I am in the midst of changing almost everything. It is hard not to be self-absorbed in a process like that. So I'm self-absorbed. Probably all bloggers are self-absorbed actually or why blog... anyway...
I may go through a spell where my home is literally the road. I am in a unique position where I really could do that for a bit -- buy a camper, and live in a different town every night... might do it for a month or so. But I expect to be in Minnesota by spring and I expect to be there for a while.
Right now, I'm on the road again. Good old Williams, Arizona. Here for a week, house sitting for a friend. Lonely at the moment but that will pass.
I think the people who liked the old me will still like the new me, but I also think the new me isn't quite as likable. That's okay.
I live alone now -- a studio apartment in Tucson. I've never lived alone before, not really. I don't know if I could have handled it before but I think it is good for me now. For a spell.
Maybe I'll blog about Williams, because that could be interesting. Blogging about myself is probably not. Stay tuned.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Random and Not Terribly Optimistic Ramblings
I had a saying that I used to say to myself: Pursue happiness, and you will find it elusive. Pursue goodness, and happiness will pursue you. I still kinda think it might be true, but it led me to let myself be misused a lot... and maybe now I've over-corrected. I dunno.
I am the only one living my life; I'm the only one who ever has lived my life or ever will. I don't care what patterns it matches, it's a unique experience, and you can't automatically apply generic assumptions. I imagine that your life is the same. Let's all keep that in mind.
A couple weeks ago I was riding my motorcycle to church. It was an absolutely glorious day, perfect for a motorcycle ride. I thought to myself, the weather is probably great all the way from here to Minnesota. I came this close to just riding on and on, leaving it all behind. But I turned right and headed in to church, parked the bike and went on in. The bike never started again, worn out beyond repair. I wouldn't have even made it to New Mexico.
I am the only one living my life; I'm the only one who ever has lived my life or ever will. I don't care what patterns it matches, it's a unique experience, and you can't automatically apply generic assumptions. I imagine that your life is the same. Let's all keep that in mind.
A couple weeks ago I was riding my motorcycle to church. It was an absolutely glorious day, perfect for a motorcycle ride. I thought to myself, the weather is probably great all the way from here to Minnesota. I came this close to just riding on and on, leaving it all behind. But I turned right and headed in to church, parked the bike and went on in. The bike never started again, worn out beyond repair. I wouldn't have even made it to New Mexico.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
On the front lawn, up on cement blocks, rusting
Hey, look, it's my blog. It has been almost a year since my last real post.
I have not been on any road trips to speak of. One trip to L.A. and back, that's about it. I went to Minnesota in the spring, but that was by plane.
I don't really have much to say except that I don't really have much to say and that I wish I did. Also, everything looks exactly the same as it did a year ago, but actually, everything is completely different. I can't explain it yet. Maybe I will never be able to.
Recently my friend Melissa started a blog. Even more recently my friend Dylan started a blog. You should read their blogs because they have something to say. Which hopefully I will also have someday. I expect I'll do the 24 hour comic again this year, so my other blog will get a post or two. I don't know when my next road trip will be. There is nothing on the horizon. No distant sounds of revving engines. My life is greasy side up and shiny side down at the moment.
I have not been on any road trips to speak of. One trip to L.A. and back, that's about it. I went to Minnesota in the spring, but that was by plane.
I don't really have much to say except that I don't really have much to say and that I wish I did. Also, everything looks exactly the same as it did a year ago, but actually, everything is completely different. I can't explain it yet. Maybe I will never be able to.
Recently my friend Melissa started a blog. Even more recently my friend Dylan started a blog. You should read their blogs because they have something to say. Which hopefully I will also have someday. I expect I'll do the 24 hour comic again this year, so my other blog will get a post or two. I don't know when my next road trip will be. There is nothing on the horizon. No distant sounds of revving engines. My life is greasy side up and shiny side down at the moment.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Meanwhile, in My Other Blog
So this is my road-trip blog.
I also have a contest blog. For when I decide to compete in something.
I think if I decide to talk about other aspects of my life, I'll just try to fit it into one of my two blogs. I'm not really sure why I even have two blogs.
But right now, all the action is in my other blog (on account of I'm not on a road trip). So, for all you Glenn Wichman fans out there jonesin' for just a little more news on what's going on in my life, it is currently to be found at http://7dayquest.blogspot.com/
I also have a contest blog. For when I decide to compete in something.
I think if I decide to talk about other aspects of my life, I'll just try to fit it into one of my two blogs. I'm not really sure why I even have two blogs.
But right now, all the action is in my other blog (on account of I'm not on a road trip). So, for all you Glenn Wichman fans out there jonesin' for just a little more news on what's going on in my life, it is currently to be found at http://7dayquest.blogspot.com/
Saturday, August 9, 2008
White Water (part II)
Okay, athletes, you know that guy who shows up for a sport with all the coolest, latest equipment, but really has no idea what he's doing and is just a big turd out there?
Don't you hate that guy?
I hate to admit it, but in this case, I was that guy. And Ron had every reason to just treat me with disdain. Instead, he was encouraging, helpful and friendly every step of the way. We met up with two other kayakers and practiced surfing in the third pool. I just watched at first to remind myself how it is done. Ron showed me a dozen things that I was doing wrong, from how I was sitting in the kayak to how I was holding my paddle to how I was doing my eddy turns.
When we shot the rapid into pool 4 he led the way to show me the easiest line, and I did just fine. Successfully shooting a rapid is just one of the funnest things there is to do in life, and it's the reason I like whitewater, so it was great to be doing it again.
A couple pools down we ran into a dad with two kids, practicing some advanced shredding moves like these. I didn't catch this guy's name either, so let's also call him Ron. The second Ron had a Jackson Kayak like mine, and he could tell from the way my kayak was sitting in the water that I had my seat adjusted wrong, so he showed me how to move it forward. It was a tighter fit, but it gave me a lot more control and stability.
We shot several rapids successfully, some of them more than once, and I was starting to feel more confident. At some point we took a break and Ron and Ron got into a conversation about all the places they kayaked and how they compared. I had very little to add to this conversation ("I took a class once six years ago. There were rapids"), and I felt it was time for me to be heading on, since I still had a lot of driving to do.
There were two rapids between me and the end of the course. One I had shot previously and felt pretty good about, but the very last one looked pretty scary. Ron (the first Ron) encouraged me to go for it, and explained the best way to take it. He said he'd keep an eye on me. So I said my goodbyes to the Rons and shot down the next rapid just fine.
In the final pool, I edged close to the final rapid and just looked at it. I decided to skip it and just get out there. Then I changed my mind, a couple of times. It occurred to me that even though Ron was keeping an eye on me, he would be two pools away if anything went wrong.
The thought "but this is what I came here for" was the clincher, and I went for the final rapid. I was upside down under water before I had any idea what hit me. I tried and of course failed to roll back up, so I pulled the spray skirt and tried to extricate myself from the kayak. But with the new seat position, I was in much tighter and I worried for a moment that I might have trouble getting out.
I managed to free myself while still hanging on to my paddle, but the kayak got away from me in the swift current. I swam as hard as I could across the current (still clutching my paddle) to try to grab the kayak, as we passed the sign on the bank warning me to get out before the dam up ahead. The water got suddenly shallow and I banged my shins into some rocks, but I managed to grab my kayak and get to shore.
It took me a while to catch my breath, then I gathered my equipment, waved with my paddle at Ron and Ron, and trudged back up the stairs to my car.
Lessons learned? Plenty, but I'll save those for another time.
Don't you hate that guy?
I hate to admit it, but in this case, I was that guy. And Ron had every reason to just treat me with disdain. Instead, he was encouraging, helpful and friendly every step of the way. We met up with two other kayakers and practiced surfing in the third pool. I just watched at first to remind myself how it is done. Ron showed me a dozen things that I was doing wrong, from how I was sitting in the kayak to how I was holding my paddle to how I was doing my eddy turns.
When we shot the rapid into pool 4 he led the way to show me the easiest line, and I did just fine. Successfully shooting a rapid is just one of the funnest things there is to do in life, and it's the reason I like whitewater, so it was great to be doing it again.
A couple pools down we ran into a dad with two kids, practicing some advanced shredding moves like these. I didn't catch this guy's name either, so let's also call him Ron. The second Ron had a Jackson Kayak like mine, and he could tell from the way my kayak was sitting in the water that I had my seat adjusted wrong, so he showed me how to move it forward. It was a tighter fit, but it gave me a lot more control and stability.
We shot several rapids successfully, some of them more than once, and I was starting to feel more confident. At some point we took a break and Ron and Ron got into a conversation about all the places they kayaked and how they compared. I had very little to add to this conversation ("I took a class once six years ago. There were rapids"), and I felt it was time for me to be heading on, since I still had a lot of driving to do.
There were two rapids between me and the end of the course. One I had shot previously and felt pretty good about, but the very last one looked pretty scary. Ron (the first Ron) encouraged me to go for it, and explained the best way to take it. He said he'd keep an eye on me. So I said my goodbyes to the Rons and shot down the next rapid just fine.
In the final pool, I edged close to the final rapid and just looked at it. I decided to skip it and just get out there. Then I changed my mind, a couple of times. It occurred to me that even though Ron was keeping an eye on me, he would be two pools away if anything went wrong.
The thought "but this is what I came here for" was the clincher, and I went for the final rapid. I was upside down under water before I had any idea what hit me. I tried and of course failed to roll back up, so I pulled the spray skirt and tried to extricate myself from the kayak. But with the new seat position, I was in much tighter and I worried for a moment that I might have trouble getting out.
I managed to free myself while still hanging on to my paddle, but the kayak got away from me in the swift current. I swam as hard as I could across the current (still clutching my paddle) to try to grab the kayak, as we passed the sign on the bank warning me to get out before the dam up ahead. The water got suddenly shallow and I banged my shins into some rocks, but I managed to grab my kayak and get to shore.
It took me a while to catch my breath, then I gathered my equipment, waved with my paddle at Ron and Ron, and trudged back up the stairs to my car.
Lessons learned? Plenty, but I'll save those for another time.
Friday, August 8, 2008
White Water
Six summers ago, Caleb and I took a whitewater kayaking course in Silverthorne, Colorado. I decided this was something I wanted to do on a regular basis, though I was concerned that, at 41, I was a bit old to be starting on such an active sport.
Three years after that I finally got around to buying a whitewater kayak.
Three years after that (i.e. now), I finally got around to taking that kayak out on the white water.
I met the guy at Edge Kayak Shop a little after 10, rented a life vest (forgot to bring mine), and got some advice on what to do at the whitewater course. By 10:30 I was carrying my kayak down the long set of steps, and then up the path to the top of the course. It's a long walk when carrying a kayak. One should, of course, never kayak alone, and I had no intention of doing so. There was one other person out on the course, a boogie-boarder in the 4th pool (there are 8 pools divided by rapids).
I got myself all set up, put in at the second pool (the rapid from pool 1 looked to gnarly), got used to kayaking in a current again, took the rapid into pool 3, and immediately capsized.
I am not too good at the Eskimo Roll, which is the correct way to right a capsized kayak, but I am pretty expert at the wet exit, which is where you lean forward, release the spray skirt, remove your kayak like a pair of pants (all upside-down under water, mind you), and then swim for shore trying to hang on to both your kayak and paddle before the current takes you to the next rapid.
As I panted on the shore, a memorial cross set up nearby reminded me that people do get themselves killed by doing this wrong. And the one other guy on the course had left some time while I was under water.
So I got the water out of my kayak, and sealed myself back in, but kept myself to just the second pool (the pool is called Marley), just practicing my eddy turns, for another half hour or so, waiting to see if any other kayakers showed up. I finally gave up, and, not wanting to risk any of the other rapids, dragged my kayak out, and carried it all the way down the path and up the stairs.
I got to the top of the stairs around noon, which is apparently the time when kayakers show up at the course. A few arrived as I was getting set to leave. One of them (I never caught his name, but let's call him "Ron") asked me if I was planning to go down to the course. I told him everything I just told you.
"Oh, you should come on the course," Ron said. "I'll help you out".
The prospect of carrying the stupid kayak all the way back to the pools again was not really appealing. On the other hand, isn't that what I came here for?
Stay Tuned...
Three years after that I finally got around to buying a whitewater kayak.
Three years after that (i.e. now), I finally got around to taking that kayak out on the white water.
I met the guy at Edge Kayak Shop a little after 10, rented a life vest (forgot to bring mine), and got some advice on what to do at the whitewater course. By 10:30 I was carrying my kayak down the long set of steps, and then up the path to the top of the course. It's a long walk when carrying a kayak. One should, of course, never kayak alone, and I had no intention of doing so. There was one other person out on the course, a boogie-boarder in the 4th pool (there are 8 pools divided by rapids).
I got myself all set up, put in at the second pool (the rapid from pool 1 looked to gnarly), got used to kayaking in a current again, took the rapid into pool 3, and immediately capsized.
I am not too good at the Eskimo Roll, which is the correct way to right a capsized kayak, but I am pretty expert at the wet exit, which is where you lean forward, release the spray skirt, remove your kayak like a pair of pants (all upside-down under water, mind you), and then swim for shore trying to hang on to both your kayak and paddle before the current takes you to the next rapid.
As I panted on the shore, a memorial cross set up nearby reminded me that people do get themselves killed by doing this wrong. And the one other guy on the course had left some time while I was under water.
So I got the water out of my kayak, and sealed myself back in, but kept myself to just the second pool (the pool is called Marley), just practicing my eddy turns, for another half hour or so, waiting to see if any other kayakers showed up. I finally gave up, and, not wanting to risk any of the other rapids, dragged my kayak out, and carried it all the way down the path and up the stairs.
I got to the top of the stairs around noon, which is apparently the time when kayakers show up at the course. A few arrived as I was getting set to leave. One of them (I never caught his name, but let's call him "Ron") asked me if I was planning to go down to the course. I told him everything I just told you.
"Oh, you should come on the course," Ron said. "I'll help you out".
The prospect of carrying the stupid kayak all the way back to the pools again was not really appealing. On the other hand, isn't that what I came here for?
Stay Tuned...
The Too Long Drive
I left Bay Lake about three in the afternoon, and stopped in Minneapolis for a friend's birthday dinner, so I only made it as far as Clear Lake, Iowa on Tuesday.
On Wednesday I decided to try to get as far as I could. I drove 850 miles to Colorado Springs, much of the drive through pouring rain. My back was feeling it the next morning!
But the long drive set me up with some extra time to do one more thing I'd been hoping to do on this vacation: take my kayak out on the Pueblo, Colorado Whitewater Course.
On Wednesday I decided to try to get as far as I could. I drove 850 miles to Colorado Springs, much of the drive through pouring rain. My back was feeling it the next morning!
But the long drive set me up with some extra time to do one more thing I'd been hoping to do on this vacation: take my kayak out on the Pueblo, Colorado Whitewater Course.
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