Chemical Confabulations

Arguments Aren't Always Arguments

2009-07-13T23:44:00.007-06:00

Why must people insist on declaring a winner and loser, who's right and who's wrong, what's better and what's worse in all situations where there is a differing opinion? Differing opinions don't always mean an argument must ensue. A person's view on a particular subject should be listened to, and if possible, understood from the speaker's point of view. While you can never really understand another person's thinking, you can at least TRY to understand the reasoning behind a person's point of view, choice, or reason for being. If a person makes a choice that you don't agree with, and it is a choice that is worth talking about, it should not be an argument of your choice was wrong, my choice was right, it should be a discussion of why each person feels their choice is the right choice. There never has to be a 'winner' of this contest; the goal should be a general understanding of why each person has come to his or her own conclusion to make a certain choice.

<< Some bits taken out here >>

If he leaves, he did not win an argument, he just made a decision based on his feeling about the facts and opinions at hand. The differing opinions helped him to build an informed decision. In most cases where there is a differing opinion, there is no right or wrong answer. Two people are ALLOWED to have differing opinions, they can even argue about those opinions. Debates help inform people of different points of view on the same subject; there doesn't have to be a winner to these debates. There just needs to be an understanding and listening not an attack on the other person's opinion. Mutual respect and understanding is key for the survival of relationships and this must be based on listening and attempts at understanding the other individual's points of view. 99% of all conflicts, including wars, could be solved with this simple concept of understanding and listening. Indeed sometimes people still make bad decisions and cause true conflict, but time should always be spent trying to understand another's point of view, not trying to destroy the other's opinion to prove oneself selfishly correct.

I am not a Hipster

2009-06-21T20:29:00.004-06:00

While wandering around downtown in the now incredibly hip 3rd and 3rd district, I had 3 moments of deep realization. 1) I am not a hipster, 2) I am old and 3) I don't give a damn about not being 'in the scene' anymore. I will expand on each point below.

1) I am not a hipster: Despite what Marcela and others may think, I am not a hipster. I wear black t-shirts almost exclusively - been doing that since 2001 and it has nothing to do with being cool or trendy or poety. It has everything to do with 10 years of worrying about what cool t-shirt I should wear each day so that I could be cool, unique, ironic or funny and not wanting the stress of worrying about something as trivial as a torso covering anymore. Black was is a color that looks good on me, though not as good as blue as many people have taken care to point out, it doesn't show dirt, I can get them for dirt cheap through various changing outlets, and I feel anonymous, yet comfortable in what I am wearing. I have confidence in my simplicity and torso comfort. I can grab whatever shirt is on top of the clean pile and call it good. However, that was old hipster. New hipsters wear skinny jeans, shirts made from ridiculously thin material that are brand new, look well worn and cost $30+ dollars, ironic yet stylish neon Rayban knockoff sunglasses, wool caps during the summer, greasy, nappy messed up hair and mustaches. Everything about the hipster style is completely impractical and feeds the corporate nation which they think they are subverting (but that is a post for another time).

Secondly, I ride a fixed-gear or fixie bicycle. Allow me to defend this one. While an avid cyclist since 1997 (though riding off and on long before then) I have been using a bicycle to commute since 2005 and have been volunteering at the Salt Lake City Bicycle Collective since 2007. I was (and this next sentence is an unbelievable stereotypical defense of one's status as an innovator) riding and talking about and fixing bicycles before any of these purple rimmed jokesters even considered a bike as a mode of transportation. In fact, one such (teal rimmed) hipster, not a year earlier told me I was stupid for riding my bike to work because I would get sweaty and it took so long to get there etc etc etc. Now he is riding a bicycle and telling me about critical mass and how he isn't a cager because cagers suck (I also would like to write about that mentality later on. Remind me.) and how I should get such and such toe straps because they provide so much power to the pedals (I'm not going to repeat the brand because they are of 1930's design and totally silly and I don't want anyone else to be burdened with non-functioning toe straps when clipless pedals are by far the most efficient form of shoe to pedal to drive train power transfer) etc etc etc.

So I built a fixie in 2007 when building a fixie was a thing of pride because you BUILT a fixie. Even if you chose to ride a track bike, it was a personal thing where you would choose component, customize your frame and build it yourself. These days, kids go to Republic Bike or similar, choose some colors, and get themselves a fixie. Granted this is actually a good way to get a fixie and a bike in general, but it loses the original mystic and raison d'etre of a fixie. "Why do you ride a fixie?" Most hipsters would either say, "It's cool", "It's what the bike messengers ride", or "I don't know". It is the rare person who really understands the beauty and purpose of a fixie. A fixie is for cadence training and it is low maintenance. I can strip and rebuild my fixie in 1.5 hours and have it all cleaned, tuned and lubed. My race cycling has improved immensely since riding a fixie. I am a way better hill climber and I can set a good pace for myself for entire 50 mile rides.

This may all seem like nit-picky differences, but I'm just saying, don't call me a hipster because I ride a fixie, call me a cyclist.

2) I am old: It takes me longer to heal after extremely exhausting workouts. My joints feel just a little bit more tired. I may or may not be losing hair. A lot of this realization comes from 3) below. But just realize that I know I am getting older but it turns out not only do I care, I am relieved that I am older and wiser (truly) and not worried about the trivial things of life such as popularity, fitting in, and conforming to non-conforming groups. I'm proud to be 27 and not wandering around the streets smoking a cigarette as a prop, wearing jeans from Forever 21, and twirling my greasy, bleached hair all the while talking about how evil the Mormon church is or how corporations are ruining the world and everything should be bought locally. Open your eyes.

3) I don't give a damn about not being 'in the scene' anymore: I guess I commented on this a bit in 2), but there is more to say. There was a time when I was proud to be a member of the cyclist elite in SLC. I was proud to volunteer my time to further the cycling cause. No anymore. These days, most of the hardcore originators are still doing their thing, but they spend half their time babysitting youngsters that care only about a) what brand your bike is (not what components, what brand) b) who else rides it and c) where can I get that bag you are wearing?. I do not want to be associated with these kids who see cycling as a fashion accessory. Not cool.

I used to look at really dolled up, good looking people who seemed to know a lot of people and were well known and knew a lot about art, music, the city etc. Turns out most of these people are just regurgitating either Wikipedia, or what their friend told them on Wikipedia. If it isn't fact spewing or complaining about corporations (while valid in their own right, stay tuned for the invalidating moment to come) it is complete idiocy and lack of awareness of their surroundings that comes barfing forth. "Oh hi -person who's name I know and have seen at parties-. What's this store you're working at?"
"I own this store."
"Oh," says the moron who doesn't a) pay attention to people's lives and b) can't put 2 and 2 together that the woman behind the counter, making sales, telling people about her store and when it opened could possibly be the owner. Dirty kids acting like they are mature making decisions for themselves yet the decision they make is to go get drunk, and then have bike races (truthfully overheard once).

So I am done. Don't call me a hipster, don't pity me for being old, and don't look down on me for not conforming to your scene. I've got my own.

p.s. I guess I've hit the breaking point and it's back to the blog for me.

The Woderous World of Switzerland

2008-02-24T10:23:00.023-07:00

To discuss my trip to Switzerland, I am going to focus on the oddities, and "things" I found to be particularly Swiss or European.

First up, The Jungfrau. This is a mountain peak billed as "The highest point in Europe". I highly doubt that, but it was pretty big. In fact, If memory serves, Mont Blanc, a very close neighbor tower over it by a good thousand feet or so. The blatant false advertising is not the odd part of Europe, that is more of an American Specialty, no, the first oddity was seen on the doors to the bathrooms in the mountain. (I say 'in' because the "toilettes" were indeed inside the mountain. You see, the train travels through the mountain to get to the summit. Throughout the trip, the passengers are able to de-train and soak up the view from the windows constructed into the rock. It was indeed an amazing site and one of the photos is a photo from the window looking down. Guess which one.)

I had noticed the signifiers for male or female bathrooms or WC as the French say, and they were different than Americas, but these were even more different. They have the same basic shape as the other WC signifiers I saw, except these were painted a lovely color. Such care taken for such a simple sign. I like how they have a certain chic sense about their apparel.

Next up we have batteries. Now, I am unaware if this feature is available in the USA, but I fell in love with it. I needed some batteries to supply juice to my camera for all of the oddities I felt I was going to encounter. When I went to extract a battery, I noticed that they had individual little breakout perforations for each battery. I know just about everyone in this world (well, maybe not the world because the Swiss seem to have it right. Maybe in the past they had troubles with batteries and that is why they came up with this amazing innovation) has had the problem of only using two batteries in a pack of 4 and then having the others roll around on the floor because you had to open one giant backside in order to get out 2 batteries. Rather than being mildly infuriating to put in batteries, it was a real treat. The design is perfect.

Keys: Just look at them. I wonder if in the olden days (70's) the Swiss had keys like the Americans, but changed over to these interesting pieces, or if they have always been like this? What's the advantage? I just don't know.

Relatedly: Doors. US doors close flush to the frame and rest on the jam. In Switzerland, the majority of doors I saw were not perfect rectangles like US doors. Instead they were like a US door with a panel on the front that sticks out on the opening side. This panel rests on top of the frame while while the rest of the door goes into the frame and rests on the jam. The only reason for this that I could gather was that having the lip added a little bit more sound deadening qualities. It looks kind of cool as well, that may be part of it too.

Since that door lead to the bathroom, lets talk potty talk. All of the home toilets have these gigantic flusher plates mounted to the wall. Whether to remind you to flush or to just give you a large target, I like them. When you flush, you can watch the little plastic batter board move up to it's resting position. Once it reaches its resting potential, the flush is complete. There is some sort of satisfaction about watching that little plate move up like a physical progress bar.

Now, this next picture is not odd because of the right triangle shower, this is more of a Lieber oddity than a Swiss oddity (although they do hail from Switzerland). What is odd about this is that all of the tubs I saw (3) were ridiculously deep, some were even on a kind of pedestal. The Swiss must love their baths because these are serious tubs. You could wash a bear in there and still have to worry about the water going above his head. Giant.

Cars. There was a huge population of bicycles and scooters. The train stations were filled with two wheeled vehicles. A large number of the bicycles were old Peugots and Biancis and the like; stuff that fixed gear dreams are made of. But that is a digression. The scooters were mostly of the Chinese sort with a couple Vespas thrown in for good measure. But the cars were interesting. I saw a car that had two wheels in the front with one in the back. It seemed a little illogical, but I suppose I am just used to the tradition of tricycles. I saw scooters with full coverage that were made by BMW. They looked like little cars but they had two wheels and sounded like a very large angry squirrel. Then there was the car pictured below. What an interesting vehicle. I was only able to get this aerial view and it was gone by the time I figured out how to get down there so I don't know many details, but doens't it look great? It looks like the speed cars they have on the Bonneville speedway. I think it is a scooter with a rocket body. Most of the cars were small and Audis were like fords over here (in terms of quantity, not quality). Max drives an Opel and it beeps whenever you are close to something.

How about Geneva? Well, they lay claim to the worlds tallest fountain. It shoots a thousand someodd KM into the air and sprays the unsuspecting visitors. It is pretty large and as you can sort of see from the picture, it can act as a beacon to guide one back to the train station (it was the only way I found my way back to the train station. I found it really hard to navigate those streets for 2 reasons. 1. They are not labeled very well and 2, they curve without you knowing it. On 2 occasions I thought I was heading one way when in fact I ended up just going in a circle; ending up right where I started. I did a lot of walking). There were some neat old churches with some mosaic art. I know nothing about these churches other than they looked neat. There was a nice area where you could get on top of a courtyard next to the church and look down on the city. This church was in an area where there was no car traffic allowed and the buildings were very close together. Also, the apparent mascot for recycling is a hedgehog.

The trains were great. I like them loads. The seats are comfy, you get a wonderful view of the countryside and they go just about everywhere you would need or want to go. On the train home from Geneva, I went to the upper floor of the car and was surprised by a wonderful little playground right in the train. It had a slide and among other things, monkey bars. It was fantatstic. There were some kids playing on them so I had to be coy with my picture taking. I didn't want to look suspicious by taking pictures while kids were playing. That blew my mind. I can't believe that if I wanted to, I could play on a slide while I traveled to Frauenfeld.

And finally, the winner of the bizarre drink award: Rivella. Apparently this sweet, yet dark drink is made with lactose. It is a fun, different flavor to drink when you are in the mood for something sweet but not really sugary. Speaking of food, you know the very unappetizing pre-made sandwiches that you can get at gas stations and airports and other places where quick meals sell? Well, in Switzerland (as in other parts of Europe as I hear) these types of sandwiches are delicious. My fist experience with one was a gas station and it was made up of a good baguette, butter, salami, cheese, tomato and cucumber. It was quite good and I was told it wasn't even a very good one. I had more of those throughout the week and indeed, they come in better varieties and they are quite good. I wish I could get those here. I wish America would realize that food is something to be enjoyed, not just consumed.

Well, I think that's about it folks. If I think of anything else I'll let you know.

Complete Moron

2008-01-29T20:36:00.000-07:00

Today whilst riding the bus to school, I observed a man executing deplorable behavior. I looked over to see him unwrapping a Hershey's Kiss chocolate candy. "Oh, that's nice," I thought, "A little pre-class sugar boost to help him through the pursuit of knowledge." Then he crumpled the tin wrapper into a little ball (along with the 97.6% of Americans who do the same when they enjoy a Hershey's Kiss) and threw it on the ground with complete disregard for his surroundings. He threw it as if it was a piece of corn husk being tossed into the compost. I looked at him with disgust but he looked forward completely oblivious to the fact that someone had seen his egregious act. As I was giving him the stink eye he pulled another one out of his pocket, unwrapped it, placed the morsel in his mouth, crumpled the tinfoil, and discarded his waste right on to the bus floor. He is blatantly littering right before my eyes. I can not believe that there are people in this world with such wanton disregard for their environment. I'm sure this person has thrown many sausage mcmuffin wrappers to the ground after he enjoyed a nice heavy breakfast. I'm sure the roads are littered with his receipts. I'm sure his house is perfectly clean.

What makes a person so unaware of their impact on their environment? What gives them the amount of entitlement it takes to be so utterly selfish as to make them think that they can just throw waste wherever they want? Did you know that early humans (homo erectus) had certain areas of their caves for animal wastes and broken tools and such? This person on the bus was exhibiting features of life not akin to humans, but more akin to a hyena who picks off what he wants and then moves on, leaving the remains for others to deal with.

How can anyone not be self conscious about littering? I mean if you drop something while you are walking and it blows far away and you are unable to retrieve it, that is one thing, but if you willfully and consciously throw a piece of trash onto the ground, you are making up your mind to do something completely anti-social. The pre-conceived act of littering is the first step to pre-conceived murder. You know littering is bad (or do you?), you know it will just hang out on the earth, cluttering our waterways and fields (no, maybe you don't. I think you are full of complete ignorance), you know stabbing someone in the throat is not very nice (I think), yet you choose to ignore the consequences. Perhaps an exaggeration, yes, but, I don't think by too large a degree. You have to admit there are some narcissistic, ant-social, mass murderer type traits being exhibited here. Most individuals with even the slightest regard for their surroundings see littering as the nuisance it is. Even children know not to litter.

Toblog's photo is something that brings me joy in times of extreme frustration with the world. I love the desert. I love summer.

Forced out of retirement

2008-01-27T23:00:00.000-07:00

No, I wasn't really in retirement, more like a sabbatical. Whenever school comes around I 'think' I lose interest in blogging, when in actuality I yearn for it as a creative escape to keep my essay skills pumping. For some reason, the procrastination bug hits hard when school starts. This is the opposite of quality genetic cognitive evolution; I should be thwarting the procrastination bug during the school year rather than nurturing it. So here I am to start the blogging year off. I was going to start with something else that has been burning a hole in my brain, but I will save it for later so as to provide incentive to continue on the consistent post schedule.

I've been tagged

I generally don't give this type of internet social game passing stuff the time of day, but it originated from a long time good friend and was passed on to me by another long time good friend. I am supposed to reveal 6 things about me for some reason. So I am going to pour my concentric circle shaped soul out and reveal a thing or two for the WHOLE WORLD to see. People say the internet has stolen privacy. The thing with that is someone has to actually read this blog to find anything out. On to the list.

1. I really enjoy the following television programs - Project Runway and America's Next Top Model. I can't explain it. I have all of these opinions and worries and cares for these unknown people. I can watch multiple episode marathons without even a second thought.

2. I have always hated going to church, yet for some reason I am still compelled to go. Don't ask me why on either count because I can't give you an answer.

3. I am not afraid of dying - at all. In fact I look forward to it quite a bit.

4. I have always wanted to see the US South. Associated with that, I also will not rest until I see fireflies in real life and catch some in a glass jar and look at them wistfully as a dream of a time when I can move to the city.

5. I cried when I watched Cool Runnings. I cry at a lot of movies and at silly times too.

6. I used to be an incredibly lazy kid. Those of you who see my current activity strewn lifestyle may find this odd. Indeed I love nothing better than being outside doing something - whether it be climbing, biking, hiking, writing, or balancing - but as an elementary school kid I was 100% stereotype american. 1 such case study. I was enrolled in this after school science class where we dissected animals and learned about biology. Well, one day I sluffed class because I really wanted some tortilla chips with melted cheese on top and a coke in a glass bottle (yes, this was when glass bottles were still de rigeur). So I sluffed class to go eat chips and watch TV. I am not proud of my excesses. Perhaps that is why I am so invigorated by physical activity (activities of the brain count as well as I led a sedentary brain life as a kid as well) and it may also explain number 1 above.

That is my soul as of 11:27, January 27 2008.

Toblog's photo is a picture that I took of a down cluster that got me 50% off of a certain brand of outdoor equipment.

An Internal Educational Dilemma

2007-12-10T18:31:00.000-07:00

I have an internal dilemma/anxiety.

The semester is over for me; I turned in my paper and washed my hands of the stress. Stress is where the dilemma arises. Education is supposed to be a grand enlightening experience that will mold my mind into a master of eloquence and sophistication. I have spent the last 3 or 4 years trying to get excited about school, learning, and the experience, and it has worked for the most part. And really, it isn't totally talking myself into it, it is more keeping myself as into it during the latter half of the semester as I was at the beginning. The thought of school excites me and I love going to school and discovering new ideas that were never apparent to me before or read a book that was never on my radar; and that is exciting. I love that, I really do. The dilemma comes from the stresses of HAVING to complete all of the homework, performing for the professor, and completing the homework and the free time it takes up. I like going to school and learning, but I don't like being forced to work outside of school. I like continuing the learning at home, but I don't like having the looming deadlines of homework and obligatory reading. The quest for knowledge is truly exciting, but having someone poke you in the bum the whole time is not so fun. I am loosing my mental fortitude for keeping myself interested in school and the associated work. How do you maintain interest throughout the semester? Am I really burning out or am I Just lazy? Am I becoming one of those fluff ball students that complains about how stupid a class is? Is this the end of zombie Greg?

I don't think I am one of those kids who complains about being in school and how lame this class is because I generally really love my classes (as stated above). The problem is the deadlines.

My load at school this semester was relatively light yet I still felt like I was about to loose my mind by the end of the semester. There is something about knowing that you have to write a paper on a subject that you are only mildly interested in and that will count for 40% percent of your grade that makes my mind reel. I a good at writing papers; I have written a lot of them and I get fairly good grades with little effort. For some reason however, I feel like I can't write or that I won't be able to write a good paper. I feel the looming ax whenever I have a paper due. It sucks. I am done thinking/rambling about this. I really need to find a way to make it through another year of school.

Toblog's photo is of my brother Dan C. being a goof ball for the camera. He brings me great joy.

Pain/Gender Equivalencies

2007-11-29T22:59:00.000-07:00

I wonder if there is a pain for women that is equivalent to the pain of a male getting one in the groin? Is there some instance in female life that causes them the same dull, all encompassing, indescribable and very debilitating pain that comes from a blow to the testicles. Judging by what research data I have gathered through casual discourse throughout my life, there is no equivalent; it appears to be uniquely male. Sure sure there will always the girl in gym class who gets hit in the breast by a volleyball and says it hurts just as bad, but the mere fact that she is coherent enough to make an argument like that spoils her little ruse. If that were a boy who got hit in the child factory with the same ball at the same force, there would be no sounds other than faint moans, and certainly no coherent thought processes traveling across the synapses.

There is also the school of thought that likes to compare childbirth pain to the aforementioned boy pain. I guess they don't necessarily compare it in exact likeness, more they say, "well, that may hurt, but what about having a baby? That hurts." I bet it does hurt. I bet it hurts more than any pain I will ever feel in my entire life (barring any run ins with a gun and my knee caps), but I doubt it offers the same sensation of having Burt and Ernie smashed on a bicycle top tube.

Maybe this is where I am wrong and the pain of child birth is in fact an extremely intense version of the male pain. Perhaps women really are experiencing this pain but in such a different environment and circumstance that it renders the feeling in a different psychological light that gives the woman more strength to maintain a certain amount of composure so that the duty of childbirth can still be accomplished. I still tend to think that the pain from childbirth is different (although unfathomable) and that it is an issue of apples and oranges; they are two different flavors of pain.

One conclusion I can extrapolate from this thought experiment is that women and men are very different in both physiology and psychology. Well, I guess this isn't the end all confirmation. I should say it is yet another confirmation that women and men really are assembled differently. I also know that even though I sometimes wish a girl could feel that same feeling of the worst diarrhea of your life mixed with the worst stomach ache of your life mixed with the worst genital pain in your life mixed with all of that all over your whole body, I realize how mean that is to wish such an awkward pain on someone else. I certainly don't want to experience the pains of childbirth so I guess that is where the fair trade is: both sexes don't want to experience the unique pain of the other sex.

Toblogs picture is a picture to remind me of the good times of summer: Yet another Joshua Tree Picture.

I Am a Geek, But So Are You.

2007-11-25T19:54:00.000-07:00

So I confessed to Marcela that I have not only played an RPG (role playing game) but that I enjoyed it immensely. I enjoyed it enough to do two things which brought down more ridicule upon my head - a) I purchased my own set of various sided dice and b) researched a Matrix based D6 Legend game and printed out all the rules of game play and assembled them into a three ringed binder with tabs to organize various aspects of the game. She really laughed when I showed her my little binder (I didn't dare show her my dice). She said she has a certain image of the types of people that play RPGs (a gross and harmful stereotypical image I am sure) and she said that she couldn't accept that I played an RPG. I told her that she shouldn't knock it until she tried it. She still laughs at me and brings it up in a hurtful joking way. It doesn't phase me because I am confident in who I am and I am going to elaborate on why RPGs are fun and not just for basement bound geeks.

RPGs allow a person to create a character that the player gets to act out - an alternate personality if you wish to go that far. This is no different than good old Johnny Depp or Marlon Brando acting in your favorite Hollywood hit. Score 1 for the geeks.

Before game play can even begin, one must create their character, but also understand a vast lexicon of rules and terms so they can be able to create a character within the bounds of the physics of the world in which your character must live and thrive. This calls for extreme mental capacity and fortitude in order to keep track of not only your own attributes (strength, weapon skills, magic if you have it etc) but you need to be aware of the attributes of those around you so you know who you can call on if you need help. You also need to know how to increase your attribute strengths so that you can progress and become a better player in the game. Great care must be taken so that you nurture a good character and if you are lucky, this character can be with you for a long long time to help you through your various quests.

During game play, one must maintain strict attention to the proceedings as the game master reads the scenario and dictates the various problems, needs and desires of the various characters of the game. The quests are laied out and one must be mindful of how to best accomplish these tasks so as to benefit not only him/herself, but also the other players. It is really a community battle against the giant ogres or whatever terror is running amok in Maroox.

Finally, what is the difference between running around a little guy named Mario, or being the controller for a Halo III character, or Gathering Pokemon characters and categorizing them and learning all there is to know. I submit to the reader that these endeavors, while more accepted in society are in fact baser pursuits in gaming. Those who tackle the vast challenge that is organized RPG play commit themselves to a true mental challenge that invigorates the imagination as well as the quantitative segments of the brain. Should one study up on all of the Red Sox player stats or the latest Pokemon character traits, or should one create their own character with unique personality and traits which mirror their creator and take on battles more complex than any computer could preconfigure. I believe I have answered that question.

Good Night.
p.s. I still have never actually played the Matrix D6 Legend RPG. It looks great, but frankly, I only have one person who I could get to help me organize game play.

Toblog's photo is of the girl that made fun of me. That's what she gets for making fun of me; she gets her face plastered to my blog (though it is an adorable picture wouldn't you say?)

Why I Like Thanksgiving: A Theme By Greg Corey

2007-11-22T21:32:00.000-07:00

I like Thanksgiving. I am not going to go into all of the things that I am thankful for in some bland, dry as overcooked turkey list, I am going to discuss why I actually like the day of Thanksgiving and maybe some of that stuff will come out.

Food. Food is of course the main focus on Thanksgiving. No matter what anybody says, food is the main focus on everyone's mind. I am not going to talk about food right now.

Thanksgiving eve is a lot like Christmas eve, expect unlike Christmas eve (as a child) I don't loose sleep because of excitement. On the contrary, I sleep better than any other day of the year. Deep down I know that I will have all day (until 4 o'clock) to do whatever I please and that homework, or other chores of that nature are not allowed. It is a completely free day to stay at home, chat with family, get ready for the meal and subsequent socializing, and doing fun projects that I want to do.

I don't feel rushed in anything I do. This year, I decided to work on my brother and nephew's bikes. They had been sitting in my basement for about a month waiting to be worked on and I just kept putting it off. I decided that thanksgiving day, because it is such a low obligation day, would be the perfect day to take care of this. I also cleaned my room and organized photos while I was at it today. It is like all pains of procrastination are gone on Thanksgiving. I feel no anxiety over completing any 'tasks'; I just do what I feel like doing in the time I have to do stuff.

The mood on Thanksgiving day is really peaceful and calm for me. Now is a good time to talk of food because it is probably the most stressful aspect of Thanksgiving. This stress comes in two forms for me: 1) How do I prepare for the large meal? Do I skip all meals and risk stomach shrinkage or do I eat a little and risk being too full? Do I load up on liquids to stretch my stomach like hot dog eating champions? This is a serious issue concerning maximum pleasure from eating. This year I went with a skip breakfast, largeish salad for lunch, and lots of liquids routine. I think it went well. I felt very satisified but not ill. It was a thanksgiving miracle. 2) Food preparation. I feel bad making my mom do all of the food prep, but I think she really likes it. She bakes, mashes, whips, boils, browns, roasts, and peels to her hearts content. I noticed that she rarely seems stressed out when it comes to the food on Thanksgiving. I think she is so well practiced that it is like any other meal for a large bunch of kids. So this only offeres mild anxiety mostly in the form of I have the responsibility of carving the turkey and my carving consistency is in the 'needs improvement' category. But it usually tastes good even though the breast might not be perfectly sliced.

Anxieties aside, I love food. I love eating slow and steady. I love chewing my food until it is well mashed and all the flavor has had an opportunity to escape into my mouth and tantalize my tastebuds. I love eating turkey with an 80%/20% Cranberry sauce to Turkey ratio. I love Stovetop Stuffing. I love the muted yet exciting flavor of candied yams. I love well made rolls. I love the combination of these foods and the general smooth yet powerful flavor the extol upon my whole masticative soul. I love pumpkin pie with Cool Whip (not whipped cream, name brand Cool Whip). I love the slightly hard and chewy texture of the pumpkin filling. Food is good. Food is more than nutrition. Food is an incredibly pleasurable experience.

Then comes the after party. This is when the kids run around naked (yes that happened this year) and we sit around and talk, laugh, play games, waddle around, and listen to Donna Summer. This part of Thanksgiving varies quite a bit. Sometimes it is quiet with board games and small conversation. Sometimes it is loud, raucous, full of nudity and mayhem. Both are nice. Both have pluses and minus. I like the variety.

Then comes the clean up. Things usually died between 8 and 9 o'clock. Spending time with my mom and cleaning up is rather relaxing and rewarding. It is a time to just be together for a little while. We don't necessarily talk (we are generally not extremely verbose with each other) but when we do it is nice. Otherwise it is nice to just help her out a bit and just be in her presence. I get the vibe that she feels the same way. That makes me a little soft in the heart.

Thanksgiving provides probably one of the only 'real' vacations I get all year. Christmas is close, but that has other demons attached to it that I will perhaps discuss in 1 month. This day has been good and tomorrow may end up being a wonderful day as well. Could it be another Thanksgiving miracle that the day after could be nearly as enjoyable as the Day of?

Toblog's photo is of my crazy nephew. I tried to take a bunch of pictures of the food but due to wrong ISO settings and frenzied eating nothing turned out. So here is my nephew. Enjoy his bright shining face of mischief (He makes Dennis the Menace look like the Charlie Brown).

Mistaken Identity

2007-11-18T15:50:00.000-07:00

There are a couple names that I consistently get mistaken for; George and Tim. George is understandable to some degree. While not phonetically dissimilar, if you rearrange the letters you get Grego which is pretty damn near close to Greg, AND if add another r and a y you get yourself Gregory which is my full given Christian FBI record Witness Relocation Program name. This I can live with to some extent, other than the fact that I don't think I am a George in any way and I always get brief twinges and premonitions of what my life would have been like if I were a George.

This brings us to Tim. That one is a mystery, but I kid you not, Tim is probably the most often misspoken name for me. I don't know what it is. Is there a vast pool of redheads out there that are named Tim and are very sociable and therefore have a far reaching fan base who moves all over the country and invariably a few from said fan base end up in SLC and end up meeting me because they themselves are very sociable and are often in social party situations which I have found myself being dragged to on an ever increasing scale and they see me and are introduced and hear my name but as psychology goes they forget it the second they turn their head and so through association with this incredibly popular and influential and life changing Tim they project the Tim personality on me and assume my name is Tim just like their good friend back home or is Tim just some social construction default for people of my likeness? I figure people don't remember my name because I am particularly unremarkable in most aspects of the group socializing point scale so I don't mind being forgotten, but guessing at my name and then consistently coming up with George or Tim is just not right. I would rather they just say "what was your name again?" just so I don't have to have visions of what life would be like as Tim or George.

Toblogs Photo is one of the said parties that I have been increasingly dragged to, not that this is a bad thing really.

Juarez: The Real Comeback Kid

2007-11-13T22:30:00.000-07:00

So yes, I got of to a rocky comeback start. So, here is a post that is worth coming back for. I am now the proud of of the above turtle whose name is Juarez. Juarez is an illegal immigrant from Mexico. He was smuggled over in a Pepsi cup, a water bottle, a hand and a pocket by my dearest friend Marcela who was hanging out/visiting some relatives in Guadalajara. She knew that I had always wanted a turtle and she saw some at a market and decided it was a good idea to get me one. I was so shocked to see a turtle when she came home. My very own turtle, what a dream come true.

I've spent the last month accumulating knowledge and supplies and think I have a pretty good handle on the situation. I thought he was sick yesterday, but it turns out the UVB lamp was too close and it was causing inflammation of the eyes. I was scared sick that he was going to die or something. I am still scared sick that he will die. Apparently the Red Ear Slider variety of turtle is particularly finicky when it comes to captive survival. But so far he seems ok and is even shedding which is a good sign of growth. He is so handsome and terribly fun to watch swim around. His little legs propelling him through the water is just about the most adorable thing in the world.

You'll notice that the picture is of Juarez's hind quarters. This is because he is one jumpy fellow. When I enter my room he will jump off of his basking rock and swim to "safety" (little does he know that I can grab him at any time. Mwa ha ha). So I snuck up on him while he was stretching out his hind quarters. Cute.

So that is that. I am through with this post and I hope it was enjoyable in all its shortness. I will return with more news from afar and beyond.

I Return

2007-10-15T22:57:00.000-06:00

So...yeah...it's been a while. Sorry about that to both of my faithful readers. I decided to put the blog on the back burner for a while because "I was too busy" or "I have enough to worry about" or "I write enough in school". All lame excuses. I have been feeling stagnant lately. I feel like my mind hasn't been working towards what it wants to be working towards. Yes I got a job reviewing albums for The Silent Ballet which provides an opportunity to not only listen to neato bands, but also to write weekly. Yes I have an English/Philosophy class that is quite invigorating and requires a weekly paper, but I feel like my essay skill are suffering. I feel like my ability to really explicate my ideas is dwindling with lack of use. It really isn't, but I feel that way. I want to keep my mind sharp. My idle mind drives me crazy and I can't get into a habit of letting myself wallow the hours away doing mindless tasks. I must write my ideas. I must tell stories. I must blog.

So consider this my official coming out of retirement speech, that is if anyone every sees this again. Oh well, it really is just for my well being.

Rock and Roll Tour

2007-06-10T21:16:00.000-06:00

So the tour went well and the band (Theta Naught) is doing well. We traveled from San Fransisco (quick, who was born there?) to San Diego then to Vegas. One of the finer shows involved a business space that was used for a church on Saturday and Sunday and shows on Friday. It was an all ages show which turned out to be quite fun. Ryan met some kids, Alex and Josh, on myspace and invited them to play with us. They did. They were pretty good. They were 16. It was a real joy listening to them talk about school, SATs, teachers, college plans etc. So bright eyed and hopeful. Then we met some 14 year old kids who were waiting out front for the next band to start because the current band "Cursed" and "there's no need for that". What fascinating kids. However, talking to these kids gave me my first ever hint and guttural feeling that I am in fact OLD. I'm only 25, but frankly, that is relatively old, especially in the eyes of these whipper snappers. It kind of hurt. "I'm in to classic rock like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Aerosmith, Def Leopard". Def Leopard? Holy Hell, Oldies are now of my generation.

In spite of this moment of age realization, I had a wonderful tour. It was a treat to hang with Pete and large with child Sheri. Those two just might make good parents.

Vegas was a fun show as always. Black Camaro was a gracious host as per usual and the show was well attended and well rocked. If you haven't listened to Black Camaro you should. They are surprisingly good and Brian Garth is a really good songwriter. I still hate the Vegas Strip.

That about sums it up except for the '89 Dodge Caravan report. It was a total Champion. It got relatively good mileage for the weight we were pulling, we added a fuzzy steering wheel cover (see photo), it was comfortable, trouble free, spacious and amenity packed. I love that van.

See you at the arts festival and CO.

Toblog's Photos: (bottom up) Peter stretching after Croquet, Venue 2, Venue 6, Darren-Cassie-Alex's girl friend (I forgot your name, sorry)-Alex-Josh-Me-Ryan, Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas, The Van, The Crew.

Joshua Tree 07 Revisited

2007-05-24T12:19:00.000-06:00

Well, it's time to recount the magical week that was Joshua Tree. Because there is so much I want to say and tell, I am going to practice my short succinct paragraphs so as not to create a blog novel and bore everyone to death.

The wildlife was abundant. We had three rabbits that came every day around dinner time to vacuum our crumbs. They were adorable little bunnies and made an excellent meal on Friday night. Just kidding, but one did come so close to me I could have cuddled with it. Highlight: A bobcat decided to take respite from the sun under a tree a mere meters from our campsite. We naturally quietly sprang into action with cameras of all sorts. Many good pics were taken and fun was had by all in this zoological observation.

Speaking of science, Braden and Taylor decided to pass the hot hours by performing various camp challenges. One of these challenges was to distill their own urine to get clean drinking water using only a black garbage bag, two ziplock baggies, 2 feet of duct tape and any natural items found in the desert. Neither of them were terribly successful, but many, many wonderful things were learned.

Speaking of learning we are no closer to the problem of whether or not you can move a sphere of water while suspended inside.

Speaking of being suspended, the climbing was stellar as always. It was hot hot hot so we only climbed like 3 or so routes in the mornings and then ran to our shade structure for relief and food. Nothing really out of the ordinary here just good old Joshua Tree Climbing.

Speaking of good, the food was excellent. If I may toot my own horn, the pizza I made was completely above average. It was rich and delicious with a crust able to lube a car. Other highlights included a French Bread pasta bake thing, a soup full of everything, vegetarian tacos (insert dirty joke here), an extremely large cookie, and premade curry.

I think that's good enough for now.

Looking Up Every Once In A While

2007-05-10T21:29:00.000-06:00

I was downtown tonight at the Library watching a movie with a friend. She works downtown and walked to the library and I was on my bike so we walked to her work and she gave me a ride home. We were walking at a rather casual pace, really in no hurry to be anywhere, and I took the time to notice my City. The most shocking - in terms of beauty, awe, and what the heck was I thinking not doing this before - was standing at the base of a large building and looking up. I had never in my life looked at a building in that perspective before and it took me aback. Some were virtuosoily symmetrical, while others had interesting variances and bisecting lines and designs. The really high ones blew me away. You could look up and see a base too big to absorb and above you could see the tip vanishing to a pinky. This is the first time I have truly grasped the giganticness of my hometown skyscrapers.

Toblogs photo - Joshua Tree. Three Days and still no Peter. It is so so sad. One of the saddest situations in my life.

My Hero The Shadow

2007-05-03T22:27:00.000-06:00

I fullfilled one of my musical life goals on May 1st 2007. I saw DJ Shadow perform live. It was a real treat, not only because the music was completely mind blowingly wonderful, but it turns out that DJ Shadow (aka Josh Davis) is a really cool, down to earth fellow. Allow me to elaborate.

He walks on stage with the lights still high, house music still pumping. He walks over to his turntables, opens his blue protective case for his cartridges, puts them on the arm himself, and kind of mills around a bit getting things organized. When he came on stage people cheered and cheered and he kept his head down in a shy-like manner and had just an adorable little smile that was as ubiquitous throughout the show as amazing beats and melodies. There was no hype with him. Just before he started playing he had a little heart to heart with the audience about his regrets for not playing SLC earlier, as well as some of his future show plans etc; real personal seeming stuff. He didn't come out with epic intro music; no smoke preceded his entrance, he just walked out, said "hi", and rocked us as best he could, and his best is pretty darn good. It honestly looked like he was having fun - like he was doing this because he really enjoys doing it, not because of image, or money, or fame. I think kids would do well to use Shadow as a role model over, say, Jay-Z.

Devil Went Down To SLC

2007-05-01T19:32:00.000-06:00

I went climbing last weekend up in Little Cottonwood Canyon in Salt Lake City. I was atop the first pitch of our climb belaying the second when I heard a faint fiddle coming down the canyon road. I looked to the West to see what it was. The make of car was unclear from 1,000 ft up, but I am betting on a convertible Chrysler LeBaron, but it was screaming down the canyon blasting The Devil Went Down To Georgia by The Charlie Daniels Band. If you haven't heard this track I highly recommend that you download or at least sample it. It is a classic in wild and crazy fiddle playing. It was totally awesome to hear this obscure beauty go screaming by.

Toblog's photo: 2.5 weeks to Joshua Tree '07 - Peter, Please!!!!

Something Interesting?

2007-04-23T11:47:00.000-06:00

We’ve been talking about Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in my Lit Hist class. We came to the scene where the monster kills Elizabeth, Frankenstein’s wife to be, in her bedroom where she and Frankenstein were meant to consummate their marriage. Our professor was fishing for an analysis that was of a sexual nature, which was fairly interesting. There’s this girl, this girl who says stuff just to say stuff, I mean real off the subject, personal experience type stuff that is just diarrhea of the mouth. The professor is searching for some connection between the ways Frankenstein describes how he felt when he heard Elizabeth scream and, basically, an orgasm. This girl raises her hand and goes on this rant about how Frankenstein was happy that she was dead and that he was more obsessed with his pistol yadda yadda. The jewel is that everyone was thinking of innuendo at the moment, except her, and she kept saying how Frankenstein was more interested in grabbing his pistol or stroking his pistol rather than saving Elizabeth. Well, a few others and I lost it. We just started cracking up as she kept saying how the big monster was able to penetrate Elizabeth’s safety zone and Frankenstein was more interested in his pistol. Good grief she was clueless, but it added hilarity to my day.

Toblog's picture: I am waxing sentimental about Joshua Tree. It might not be the same this year (hint hint Peter).

Who do you think is supreme?

2007-04-18T22:41:00.000-06:00

It's been a while. Sorry.

Today at work there was a heated debate over which superhero deserves the title of "Best Superhero". I felt the choice was obvious with Batman. One group felt that Spiderman was to reign supreme. Yet another felt Superman was indeed "THE" Super Hero. There was a small contingency rooting for Green Lantern, but their power was weak, much like Green Lantern (ooohhh Burn!). Most everyone was arguing against my claim that Batman is the best. I got arguments like "He's just an angst ridden guy with no superpowers" and "If it wasn't for Alfred he would be nothing." Well - Yeah. That's the point of Batman; he is a normal guy who decided to change his life in a drastic way because of the circumstances of his life. He is angst ridden to be sure. That is what makes him a morally compelling superhero. He is constantly battling choosing and bending the lines between what is good and bad, moral and immoral. Superman is always flying straight as an arrow, except in superman III when personality, as it were, is split in two. But even then, he is all bad and all good, no moral gray area.

If it weren't for Alfred, of course he would be nothing. Batman is about the importance of a good friend. Most superheros are alienated in some way; some more than others. Wolverine is a good example of a truly alienated hero. His powers have made him an outcast which in turn makes him angry at the world and disallows him the ability to make good friends. He has been betrayed so many times, it is hard for him to commit to a friendship. What about Spiderman. This superhero has it pretty sweet. Sure "With great power come great responsibility," but if you are looking at the comic books, he eventually marries Mary Jane, he makes pretty good money shooting photos, everything is turning up Peter Parker. He may have his problems here and there, but nothing like Bruce Wayne. He is angry, confused and mostly friendless, except for Alfred, his long-time, loyal friend. This friend is what helps Batman and Bruce Wayne find some sort of balance in life.

Now let's not overlook the awesomeness of Batman being able to beat any bad guy out there with his own, human powered brawn and brain. He doesn't need the Earth's yellow sun to give him power. He worked hard for his strength and agility and studied hard to be smart enough to outsmart the trickiest villain of all - The Riddler.

Superman's powers are cool, Spiderman's powers are cool, but I find the psychological and moral aspects of Batman's character far more compelling. Superman and Spiderman seem so lightweight in comparison to the emotional and mental weight of Batman's story.

Toblog's picture: I was tried to find a picture of my Halloween homage costume to Batman but I don't seem to have a copy. So instead is a nice bum shot of me acting like Batman.

A Day Full of Fun Violence

2007-03-17T20:51:00.000-06:00

I remember in elementary school being very aware of St. Patrick's day. Not only was the one day a year when I was allowed to drink whiskey, but it was a day to wear my best green outfit to avoid being pinched or worse. St. Patty's day was more salient on my mind then was perhaps healthy for a 8-15 year old. I have distinct memories of looking at clothes during the annual school clothes purchase and thinking, "I could use this for St. Patrick's day." This is in August mind you, a good 7 months before the weird day. It was so salient to me that I would make sure I slept with some sort of green whether it was my undies or jammies I made sure I had something green on so I would be immune to pinches the day of. My brothers were terribly ruthless. If you didn't have green on for a second, you were tweaked.

In my later years I got a little bit sassy I suppose. I started wearing green boxer shorts and no visible green on my outer layers. This way, people would pinch me and then I would show them my hidden green and, due to local custom, I would pinch them back-hard.

Now I could care less about St. Patrick's Day. I don't think I wore a single pigment of green today. I don't think grocery stores even care about this fine holiday anymore. I don't remember any special candies or decorations. There might have been some colored projects from elementary students but that is about it.

Next year I'm bringing it back. I am going on a pinching rampage and I am wearing green undies to bed.

Toblog's picture could be Ireland, but is is only the backside of Grandeur Peak in UT.

Balboa 4 Life

2007-03-09T21:50:00.000-07:00

I saw Rocky Balboa tonight with my brother Dan. I thought it was an excellent film, way better than what people gave it credit for. I would like to offer a slight critical analysis if I may so you may see why I think it was so good. It might not be "A" material but hopefully it gets a quick point across.

Sylvester Stallone was honored with an Academy Award for his hand in the creation of Rocky The Motion Picture. This film garnered praise from critics and audiences alike and rightly so. It was a tale of conquering fears, overcoming obstacles and other sports clichés. However there was a human depth that went way beyond boxing. Rocky's character is a little awkward. He seems like an outspoken cool dude, when in fact he is rather clumsy around women and authority. His love interest with Adrian begins rather shakily as rocky is a rather imposing man, but he is just trying to do what is right for her. He asks her to trust him, she does and as a result she becomes Rocky's muse. Everything he does he does it for Adrian; even when he gets a little prideful and blows all his money, (in subsequent films) he does it thinking he is helping Adrian. He is always reminded of his humble beginnings and ends up humbling himself.

Rocky Balboa received mild critical praise, although many laughed it off as a has been actor/director wanting to have one last chance to redeem himself and make a little extra dough. I agree wholeheartedly with this notion, but not the justification; yes a man wanted another chance, but the reasons are different. Rockys II through V were not stellar pictures. They were excellent boxing films and sports films in general, but they lacked a human element that was really crucial to the first film. There was definite examination of the human psyche, especially with the death of Mick, and the battle with Drago the Russian, but there was something missing but that is for a later date.

What was Sylvester Stallone thinking when he made a new Rocky? He is old, he is not a very good actor (so they say), Rocky is of the past; these are all valid to some extent considering his track record. However, Rocky Balboa is about a boxer who is looking for one last chance, not to prove to everyone that he is still the best, but to prove to himself that he is who he is. He needs to release some demons, some unfinished business, in order to let his life be at rest. His muse, Adrian, is dead by the time we catch up with Rocky in this film. He has a successful restaurant, but a kid that feels buried under his Dad's large (figuratively and literally) shadow. He feels mixed up and can't figure out what it is that is making him uneasy. He blames the loss of Adrian for his uneasiness and tries to cope with it by commemorating her at every turn. He then realizes that losing Adrian is not his problem, he has a boxing demon that needs to come out and prove not that he is the greatest, but that he has a true soul, a soul that respects itself. Rocky choosing to fight Dixon is not to prove to anyone he is the greatest, choosing to make this film is not to show that Stallone is the greatest film maker, it is to show that they have a demon, a drive within that needs to be expressed.

Perhaps the reason this film is better than the previous four is because Stallone didn't feel like he had to prove anything this time. He took a more true to self approach, basing everything in the slums of Philly, he wrote it about himself therefore making acting much easier. The introspection into loneliness, anxiety of loosing a legacy and fear of defeat is much more powerful than in the previous movies because the previous movies were made to be James Brown, Hulk Hogan, Mr. T cameoing powerhouse "action" films. This is a drama, much like the first Rocky and because of this, the final boxing match is not an action packed boxing match (although still gripping), it is more of a dramatic, intense battle of humans.

On a personal note, I love all the Rocky's to various degrees for various reasons. This one is going high on the list, but I am not sure how high yet. It was just so full of interesting satires about boxing, pride vs. humility, and modern life that I don't feel like getting into right now because the oven just dinged and I'm wildly excited for my frozen pizza.

One note of importance: I honestly had no idea who was going to win the fight even up to the very end. If that doesn't beat the old Rocky cookie cutter I don't know what does.

Tangy Breads of the World Unite!

2007-03-07T21:50:00.000-07:00

I am going to call a rally for Rye and Pumpernickel Bread. These breads are oft overlooked but provide and exciting and robust alternative to your whites and wheats and even the clichéd sourdough. Give these dark breads a chance. Accept the dark, sour tangy bite of Pumpernickel. Throw some provolone, salami and spicy mustard on there and have yourself a fine sandwich. Rye? Of course there is the classic Reuben, a favorite of Italian Americans the world round. A surprising success however is Swiss cheese piled high, lettuce, tomato, guacamole (that's right), mushrooms, green peppers, pickles and cucumbers with a dash of salt & pepper and oil & balsamic vinegar. This makes for a delightful sandwich.

So lets hear it for the obscure breads. When asked at a restaurant "what kind of bread?" I say break their habits, prompt them to reach for the dark breads of flavor. Better yet, find those sharp yet smooth mustards, those various pickled vegetables, those tart hard cheeses and make yourself a sandwich that will be so robust with flavor, it will end up on your shorts.

A Day of Events

2007-02-28T18:29:00.000-07:00

Today was full of little things that were just not regular things. Started off with a nice slider while riding my bike to school. I ended up spending the rest of the day with muddy pants and jacket (teach me to forgo bringing a change of clothes). After class I went to the Union for food where a homeless man was having a 100% psychotic episode. It was a little on the scary side because I didn't really know what was going to happen next. In spite of that the next irregularity happened when I was able to complete the first bit of dialog for a new project I am working on, again in spite of a girl sitting next to me who was wearing a skirt that barely contained her bosoms. Following that I went to class that was pleasantly redirected to spending the hour in the Museum of Fine Arts. That about sums up the irregularities

Toblog's photo: "Crossroads Mall"

Gulliver Speaks Truth!

2007-02-15T19:54:00.000-07:00

Perhaps Jonathan Swift really has thought of everything to write a satire about. This is about the Yahoos, or primeval antithetical to the Houyhnhnms who are a race of horses who live the Vulcan way. Read: "It is observed that the red-haired of both sexes are more libidinous and mischievous than the rest, whom yet they much exceed in strength and activity." Sounds about right. Gulliver references the old Fire again with reference to a Yahoo who developed a violent crush on him. "neither was the hair of this brute of a red color (which might have been some excuse for an appetite a little irregular)." What did people think of red heads back then? Sure there's the whole Viking thing, but that was passé by the time Gulliver's Travels was written. I don't currently feel persecuted for my read hair, but perhaps me red haired brethren experienced major hardships and persecutions in the 18th century. I should start a society.

Picture: Red Hair In Red Land, Zion National Park in 200Past.

Retirement Time

2007-02-12T23:02:00.000-07:00

Let me begin by apologizing for the novella length posts lately. I haven't been as sharp on it with posting and I guess that makes me a little more long winded than usual.

So the meat: I started volunteering at the Bike Collective, a non profit community bike shop and bike ed place. I go there Mondays from 5 to 9. I also paid work before that from 1 to 5. Problem. Now it is 1 to 4:30. Still a problem. I get very hungry around the 4:30 to 5 range. This problem is easily solved. There is a Taco Time right on the way to the collective. So I high tail it out of Waterford and head to Taco Time. I order a veggie burrito and a small Dr. Pepper. I dump the DP into a nalgene, eat as much of the burrito as I can in 15 minutes, then pack up the remains and head out. That is secondary to the post actually; my long windedness prevails. The main point is that there are an inordinate amount of 65+ singles and couples frequenting Taco Time. Today we're talkin 5 white haired couples, and 3 singles. That is just in the dining area, who knows how many I missed in the drive through (as I was walking out I saw a lovely old woman in her Buick lean far out the window and speak in the most perfect granny voice you can think of, "I'll have the Casita Burrito"). Most of the couples have a little routine too. One will get all of the fixins from the salsa bar while the other fills the drinks. Some rummage through the large stack of complimentary national newspapers (I swear these are there to cater to the geriatric patrons) and sit and read the national news as they eat their Barbacoa enchiladas. I hope I have a cool spot like Taco Time to go to when I am retired and hungry.

p.s. My original post title was Geriatric Tacos until I seriously grossed myself out. Snicker Snicker.

Photo: Me during lunch on the Yurt trip.

The Heat Of February

2007-02-11T15:42:00.000-07:00

I went rock climbing yesterday. This is noteworthy because it is Feb. in SLC, UT. It is normally rather cold this time of year and I would be climbing ice, not rock. Here is an interesting anecdote about ice. One week ago I went snowshoeing with some homies of mine up little cottonwood canyon. On our way up (as with any time I drive up the canyon in winter) I checked out the ice climbs that form in the canyon. They looked fat, blue and solid. I decided it was necessary to climb ice next weekend. Well a major heat wave hit SLC and I spent my lunches outside. The weekend came and I talked to Braden and we decided that it was warm enough for rock, and not cold enough for ice. Sure enough, within one week the ice had turned into milky, air filled, slush, highly unsuitable for safe scaling. Ice. What a fickle thing.
So I went climbing. It was very, very good to get back on rock. I was a little rusty with gear placements but it felt good, I felt good, Brade felt good. We got into a minor epic situation where we rappelled down from a climb but the rope was too short so Braden set up shop on a 5" ledge and I rapped to him. We decided to just sling the rope over said ledge to rappel the rest of the way down to the next solid anchor. This was a little nerve racking because if you lifted to hard in the up direction, the rope would have come off and we would have made it to the bottom very quickly. (Pete, I thank my stars that you were not present. No offense, but I think this would have been very phobia taxing.) It ended up working out great, almost too great; the rope got stuck when we tried to pull it. After 5 min. of Braden practicing his magic rope wave propagation, I decided I needed to climb up and dislodge the rope. I only had to climb up about 10', and there were little cliff trees, but I still had to down climb unprotected. Long story short we made it down safely.
Braden made a good point: It is always fun to have the mock epic situations. These act like little training sessions in case we ever do find ourselves in an epic situation. Good point. I always liked them because they are kind of fun problem solving exercises, I guess that is good training too.

Picture: Climbing. Moab.

Trip Time

2007-01-28T16:14:00.000-07:00

So it's been a little while since I've enlightened the masses with a post, so let's get on with a story about the Yurt trip. Well it will be more like just a quick recount of the situation.

So the ski in to the T.U.N.A. Yurt in the Uintah Mnts, UT (how's that for exposition Shakespeare), was surprisingly long and painful. My groin hurt. I wasn't tired, but my little groing muscles or joints, or ligaments, or according to me ma, glands, just hurt like the dickens. Every step forward was a major sharp pain. But enough of that; on to the yurt.

It was hot. I had to strip to my bare chest in order to prevent myself from passing out from heat stroke. I would have stripped more had there not been mixed company. Eventually-about 3am I was able to put my shirt back on and get in my sleeping bag.

The yurt is lovely. 8 bunks with pre-installed foam pads to sleep on. Darren enjoyed some "mouse mints" under his head the first morning. He opted not to eat the little power pellets; I found his choice prudent.

We skied up a big hill (walking with skis on basically). Then we skied down the big hill. The powder was surprisingly good and I made very nice turns, with the snow accepting me into the turns and then easing me into the next turn. It ended WAY to quickly. Braden only fell a couple of times and made to the bottom safely with sagacious route finding.

The meal that evening consisted of deer sausage (courtesy of Maddy) biscuits, and mashed potatoes and gravy. Truly a meal fit for arctic adventurers. If you haven't had deer sausage, I'm going to recommend that you try it sometime, as well as frying biscuits rather than baking them.

The ski out was very fast and I nearly lost it when the trail got bumpy. My pack jostled and swayed, my skis clicked and clacked, I wabbled and bent, and I said "wh whoa." But by some miraculous miracle, I stayed upright.

That was my short made for TV, condensed book, short attention span trip report for the yurt trip. It was Grand.

Pictures of the post: The traditional power jumping for the camera in front of the yurt and (I know two is unusual, but it had to be done) and the pipe tapping the spring where we got water for drinking. To the left there are a couple of nice, dried cow or other animal pies. That's right, adjacent to our drinking water. So far no raging diarrhea, but I won't relax until I make it past Wednesday.

Hilarity of the Day

2007-01-20T10:13:00.000-07:00

I had two experiences that caused much glee in me the other day.

1. I caught the good ol' faithful number 52 UTA bus to head home from work. I sat in the very back and made myself comfortable for the 20 minute bus ride. Just as I started to wiggle into the comfort nook the bus started bouncing up and down quite violently. I thought we were going over some rough construction repairs or something. Then the greatest bus ride of my life transpired. The bus started oscillating at about 4Hz then I was launched from my seat. I was in the air a good couple of inches. I was on a bizarre roller coaster. I almost hollered out with glee but I didn't want to attract attention to my self. I just bounced with a huge smile on my face, sucking away laughter. One lady a couple of seats in front of me was reading a book and at one of these giant bumps she bounced pretty good, not as good as the back, but her book flew out of her hand and I had to duck down to laugh it out. She looked so displeased with the situation. Then we made it to 15th East which is riddled with speed bumps. That's right, this is where I had my record breaker. I bounced so high I almost stood up. Must have spaced the seat 6 to 8 inches. I will always be a firm believer in the importance of public transportation.

2. While reading "The Disappointment" by Aphra Behn, there is a reference to Priapus. I do not know who or what Priapus is, but thank goodness for glosses. I look down to number 5 and read this: "Phallus. The ancient god Priapus is always pictured with an outstanding erection." I was in the Union, (how come ours isn't called "The Quad") and I laughed. Just picture it, "Outstanding work Priapus, really top notch erection you got going on there."
"Oh thank you sir. I've been working hard on it."
Oh, I'm having a hard time typing. I love literary critics.

Topost's picture is at Buffalo Bill's grave/memorial just outside Denver, CO. Sam on the left, me on the right.

School Daze

2007-01-14T20:02:00.000-07:00

School started. Here are the highlights.

Spanish: Began class with a little get to know you exercise. It was to go like this: you introduce yourself to your partner, they introduce themselves, then you talk about your holiday break a bit. My partner, Katie, begins. It was my turn to speak and what came out of my mouth? You bet it wasn't Spanish; it was French. I guess there was some latent vocab pushing its way out in protest of this Spanish stuff I have been trying to learn. Not a terribly good sign.

Shakespeare: Introductions. We were to go around the class and state our name and which character in which Shakespearean play we would act if we could choose any character. Well, the class is going around pulling out all these obscure characters, chosen for their deceit, or craziness or whatever typical Shakespearean trait the character had. The ball came to me. I froze. My knowledge of Shakespeare is extremely limited compared to these people, who apparently don't even need this class. I thought and I thought and I couldn't think of anyone. So I said "that blind fortuneteller in King Lear, I can't remember his name." "Good," I thought. Well there is no blind fortuneteller in King Lear and I was thinking of Tyreseus in Oedipus Rex (not Shakespeare) and confusing him with the blinded Gloucester. Oh how I went red. I handled it fairly well, laughing it off and sort of covering my choice, but still, not good.

Other Classes: Nothing too eventful yet. Still have 3.5 more dreadful months to go so, there's still time.

Today's photo is the lovely backside of a head whose colors blogger has once again destroyed.

What? So Soon?

2007-01-08T19:24:00.000-07:00

Yes indeed blogger friends; two for the price of one today. It will be short and the picture is stellar isn't it.

Today, at Waterford (my -one of two places of employment- for those of you unfamiliar) I had a shocker. To test the program, the games, activities, and their associated code, they have a testing rack. This consists of 150 or so computers of various sizes and computational capabilities all running "the product" non-stop, playing every possible iteration of a game or whatever, in search of a piece of code that will send it into a spiraling crash of doom (or, as in one case which ended in termination, the search of easter eggs). So these noisemakers are running non-stop and are on my route to the men's room. Today, after enjoying some clear thinking time, I walked back to my desk, enjoying the lovely animations or science facts or counting songs. All of a sudden, Loony Tunes style, I stopped on one foot and looked to my left. I looked a little closer. Sure enough, there was my Dad with my Niece and Nephew learning about food groups, in my Sister's home none the less. I knew my Pa had done some stuff for them, as well as my young and talented Niece and Nephew, but to just see them pop up, it's like seeing a movie star or someone famous. You can't really believe its them, but it is. Kind of Trippy.

So today's picture may not seem stellar to all, but I love the Spiral Jetty so much that any time I can reminisce, I will.

New Year?

2007-01-03T13:04:00.000-07:00

It was incredibly wonderful to hang with friends this holiday who had vanished at the nadir of the summer. Spending entire days with good friends, forgetting that you have 45 children's books worth of audio to cut and clean, that you need to figure out how to have all computers on the network connect to the SQL Server, is something that everyone should do, and should be done more often by me. As I've said perhaps too many times words can never explain my true feelings but I try anyway. The feeling of spending New Year's day, eating, chatting and hangin' was a complete escape. I am ashamed to admit even when I am off enjoying the mountains, a camping trip, a nice drive, there is a constant looming spice in the back of my neck that it poking my taste buds telling me "You have things waiting for you sucka." On New Year's, the spice was abated by the plain yogurt of good friends. I was in the moment, relaxed, and unhindered. This is what friends are meant for I imagine. They are there to take you out of you and expose you to something new, share an insight into politics you may not have recognized, or bug the hell out of you so you can realize they are close enough to you that they can bug the hell out of you. Any time you get a new perspective, a new kick, you become a bit more robust, like getting extra additions to your transformers so they can now turn into a helicopter. So cheers to friends that have lasted the tests of time and distance, to friends who are new and germinating, to friends lost for a period and regained.

The photo is of a sculpture from an art gallery in SLC. The sculptor is Rober Taplin, and the exhibit is called the five planets, but there are no planets. This is one of 5 life size to double life size sculptures of a man. One is opaque the other, is translucent fiber glass lit from the inside. The sculptures were hanging from the ceiling in an otherwise dark room. It is incredible to walk in there and see orange dots in the distance, suspended. I recommend you click the pic and view the larger version. Later.

Farewell James Brown

2006-12-27T08:24:00.000-07:00

James Brown, the father of funk, the 1 and 3, the hardest working man in showbusiness, the mentor to Bootsy, the lover of America, the Black and Proud, died on Monday the 25th of December. This photo is of him performing in July 2006...at age 73. Indeed he was "the hardest working man in showbusiness" as he called himself and he sang it loud and proud until the end. James Brown played in my house (on albums, not live. Think of how cool I would have been if I had James Brown play at my 8th birthday party) when I was a youngster and gave me the appreciation for the "beat" that I love today. I followed him up with Bootsy Collins, George Clinton and Maceo Parker. They all influenced me in my tastes and performances.

So let's all walk a little funky, talk a little funky and do 50 splits in a 3 hour period in honor of the funkiest brother to ever walk the earth.

Here is a little interview on NPR that is pretty good. Give a listen.

Update: I just found out that Gentle Gerald Ford, America's sweetest President died today. Let's all watch some football and eat nachos in remembrance.

Brain Enema

2006-12-15T18:13:00.000-07:00

This picture is what I needed a couple days ago. I was studying for a test and decided that I had had enough and I wanted to take a break. So I turned on the fire (I miss our log fire but the convenience of gas equals the ambience of logs [almost]) and sat there with the intent to read. I ended up sitting there for about an hour and a half just thinking. Not frivolous daydreamingj, fantasizing, etc; this was serious thinking about life, love, and everything. I felt like I was clear in the head for the first time in a long time. Words cannot tell how cleansing it was to have this hour and a half. It felt like my mind let my worries slip away and get burned up in the warm glow of comfort. Thoughts of music became clear, writing ideas flowed like gatorade, a million thoughts coalesced into coherent ideas.

So with this new found meditation (It has been known throughout the ages that fires are mesmerizing and promote meditating, but I have never had anything quite like this) I decided to exploit it a little. I thought, what do I love to do while sitting? Watching movies! So I grabbed my laptop, threw in Back To The Future got myself some tea and sat down in front of the fire. I tell you this right here and now, I have found Nirvana. Movies in front of the fire.

This doesn't promote the deep meditation of just sitting there, but my goodness it promote relaxation. If you ever get the chance, I highly recommend it; with a loved one if you have one would be even more stunning I'm sure.

Mild autism

2006-12-01T19:10:00.000-07:00

So my slight autistic tendencies were stroked today as I noticed something that makes me happy for reasons that make me a little uncomfortable. I saw the first "P" license plate, as in 565 PAA. I have always had some sort of savant thing with license plates. In high school I knew just about every kid's license plate number. I would look at the license plate before the head of the driver in search of recognition if I saw a familiar looking car. It is a weird obsession I have, I just notice license plates. Braden: UDN (I mostly only remember the letters, that is a part of my autisim) Sam: 402 HBJ (the letters stuck on that one) Darren: WCL, Pete: NXN, Naysahn: CVN, Jon: DRK, Lauren: JUM, Seth: LBS, Joelle: LXN I could go on and on.
The P license plate struck me more than usual for a noticing of the changing of main letter (I usually get very excited and smile a lot and tell people all about how I saw the new license letter as they give sympaythy "Great"'s ). They skipped "O". They went from the Pete generation of N and went straight to P. They also skipped M, I and I think B. The Dept. of transportation seems to have somethig up their sleeve. That makes four seemingly unrelated letters left out of the license plate rotation. Why skip these letters? The mystery is enough to warrant some research. This troubles me more than you may think (I am severly troubled right now because I can't remember Erica's license plate and I wanted to list it above. This is really frustrating me to an alarming degree. Erica, if you read this, email me your license plate #).
But all said and done, I am just excited to see P driving around.
The photo today is the first picture I took with my new camera, which I am terribly excited about.

Kittys, cars, and asynchronization

2006-11-29T19:57:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went to the "Cross Talk Series" performance at the University of Utah. This concert involves students from the U as well as BYU, who are in the computer music composition class. I can't believe how lousy it was.
There were a few neat ones like the kid who hooked some sort of sensing electrode thingy up to his chest and his breathing controlled the sounds being synthesized. That was cool. Most of the entrants from the U had some sort of picture collage thing controlled via MAX/MSP which is a synthesis tool. Why they use it to control pictures I will never know. The pictures are very pixelated, the motion is choppy and well lets just say some people could have been nabbed for copyright infringements. Most of the pictures were just lame landscapes or pseudo thought provoking dribble. A pixelated mess that is supposedly a photo would show on the screen. Then it would jerk to a zoom in setting, click, wait, click, wait. Then some weird pixelly filter would be put on it, then it would jump to another photo of shoes. Seriously, one was a bunch of different shoes and a cat. There was one that had a bunch of nebula photos and star photos and the like and there was this point when a galaxy photo started slowly rotating and falling away and I had a hard time not makeing my laughter audible. It was so bad, there is no way to say how bad it was. Check out this video and it will give you a hint at the quality, except this might be better.
The music was actually of a higher caliber than years past for the most part; still some pretty bad stuff came out.
So it is not that the images sucked or the little spell check and grammar check squiggles showed on the power point of visuals, it is that the performers seemed to not care. It makes me ill to my stomach seeing this stuff performed. How could they not notice that the photos look like crap and are jerky as they move about? How could they not notice that the squiggles were showing. It seems if they looked outside of their cave for maybe half a day they would realize that writing a piece intended for visuals needs some sort of compelling visual element. The composers get stuck on the idea of having to make some musical "masterpiece" full of interesting sounds and hoaky gimicks for composition, and they forget to LOOK at what they are doing. Open your eyes please (and some need to open their ears). If you are making me laugh uncontrolably at your work, something is wrong. If you want to use photos that meld and are altered and whatnot, excellent. Don't use MAX/MSP to do it though. Five minutes with iMovie and you could have something infinitely better.
I am just ranting about close-mindedness. I will stop.
The photo of the post is something beautiful from the Uintahs to break up my frustration with close-minded crumb bumbs.
p.s. Pete I think I saw your mate Paul Jacobsen at the event. Not entirely sure it was him, but pretty sure.

The mysteries of Utah

2006-11-27T20:53:00.000-07:00

I went on a little trip this last Friday and Saturday. I went to the San Rafael Swell (Spelled like the Ninja Turtle but pronounced like the Egyptian Sun God toppling) to do some hiking with my mate Braden. We explored some sandstone canyons and came away satisfied and fulfilled.
The first day we hiked a short hike and went to these two caves, one of which had a skylight arch cleverly named skylight arch. It was really a fascinating place to go and be away from "Stuff." It was cool but not cold, the sun was low, and the sky was blue, the color of deep blue with a hint of yellow that only the Swell gets. It was nice.
The next day we went on a much longer hike that took us through some very narrow narrows indeed. The canyons were gorgeously sculpted by years of erosion into swooping, sweeping designs of nature. Words do no justice. Check these pictures to to see for yourself. I will (and plan) to go back many many times to explore further reaches of this vast geological wonder. As we hiked, it felt like time stood still. Before we knew it we were at the top of the canyon, ready to head down the other side of the loop. This meant we had hiked roughly 4 miles; both of us agreed we felt like it was maybe a mile. This place does weird things to a man.
I ate leftover thanksgiving dinner for my camping meal on Friday night. I just mixed stuffing, potatoes, gravy, turkey, and goopy string beans and cooked them over my stove (the yams were separate because I like it that way thank you very much). What a camping treat. That is all for now.
Picture is from the trip of course. Little wild horse canyon. Not the skinniest section but the most sensuous.

I so smart

2006-11-22T10:34:00.000-07:00

This is my first post in the field. I decided to bring my laptop to school because one of my classes was canceled. Instead of doing homework, this is what I am doing; but it is in response to homework.

When is metaphor too much metaphor? Is it possible to use too much metaphor? This reporter asserts that it is possible to overdue metaphor. This is in specific response to John Milton's Paradise lost, which I am currently reading for a class, but can be seen in countless other epic poems, poems in general, conceited books etc. In paradise lost, the use of metaphor interferes with the idea that the metaphor is trying to present. Satan's dominions, as they assert different strategies to battle heavan, take 300 lines to say "let's take them directly, who cares if we lose, we are already dead and in Hell. Can't get much worse than this."
Sure the metaphors (I'm not even going to bother sharing some because they are too long to even right,) add interesting depth to the characters and insight to the general tone of the situation, but after about 100 lines of deep intertwining metaphor the meaning is lost in obscurity. Once the punch line is reached, the beginning is lost so you ahve to go back and reread the whole convoluted mess again. At what point does the metaphor go too far? when the meaning has become lost in words.
This over-doing of the academic is not unique to epic literature; music is a major culprit as well. The idea behind a lot of music being written in colleges these days is to make it as complex as possible and basically take the human element of music out (they do not think this explicitly but it is the result of their conceits). The composers are making music for other composers, basically preaching to the choir. The only other people who enjoy the music, or at the very least understand the music are other composers doing similarly "academic" things. This is the same with these pieces of literature. Milton constructs these eleaborate metaphors to prove his writing prwess, not needing "the jingling sound of like endings," to show he is a good poet. What is more effective; 1,000 academics reading your work and praising for its technical excellence, or 1,000,000 everyday people reading your work and having their lives changed, minds altered, posititions altered even if only a mm?

Today's photo is me thinking very hard about this subject.

Potty Break

2006-11-21T21:12:00.000-07:00

So today, I had to see a man about a tree after my Spanish class. Mi Compañero de clase went in a few seconds before I did (He was unzipped and straddling a urinal just as I walked in). I walked over to a urinal two urinals away. This was in the OSH building and if you are unaware of the OSH men's bathroom situation, the walls are lined with urinals with no dividers. This is a highly uncomfortable situation. So I walk over to my urinal and wait. I wait. He waits. No sounds yet. I wait some more. He waits some more. We are the only two occupants of this restroom. We wait some more. "Greg you're giving me stage fright dude. I'm going over here," he says as he walks to some urinals lining another wall, still grasping his special purpose. I was laughing very hard at this point which was not helping the urination situation. I wait a little longer. He waits a little longer...then Yesss!! I begin. Shortly thereafter I hear him start to trickle. It was a major battle but through Perserverance we conquered our fears. I don't know if I'll be able to look at him in the eye tomorrow.
Second bit of potty humor related stuff: In my linguistics class there are a good number of people. It is held in a medium sized room filled half to capacity. I generally sit mid-back; I experimented with alternate placements but this is where I felt comfortable. For the past three weeks someone has had a small leak in their bum-hole. Every five minutes or so a very unpleasant smell creeps into my nose. These are not brush it off, not so bad, move on farts; these are old, stale, musty, dusty, thick, cling to your clothes farts. It is creating an unbearable learning environment. I thought I narrowed down who it was so I moved. Simple. But the bastard decided to move also, right behind me. So the next day I moved again. Again, within a very near proximity. Well this is becoming unbearable, and I think this fellow has it out for me. Even today I was unable to shake the The Fartinator, and I think I am starting to forget stuff. I am going to try a drastically different position next Tuesday and see what happens.

Today's picture of the post is of course potty themed: it is a potty (The wooden shack on the right). This is the potty at the saddle of the Grand Teton. You have to pack out your poop (eeeewwwwww) so they made a convenient method for pooping in a bag. You wrap this special bag (that comes equipped with toilet paper and a moist towelette) around the rim of the throne and go to it. Then you seal it up and put it in your pack next to your bagels. I must say however, that this was the 100% most scenic office work I have ever done.

Slip of the Brain

2006-11-17T18:40:00.000-07:00

Today as I was driving to work I saw a truck with a license plate that read "JROTC." I got to thinking about what ROTC meant. I have heard it since high school at least and quite probably even before then. I have no idea what it means acronymically (I know what it means figuratively; the whole military preparation situation.) So I thought who could I ask? My Dad was in the ROTC, I'll just ask him when I get home. As many of you know this is a ridiculous sentiment as my Dad died 7 years ago. This is one of those strange, rare times when I fully realize that I do indeed miss my Dad, that he is still on my mind, even if it is only subconscious slips. I don't think I can type how weird it felt to think to ask my Dad something, and then realize that I haven't asked him something for quite some time. Still, I sit here thinking about it, wanting to write more to try and flesh out my ideas, but there is no way to fully verbalize how it makes me feel. It is almost like it is an inconvenience that he is gone, I can't ask his advice. That is getting sort of close.
Today's picture is a picture of my Dad, In memorium I suppose.
Well, Check back later for the picture because blogger is being a bogger and won't let me upload the photo for some reason. Maybe tomorrow. Thanks.
Yeah! It worked.

Dreams with everyone

2006-11-13T21:42:00.000-07:00

Would you look at that; two days in a row.
Last night I had a dream that started everybody in my life that I don't know but am very aware of. To clarify: There are certain people in school, public transit, work, life, etc who I take a keen awareness of for no particular reason. I become very interested in this person(s) and observe them whenever we are near. I rarely get to know these people because it is just hard for me to approach people, so they remain faces with personalities only exposited by their actions. A weird thing about this is that I will see these people all over town in different settings than my normal observation setting. I never know if I should nod a hello. Is it possible they observe me as well?
So this dream was like a theatrical exposition of these various members of my karass. The setting was my elementary school playground (note: I have a remarkable number of dreams whose setting is my elementary school playground, but it is always a way cooler playground than it really is.) and all these loosly associated people were walking around doing "things." I can't remember what it all was, but some were in swim trunks doing tricks with blocks of wood, some were riding unicycles, some were just wandering around as far as I can remember.
Perhaps this dream is telling me that I am creepy and I should stop observing (stalking?) people in my classes and on the bus.
I chose this post's photo because Peter pulled out his finest male model pose just for this occasion, while the other two of us are not exactly at our prime. What a sweety.

Oh to be relaxed forever

2006-11-12T22:19:00.002-07:00

So in contrast to my whining post about not having enough time to do any extracurricular activites (I may have exaggerated a little) I will tell the tale of my trip to Moab, UT from 11/3 to 11/5. Maybe I will just highlight the good stuff. We got down to our campsite friday late so we didn't do any outdoor playing that night.
Friday Morning we packed up the gear and went to Klondike Bluffs to do some biking. It was an excellent ride. A mix of sand, dirt, slickrock, whoopty doos, hills, drops, and fun. It takes you to the back side of Arches Nat'l Park and you can hike in (without paying, truly amazing) and check out the backside (snicker) of Arches.
After that we headed down the Potash road to Wall Street where we did some climbing. It was some good old sandstone crack climbing fun. We met some fellows from Switzerland (who I thought were speaking French, but others said they speak German [or Swiss-German] in Switzerland. Any clarification?) They took a month off from work to climb and ski in UT. What a wonderful thing it is that people take time off from Switzerland to come to Utah.
We packed up and went to Pasta Jay's for some delicious pasta. I had Tortellone that was soooo good. It may not have been THAT good but I was incredibly starving and it made me very, very happy. Joelle (friend of friend who I went with) got a creamy pesto with tortellone and chicken that really was out of this world. I have never had a creamy pesto.
We thought about going to the Moab Folk Festival until we found out it was $30.00 US. Are you crazy Moab Folk Festival? I'm not paying $30.00 to see some guy with a guitar sing about his troubles.
So we went back to camp. I sat and looked at the fire while others read or conversed.
We went to bed.
We woke up (although Kristen [friend who I new] slept for like an hour after everyone else was up.) and then we headed out.

Let me just say that the importance of this trip is beyond words. I rarely feel so rejuvinated after a trip. I came back 100% relaxed with a new outlook on life, school and everything. I felt like I took a shower for the first time in months. Why can't it last forever?
p.s. I didn't have my camera during our action outings so I am posting one of my artsy fartsy photos from camp.

I've been kicked in the behind to get going

2006-11-07T20:15:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Peter's little subtle yet effective kick in the pants, I am back on the blog bandwagon. (It may seem I was never on the wagon in the first place. I think I was trying to catch the wagon as it sped off into the dusty distance). So to kick off my rejuvinated blogging spirit, I feel it appropriate to explain my absence. I began this blog to keep as a sketch pad and a document of life's happenings as many people do. The genesis of my blog was a few days before the school year started and I had a few hours of unscripted free time every day that I felt I could devote to writing in a nice blog for my homies and homettes. It turns out when I started school, my few hours of unscripted time became a negative few hours of unscripted time. I'm not kidding here folks, I had so little time that showers seemed like a major chunk of down time. This isn't "Oh I'm so busy, I can only watch one episode of Lost tonight and then talk to my girlfriend on the phone for an hour and then I have to do two math problems." Boo Freakin' Hoo I say. I have had no time for any Greg time. Weekends have become particularly sweet however. Every movie seen seems like an Oscar winner, every meal so succulent I feel like dying, every second spent with good friends a relief from the pains of constant cognitive load (remind me to tell you about my Moab trip last weekend).
I exagerate a little, perhaps adding a little drama to the play; but not really. I had one thing that was extracurricular that contributed to my lack of blog writing. I began a little something I like to call the "Daily Dose". My friend Sam, his brother and father Dan and John, and I took advise from Bradbury and made a pact to create some sort of creative work every day. Each of us had our own limits. Mine, at least a page of creative or essayic writing. Sam, Compose something, like 15 sec. was his limit. Dan, Visual art of some sort whether it be gessoing a canvas or sketching or taking lovely pictures. John, pretty much anything but he is a writer.
So I have taken about an hour or two to work on these creative endeavors. Sorry to all my (one) blog enthusiasts. I will now sacrifice my showers so that I can write a little something here, something un-selfconscious.
And as promised, a picture of one of my most favorite places on earth, The Spiral Jetty

The Story of The Stories

2006-08-20T22:30:00.000-06:00

So, I've done it. I've gone and joined the ranks of Mike Doughty, Peter Romney and Harvey Sally; I've created a blog. My reasons for starting this little blog are two-fold:

I would say 70%-75% of my friends, whom I would consider good, hang out anytime friends, have moved away this year. Hopefully I will be able to keep all friends apprised of what I am doing and experiencing in hopes of the returned favor.
A scratch pad. Ideas that I want others to read for no other purpose than to just read and think about. Or maybe if I saw something funny happen or whatever "on my mind" types of things I come up with (not everyday like trip reports and what happened at school and stuff. Serious post #1 may be in relation to such blogging).

So that is my rationale for this little endeavor. I hope to accompany every post with a picture for the sake of pleasantness. (relevant to the post is ideal but not a pre-requisite). So let's start off today's with a nice pleasant pic from the saddle of Grand Teton in Jackson WY.