Sounds

Walking home at 4am, hearing the wind whisper through the old Y.

Names

Walked the same path to work that i've biked for years, but this time i noticed the bridge's plaque. On the southeast abutment of US 23 over Huron is the bridge's dedication plaque. It is 100' away from the path through Gallup Park and there is no path closer to it - yes, placed in a non-prominent position, away from all pedestrian traffic, only to be seen if someone on 23 happens to blow a tire by that spot, walk over to the side of the bridge to take a leak, and happen to look up at the plaque on the abutment. Some 1000 years from now a future archaeologist might uncover this plaque and place our road comissioner's name among the likes of MAGRIPPA, but for now, park-goers will not know those names.

Keeping it Real

The wind fought me to a standstill at times, but i decided today was not the day i'd give in to mere nature. It wasn't really gusting that bad - on the way back, the wind warned me with sound before bumping me around. Had i been looking up i'd have seen the gusts first, then heard, then felt. And if my body were more finely attuned to gravity, perhaps i'd have instantly felt the change before even seeing it, but only if that one smart guy was wrong.

Travel Plans

In Italy, and all i can think about is how much i'd rather be in Mexico or Zambia. Still, Rome is a nice enough place.

Yes, i wear Matterhorns

The knock is quiet at first, but quickly grows louder, more urgent. An old friend is at the door, and wishes to come in.



At first she doesn't look so familiar - new haircut, new outfit, new pose - but after a couple blinks, i remember who she is. Let's sit down, reacquaint ourselves, catch up, where've you been? I missed you! Slowly, we'll regain depth into each other.

----

The math was a bit tricky at first, a lot of second guessing myself, but eventually i knew i was on the right path once i had distracted myself enough to programatically draw the above image (yes, the dissolve is deliberate). Perhaps if i had had the discipline to make it through college, then the math would have flown naturally from my fingers, and calculating the x's and y's would have been as easy as drooling. Instead, it took me a day.

But slowly, tenuously, carefully, i've started my way back to thinking in 3d. Eventually i hope to have lifted myself from a blank mind back to a well-rounded consciousness.

Yearly

Was considering wearing a smile all day today, but thought that costume might be a bit too weird for most of my coworkers, not to mention it would likely really, really scare me as well. And also, given other events, a smile didn't seem all that appropriate.

Goodbye.

Not really new(s), but you'll read this anyways

In other news, i believe i'm getting B's in my classes, which seems silly as i feel i've only learned about a D or low C - which itself is silly as i've only gone through about 20% of the available material, and only remember about 50% of that. By that standard i should be scoring a low F. But for now i'm rated as a B, and i might be making a higher mark if i didn't criticize my instructors' teaching style at every opportunity (nah, can't be it).

As i missed my 4-week deadline for dropping out of class, my current plan is to fail out in a month, right around my birthday, as by then i will be in Bosnia. Yes, as of last weekend i've bought my ticket to Bucharest. Not sure how i'll be able to complete course work while on vacation, but i'll be happy to see the statue.

Morale Milestone

Yesterday - pay day - and my paycheck finally exceeded one of my self-imposed meaningless milestones. As i walked downtown to celebrate last night, and being rather tired of all the past weeks' work, i threw my pocket change into the streets, hoping to speed on the inevitable, but today awoke to find our collective face still covered. Perhaps, given the last few weeks' long hours, Bosch would argue that i'm rather close to the right-side of some of his drawings, and thus my money-throwing was a little late.

After the night's celebration, had some trouble getting back to business today, as i've had all week. Pondering my morning breath, i realised i might be using my spices the wrong way. So while watching football this afternoon, i came up with a solution - a banner to boost my morale and willingness to work:



If this helps, perhaps i'll come up with a series of encouraging slogans and change it up once a month or so.

Attacks

The first attack came at dawn, a sudden thrust at my head, but this initial foray was quickly crushed. The second attack came by night a few days later, and this time they were much sneakier, the blitz from below, striking deeply and leaving wounds for a week. The third strike again came in the morning light - the enemy, bolstered by previous success, lead a full frontal assault, with all their might and power. The end result: their End left in my forehead. I immediately stopped and shook the attacker out of my helmet and finished the remaining miles to work. In the mirror, i saw the remnants of their assault - a full 4 millimeters of stinger in my skin, half their rear, and what i will assume is their poison sac, fully depleted, having run through my veins the past 5 miles:


bee stinger i pulled from my forehead, on a Czech 50 koruna for scale


closeup of same

I Say Go

I say hello, and how are you, just as i learned on my last vacation. The standard brief babbling, then she says, "we are so blessed, this life, it's a blessing, and so often we don't even realise it."

I assume she's a religious fanatic - who quips such nonsense when selling coffee? A nervous twittering in my mind, we end in some simplistic comments, "hopefully you'll still feel that way at the end of the day."

Religious fanatics - a quarter block away, they sometimes gather to yell at us all, saving our souls by screaming of the glory of their god, but only when the weather's nice; on those -20 days, as i cycle by that corner on my way to work, they're not to be seen, back in their caves? What is the standard hibernation period of a righteous freak?

Exit the cafe, past the corner, on to the park on the way to work. It always is quite a day through the park, never know what birds i'll see, how many snakes, or snails, count the rabbits, perhaps a fox, some deer, sparkling white snow, deep puddles of rain, singing ice, sometimes a challenging rain. It is quite nice, yes, perhaps even a blessing, just to go to work.

I'm reminded of my father's words, the first time he visited MI after he started working in Iraq (in 1994): "it is so peaceful here." I wonder, perhaps she knows a little more, perhaps she simply meant it as an expression of truth.

Death Be Not Proud

We lost another one to their Plague.

First it finished off our fastest runners, then it shocked our slowest into submission, today it took away our transports. We've been abandoned, doomed, marked for extinction. And still our leader paints desperate slogans on the walls - "DO NOT ABANDON HOPE" - "HELP EXISTS" - "THE STRONG SURVIVE". These fool few. It is the end times; the Old Guard is gone, and from the distant shores comes the distinctive shouting of The Outsiders, ready to consume our decaying souls.

How many more will fall? We hope, we pray, we wish, we cry out that some will make it through, that some will strive for life beyond the Plague, and yet, we wonder - if we survive, what kind of life will this be, underneath The Outsiders? It is guaranteed that, on the surface, our society will change. And thus we hope that inside we can remain the same.

The Outsiders - long have we heard of their existence, seen glimpses of their shapes, felt the weight of their approaching burdens. But every day we doubted, every day we blinded ourselves to the leader's stubbornness, every day we wistfully ignored every sign, every scent, every sound of the oncoming Plague Years. If only we had prepared, if only we had cared.

Is it too late? The leader would have us believe we can overcome, we can mend, we can carry on. But it is too dismal a reality, too impossible to fall so blindly to not realise our approaching demise. This world is gone.

---

Yes, it is time to get new bike tires, flip-flops, and backpack.
It is truly tragic.

Warning Labels

I saw this girl walking around campus with a butterfly on her ass - not on the pocket or side of her jeans, but sewn in right in the middle of her rear. If she farts, does she cause monsoons in Southeast Asia? Maybe the butterfly was a warning label - don't scare her lest people die. Maybe her flatulence is the key to our missile defense program - surely those butterfly wings could knock down Jong-il's ICBM's during their boost phase. Whatever the effect, i made sure to keep my distance and not make any sudden moves.

Speaking of warning labels, the other day i got a bright yellow card titled HAZARD WARNING CARD in the mail. The only information on the card was my address listed in the Describe the Hazard section and an old tenant's name listed in the Recommended Precautions section. No number to call, no sign of who it's from, just a variety of cryptic form information, like PS Form 1766, April 1986 and (Case in front of mail for address or location where hazard exists. Do not deliver this form.). A number of phone calls later i find out it's from the Post Office, and it's their way of informing the post-deliverer that the listed name at the listed address has had a change of address and so no mail for that person should be delivered there. The bright yellow card and bold text is supposed to really get the deliverer's attention, and the card itself is not to be delivered, but to remain in the deliverer's satchel. Was a nice adventure, figuring that one out.

Situation & Perspective

If you knew more about my life then you'd understand why it was relevant that a certain someone happened upon me today, and why the comments about that from other certain someones are relevant. As is, i could reveal those and not have them mean anything. How do i capture what i was reading, add that to what i had been feeling, mix in what i had been doing, and only then touch it up with desire, impact, and actuality, and still end up with a digestible story? I'm no English major; some stories and events of my life will only exist within the realm of personal reality. Otherwise, all our blogs are but words in the ether to the majority of people, like, you know what i mean?

Other stories exist outside the realm of situation and perspective, or require such little situation and perspective that the story is easily relayed in a couple paragraphs (how my brother taught me mistrust is one such story).

Perhaps some day aspects of all the stories i am unable to fully convey will melt their way into one giant, perfect story. Perhaps i'll say reality is how we remember it and how it affects us; science is what actually happened.

I'm no scientist, but one day i'd like to be a badass storyteller.