Observation:
The reason this is updated so poorly today (and hasn't been updated very recently) is that I spent the entire day today playing Magic: The Gathering. For anyone who doesn't know, this was a rather fun and, dare I say, important activity for me through high school. I haven't played since then, except for some very casual games in the dorms once or twice. It was excellent to go back. It is as addictive as ever. My observation, though, concerns what I call the world of Magic. Yes, it has a fantasy setting, but no, that's not what I'm referring to. What I'm talking about is what occurs when you walk into a shop. An instant change sweeps over you. Females no longer exist, for one thing. It is all men. Correction: it is all overweight, rather unattractive men with too much time and or money on their hands, engaging in banter and name-calling. And it is awesome. If you're prepared for the environment and can jump in and shoot the bull with the guys, you can spend (as I found out) twelve hours in this world without noticing.
And another thing. The people haven't changed. It's the same core group of guys that was there when I stopped, they all still play similarly, and the hierarchy is undisturbed. Perhaps the most amusing thing was the fact that not even the music had changed. I don't know what radio station they have coming in, but it's the same song selection to the point that, while I don't like the songs (and actively dislike many of them), I know all the lyrics. I don't even realize I know all the lyrics until I catch myself anticipating the next line. It's crazy. And for that reason, the fact that I was sucked into another world (a la Alice, but a bit more voluntarily) I don't have a full-fledged post for you today. But I had a great time. My next post will talk about some more cycling stuff and will hopefully have the creative components I don't have the time or energy to include here. Thanks so much for bearing with me.
Me:
Saturday dawned, and we packed up the tent. The plan was to hike in the Needles area of Canyonlands and maybe go to Arches if there was time. However, it turns out that Canyonlands is awkwardly huge, and we were on the wrong side of it, making it way easier to go to Arches for the day. At the entrance we bought an annual pass for the national parks, knowing we would go through enough on this trip alone to make it worth the eighty dollars. We went straight to the northern end of the park and started hiking. We hit all the major arches, and I realized that these rock formations are much less interesting the third time you see them. I think it has something to do with the fact that they are so individual that you remember each of them perfectly, making revisiting something a bit droll. And there are only so many ways you can see them. The vantage points are the same every time, and as an obvious result, the view is identical to every photo ever taken of them. So while this park was one of my favorites, it has lost a bit of its magic.
We hiked the Devil's Garden trail and the Delicate Arch trail, drove through the sights around the southern end of the park, and realized that there wasn't really anything else to do while we were there. And Rebecca had looked up a swimming hole near Moab she wanted to go to, so after tracking down some allergy medication for some odd symptoms she was experiencing, we made our way to Mill Creek. As we were pulling in, so was an ambulance. And a firetruck. And some police cars. I was unsure that this was the place to be at the moment, but we were blocked in by the emergency vehicles, so we headed up the trail. The path ran along the creek for a couple of miles before heading into the water. It was moving pretty fast, so we crossed and headed up a left fork (as was described by the internet as the way to the swimming area). Along the way we found a deeper, slow section, and Rebecca took full advantage to combat the heat. Eventually we pressed on a bit and found the spot we were looking for. I could keep writing, but it's probably easier to show this video of Rebecca jumping in (note that she is not the first person we see plummeting from above).
Unbeknownst to me, there were many people on top of the cliffs. Not wanting to go back up amongst the crowd, Rebecca decided we could go. I, having no interest in jumping or getting wet in general, thought that sounded fine. We made it back to the car and got some ice cream from a store that appeared on my phone as Kaleidoscoops. Unfortunately, that was not the name of the establishment when we arrived, but they did have ice cream, so we got some anyway, despite the disappointment brought on by the less-awesome name. We looked at a map for a while and departed, heading for the Needles District of Canyonlands, and more specifically, a campground just outside it called Hamburger Rock. It was a pretty long drive in, but luckily it was also a pretty, long drive in. The branching canyons and sunset-lit rock formations looked nice, and we were hoping vigorously that one of the six spots advertised at the campground would be open. So eager were we to find the campground that we drove past the entrance, turning instead into the Needles Outpost campground. This turned out perfectly, as things sometimes seem to for me. You see, we had really hoped to have our first campfire, but it turns out that particular dream required some firewood. Needles Outpost had some, making us happy, but still anxious to find the campground for which we had set out.
When we came to the park entrance we knew for sure we had gone too far. We turned around and drove back the way we had come, looking at the odometer to estimate where the turn should be. Of course, the turn was labeled from the other direction. It wasn't really our fault for missing it after all, since there wasn't any sign from the direction we had originally traveled. We made the turn, and when the pavement turned to gravel, I started apologizing to my car. It was worse than the normal washboard-style backroads usually encountered out west. There were huge rocks jutting up through the road's surface, threatening to rip out the underside of my car, and the disparity in elevations caused my vehicle to pitch and roll with every section.
Having made it to the campsites, we quickly ascertained that we were the first ones there. And since it was already getting dark, it seemed like we were destined to have it all to ourselves. Which was awesome at first. The campsites are situated inside rock formations, and it was beautiful. I made the fire (much to the surprise of my companion, who seemed to have some doubts as to my ability to accomplish this feat), and we ate some hotdogs and s'mores. It was at this point I made an excellent discovery. See, the chocolate "bars" we had taken along were no longer really worthy of the term. They were packets of liquid. After opening one and attempting to scoop the chocolate onto the mushy mass (and having it run all over everything in the process), I realized they could just be treated as giant condiment packets. I ripped the corner open and squeezed. Dare I say genius? It worked brilliantly, and we enjoyed quite a few delectable delights.
Then the fact that we were alone in the middle of nowhere set in. It didn't matter too much obviously, but I couldn't help having it run through my mind that were we to be beset by something (a bear? I don't know), we would have no help. If it's true there is safety in numbers, we were not very safe. So I slept a bit nervously. One idea I had was keeping the car key readily accessible so I could hit the alarm button in an attempt to scare away anything that seemed out of place. Of course, nothing like that happened the entire trip, but it reassured me to have a contingency plan (albeit an untested, perhaps ineffective one).
July 16, 2011
July 14, 2011
Vacation begins with poetry edits and religious surprises
Poem:
See exercise. Convenient, right?
Observation:
One of the most surprising moments of my life occurred when I was talking to my mom about religion. I was talking about my atheism, and she said something that caught me so off guard all I could do was let out a puff of air somewhere between a laugh and a cough. She said not believing in God was like taking the easy way out. And looking at it with some degree of separation, I can see where that idea comes from. If faith is defined as believing in something without absolute proof, it probably does seem like having faith is a challenge. According to some philosophers, the only thing that makes faith worth having at all is the fact that it is constantly challenged and returned to (Kierkegaard). So not believing would be seen as giving up the challenge, or taking the easy road. Now let me explain why I chuffed out the air I did.
I am terrified of dying. As an atheist, there is no reassurance available to me. I look at my life, realize it's going to end all too soon (yeah, I'm in my twenties; it's still too soon), and instead of thinking "Hey, things are going to be awesome in the afterlife," I get to think "Well, I guess that's going to suck." And the best part is, it's indescribable just how much it's going to suck. Because it's not like there's anything to which it can compare. It's just an end. A really depressing blackness (I guess? It's probably not blackness, since I won't exist to perceive blackness) that concludes my being. So I looked back at my mom and said "What!? I wish I believed in God. You know how much better I would feel 'knowing' this wasn't the only thing there was to being me?" I won't go into the reasons I have for my atheism. They're pretty basic, and yet so convincing I am completely confused by people with faith. But at the same time, I am envious. Oh my am I envious. To be reassured, to actually fall asleep at night, to not randomly realize in the middle of a perfectly normal activity that my life is inexorably proceeding to termination. Those are things to be envious of. So when my mom said I was taking the easy way out, I chuffed. I lost control of my breathing momentarily because I had never even considered that someone might think of it that way. Because trust me, it's not easy from where I'm sitting.
Exercise:
Pick a poem, story, or blog post that you’ve written. Go through and get rid of words and phrases that aren’t absolutely necessary. Then go through it again, reconnecting everything and rearranging the words that remain so they are compelling. See how short you’re willing to go.
Original:
Undistracted
The stillness vibrates
Soundless air too empty
To remain still.
The thunder of eyelashes
Colliding in blackness
Echoes in my empty mind
As dim lights gleam
Off metal scraps
And mentality alternates
Between throbbing foreground
And backgrounded thoughts.
My heart announces itself
In my eardrums
Steadily increasing its pace
As reality shrinks in,
Glinting metal melding into
White walls, replacing pictures
With shadowed shapes
Unbearable
Headphones convey life's soundtrack
Drowning out my mortal heart
With unsteady beats of bass
Intangibility replaces
Real walls and shining splinters
Sheltering my mind
From the void of closed eyes.
Words removed:
Undistracted
Stillness vibrates
Soundless air empty
remain still
thunder eyelashes
Colliding in blackness
echo my empty mind.
Dim lights gleam
Off metal scraps
And alternates
throbbing foreground
backgrounded thoughts.
My heart announces
my eardrums
increasing pace
As reality shrinks,
Glinting metal melding
White walls
Unbearable
Headphones life's soundtrack
Drowning my heart
With unsteady bass
Intangibility replaces
Real walls shining splinters
Sheltering my mind
From the void of closed eyes.
Revised version (trimmed more):
Empty air vibrates
soundless waves.
Thunderous eyelashes
collide in blackness.
Dim light gleams
off metal scraps.
Alternate:
throbbing foreground,
backgrounded thoughts.
Heart in eardrums
faster
as reality shrinks
to glinting metal,
white walls,
unbearable.
Headphones:
life's soundtrack
drowning my heart
in unsteady bass,
both thumping.
Walls and shining splinters
shelter my mind
from the void of closed eyes.
Me:
Now that I have finished talking about the second half of the trip I took, I suppose it's time to hit upon some of the other things we did on our vacation. And yes, this means I don't have anything better to talk about. My life is so uninteresting that I have to relive my vacation from weeks ago rather than try to come up with something worthwhile from my current mundane existence. (All I'm doing is biking, eating, sleeping, and occasionally working.) Anyway, I guess I'll go all the way back to the beginning. We left on a Friday morning to drive and begin seeing things Saturday. We had been hoping to leave Thursday night and maybe be able to see something Friday, but I had a time trial to ride (and get destroyed at by my teammate Kevin, who is crazy fast even without aero equipment), so we delayed a bit. And then Rebecca slept straight through her alarm, so we delayed a bit more (no big deal, it was just funny to surprise her in the morning with an "I'm outside, you ready?" and hear a very sleepy "Uh?" in response). So then we drove. And that's about that until we got to Denver, at which point Rebecca found mountains. Now, I've been around a lot of mountains, and I guess their effect has worn off somewhat, but Rebecca's camera made an immediate appearance. To be honest, I didn't know just how many pictures she had taken until we got back. It turns out that for every time I saw her take a picture (which was plenty), she had actually snuck in like five more. The driving was fun, though, and it was great to see her so excited.
Then we saw something unexpected: there were bikes on the side of the road. On a bike path near the road, it appeared. We saw them a couple more times, and, intrigued, we stopped in Vail just down the road and backtracked to find where they were coming from with some assistance from my iPhone. It turns out there is a trail leading up the mountain pass from Vail, and that it is incredibly easy to find from the highway. There was a parking area next to the road, so I broke out the bike I had taken along and started off (albeit with no water). Just up the road a barricade was across preventing cars from going any further. This was awesome! I had the entire road to myself, and then it turned off onto a bike path which was immediately scenic. Here is a video I took (I hope):
I made it to the top (or where I saw the bikes in the first place, perhaps not the top of the trail), and stopped to enjoy both the view and the bathrooms I found conveniently placed there. And snapped this photo:
It had taken me the better part of an hour to make my way slowly to the point I considered the top. It took about fifteen minutes to get back down. It was pretty fun coasting along, but when I did need to pedal after about ten minutes of coasting, my legs protested slightly. Apparently they had gotten too used to the good life and thought everywhere should be downhill from everywhere else. I can't say I disagree. That would be neat.
I rejoined Rebecca, who had hiked up a convenient trail while I was riding, and we resumed driving, pulling into a campground near Canyonlands National Park late that night. We set up the tent and went to sleep, ready to begin our vacation in earnest the next day.
See exercise. Convenient, right?
Observation:
One of the most surprising moments of my life occurred when I was talking to my mom about religion. I was talking about my atheism, and she said something that caught me so off guard all I could do was let out a puff of air somewhere between a laugh and a cough. She said not believing in God was like taking the easy way out. And looking at it with some degree of separation, I can see where that idea comes from. If faith is defined as believing in something without absolute proof, it probably does seem like having faith is a challenge. According to some philosophers, the only thing that makes faith worth having at all is the fact that it is constantly challenged and returned to (Kierkegaard). So not believing would be seen as giving up the challenge, or taking the easy road. Now let me explain why I chuffed out the air I did.
I am terrified of dying. As an atheist, there is no reassurance available to me. I look at my life, realize it's going to end all too soon (yeah, I'm in my twenties; it's still too soon), and instead of thinking "Hey, things are going to be awesome in the afterlife," I get to think "Well, I guess that's going to suck." And the best part is, it's indescribable just how much it's going to suck. Because it's not like there's anything to which it can compare. It's just an end. A really depressing blackness (I guess? It's probably not blackness, since I won't exist to perceive blackness) that concludes my being. So I looked back at my mom and said "What!? I wish I believed in God. You know how much better I would feel 'knowing' this wasn't the only thing there was to being me?" I won't go into the reasons I have for my atheism. They're pretty basic, and yet so convincing I am completely confused by people with faith. But at the same time, I am envious. Oh my am I envious. To be reassured, to actually fall asleep at night, to not randomly realize in the middle of a perfectly normal activity that my life is inexorably proceeding to termination. Those are things to be envious of. So when my mom said I was taking the easy way out, I chuffed. I lost control of my breathing momentarily because I had never even considered that someone might think of it that way. Because trust me, it's not easy from where I'm sitting.
Exercise:
Pick a poem, story, or blog post that you’ve written. Go through and get rid of words and phrases that aren’t absolutely necessary. Then go through it again, reconnecting everything and rearranging the words that remain so they are compelling. See how short you’re willing to go.
Original:
Undistracted
The stillness vibrates
Soundless air too empty
To remain still.
The thunder of eyelashes
Colliding in blackness
Echoes in my empty mind
As dim lights gleam
Off metal scraps
And mentality alternates
Between throbbing foreground
And backgrounded thoughts.
My heart announces itself
In my eardrums
Steadily increasing its pace
As reality shrinks in,
Glinting metal melding into
White walls, replacing pictures
With shadowed shapes
Unbearable
Headphones convey life's soundtrack
Drowning out my mortal heart
With unsteady beats of bass
Intangibility replaces
Real walls and shining splinters
Sheltering my mind
From the void of closed eyes.
Words removed:
Undistracted
Stillness vibrates
Soundless air empty
remain still
thunder eyelashes
Colliding in blackness
echo my empty mind.
Dim lights gleam
Off metal scraps
And alternates
throbbing foreground
backgrounded thoughts.
My heart announces
my eardrums
increasing pace
As reality shrinks,
Glinting metal melding
White walls
Unbearable
Headphones life's soundtrack
Drowning my heart
With unsteady bass
Intangibility replaces
Real walls shining splinters
Sheltering my mind
From the void of closed eyes.
Revised version (trimmed more):
Empty air vibrates
soundless waves.
Thunderous eyelashes
collide in blackness.
Dim light gleams
off metal scraps.
Alternate:
throbbing foreground,
backgrounded thoughts.
Heart in eardrums
faster
as reality shrinks
to glinting metal,
white walls,
unbearable.
Headphones:
life's soundtrack
drowning my heart
in unsteady bass,
both thumping.
Walls and shining splinters
shelter my mind
from the void of closed eyes.
Me:
Now that I have finished talking about the second half of the trip I took, I suppose it's time to hit upon some of the other things we did on our vacation. And yes, this means I don't have anything better to talk about. My life is so uninteresting that I have to relive my vacation from weeks ago rather than try to come up with something worthwhile from my current mundane existence. (All I'm doing is biking, eating, sleeping, and occasionally working.) Anyway, I guess I'll go all the way back to the beginning. We left on a Friday morning to drive and begin seeing things Saturday. We had been hoping to leave Thursday night and maybe be able to see something Friday, but I had a time trial to ride (and get destroyed at by my teammate Kevin, who is crazy fast even without aero equipment), so we delayed a bit. And then Rebecca slept straight through her alarm, so we delayed a bit more (no big deal, it was just funny to surprise her in the morning with an "I'm outside, you ready?" and hear a very sleepy "Uh?" in response). So then we drove. And that's about that until we got to Denver, at which point Rebecca found mountains. Now, I've been around a lot of mountains, and I guess their effect has worn off somewhat, but Rebecca's camera made an immediate appearance. To be honest, I didn't know just how many pictures she had taken until we got back. It turns out that for every time I saw her take a picture (which was plenty), she had actually snuck in like five more. The driving was fun, though, and it was great to see her so excited.
Then we saw something unexpected: there were bikes on the side of the road. On a bike path near the road, it appeared. We saw them a couple more times, and, intrigued, we stopped in Vail just down the road and backtracked to find where they were coming from with some assistance from my iPhone. It turns out there is a trail leading up the mountain pass from Vail, and that it is incredibly easy to find from the highway. There was a parking area next to the road, so I broke out the bike I had taken along and started off (albeit with no water). Just up the road a barricade was across preventing cars from going any further. This was awesome! I had the entire road to myself, and then it turned off onto a bike path which was immediately scenic. Here is a video I took (I hope):
I made it to the top (or where I saw the bikes in the first place, perhaps not the top of the trail), and stopped to enjoy both the view and the bathrooms I found conveniently placed there. And snapped this photo:
I rejoined Rebecca, who had hiked up a convenient trail while I was riding, and we resumed driving, pulling into a campground near Canyonlands National Park late that night. We set up the tent and went to sleep, ready to begin our vacation in earnest the next day.
July 12, 2011
In conclusion: Ants are losers
Beneath Us
The firewood swarms solid
fire-red with ants drawn to dead
fish heads on spines pitched
into the pit, heads on pikes
to warn others: Beware
of bait. An endless swarm
of passers-by heed no warning,
for there is safety in numbers,
and if that's true
they are safe everywhere
from everything.
We are walking on their nest
building on their homes
and stepping on their children
as they march single file
(in so many files)
which is lucky
for if they marched en masse
we'd be swept away
the ground alive
and carrying us down
into the pit
our skulls on our spines.
Poem:
Ants are creepy. There are way too many ants. So creepy.
Observation:
Iowa is flat. Yup, this is another observation based on a bike race. Luckily, most of the time Iowa is windy, which adds some resistance and something to work with during a race. Unfortunately, neither hills nor wind were present on the course I rode yesterday, which meant it was really boring. I had resigned myself to a sprint finish, something I haven't ever been eager to do, and so something I have never really done before. Surprisingly enough, I wound up in perfect position during the run-in to the finish line, and then I had the great idea of botching the whole thing up. I swung out of the draft to come around the guy in front of me, looked up and realized I had way further to the finish than I thought. Exactly as this was happening the rest of the field opened the spring, and all I had time for was to think "Darn" as they all came by me. And that was that. Forty-something miles of racing and nothing to show for it but a ruined sprint.
Exercise:
Take an Aesop's fable--- for example, "The Tortoise and the Hare" ; "The Ant and Grasshopper"; "Frogs Desiring a King"--- and change the animals and/or the story and/or the moral at the end.
The hare crested the hill only to see the tortoise celebrating his victory. "Curse that nap," he muttered to himself. It was the upset of the century, and the other animals would never let him live it down. The bear and the monkey tossed the tortoise into the air in a happy display of jubilation. He soared practically into the branches of a nearby tree (the one to which the finish line banner had been tied) before plummeting back to earth. The experience was exhilarating, and the tortoise, arms raised in celebration shouted "Again! Again!" The hare faded into the background, anxious to avoid attention.
Now, most people would say the moral of the story has something to do with not wasting talent, or that the hare did something wrong by taking that nap. But think about the tortoise for a second. He had flown. He had experienced soaring through the trees, the wind rushing under his shell, and the weightless feeling of being unburdened. The shell didn't weigh him down. And the speed. The entire race he had moved slower than half the speed with which he had been tossed into the air. To see what he had been missing out on, what the hare experienced every day? It was torture from the moment they set him down. The tortoise couldn't return to his life of mediocrity. Back to his crawling movement, hauling his shell around at a pace slightly faster than the grass grew underfoot. Sure, the hare was embarrassed temporarily. He couldn't look his friends in the eye for a while, but the tortoise went the whole rest of his life knowing the peak had passed. So perhaps the moral of the story is that it's better to lose and know you could have won than to won and know you never will again.
Me:
On the trip to Sand Dunes we were thinking about stopping somewhere a bit further away from the park and taking some time to roast marshmallow. Normally that would be plural. You know, roasting marshmallowS. But after a week in a car at well over a hundred degrees, the term was definitely singular. What we had at our disposal was a plastic bag with a single, poofy mass that had conformed to the triangular corner in which it was stored. The stickiness was unbelievable, but we were determined to roast it or perish in the attempt. Unfortunately, we were in that unfortunate situation where the only campgrounds we looked at were priced inconveniently, especially given their lack of anything very interesting around. So we continued on, thinking that if we were going to pay twenty bucks to pitch a tent, we might as well do it right next to the park. En route, Rebecca used my phone and managed to locate an almost-unknown campground that had opened earlier that year right outside the park. In case anyone finds themselves in the area and wanting to drive a ways on a gravel road, it is located up the road to Zapata Falls. The best part was that it had no signs indicating its presence, so there were plenty of spots available. Or maybe the best part was that it was still so newly-opened that it was free. Or that it was so newly-opened that the bathrooms were clean. In any case, it was a great find.
We woke up and I wanted to make a quick go of it out to the dunes, since once the sand heats up things become a bit less enjoyable, especially if you want to walk barefoot. The thing about Sand Dunes is: once you've seen it, you pretty much get it. Yeah, it's impressive, and you should definitely hike up to the top of one of the bigger dunes (which is what we did), but upon looking at it for a while, all that's really left is to head back down to the car. Which is awesome. The trek up is strenuous, an exercise in persistence, as every step is met with a cascade of sand carrying you back toward the ground. The trek down is, well, not a trek. It's just plain fun. There is no unsure footing, so you can run as fast as you want. In fact, your feet sink in and stabilize you as you go. Balance is a bit tricky, but you can fly once you get used to it. Of course, if you're as enthusiastic as Rebecca, you get going a little too fast and the only effective method of stopping is to fall over. So it's kind of like me trying to ski. A long ride up, a short ride down, and you fall over and get snow (sand) inside of everything.
And that was about it. We headed back from there, drove late (saw some fireworks during the drive), and got back around four in the morning.
The firewood swarms solid
fire-red with ants drawn to dead
fish heads on spines pitched
into the pit, heads on pikes
to warn others: Beware
of bait. An endless swarm
of passers-by heed no warning,
for there is safety in numbers,
and if that's true
they are safe everywhere
from everything.
We are walking on their nest
building on their homes
and stepping on their children
as they march single file
(in so many files)
which is lucky
for if they marched en masse
we'd be swept away
the ground alive
and carrying us down
into the pit
our skulls on our spines.
Poem:
Ants are creepy. There are way too many ants. So creepy.
Observation:
Iowa is flat. Yup, this is another observation based on a bike race. Luckily, most of the time Iowa is windy, which adds some resistance and something to work with during a race. Unfortunately, neither hills nor wind were present on the course I rode yesterday, which meant it was really boring. I had resigned myself to a sprint finish, something I haven't ever been eager to do, and so something I have never really done before. Surprisingly enough, I wound up in perfect position during the run-in to the finish line, and then I had the great idea of botching the whole thing up. I swung out of the draft to come around the guy in front of me, looked up and realized I had way further to the finish than I thought. Exactly as this was happening the rest of the field opened the spring, and all I had time for was to think "Darn" as they all came by me. And that was that. Forty-something miles of racing and nothing to show for it but a ruined sprint.
Exercise:
Take an Aesop's fable--- for example, "The Tortoise and the Hare" ; "The Ant and Grasshopper"; "Frogs Desiring a King"--- and change the animals and/or the story and/or the moral at the end.
The hare crested the hill only to see the tortoise celebrating his victory. "Curse that nap," he muttered to himself. It was the upset of the century, and the other animals would never let him live it down. The bear and the monkey tossed the tortoise into the air in a happy display of jubilation. He soared practically into the branches of a nearby tree (the one to which the finish line banner had been tied) before plummeting back to earth. The experience was exhilarating, and the tortoise, arms raised in celebration shouted "Again! Again!" The hare faded into the background, anxious to avoid attention.
Now, most people would say the moral of the story has something to do with not wasting talent, or that the hare did something wrong by taking that nap. But think about the tortoise for a second. He had flown. He had experienced soaring through the trees, the wind rushing under his shell, and the weightless feeling of being unburdened. The shell didn't weigh him down. And the speed. The entire race he had moved slower than half the speed with which he had been tossed into the air. To see what he had been missing out on, what the hare experienced every day? It was torture from the moment they set him down. The tortoise couldn't return to his life of mediocrity. Back to his crawling movement, hauling his shell around at a pace slightly faster than the grass grew underfoot. Sure, the hare was embarrassed temporarily. He couldn't look his friends in the eye for a while, but the tortoise went the whole rest of his life knowing the peak had passed. So perhaps the moral of the story is that it's better to lose and know you could have won than to won and know you never will again.
Me:
On the trip to Sand Dunes we were thinking about stopping somewhere a bit further away from the park and taking some time to roast marshmallow. Normally that would be plural. You know, roasting marshmallowS. But after a week in a car at well over a hundred degrees, the term was definitely singular. What we had at our disposal was a plastic bag with a single, poofy mass that had conformed to the triangular corner in which it was stored. The stickiness was unbelievable, but we were determined to roast it or perish in the attempt. Unfortunately, we were in that unfortunate situation where the only campgrounds we looked at were priced inconveniently, especially given their lack of anything very interesting around. So we continued on, thinking that if we were going to pay twenty bucks to pitch a tent, we might as well do it right next to the park. En route, Rebecca used my phone and managed to locate an almost-unknown campground that had opened earlier that year right outside the park. In case anyone finds themselves in the area and wanting to drive a ways on a gravel road, it is located up the road to Zapata Falls. The best part was that it had no signs indicating its presence, so there were plenty of spots available. Or maybe the best part was that it was still so newly-opened that it was free. Or that it was so newly-opened that the bathrooms were clean. In any case, it was a great find.
We woke up and I wanted to make a quick go of it out to the dunes, since once the sand heats up things become a bit less enjoyable, especially if you want to walk barefoot. The thing about Sand Dunes is: once you've seen it, you pretty much get it. Yeah, it's impressive, and you should definitely hike up to the top of one of the bigger dunes (which is what we did), but upon looking at it for a while, all that's really left is to head back down to the car. Which is awesome. The trek up is strenuous, an exercise in persistence, as every step is met with a cascade of sand carrying you back toward the ground. The trek down is, well, not a trek. It's just plain fun. There is no unsure footing, so you can run as fast as you want. In fact, your feet sink in and stabilize you as you go. Balance is a bit tricky, but you can fly once you get used to it. Of course, if you're as enthusiastic as Rebecca, you get going a little too fast and the only effective method of stopping is to fall over. So it's kind of like me trying to ski. A long ride up, a short ride down, and you fall over and get snow (sand) inside of everything.
And that was about it. We headed back from there, drove late (saw some fireworks during the drive), and got back around four in the morning.
July 10, 2011
Too much about me
No poem today. It's late, and I need some sleep. Another race tomorrow.
Observation:
Tis fits better in the "me" section, but that seems to be full, so I'll talk about my race today here. It was in Clear Lake, and my observation would have to be that the course is awful. Almost every corner is incredibly rough, there are huge speed bumps and potholes on the back stretch, and the streets are too narrow to move around in the group adequately. Maybe I'm just complaining because I started in the back, but it made it almost impossible to have a decent race. I spent a lot of energy sprinting, braking, sprinting, and braking, and gradually made my way into the lead group. It was impossible to ride my bike normally, since itmnever really felt like both my wheels were on the ground. So many bumps... People were losing bottles off their bikes due to the massive bumps. Wheels were rubbed in front of me because there weren't any decent lines through the corners, and all in all, I thought it was a terrible venue for the state championships.
Exercise:
Write a letter to the teacher who gave you a hard time in gradeschool or high school.
Dear Mrs. Van Slyke
Turns out I didn't need to be pumped full of medication after all. I know it would have made your job easier if i would have been sedated in the back of your room rather than constantly talking (and correcting you), or reading books when I wasn't supposed to. And it just so happens my parents did a great job, no parenting classes required. I guess what I'm curious about is this: why is your husband so much cooler than you. When he fought my English class he seemed pretty willing to consider me almost as a peer, giving me honest recommendations, and not once sending notes home to my parents. Oh, and his wrestling posters were way more interesting to look at in the classroom than your teddy bear collection.
Me:
Where was I? I think we had left Zion? If so, then we were headed to Mesa Verde. We drove until 11:30, passing by a couple of campgrounds that proved too expensive to warrant a stay. We really liked campgrounds run by the forest service or the Bureau of Land Management, since they were generally between ten and fifteen dollars and well-maintained. We passed on two campgrounds that were around twenty dollars a site. I don't understand how they can justify charging that much for a forty-foot square patch of ground. When you think about it, fifteen dollars is a bit pricey as well. So we rolled in, set up the tent by midnight, woke up a few hours later, and left for Mesa Verde. Or rather, we started heading in the appropriate direction. During the ten minutes of driving I realized we had yet to eat a "real" breakfast. Now, peanut butter and jelly are fantastic, but I felt like treating us to some pancakes, so we stopped by a cafe and grabbed a menu. It was expensive. The only thing on the menu that looked in some way original happened to be the pancakes, which was convenient since that's what we wanted. They were sourdough pancakes with authentic maple syrup. They were $6.50 (I only mention this fact because it comes into play in a bit), and they were delicious. We shared three, and upon seeing Rebecca's face when she took her first bite, I promptly gave her some of my half, saying I would be more than happy with more peanut butter and bread in the car. At the rate I eat, I only get to taste the good stuff for about two seconds anyway, so it makes sense to give most of it to her. She gets more out of the experience. Then we remembered the bakery counter at the front of the cafe. We ordered a mini macaroon ($1.50) and a chocolaty raspberry-y crumbly cookie-y bar ($2.50). We then told the cashier where we had sat, and he said our total was $15.50. I had our last fifteen dollars with me, but Rebecca had some quarters in her wallet (in the car), so she went and got that to fund our first real breakfast. In the moment I was a bit confused why we were being charged so much, but not certain enough to dispute it. So I talked to the guy about wrestling while Rebecca went to the car. Apparently when someone hears your from Iowa State, it becomes obvious you know something about the sport. So I said the name Cael Sanderson a few times in order to sound like I knew anything, and when Rebecca got back we paid and left. I figured even if we had been overcharged, I would just consider the extra a tip. Because after eating that chocolate raspberry concoction, I was definitely in the mood to leave a tip. It was amazing. In case it ever becomes relevant, the name of the place was Absolute. I guess they thought the vodka shouldn't have all the fun with the name.
Anyway, we went into Mesa Verde, got to the visitor's center, and it turned out there was a tour leaving for Balcony House in thirty minutes, followed by one of the first not-sold-out tours of Cliff Palace at 12:30. We bought tickets for three dollars apiece and headed out. Ou first tour was led by a bubbly girl ranger who was thrilled by the sound of her own voice. She wasn't unamusing, I suppose, but let's just say she wasn't nearly as entertaining as she thought she was. She did things like asking us to pay attention to our surroundings as we walked down the path, then asking us what we noticed. When people said the names of plants, animals, etc, she asked, with a quite proud and self-amused smile on her face, if we had happened to notice the giant canyon. Well, of course we had. Nobody wanted to state the obvious, but most people chuckled like they were supposed to. But the sights were beautiful, the pueblos were as interesting as ever, and the tour was good over all. Highlights included climbing ladders on the cliff face, crawling through a small opening in a pueblo, and the screaming infant drowning out whatever "clever" things our tour guide was saying.
The next tour was scheduled for 12:30, which was an hour away yet, so we got there early and waited around at the beginning of the trail by a kiosk in the shade. At one point we even heard the person inside the kiosk (which sold water and maps and stuff) say it was a good place to wait until the tour. By the time 12:32 rolled around we got concerned and went down the trail a ways, only to find a sign saying to wait there for the ranger. We had missed our tour. We went back to the kiosk and shared our woes with the lady there, and were told to wait for the next ranger and see if they'd let us on. We did, but before the 1:00 tour rolled around, the person from the kiosk found us and gave us some tickets that had been abandoned with her. It was so nice! Then our ranger showed up, told everyone that had missed their tour (we weren't the only ones) they were welcome to join.
This tour was awesome. The ranger was knowledgable, interesting, and concerned for us. He had us sit in the shade whenever possible, and was fantastic about sharing his oponion about what certain things meant in a historical context. And the best part was that it didn't seem to be idle speculation. He knew his stuff. He used terminology from my anthropology textbooks, and had pretty decent evidence for his conclusions. All in all, it was fantastic. From there we moved on to the Cedar Canyon trail, which took us past Spruce Tree House for some more pictures. We finished the three mile hike, got in the car, and took a winding road to our last house of the day. At that point I was falling asleep on my feet, so Rebecca drove a few hours as we headed toward Great Sand Dunes for the next day.
Observation:
Tis fits better in the "me" section, but that seems to be full, so I'll talk about my race today here. It was in Clear Lake, and my observation would have to be that the course is awful. Almost every corner is incredibly rough, there are huge speed bumps and potholes on the back stretch, and the streets are too narrow to move around in the group adequately. Maybe I'm just complaining because I started in the back, but it made it almost impossible to have a decent race. I spent a lot of energy sprinting, braking, sprinting, and braking, and gradually made my way into the lead group. It was impossible to ride my bike normally, since itmnever really felt like both my wheels were on the ground. So many bumps... People were losing bottles off their bikes due to the massive bumps. Wheels were rubbed in front of me because there weren't any decent lines through the corners, and all in all, I thought it was a terrible venue for the state championships.
Exercise:
Write a letter to the teacher who gave you a hard time in gradeschool or high school.
Dear Mrs. Van Slyke
Turns out I didn't need to be pumped full of medication after all. I know it would have made your job easier if i would have been sedated in the back of your room rather than constantly talking (and correcting you), or reading books when I wasn't supposed to. And it just so happens my parents did a great job, no parenting classes required. I guess what I'm curious about is this: why is your husband so much cooler than you. When he fought my English class he seemed pretty willing to consider me almost as a peer, giving me honest recommendations, and not once sending notes home to my parents. Oh, and his wrestling posters were way more interesting to look at in the classroom than your teddy bear collection.
Me:
Where was I? I think we had left Zion? If so, then we were headed to Mesa Verde. We drove until 11:30, passing by a couple of campgrounds that proved too expensive to warrant a stay. We really liked campgrounds run by the forest service or the Bureau of Land Management, since they were generally between ten and fifteen dollars and well-maintained. We passed on two campgrounds that were around twenty dollars a site. I don't understand how they can justify charging that much for a forty-foot square patch of ground. When you think about it, fifteen dollars is a bit pricey as well. So we rolled in, set up the tent by midnight, woke up a few hours later, and left for Mesa Verde. Or rather, we started heading in the appropriate direction. During the ten minutes of driving I realized we had yet to eat a "real" breakfast. Now, peanut butter and jelly are fantastic, but I felt like treating us to some pancakes, so we stopped by a cafe and grabbed a menu. It was expensive. The only thing on the menu that looked in some way original happened to be the pancakes, which was convenient since that's what we wanted. They were sourdough pancakes with authentic maple syrup. They were $6.50 (I only mention this fact because it comes into play in a bit), and they were delicious. We shared three, and upon seeing Rebecca's face when she took her first bite, I promptly gave her some of my half, saying I would be more than happy with more peanut butter and bread in the car. At the rate I eat, I only get to taste the good stuff for about two seconds anyway, so it makes sense to give most of it to her. She gets more out of the experience. Then we remembered the bakery counter at the front of the cafe. We ordered a mini macaroon ($1.50) and a chocolaty raspberry-y crumbly cookie-y bar ($2.50). We then told the cashier where we had sat, and he said our total was $15.50. I had our last fifteen dollars with me, but Rebecca had some quarters in her wallet (in the car), so she went and got that to fund our first real breakfast. In the moment I was a bit confused why we were being charged so much, but not certain enough to dispute it. So I talked to the guy about wrestling while Rebecca went to the car. Apparently when someone hears your from Iowa State, it becomes obvious you know something about the sport. So I said the name Cael Sanderson a few times in order to sound like I knew anything, and when Rebecca got back we paid and left. I figured even if we had been overcharged, I would just consider the extra a tip. Because after eating that chocolate raspberry concoction, I was definitely in the mood to leave a tip. It was amazing. In case it ever becomes relevant, the name of the place was Absolute. I guess they thought the vodka shouldn't have all the fun with the name.
Anyway, we went into Mesa Verde, got to the visitor's center, and it turned out there was a tour leaving for Balcony House in thirty minutes, followed by one of the first not-sold-out tours of Cliff Palace at 12:30. We bought tickets for three dollars apiece and headed out. Ou first tour was led by a bubbly girl ranger who was thrilled by the sound of her own voice. She wasn't unamusing, I suppose, but let's just say she wasn't nearly as entertaining as she thought she was. She did things like asking us to pay attention to our surroundings as we walked down the path, then asking us what we noticed. When people said the names of plants, animals, etc, she asked, with a quite proud and self-amused smile on her face, if we had happened to notice the giant canyon. Well, of course we had. Nobody wanted to state the obvious, but most people chuckled like they were supposed to. But the sights were beautiful, the pueblos were as interesting as ever, and the tour was good over all. Highlights included climbing ladders on the cliff face, crawling through a small opening in a pueblo, and the screaming infant drowning out whatever "clever" things our tour guide was saying.
The next tour was scheduled for 12:30, which was an hour away yet, so we got there early and waited around at the beginning of the trail by a kiosk in the shade. At one point we even heard the person inside the kiosk (which sold water and maps and stuff) say it was a good place to wait until the tour. By the time 12:32 rolled around we got concerned and went down the trail a ways, only to find a sign saying to wait there for the ranger. We had missed our tour. We went back to the kiosk and shared our woes with the lady there, and were told to wait for the next ranger and see if they'd let us on. We did, but before the 1:00 tour rolled around, the person from the kiosk found us and gave us some tickets that had been abandoned with her. It was so nice! Then our ranger showed up, told everyone that had missed their tour (we weren't the only ones) they were welcome to join.
This tour was awesome. The ranger was knowledgable, interesting, and concerned for us. He had us sit in the shade whenever possible, and was fantastic about sharing his oponion about what certain things meant in a historical context. And the best part was that it didn't seem to be idle speculation. He knew his stuff. He used terminology from my anthropology textbooks, and had pretty decent evidence for his conclusions. All in all, it was fantastic. From there we moved on to the Cedar Canyon trail, which took us past Spruce Tree House for some more pictures. We finished the three mile hike, got in the car, and took a winding road to our last house of the day. At that point I was falling asleep on my feet, so Rebecca drove a few hours as we headed toward Great Sand Dunes for the next day.
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