magic of nature, and you’re instantly addicted. Even his movie was on a 90 minute loop because the essence of the movie was of flow and form… the two very elements that allowed the events of the movie, the different stages of his art, to all flow together. There was really no beginning or end — just a place to put the credits. I don’t think I could think enough about this guy. Apparently, his exhibit, “Mountain and Coast. Autumn into Winter” is at the Tacoma Art Museum through September 19, 2004. …. I gotta go toss….

Still in Oregon...

Yes. I’m still in Oregon. I’ve got one more incredible evening in this blessed state. I spent the last night with great people in portland. My friend Huge (aka, The Adam Holt) has a pretty incredible internship at Nike. Despite any moral dilemmas and value conflicts, he’s working under his uncle, the VP of Nike Golf, and getting the job done no less. I came bearing fruits of my presence, and Leah made the trip from the fiery forests of cascade country to put on the final icing. We caught a minor league baseball game (beavers vs. sacramento), but we didn’t quite stay for the extra innings. Nate was there, and that was chill. We hope to meet up tonight (Nate and I, that is) - do some catchin’ up, some hangin’ out, and then its back to the W. A. for some catsitting. We all make our money in one way or another. My way just happens to be more slowly than others (apparently). Oregon has been good to me. Yeah, its cloudy, but I’m used to it. I know that summer sun is just around the corner and I can hear its faint whispers in the air as the clouds roll on (in?).

Reading up on the AnizeCon has been more than foreshadowing. I know my world will be most certainly rocked with good vibes and good times come the weekend of July 10th-ish. I’m not quite sure if NoCal will be ready to handle it. Thinking about foreshadowing makes me think of that wonderful place in Hubertus, and knowing that the first week of Session IA has already kicked off without me makes me feel most certainly nostalgic. My heart (and spirit) goes out to ol’ Mama, and the thousand precious souls running around her rolling hillside. …. Sigh….

Cingular

I hate my phone.

I = I

hate = strongly dislike, and am baffled by

my = the stupid unreasonable contract, unpredictable reception, and unbelieveable bills that are seemingly unavoidable and inescapable in regards to

phone = this silly tumor-causing gadget, pretensed by a secret master-plan to screw the human race with its impotent technology and its pseudo-promise for assistance, when really its just a dastardly and malignant device provided by the demon executives at Cingular Wireless….

In Oregon

Yup, I’m in Oregon,… eugene to be exact. While Kevin is out playing with kids, and while Huge is out meeting Lebron James, I’m finding myself equally engaged in a fantastic and thrilling environment. That’s right, you guessed it; my new home, Eugene. It’s funny, I’ve been here for no more than 3 days and I already feel a pretty great sense of belonging. Despite the new friends, it’s been the same old fun. After a round of disc golf, some throwin’ back of the old barley and some entertaining conversations, I’ve found myself enjoying every minute of the trip. It’s nice to know that in the same way that PLU was so full of great people, Oregon’s inhabitants will help make this transition a smooth one. Not that I’m worried; it just makes everything extra special.

In other news, I didn’t get out of my traffic ticket and am left with the $672 to fork out. I’ll be paying $25 a month to the city of Roseburg for the rest of my life. I’ve also found a potential graduate fellowship opportunity at Oregon, doing administrative work for the philosophy department. If I get the position (which I kinda interviewed for today), I would be coordinating colloquiums, scheduling conferences and balancing some finance expenses with the budget. It would be a great opportunity, something with which I could really excel, and something that I’d have a lot of fun doing. PLUS, I‘d get my tuition paid for, which would be extra rad, considering all of this financial trouble I’ve found myself in lately. Housing opportunities have also been coming together, but I won’t really speak much about this until its finalized. No sense in spinning my wheels if its all still up in the air. Tomorrow I head back to Portland to hang with Huge. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to see my buddy Nate while I’m there, and then it’s off to do some catsitting at Wendy’s (formally “Dr. Shore”). After that, it’s one more week in Tacoma, a quick little tourney called Potlatch and then its off to San Fran for 3 weeks. Does it get any better? I think not — save the fact that the Anize crew will by shortly thereafter…. yeah, I’m fired up. Are you?

Cessna 7566

So, I really don’t have much time to elaborate (sorry, Taus), but last night was unreal. My buddy Brent Chamberlain took gwen and I up for a bird’s eye-tour of the Olympic National Mountains… absolutely fantastic. The pictures came out a little hazy, but I assure you — there aren’t many finer things than seeing the great northwest from 10,000 feet. After going 2 g’s, I almost pooped myself…. but it was worth it… Did I mention we zipped down over the puget sound and skimmed the water and tree-line near Olympia? Wow. Here are some pics:

New Faucet, Silly!

I didn’t believe it either, but today, the bassment got a new ……. FAUCET, … complete with spray-thingy and everything!

It is a glorious day!

Lethargy

I have all these little projects started. I’ve got this great book that I’ve started reading, some financial aid issues to take care of for school, general house cleaning and maintenence to attend to, thank you letters to write, packing to do, etc… but today I don’t want to do anything. I can make progress. But my heart isn’t in it. It’s funny, I want to sit and write in my journal as much as possible — I have all these thoughts (about the year and the upcoming year) to write about, but I just don’t want to put forth the energy or focus to sit and write. How rididculous. The mere fact that I’m identifying my lethargy hyperbolizes the silliness of it all. I really do want to sit and write. I really do want to read and think, but at the same time I want absolutely nothing, and apathetically so. I think I’ll go take a nap, and just mentally wander. [I’m entitled to have these types of thoughts, and more importantly, these types of resolutions on a day like today. Yup.]

Onward, Alaska!

And like that, the room is quiet.
Like a whisper was her shadow;
The air breathing no lick of her scent,
The oil, no reflection of her smile.
I find the fruit parched with jubilance.
All wicks without wax. All blankets without folds.
I lay on my floor. Alone, in silence.
And Miles plays on.

The Rock

Quick thought, while its on my mind. So, at nationals, I was hangin’ out with some friends from Wisconsin, and a couple days after, a few of us went to this Disc golf course at Ft. Stilly. I was with my friend Anna and Grant and my buddy, Melius. So, Grant’s pretty stoked to go, and I’m stoked that he’s stoked to go, and he starts asking me if I’ve played with actual golf discs. I respond, “no, not really man. I’ve tossed them a bunch and all, but I try to play with my 175’s as much as possible. The idea being that I can work on my ultimate throws if I huck from a pivot.” We agreed that this sounds reasonable, but he maintained that he’s been throwing with golf discs lately, and he’s found his throws to have improved. I say, “How?”. He’s all like, “well man, … it seems as if these golf discs are more sensitive to throw and you can really increase your ability to understand how the disc flies, which will in turn help your reading and throwing ability.” I nodded. He went on, “… and i’ve been throwing with this golf disc called the ‘Rock’ and it flies just like an ultimate disc, but, again, is more sensitive to throw. Consequently, I’ve really perfected the way I throw, especially my flick.” And remembering that his flick was baddass, I could do more than take his word for it. We ended up playing with 175g, and I ended up winning (which was chill), but I never forgot about the ‘Rock’. So, yesterday, I did some googling, and found this dude, Ray, who’s this pro disc golfer in tacoma. I called him up and he ended up living 3 blocks from me — so I went to his house and bought two ‘rocks.’ One is 178g and the other is 172g. They seem pretty tight. Ray seemed pretty tight. We talked for a bit and traded tales of our respective disc sports, and I thanked him greatly. And I’m off to go try them out.

Another Monday

What might appear to be just another day, turned out to be a very momentous day, indeed. Yes, I woke up late, around 12:45pm. Slowly rolled out of bed. Alex was up and energetic and it took a while to match her energy and enthusiasm. Realizing there was very little food in the house, we split an old subway sandwhich, typed on the internet for a bit, and went shopping. I burned $89 on groceries. Wow. Snuffins came over and we decided to hit up the grand cinema for a lil’ movie called, Super Size Me. The movie wasn’t on until 6:45pm, so, in the meantime, we checked out the glass museum, grabbed a coffee from Tully’s and visited some friends on the Northside - Brian and his girlfriend, Alex (another Alex). While visiting the Glass Museum, we checked out the Chihuly Bridge of Glass and wandered our way into this art gallery, Vetri, which was littered with the most impressive glass work. I came across pieces that were worth over $25,000 —- wow. Alex was knowledgeable about glass work and gave us incredible insight to the difficulties of constructing such masterpieces. I was blown away (no pun intended). Most importantly, we came across a collection of twenty glass bottles, with poetic prose incorporated in each design. I wrote them all down because I never wanted to forget them (I’ve included them below in this blog entry). After the gallery, and after visiting Brian and the other Alex (and their incredibly cute and tiny white kitten … unnamed), we went to the show.

“Super Size Me” was an incredible flick. It made me think a lot about the food enterprise, obviously, and less obviously, about addictions (especially after watching, “What the *@&! do we know?”). The movie was funny, informative, insightful, captivating and it really got me thinking about the power of choice and the purpose of responsibility. I quickly text-messaged gwen, and somehow she agreed. I challenged her to give up fast food, and in turn, I will match her one ‘fast food’ and raise her one “coffee” — giving up BOTH fast food and coffee, might very well be impossible. We’ll see who gives in first. However, I don’t know what to think. I know I could easily give up fast food before her, but coffee and fast food combined will be a difficult tandem challenge. She raised one good point - she didn’t see the dare coming and had no chance to binge, but, really, neither did I… This is going to be hard. But just the idea of ‘trying’ will prove beneficial. What if I (we?) could pull it off? Indefinitely…? That would be wonderful. I mean, I’ve already given up soda, french fries, and chips for the last 4 years, and beef for the last 9 months… that’s a pretty good start. Imagine fast food and coffee on top of it?…. these could all be good things. I’m not saying i’m concerned about processed meats, or being vegetarian, but there’s no doubt that i’m concerned about personal health. This is a good first step to living responsibly, and by so doing, learning to love the art of Living, not just living in a way that is easy. [Good luck, Gwen, you’ll need it … I’m going to win —- now, about the * stakes *]. I guess the real difficulty will come from how we define “fast food.”

Then the night ended with us going back to Brian’s place, watching the sunset over the Harbor, and chillin’ out all evening watching Seinfeld, Family Guy, and Aqua Teen Hunger Force — does it get any better? Oh, did I mention revisiting the Glass Museum at 2am and then playing Mariokart until around 3:30am?… I guess it did get even better…

[aside: talk about a super-fast-written entry… I may not be making sense, nor fully explaining detail, nonetheless, I wanted to get all this down]

So about those quotes. Again, these were fancy glass (wine?) bottles, a collection, on display at the Vetri Glass Studio in Tacoma. The artist is named: Jeff Crandall. The piece was entitled, “Poet’s Bottle”. It was all sandblasted glass, made in 2004, and they sold for $65/bottle (I think). Here were the inscriptions (in no particular order):

TRUTH
Caution: do no dillute

COMFORT
Contains: simple pleasures, sweet joys, warmth, solace, ease and soothing dreams

MYSTERY
Contains: questions, dark secrets, whispers, odd clues, shadows and silence

ROMANCE
Contains: poetry, fine wine, candle light, the grace of a waltz, and a single red rose

LOVE
Warning: causes dizziness

MOAN
A variatel alternative to wine
This product sold by volume, not by weight. Please keep it down.

NIGHT
Contains: darkness, stars, moonlight, sleep, wolf howls, and deep dreams

THANKS
With 100% pure gratitude

PEACE
A strong spirit for the world

MAGIC
Uncork the possibilities

LUCK
Contains: prosperity, good fortune, winning chances, and a high probability of success

DESIRE
Contains: kisses, beauty, yearning, rapid glances, and a lover’s slow touch

DREAMS
Drink deeply and believe

TIME
Contains: extra seconds, minutes and hours
Caution: use wisely, evaporates quickly

JOY
Contains: happiness, smiles, delight, warm humor, easy breezes and a dash of laughter

BLUE
Contains: night, deep seas, sapphire, wild iris, and various moods

SIN
Contains: indulgence, wicked pleasures, wild abandon, and 1/10 of 1% guilt

HOPE
Do not abandon

FAITH
Danger: do not lose

WISDOM
Contains: knowledge, understanding, patience, intuition, and a dash of skepticism

a lil' blabble...

Ok… really, I’ve taken very little time to digest and negotiate all of the events that have been occuring throughout these last few weeks. The good things is that these days have slowly merged together to form one block of time where all things just happen. I rarely see a separation. There are no real divisions in time. Some nights I find myself up until 5am, just outside tossing the disc with a friend. Other days I find myself sleeping in until mid-afternoon, waking up only because I have to pee. But for the majority of the time, I’m spending precious minutes with great friends in great places. It’s nice. But I think I’m ready for something different.

This weekend Shazam had a frisbee tournament in Vancouver, BC - called Flower Bowl. Tad, my friend Alex (from WI), Snuffins and I went up early on Friday afternoon and just spent a wild and crazy weekend playing (and watching) ultimate. Shazam did well, but lost in Semis. It was weird having so many guys on the team. I mean, its a mixed team and we had 18 men at the tournament. I know some of the fellas are still trying out for the team and it seemed as if, despite our will to win and defend the championship title, experimenting with the D and O lines emerged as the most important factor. This is a team that wants to go to nationals, and to not put deliberate thought into the way we play a tournament in June could potentially have devasting effects for the way we prepare our team for the tournaments in October. We lost a pretty hard-fought battle against Portland’s “WhoreShack” team in the semis after losing to them the day before in pool play. I’m confident we’ll be far more prepared for such an encounter if and when the opportunity presents itself again. Tad and I are having fun playing. We both made the team and are excited to bring our chemistry and drive to ‘get better’ to the team. Did I mention that Vancouver may very well be my favorite city in North America? Lovely. Absolutley lovely.

In other news, I’m dreaming about Oregon these days. Trying to figure out how that’s going to be. I don’t think I can comprehend nor prepare for how this fall will really be. The truth is, knowing that I’m going to U of Oregon in the fall provides me with as much definitude as not having any plans whatsoever. I don’t know where I’ll be living. I don’t really know who I’ll be hangin’ out with. I don’t really know how I’ll manage a masters program on top of my ultimate goals, and I have no idea how I will pay for it. That’s pretty crazy stuff. But, I’m generally and ridiculously excited and looking forward to it. Playing ultimate everyday has really given me the confidence that my decision was right. It’s funny. I’m really going to Grad school to do the things that I love most — ultimate. But, so what. Anything I have to do to keep playing ultimate will receive everything I have to give. Oregon will be awesome.

My house is empty. The same house I’ve been living in for the last 2 years, with all of its great personalities, all of its comfortable furnishings and all of its business has somehow quickly changed into a stagnant home of subletters and silence. I’m alone in the basement. Yes, my friend Alex is here until the end of the week, but the house is still empty. The basement is still lonely. There are no footsteps on the basement ceiling, there are no doors opening and closing, there’s really no sign of anything familiar. In a way, it’s the saddest moment of my life. And at the same time, it’s almost the perfect transition for me to leave this place. I knew going into the summer that all I needed was my school life to just fade into the future. I didn’t want the abrupt transition. I didn’t desire to be the first to go. I just wanted to drift into the summer months, slowly waving goodbye as people left, and live in my room a few more weeks before I start taking it down — bit by bit, day by day. I’m hoping to live on my own this fall. To find some small grad student studio would be sweet. Paying for it will be another issue. But it would be nice to move to some place new and start my own life on my own terms. We’ll see. I’ve realized that I’ve spent much (most?) of my college career defying my childhood restraints — I wanted tons of people around all the time. I wanted to live with awesome friends, and have rooms that invited social interaction (couches everywhere, bars for games, music for moods, evenings for chillin’..) but I think I’m at a place where giving time to myself is what I’ll need. Again, we’ll see.

I’ve got a lot of goals this summer. I want to finish and publish my psychology research. I’ve got to figure out all the financial options that Oregon can provide for school (rather quickly). I’ve got to find a place to live for the fall. I’ve got to take care of all of my driving ticket stuff. I’ve got to clean-up my house and cut down on my junk. I can’t wait to be in San Fransisco with Gwen for July. I’ve got practice 3 times a week. Pick-up games two times a week. I want to get to Wisconsin for at least a week. I want to make $3,000. I want to see the Anize-boys in NoCal come mid-July. I want to physically strengthen my knee and, generally, workout more often. I want to help Shazam get to Nationals. I have to find a place to live in Seattle for August (though, shouts out to Lois for offering me a place… I think it will work out). There’s Minerva’s wedding, Ryan Hendrick’s wedding, Jeremy and Caitlyn’s wedding and Friedlander’s wedding — all of which I want to attend. I want to hike, and read and do all these things, and most of me wonders how much I’ll really get done. But thinking about them is at least a good start.

…I’m out.

The aftermath...

It’s June 1st. Time is different. The idea of Time … is different. The way I gauge my life, the consistencies that come with certain people and certain activities have all violently changed in the period of 10 days. Most of my housemates have gone, and in their desolate absence remains random summer subletters and piles on piles of trash (-ed memories). In the period of a week, I somehow had it all - my immediate family, my extended-Bell Family, my best friends, my girlfriend - the full convergence of a near perfect world. But, oh, how short-lived… While volunteering at College Nationals this weekend I spent time with old Wisconsin friends, new Oregon friends, Reign brothers and sisters and all-those in between. What a whirlwind. I can’t really process it all. Even after a lovely poolside afternoon at Kevin Claus’ personal pickle-ball resort in Seattle with served salmon and hours in the hot-tub, AND a full day of lounging around with Gwen and seemingly endless time, I managed to go to bed last night at a reasonable hour and sleep for 16 hours straight. And what have I come to find?… yes, Time is different. I graduated and took a week and a half off — from appointments, from commitments, from the pressure. But alas, Life will not slow down for me. Oh no. Life is too big of an Idea for it to be controlled… it must be understood. I must get prepared for the plans that Life has in store for me. It seems as if there is always something to be done. I will start… by going back and cleaning my room. More to come… that we can be sure of.

Jon the Prophet

Last night we were partying at this hotel at college nationals, I think it was called the “sleepy hollow motel”. Anyways, we were all hangin’ out, PLU peeps, and Stanford peeps and playing quite a few drinking games to boot. The night was great and all, but what made it especially interesting was when Jon Cummings came back from the Nationals Party. After a long night of dancing with Iowa women, he came back to the room, in search of more beer and sat me down for a short talk. He declared that he was a prophet and that he knew that I will be president of the united states in the year 2032 and that I will fight for ‘environmental injustice’ and something else that I can’t remember. Let’s think about that… do I believe in this? Could this be possible?

Picked up the mail today

It came today. I opened it up. Guess what…

I’M GOING TO GRAD SCHOOL!

Wow.

Not really posting

I’m not even going to act like I have time to post. Reading ajm’s last entry makes me entirely too envious. Alas, my time will come. In less than 2 weeks I will be done with school. But these next 10 days will be the hardest, most troubling and exhaustive moments of my life. To be honest, I’m nervous. But I ain’t scurrrred. You know how I roll.

Let’s just say, Anize.org/bell is going to be inactive until May 21st. And yes, keep those fingers crossed for Oregon!

May? Sure, let's do it.

And with that, April is over. Are you kidding me? Where did it go? What started out as just another monday, has become more of the first day of the last stretch. I passed a friend on the walk over to Harstad Hall, and she says, “last week of class, eh. Pretty exciting. Almost done, right?” Wow, I thought. This is the last week of class? I guess so. Next week is Dead Week. And then its finals. Time to rally, Bell. Time to Rally.

UPDATE ON THINGS:
* Adult League Ultimate Team — Disc Go Ho is still undefeated. We beat the #1 team in our Pool, 15-9 yesterday. The team is def. a whole lot of fun…
* Gnarly Gnines - finished 9th out of 32, after losing to the #2 team by 1 point. And yes, I played with 18 chicken nuggets in my stomach. Ain’t no thang. and can we talk about that Spicy Southwest Sauce — wow.
* I made the Shazam Club Team. I will speak more of this later, but I really can’t contain my excitement.
* Psych WPA presentation in Phoenix last sunday and Severtson Research Presentation at School last friday were both good situations. Gotta be happy with that.
* Got a huge letter from Oregon last week. It was a just a big letter saying, “Hey, we got your application”. This only means the real letter is on its way… Fingers crossed? … Check.
* Graduation: 20 days and counting.
* Regionals this weekend.
* Spare time? … on backorder.

Crazy Hell

Well, after a day of crazy hell, I’ve managed to replace my lost plane tickets and catch a new flight to Phoenix for my psych convention. yeah, there’s definitely more to that story, … but for sake of time, I’ll forgo clarifaction in exchange for brevity. I had a great conversation with a good (new?) friend, Jessica, tonight. Came to a lot of conclusions about stuff - progress? Perhaps. Productive? Of course. Nothing like a little iced-white chocolate mocha (w/ caramel) to top the evening. Next up: Ultimate sectionals in Seattle tomorrow, trip to Phoenix that evening, presentation the next morning, gwen in San Fran that afternoon, and back to class Tuesday morning. Exciting? Oh, for sure. Psyched-up? Are you kidding me right now?…..

Fortune Cookie

Fortune:

“Discontent is the first step in the progress of a man or of a nation.”

Tonight...

Man… this has been such a crazy night. 4am and I’m just sitting down to write. Hope my work is coherent.

Rock on, Amos. Rock on.

Another Personal Statement

And yet, another personal statement! I hope to send this tomorrow. Any last comments and constructive criticisms are deeply appreciated. I will be re-working and revising this draft all day:

Personal Statement
A statement outlining my previous preparation in philosophy and reasons for wishing to undertake graduate study

I will be upfront with you: I am not a typical philosophy grad student. But, it seems to me that this isn’t a typical philosophy grad program. I am a student who, after dining at the academic buffet that is ‘an undergraduate education’, has finally found his favorite plate – the philosophy of cognitive defense mechanisms, the psychology of emotion regulation, with a side of mashed potatoes & gravy.

Drawing from a deep reservoir of personal experiences, I have come to find myself in pursuit of understanding the rationalizing processes of human beings. Working at a YMCA summer camp over the last 7 years, and having various research involvements over the last 3 years have shaped and deepened my intrigue with the human experience. I see one’s emotional experience as necessarily embedded in the cognitive and physiological sensations through which one engages a given environment. My undergraduate experience and academic curiosity converge at the intersection of psychology and philosophy.

With interests in existentialism, repressive tendency, and neural activity, I have pursued a most integrated, multi-disciplinary academic path, questioning ‘the quality of experienced emotion’ and ‘the production of positive verses negative affect’ through various psychology, philosophy and biology courses. Over the past 2 years, I have focused on making empirical connections while standing on the shoulders of philosophical giants; taking a closer look at how repressors and non-repressors process and experience negative emotion, and simultaneously investigating how they differ in positive affect processing. I am interested in the roots & causes of emotion regulation and, with continued study of repressive cognition, I plan to provide further implications on the cognitive aspects of thought, feeling, and perception. I want to question whether joy and sorrow are on a reciprocal continuum. I want to determine if we can quantify and qualify happiness and/or positive affect. I want to know the implications repressive tendencies have on one’s personal identity. In short, I want to challenge and further my academic interests in an advanced academic environment.

I had planned to take a year off before applying to a doctoral program in behavioral neuropsychology, but after I spent the month of January in Costa Rica, away from my research and removed from traditional academia, I realized how prominent my research inclinations were, and how casually and frequently they emerged in daily conversation (in Spanish!). Upon my return to the States, I looked into Oregon’s philosophy department after it came highly recommended in mid-December from Dr. Erin McKenna, our philosophy chair. My interdisciplinary interests, by nature, require a sound, philosophical foundation to serve as the groundwork for continued cognitive study. This department’s graduate programs offer a multi-disciplinary approach to the mind that nearly overlaps my undergraduate efforts entirely.

Upon further research and inquiry of U. of O’s Philosophy Department, I was impressed with its emphasis on Philosophical Psychology, and on Cognition. It incorporates a broad range of interdisciplinary perspectives (physiology, neuroscience, phenomenology, etc) with a compelling interest in recent empirical research within the cognitive sciences. I know my 3 years of empirical research analysis, my various psychology presentations, and the publication process of my undergraduate research will compliment the goals of Oregon’s philosophy department quite nicely. I identify with the department’s emphasis on “Personal Identity and the development of a sense of self” and the “study of the roots of cognition in patterns of sensory and motor experiences and activities”. After speaking with Dr. Mark Johnson and reviewing a few of his texts, it’s encouraging to hear both his expertise and enthusiasm for the relationship between human cognition and our experiential interactions, both socially and culturally. I was also very excited to hear that there are two other philosophy professors with additional and complimentary behavioral cognitive interests! My PLU professors, my closest peers, and especially myself all agree that this program seems to be a perfect fit, but more importantly, I think I will bring a valuable and involved psychological background to the conversation.

Even in high school I knew that cognitive science was one of my chief interests, and over the last 4 years, my enthusiasm and intrigue for this discipline has grown. While a prospective student, I approached Dr. Wendelyn Shore with the desire to experience hands-on research, and she has since provided me with the encouragement, mentorship, and support needed to prepare me for advanced academic study. As a sophomore, I began researching word recognition skills in 19-month-old toddlers under her leadership and guidance. While working with the Toddler Study team, I contributed to research methodology, literature review, subjects testing, data analysis and presented this research as a third author. After receiving a competitive Severtson Research Grant, I have spent the last 18 months designing and performing my own research study under the supervision of Dr. Shore, exploring the relationship between repressive tendency and emotion experience. Using a galvanic skin response machine (GSR) and emotion-inducing picture slides, I examined repressors’ incapacity to fully experience negative emotion, and the effects these tendencies have on the experience and magnitude of positive emotion. After 60+ hours of subject testing and months of data analysis, I’ve seen my enthusiasm grow into a firm scholarly commitment. With the birth of modern cognitive methods and technology, I see the need to revisit the thinkers of sensation from the past, re-addressing their concerns and theories so as to accurately begin a new era of the empirical study of the emotion experience.

Had I not recently learned the hardships and difficulties that come with being absorbed in my psychology undergraduate research and philosophy capstone project, I might not have felt prepared or confident to handle the labor-intensive life of a philosophy grad student. I think my undergraduate accomplishments provide me with a real potential to flourish in a Philosophical Psychology graduate program. My research interests are clearly at the intersection of psychology and philosophy and earning an advanced degree in cognitive philosophy is essential to the interdisciplinary nature of my academic goals. U of O’s philosophy graduate program offers an attractive intellectual and collaborative faculty-student environment, which seems to encourage students to address the philosophical disputations surrounding various areas of cognition, while broadening academic understanding of cognition in general. I chase my passions with relentless persistence, and I will meet and surpass the expectations placed on me. I am in pursuit of higher education, expecting to do post-doctoral work in cognitive neuroscience, and hoping to be a professor at a research university or a teaching university with strong research programs. Earning a MA degree in your program will be the perfect next step in achieving my academic goals.

Summer?

Teasing notions of summer dance in my head as the skies turn blue, the flowers begin to bloom and the crisp warm air invites us all outside for a toss in the county park or a brew in the backyard. I took my GRE’s this friday — coulda done better. Nice quantitative score, nice analytical writing work, but piss-poor reading comprehension - but so it goes. When you haven’t been sleeping much, stressed out with school work and cramped for time, its hard to focus on meaningless paragraphs of rhetorical nonsense. But, hey, maybe that’s just me. I can’t choose when I daydream, I guess. The world presses forward. Ira came to town on Friday, and I decided to take the weekend (moderately) off. And why not. I’m marching; marching hard into a future of unknowns. Not sure where I’ll be, or when i’ll get there. So, I might as well stop along the way to catch my breath, yeah? So, I gave into all my cravings:

*bought loads of ice cream
*cleaned my room
*threw a party with a delightful keg and a fine game of quarters
*went disc golfing, twice!
*ate two Dick’s Deluxe Cheeseburgers (after giving up beef in september — though, I’ll now go back to a beef-less diet)
*played two Spring League games with my team, Disc Go Ho
*Had two slushies
*went to seattle for the day, and had some killer Chicken Humbows!
*bought some new aromatherapy oils
*tossed at Greenlake Park in Seattle for hours
*had an easter dinner at a friends house, and best of all…
*sat down!

It’s been great. But, it’s been an illusion, a wholeheartedly satisfying illusion, but an illusion no less. It’s nice to have Ira here, just being as we be in the ways the PNW allows us to be - engaged in the world around us. Some house mates went up to the mountain this morning, others had a huge barbecue yesterday, and even still, others went skiing and snowboarding — its nice to have the chance to be reminded of all the things we can be doing; that wonderfully pleasant lifestyle that summer promises to provide.

Ahh, summer. I know its on my mind. Not only am I thinking about it way too much, but I was even dreaming about some things yesterday. My guy, Kevin, was in my dream, and it was just a split second memory clip of him being way up in my face saying, “Aaron, I hope you know what you’re doing with yourself this summer. If you don’t take advantage of everything, I will be very disappointed. Be you.” There was a connotation in his voice that was suggesting, ‘if you’re not going to be at camp, you damn well better be living it up’ - which is understandable. So, live it up, I have — but just for 2 days, and just for this weekend… can’t wait until that time is a little more accessible.

Talk about some quality incoherence….

Personal Statement

Last night, somewhere between the hours of 2am and 5am, I cranked out another (new) rough draft of my Personal Statement for my grad school application to the University of Oregon. I’m in need of certain criticism (constructive, preferably) and would love any feedback. My application is due monday, and considering my gpa, my potential GRE scores, and the fact that I barely persuaded Oregon to review my application 3 months after the original deadline, I’d say a lot is riding on my Personal Statement. What do you think?

PS: These are the questions I tried to answer:

 Why Grad School?
 Why this program?
 Why am I a good fit?

————————————————————————————————————————-

I will be upfront with you: I am not a typical philosophy grad student. But, it seems to me that this isn’t a typical philosophy grad program. I am a student who, after dining at the academic buffet that is ‘an undergraduate education’, has finally found his favorite plate - cognitive defense mechanisms dipped in a spicy philosophical salsa, accompanied by barbecued emotion regulation strips, basted in Heinz 57’s newest (and low cal!) western-psychology rotisserie recipe, with a side of home-style mashed potatoes & brown gravy to top; a dish fit to entice an entire era of humanity.

Drawing from a deep reservoir of personal experiences and anecdotal perspectives, I have come to find myself profoundly infatuated with the rationalizing processes of human beings. I see the human emotional experience as necessarily embedded in the cognitive and physiological sensations through which one engages (interacts with?) a given environment. My enthusiastic interests in existentialism and repressive tendency have challenged me to pursue questions about ‘the quality of experienced emotion’ and ‘the production of positive verses negative affect.’ Making empirical connections where my philosophical predecessors left off has been my most ambitious intention over the past 2 years, and will remain a motivating aspiration for the remainder of all of my days. When I think about the implications of further study on the ‘thought’, the ‘feeling’ and the ‘perception’ aspects of repressive cognition, feelings of a giddy 10-year-old child in a candy store with a fist full of chocolates and belly full of delight begin to overcome me. What are the roots of emotion regulation? I want to know! Are joy and sorrow on a reciprocal continuum? Let me find out! What are the implications on the personal identity of a supposed repressor? Grad school is for me.

I originally decided (at the encouragement of some inspirational academic advising) that I would take ‘a year off’ and apply for a doctoral program in behavioral neuropsychology in fall of 2005. This was great for two reasons: 1) I have farfetched dreams of being a university professor, especially in hopes of continuing the long lineage of influential academic mentorship that I have been so fortunate to experience. But, how could I offer any real advice about the ‘real world’ if I had never lived outside of academia? And, even more so, 2), taking a year off could afford me the opportunity to leisure read; furthering the philosophical conviction of my academic interests in repression, and allowing me to begin the conversation about the implications that could come from empirically significant results. But after I spent the month of January in Costa Rica, away from my vocational research and removed from traditional academia, I realized how prominent my research inclinations were, and how casually they seemed to emerge in daily conversation (in Spanish!).

My enthusiasm and intrigue with cognition is so fresh and so raw and so exponential, that I don’t want to wait! If I could flush out the philosophical groundwork for my psychological interests, I could really embark on my academic journey surefooted. I realize, that with the birth of modern Cognitive Methods, we need to revisit the thinkers of sensation from the past and re-address their concerns and theories so as to accurately begin the empirical conquest of our contemporary ideas. Upon my return to the states, I looked further into Oregon’s philosophy department after it came highly recommended in mid-December from Dr. Erin McKenna, our philosophy chair. I cannot imagine a more thrilling situation than to be fully immersed in a stimulating academic environment that encourages me to frame the philosophical foundation of my cognitive passions. I think the contrast is imperative.

When I researched the University of Oregon’s Philosophy Department, I couldn’t help but be impressed with its emphasis on Philosophical Psychology, and on Cognition. It seems to incorporate a broad range of interdisciplinary perspectives (physiology, neuroscience, phenomenology – to name a few!) with a compelling interest in recent empirical research within the cognitive sciences. I’m very impressed with the departments emphasis on “Personal Identity and the development of a sense of self” and the “study of the roots of cognition in patterns of sensory and motor experiences and activities”. After speaking with Dr. Mark Johnson and reviewing a few of his texts, it’s encouraging to hear his enthusiasm for the relationship between human cognition and our experiential (social/cultural) interactions, and I was excited to hear that there are two other philosophy professors with additional/complimentary behavioral cognitive interests! My professors, my closest friends, and especially myself all agree that this program seems to be a perfect fit. (did I mention my passion for the Pacific Northwest?)

I have never felt more excited to begin such a challenging experience. Had I not recently learned the hardships and difficulties that come with being a slave to my psychology undergraduate research, I might not have felt prepared or confident to handle the labor-intensive life of a philosophy grad student. I think my psychological and philosophical background and enthusiasm provide me with an uncanny potential to flourish in a Philosophical Psychology graduate program. I know that I chase my passions with relentless persistence, and I intend to give my every effort to meeting and surpassing the expectations emplaced on me. To be honest, I’m foaming at the mouth to begin addressing the philosophical disputations surrounding this area of cognition, and to broaden my academic understanding of cognition in general. I firmly believe beginning a masters program in your department will be the perfect compliment to my personal academic aspirations and perfectly contributive to the greater community of cognitive philosophers. It is with humble gratitude that I ask for your acceptance.

A Slow Day in April

Ahh… another slow day in April
Without a care in the world
I run around but take my time
my friends, my work, the sun

Each passing moment, priceless
Each puffy cloud, a gem
But when I stop and smell the air
I feel fresh, alive, again

The breeze is cool, its talking
Telling me to look around
My heart, my soul - their pumping
This instant seems to last

And so I take a moment
and tell myself its time
I self deceive and begin to think
but down deep, now isn’t then

My smile becomes a whisper
Hey you, now don’t be fooled
I take it in, and sit real still
When I awake, I will have returned

GRE's

Hey, I’m studying for the GRE’s and have the exam this Friday, at 8am.

Any tips, comments, pointers, suggestions, techniques, etc., would all be greatly appreciated.

lights and tunnels...

And once again, another old saying rings true. Indeed, there is light at the end of the tunnel — I’m beginning to see it. Coming out of Spring Break was going to be a struggle; I already knew that. April was the month that was/is going to make or break me, you know? We’re talking huge presentations, a few big papers, some exams, some group projects, my severtson research conference and my GRE’s, but this week… things went all-right, - all-right indeed. I worked hard, turned in 3 papers, took two mid-terms and ran 15 hours of research subjects. I missed practice and one class, but it was all for the better, I think. I don’t think I could do it without my friends here, though. Living out of a 8 x 10 foot room when you’re a slap-happy-social guy is rough. If I didn’t have the support structure and great friends who pop their head in every once in a while (often times with a sandwich!), I think I could go insane. Even just yesterday, I got to share the ‘cave’ with my good friend Minerva and we talked about great stuff (about remembering birthdays, and anticipating marriage issues). And Reid came by, and we got to talk about some real things (about self-improvement and about the frisbee program and where its headed — real things that make friendships stronger and people better). I mean, the phone is always blowin’ up with the voices of Schott-putter and Gwen and Key and Hoffman and Jeremy Jeffery and the gang. It’s a pretty good life. Last night I got to help celebrate one of my best friends’ birthdays - the big 22. We’re getting old. Soon, I’ll be 23 and one step closer to being able to say mid-twenties … I mean, let’s be honest, “mid-twenties” is a whole ‘nother ball game. Regardless, we partied like we were young and ravenous college freshman, save the fact that we were supporting our local Tavern, “The Shamrock”, as opposed to supporting our Dorm Hall RA’s wages. Throughout my aimless meandering around the bar, I saw some great old faces - mark from philosophy class, Lunday and John, and Maja, April, laurel — tons of peeps. And it was a quality opp to hangout with my housemates, who I’ve begun seeing less and less of, while realizing come june, it will only get worse. So, to continue bonding, we played incessant drinking games. Needless to say, I was a little fershnickered. It was chill. I came home and called up my guy Maurice. He came by and we hung out with Silly-dog-McChilly-Biscuit and made some bread. I managed to get to bed around 2am, woke up at 8:45am and now I’m workin’ on one more paper this morning before I head off to UC Davis for a quality weekend of road-tripping and solid ultimate. I couldn’t be more excited. I get to have everything I love in one weekend - great ultimate, great friends, great gwen, great road-tripping, great feelings of ‘nothing else I should be doing right now’ — and did I mention, ultimate?! Man, this season has been great, and its only gettin’ better. I love knowing that at the end of the week I get to pack up and go somewhere and see all these great people who I’ve managed to makes friends with over the last 4 years. And then, it’s back to the books, back to the papers, and back to this place for another hard week of self-education. And then, Ira comes…. ridiculous. Life is good.

Let there be light!
(and it was so)

Need 4 Speed

They got me. 92mph in a 65, workzone. Cost = $672 (not to mention insurance through the roof). Well, it was that or reckless driving and jail time - or death.

It’s over. Believing that I exist beyond the system is over. Believing that I can break the rules, live on the edge ad continuum, and move stealthily unscathed within the shadows of the Man is over. I think this was the last confrontation of reality that I needed to propel me into the future; certainly at the expense of drastic consequences. But, hey, I have my life. I have my wits. And I have the memories of the best week of my life to entertain me [thank you, Gwen]. When the Man’s got you down, what do you do? — rise up! Rise up, I say! And that’s what I plan to do.

I am beat. I am down. I am woozy. My shoulders are carrying the weight of a thousand tortures. I am clouded. My mind is imprisoned with a thousand thoughts. I could fall. I could crumble. But I am strong. I am too strong. I will stand. I will carry. I will prevail. I will rise up. I will get the job done! I can see my brightest dreams before my mangled outstretched fingertips… I will reach farther. I will work harder.

I’m coming world. I will arrive. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

49ers

So yeah…. so I’m in Palo Alto, just south of San Fransisco chillin’ for spring break. Gwen and I are headed to Napa Valley for some vineyard perspective and choice beverage tastings and the saab cries out for a few more gallons of gas. A “Shell” station pops it promising head around the corner, and we pull up for the fuel-up. I swipe the credit card, insert the nozzle and who do I see on the other side of the fuel station —- the Mr. Steve Young. So I say to him — “say, are you Steve Young?” He replies with a smile, “ahh,.. well, yes, I am.” I say, “Wow,… well, I really like your work.” We laugh —- it was chill. He was sporting a pretty mean LandCruiser, pimped out with black paint and gold trim. And I will say this on the matter: Steve Young has cute kids. You heard it here first.

... figures ...

And with the rise of that familiar sun, another ‘all-nighter’ in the name of good wholesome academic achievement has come to pass… my reward:

another rainy day in Washington.

Beasts of No Nation

…. just rockin’ out hard, as of late, to the tune of Fela Kuti, whose melancholy afro-beats are no match for the saturated global perspective embedded therein. Thanks Trangy for posting the link. You always seem to fill a void that I never knew I had. (His son, Femi, is definitely carrying the torch, and with it, the dream).

And with that, I’ll go back to progressing….

Pent up

(a December pic of me doing some research analysis at 5:30am in the ol’ lab, but in good spirits, of course.)

Once again, I find myself pent up in my lab, staring blankly at the undecorated walls, and filing cabinets - listening to that one song over and over and over again and watching the minute hand swivel around the clock. For some reason I put myself in this situation time and time again, and listening to that right song on repeat seems to do the job (tonight’s choice: “Outkast’s Aquemini”, but just the instrumental — mad chill). This isn’t even my lab. It’s Dr. Shore’s, the greatest woman (professor? advisor? mentor? listener?) in the world. This lab serves 5 or 6 research assistants by day, but come nightfall, it turns into Bell’s Lair — a place where work is done and sleep is lost. I’ve learned to depend on the unforgiving atmosphere that room G-06 has come to provide me. Nearly everyday I wander over, unlock the door, adjust the temperature, and make progress.

To be honest, I never really know what to expect. I’ve posted numerous “to do” lists all around the lab — on the desk, on the window, on the monitor — in a fervid attempt to stay on the academic ball. But, generally, it’s all for naught. In a typical sitting, I’ll read a little bit, and write a little bit, but I’ll spend most of the time drifting. Well, it feels like most of the time, anyways. I’ve found that the lab is sort of like my time, and better yet, a my pace. Usually, people don’t visit, though the occasional ‘hello’ is always a pleasant change of pace. I’m on AOL instant messenger, but I usually don’t respond. It’s basically a message saying, “hey, yeah, I’m alive and all that… but got stuff goin’ on; hope all is well in your world.” I check emails and try to keep in touch that way. I write encouraging messages to my teammates, giving them the proper props that they deserve after a hard fought weekend of ultimate and brotherhood. I stay current on most of the RSD happenings and read-up on what the anize-kids are up to. Somewhere in all that I come across some idea that gets me thinking and I begin to day dream, and sip coffee. Then the cell might ring, saving me from my solitude, and give me an hour of positive conversation to think about. This process normally takes an hour and a half to 2 hours if i really get into it. And then I take a moment to realize how late 1:30am really is. I give a quick introspective glance at my “how-tired-am-I-really-?” meter, sit up straight, shake off any and all tired-eye-syndrome and take my books out of my bag. Everyday. But like I said, it’s progress.

I don’t get much sleep each week, but I feel healthy. Well, healthier. I make mental progress. I take the time to think about that lay-out D-bid I got a finger on, that high school buddy who’s flying planes for the US Navy, my guy Ira and his situation in Milwaukee, my mom and her conquests within the pignolet family — all the daily thoughts about familiar people with seemingly unfamiliar daily lives. Sometimes I just need to sit and wonder. It keeps me real; and I don’t mean in the slang sense of the word. I’m talking about ‘Realness’. That feeling you get that everything around us is real. The decisions we make have real effects, and the real realization that we only get to live this real life once. A life that we’ve already begun. I try to stay satisfied, you know? I try to wrestle and entertain my thoughts as oft as possible - never knowing if this may be my last chance to mull them over.

And then, I snap out of it.

I look down, and once again, my books are out. I open them up, and get to work. Hard. Steadfast. Until its all done. Sometimes the sun comes up. Other times, I head home for a quick 2 hour nap. Then its off to school. Off to some meetings. Off to practice. Off to tai chi and back to the lab. Well, on a good day, anyways.

I wonder if I really believe that.

jus' spittin'...

Yeah, so… I’ve got a lot goin’ on. And to be honest, not a lot of time to devote to thinking about it —- let alone to writing about it. But, I’ll see what I can do with 5 minutes:

I talked to the sis for a good while the other night. It was an eye-opening experience. My little sister is gettin’ all grown-up! (well, 17yrs). It’s pretty exciting. To be able to discuss mature issues about an immature world with your little sister is a wonderfully rewarding experience. I began dreaming about the future and my sister and I, hand-in-hand, organizing the family Thanksgiving reunion, etc. We’ll see how that goes.

The Grad School quest continues. Writing and re-writing my vita, drafting and re-drafting my personal statement, and preparing for the GRE’s has, once again, given me a full plate. It’s chill, though. Certainly a fun plate to endulge.

I had that fateful phone call with the Skipper. I’ve spent these last few days exiled in my own cerebral dealings. It was an emotional roller-coaster and I have a long list of thoughts to share (in due time). I came to some conlusions and took the jump. We’ll see where this journey takes me. I feel good about it, though (well, as good as one can feel).

I’m very much mentally involved in this ‘Philosophy of Religion’ class of mine. It gets me thinking about stuff, and it’s a very compelling study of the logic behind religion and the existence of a god. Today we talked about many things, but one in particular that I’d like to comment on. We were discussing the question of ominpotence. Is God all-powerful? There’s a great little paradox (about the stone) that begs the question: “can God create something he can’t control?” And this gets into the heart of, “are humans out of God’s control?” and/or, “Do we have free will?”, etc. The questions are great, and the probing conversations/readings are even better. But it got me thinking. Well, the paradox is this: “Can God create a stone so large that even He can’t pick it up?” This puts a real damper on God’s omnipotence. If He’s all-powerful, couldn’t He create such a stone? But if He’s all-powerful, shouldn’t he be able to pick it up? [yes, I know, it’s a very fundamental and perhaps trivial question, but let me continue]. So, this got me thinking, as I said earlier. There are 2 options:

1) Yes, God can create such a stone — one that He can’t pick up.
2) No, God cannot create such a stone.

But there are three ways that I began dealing with this. First, if God can creates a stone that He cannot pick-up, than He has overcome the impossible, right? If God is all-powerful, than it would be impossible for him to create such a stone —- but in this particular case, He has! He has overcome the impossible. Well, if He can overcome the impossible once, couldn’t He overcome the impossible a second time and just pick up the stone? Seems possible … if we’re dealing with the world of impossibilities, right? I mean, this is God we’re talking about here. But what I don’t like about this option is that we are left with a ‘morphing’ God. A God that is constantly changing. Now, if there’s gonna be a God, wouldn’t you want Him to be a little more constant? I feel like a God that is always changing isn’t very reliable. I want a God with deliberate foresight that is very particular with His decision making. With what certainty can I trust that God will always be able to overcome the impossible?

Second, we could have a God that can create a stone that He can’t pick up. This is also frightening — perhaps moreso. Now we have a God that can create things that He cannot control. If there is a God out there that is not able to control what’s going on here on Earth, than I gotta wonder what’s goin’ on. Certainly, this would be a disheartening blow to the idea that God is ominpotent, and we are left with a God that is ignorantly running around making stuff that he cannot even control — awfully scary, no?

Then I got to thinking. What if we had this hella self-actualized God? One that was all-knowing of his own abilities and limits. Would He then be sufficiently omnipotent within the sphere that relates Him to us? Certainly, a God like this could create a stone so large that He could not pick it up, but, being self-actualized, He would never create such a stone —- full well knowing it was beyond His abilities. Thus, we are left with a God that is deliberately intelligent and we could trust that his every creation is within his locus of control. That’s still leaves us with the issue of free will. And, I am left to wonder how God comes to know His limits. Ok, I have given myself a 5 minute limit; I will have to hold off on the free-will discussion, but I will tell you this — a funny convo with my buddy Willie on the matter.

Prof. Cooper asks: Can God create a stone He can’t lift?
A: What if God doesn’t have arms?
W: Does He need arms?
A: Could He create himself some arms?
(we laughed. It was chill.)

Anyways, I have no idea what I’ve been saying these last few minutes. I hope it’s clear as mud. On another note, I had lunch with a buddy today, Zack, who’s grandmother died two weekends ago and on the way to the funeral his Uncle had a heart attack and left 2 daughters (12 & 14yrs) behind in this world. I sat him down over a lunch of broccoli cheese soup and chicken crispitos and he told me how his girlfriend, who he thinks might be the one, doesn’t want to keep things going, how his friend tried to commit suicide this weekend — stopped breathing entirely — and how he single-handedly saved his life through CPR until the ambulance came. I nearly choked on my food — but I figured my choking was the last thing he needed at that moment. We talked about how dying doesn’t really make sense, doesn’t really hit you hard, until you’ve figured out the point of living. As we get older, I imagine, despite the loss of my father, 4 grandparents, best friend and some great uncles, my indifference to death will slowly change into deep sorrow. We agreed. And optimistically, my guy Zack says to me, “I think the greatest thing someone can do in life is have an affect on other people.” Wow. I thought. Too true, my man. Too true.

Setting Achievable Goals

9am in the morning on a Sunday. Today’s short term, achievable goals are as such:

(1) Don’t email anyone. One email turns into 10 emails, and 10 emails turns into 2 hours.

(2) Don’t even think about blogging. Well, after this entry, of course.

(3) Finish preparing Vita.

(4) Prepare philosophical statement.

(5) Stay away from RSD.

(6) Stay away from PLU Peeps Talk.

(7) Take a 30 minute tossing break.

(8) Stay focused. Make no phone calls - weekend free minutes - buh!

(9) Meet Dr. Shore at her house promptly between 3pm and 4pm.

(10) Get ‘er done. You kno’ how I does.

Overwhelmed with thoughts

To be honest, I’m entirely overwhelmed with thoughts. I have a lot to blog about, but not much time. I just got back from mardi gras, and that was chill. We had a great time, and I need to/could write about it all day. There are so many fun stories, and the ultimate was good too. But, I’ll have to write about it later (i’m beginning to think that I say these things without really following through, but I’ll get there). I will say this, my trip could be summed up in this way: “throughout my adventures and good times in LA, I can honestly say I have officially experienced the good will of humankind” — whether it was Ron, the Frisbee Freestylers, Bryan and his dog, Derrick (ruler of peoples), Lulu and Adrian (From germany), the Madison women (props to Schott, CJ, Claire, Party Jill, Tiffany, Holly, Amanda, Emmy and the gang), Alex and Nicki (goddesses themselves), the teams we played, Ira and Eddie and Ian, Amber (especially Amber!), the little girls at the parade (hazaa for coconuts), the peeps on the floats, the guy that gave me a beer, the woman that home-cooked us some chicken for $1, Jardon from NNU, ASU Jeff (Formerly from NNU), all my WI summer league homies, the guy that hooked us up with a free hotel after we missed our flight in Houston when no one esle from Continental would help us, and even Craig (the canadian). We met so many good people, it’s no wonder the world is all-right.

Now, I’m sitting in my lab, frantically trying to figure out my life. I’ve got to finish up my late-application to the Cognitive Philosophy Master’s Program at U of Oregon, cuz I have an interview with the chair of the department, Dr. Mark Johnson, on Monday. I’ve got a paper due tonight, a scholarship thankyou letter that is due last fall, and some survey for school to get done.

My knee is broken and the only way I made it through the weekend was with tigar balm and percocet (thanks eddie) but I still feel like a champ, and there are try-outs for a new seattle club team on Tuesday. Will I have ever take a break and let my body heal? I think not. Is that a smart decision? I think not. My learning curve is a little slow. So, here I sit, taking glucosomine pills and icing and heating my body everynight, and cursing ‘supplements’ in my spare time.

The house is once again a mess, and needs some severe cleaning; will I get the job done? Yes… in due time. Will I finally do my laundry? Despite being a little farther down the priority list, yes… in due time.

The team looks good. Lots o’youngsters comin’ up. Lot of heart out there, and I think with a few more weeks and a few more tourneys under our belts, we’ll be, once again, a force. We’ll see. I’m most excited to give what I can, and come back to see this team kick some butt in 2 or 3 years. I feel kinda like my guy Trangy in spring of 2002. He know’s how we do!

I’d like to catch a movie. For some reason. I’m in one of those moods. I’m told, passion of christ is supposed to give you something to think about … pretty graphic, and blatantly sad. Am I in that mood? We’ll see. Am i asking myself a lot of rhetorical questions in this post? I think so.

I also went out and bought myself some new CD’s. This was a good decision. I mean, really, how often do we go out and buy CD’s anymore? I felt like I was going out and helping artists. It was sort of like activism. Anyways, I picked up two Mr. Lif CD’s (I Phantom & Emergency Rations) and they are def. baddass. Mr. Lif has been my guy lately and has been giving me some serious things to think about. I also picked up the Pitch Black album cuz I’ve really been digging that “It’s All Real” track, and I thought the CD might quell the Mil-town thug in me. Yeah, I had to pick up that Twista Kamikaze CD cuz everyone knows I dig fast rap, and well, Twista is that guy. Sure, “slow jamz” is played out already, but I think the CD is hard, and its fun to bump in the saab on your way to the Fred Meyer (aka grocery store). But, of all the CD’s I picked up, my fav has got to be, hands down, the new Afu-Ra: Body of the Life Force CD. It is all that and then some. Underground hip-hop is definitely my passion, and Afu-Ra knows how to throw it at you. I like hip-hop artists that think on a level that people don’t strive for (i’ll put the Grouch, Mr. Lif, Akrobatik, Aesop Rock, Del, Mountain Brothers, Zion I, Heiroglyphics, Moka Only, Swollen Members, Atmosphere, Sweat Shop Union, Jeru the Damaja, the Coup, and the Visionaries in the same category). Plus, Afu-Ra digs on ninjas.

Well, I’ve gotta get stuff done. It continues to be comforting, knowing that I have a place to vent. Whew!

Comfortable

Yesterday day, was sort of weird. I couldn’t really focus on my studies. I got up early and had been reading all morning. I had a philosophy paper due at 4:30pm, it was noon, and I was stuck in this mental rut. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it. So, I emailed my professor and explained my mental predicament. I was trapped in this feeling of stress and this is not a comfortable place to be. It wasn’t like the assignment was difficult, it was just that I’m sitting at this computer in this lab with no windows and no other people … I just needed something different than ‘this.’ I decided I wasn’t going to finish my assignment today. My week had been so busy, it was friday, I had no class, and I needed to just be ‘easy.’ So, I sent him an email, told him I’d be sure to email him the assignment over the weekend (along with the next assignment as well since I’ll be in Louisiana on its due date) and went home. I sat in one place for the first time in at least 3 weeks. Went out and tossed some plastic, had practice, ran 3 miles and then showered up for my night.

Last night was great. I went to Vagina Monologues. I then went to the “Cave” (pretty much the only ‘hangout’ on campus). I had an awesome mint shake and watched some bands play that were incredibly entertaining. I came home, hung out until 1am with some housemates, restrained myself from going partying and cleaned my room! It was fantastic. I put on some chill tunes, cleaned up the dirty clothes, did the laundry, cleaned my sheets, reorganized some furniture (always key!) and compartamentalized the junk on my desk so that it was capable of study. I don’t know what it is about cleaning (and I don’t do it very often) but having your room, your place, clean and organized seems to open up your life a little bit. It’s as if, “Ok, my room is clean, now I can begin to accomplish stuff — where’s that homework! I’m ready.” At 3:30am my housemate Linzi came home from some salsa party and we chatted for an hour and a half (she was a little tipsy, but the convo was good). I fell asleep in warm, downy fresh sheets to ‘pharcyde’ and warm thoughts. I woke up this morning feeling even better. It was 10:20am, my plan was to make breakfast, kick it over to a coffee shop and really crank out some homework. For some reason, I’m really excited about it. Gettin’ focused sometimes (especially in the right environment) is feels great.

Looked in my cupboard and I really had no breakfast foods available. I cut open a papaya (yeah, after Costa Rica, I’m addicted to rich fruits) and started thinking about it. Well, it was 10:30am and that’s pretty close to lunch and lunch is an excuse to make dinner food, so I made spaghetti. I made a red marinara sauce with corn and tuna and I knew I would be pleased. Everything in the last 14 hours had been so comfortable. And then the greatest thing happened. So, I’m straining my noodles (and these are those cool sprial noodles I must add) and my phone rings. I run over to it — its my dad.

“Hello,” I say.
“Hi,” he says. He asks me about the car. I just got an oil change and he wants to know how much it costs — for comparison sake. In Wisconsin oil changes are dastardly, and we agree I got a good price from a good man in Tacoma. We started talking about semi-synthetic oil and the impotance of not mixing the different types, etc. etc etc. It was then that the greatest thing happened. I felt as if the convo was coming to a close. He seemed to have gotten all the info from me that he needed, mixed in with mandatory advice, which is usually the extent of our discussions. In my more mature years of existence he and I have never been really close. It’s sort of this routine of bringing ourselves closer and then pushing ourselves apart. It’s seemingly very unstable. I think our household in general fits much the same description. Don’t get me wrong — it’s fully functional. If you need something, it’s taken care of. If you need to get somewhere, you’ll get there. Every member of the family is involved in organizations and school functions, smart investments have been made, college is part of both my and my sister’s future, family vacations are/were taken, we have a dog - etc. The family is perfectly functional, … there’s just and absence of ‘joy.’ Of sincere, unconditional joy. I’ve seen many a family that fail to be quite as functional, but that flourish in joy. And I’ve often wondered who was better off? I think about all these things when i talk to my dad (well, my step-dad, but virtually the same thing) and today was no different. So, the oil discussions died down and slow, short pause started to emerge but just before it got awkward my dad says, in a calm collected tone,

“So, what else is new?” My heart skipped a beat. He was genuinely interested. I can tell these things, especially after 14 years of having conversations with him where sincerity and genuiness are often absent; I could tell that he wasn’t on the phone and multi-tasking. I wasn’t just something else to do. He wasn’t focused on some other activity and trying to talk to me at the same time. I wasn’t on speaker phone, it didn’t seem to be a balancing act of holding the phone and weaving through traffic, and my dad didn’t seem to be whisking through the house on a daily cleaning-frenzy with a bottle of windex in one hand, paper towels in the other and the phone sandwiched between his ear and his shoulders. To be honest, I didn’t know what to say. A thousand things ran through my head… I just wanted to talk to him for hours — tell him everything. It was if his listening was like opening the flood gates to my thoughts. I wanted to share so much stuff. I wanted to tell him about my drive from Wisconsin through madison. I wanted to tell him how Anna was doing and what Kevin Wright was up to. I wanted to tell him about Denver and Reid’s house and visitng Trangy in Boulder. I wanted to tell him about Izar and her whole situation in Boise. I wanted to tell him about my first few days back at school, the situation with the team and my goals and fears for our season. I wanted to talk for hours about the tourney at Stanford and my encounters with a wonderfully mysterious Gambler - I wanted to talk forever, but all I could say after a long pause was, “yeah, I’m just sort of getting organized with my life here, and cleaning up stuff.” We agreed that this was a good thing, and proceeded to say goodbye. Even if we didn’t get to talk for a really long time, and even though the transcription of our conversation on paper would look no different than past convos, this felt like one of the best talks I’ve had with my dad… certainly in a long time. Right now, things feel comfortable in life. I don’t know what else to say .. maybe, ‘happy valentine’s day, self. And, thanks for making it special, dad.’

Quote: the heart

So, I just got back from a “Vagina Monologues” performance at my school — over 60 woman, over 2 hours long, and INCREDIBLE. Seriously fantastic. I’ll have more to say later. But despite and within some incredibly persuasive and insightful commentary on vaginas and women, one line in particular caught my attention. Just enough to make me stop and think, “Wow. Really? Why, I wonder?” It was a line that seemed to catch my ear for a reason. Perhaps it was saying something about my own predicaments, or just begging my attention and further thought. Though likened later to the capabilities of vaginas, the line was:

“the heart is capable of sacrifice.”

This really made me think. Is it really? Why? To be honest, I guess I’ve seen a lot of examples of sacrifice in the hearts of those around me, and those I love, but…. I don’t know. I began to wonder, ‘just because the heart is capable of sacrifice, should it be pushed to sacrifice? Should it sacrifice? Is there some lesson that can only be learned through sacrifice? What would that lesson be? Would I only come to know the lesson by truling going through some type of sacrifice? Have I already sacrificed? After one sacrifices, is there a vacancy, a hole that can’t be filled? A scar? Does it hurt? If so, does the pain go away? Can you forget about it? Repress it? Is there something to gain through sacrifice? Or is that the nature of sacrificing — you’re just giving, not taking/gaining at all? Is sacrifice different than love? Is it along the same journey?’

I’m scared to sacrifice.

Update:

So, I’m in the process of chalking up a short story (of sorts) about my “Transition”** (purposefully capitalized) from Costa Rica to Seattle and all the things therein. But, alas, life has afforded me very little time for writing, thus, I’m not quite finished with the entry. But I don’t want you (aside: funny, ‘you’ in this sentence really is ‘me’. To be honest, I write these things for me. Blogging on anize is sort of a meditation with my own ideas, and now I’m subconsciously creating an alter identity for myself. How interesting. I guess ‘you’ in this case is really my inner most self that desires to blog more often) to think that I’m not wanting to write.

Last thursday was my second day of classes and during a short discussion over the syllabus our class got on the topic of life journeys. My professor had this to say:

“It is better to have a sense of being on a journey instead of being on a drift”.

These words couldn’t have come at a better time. In a way, my ‘Transition’** was a complete drift between two incomplete journeys. There was my time in Costa Rica - the beginnings of a new life, establishing the root work of a new niche in a new world. Certainly I would consider this incomplete because all of my social doings were abruptly impeded with the untimely arrival of the end of the month. The other journey then, of course, is my life here at the USA. I‘ve been on a journey since the start — to finish college and etc. Clearly my journey through PLU is nearly complete, but as I look my final semester dead in the eye, I can’t help but wonder if I’m still drifting.

**TRANSITION: refers to the 5 day gap in between Costa Rica and Seattle during which I traveled to Houston, Milwaukee, Madison, Denver, Boulder, Boise, and ultimately, Seattle.