choices

so many paths
so few bodies
but twice as many feet!

down

I am surfing a wave of depression right now.
But this is not the topic of this post.

Instead the topic is irony,
but the aforementioned detail makes it so.

I sat down today to watch a movie called
“Happiness”.
The first line of the movie is:

“Andy….are you okay?”

Mu-hahaha! The Universe is mine!

fight

I had an ego fight today. With myself. Mid-afternoon I find myself plummeting into a foul state of frustration and lethargy. Some of this can be blamed on what is ultimately my self-induced lack of productivity at work. But you can only think of what you can think of, and your attention span will be what it will be.

(Oy, am I distracted lately…)

In retrospect I can see easily the primary cause. Well, the primary cause was, and always will be me. But I think I know now what I let get to me.

I received a phone call from the motorcycle shop. Satya (the motorcycle) was in for her 4,000 mile service, and Matt was calling to say that they finished the service, but that there was “something wrong” which was “greatly concerning them”. I have a good relationship with this shop and they’ve always treated me respectfully and fairly, so this really gets my attention.

“Your rear turnsignals and taillights aren’t working right. Its because the control module was installed wrong…” and so on and so forth.

Immediately I felt like I had to leave work and go get the bike and fix it and prove that it wasn’t broken, or wrong. (You see, I had installed the module before my Blueridge trip and it work[ed/s] perfectly. Until now–but its likely just a loose connection or something?!?) Anyway, this led to me feeling crummy!

See I took Matt’s words “module was installed wrong” personally. In effect, I was caring what he thought of me, and allowing him to devalue me. Perhaps if he had said “there is something wrong with the module” I wouldn’t have felt that way because then the fault would be with the device, not with the person who installed it.

In any case, I don’t give a flying heff what Matt thinks of me or my module-installing abilities. Nor do I find my self-worth in whether or not the module works right, or the motorcycle at all. So I got the bike back, and I still haven’t fixed the module :o)

game

I had a headache last night but for some reason started thinking of card games you can play with groups of people at parties. And I wondered if I could invent my own, so I did:

ICE SKATING (because party games always have nonsensical, irrelevant names)

This game requires one standard deck of cards, sans jokers, and 5-8 players. The winner is the first to collect a 5-card straight of any suit. This game is meant to be simple and fast-moving!

The players sit in a circle, or around a table. One person shuffles the deck and deals all the cards evenly to all players. Any remaining cards are placed face-up in the center of the group:

5 players = each player gets 10 cards, 2 remaining face-up
6 players = each player gets 8 cards. 4 remaining face-up
7 players = each player gets 7 cards, 3 remaining face-up
8 players = each player gets 6 cards, 4 remaining face-up

Starting with the dealer, and moving clockwise, each player passes a single card from their hand to the next player, in-turn, and within a “reasonable” amount of time. At any time, any player may swap any one of their cards with any of the “face up” cards at the center of the group.

The first person to build a 5-card straight should lay it face-up on the table to announce their win. In the spirit of other card games, the winner may be required to yell “ICE SKATES!” or some other such nonsense else their win be stripped from them like an olympian on steroids.

If a player must leave the game early (as is often the case in party games) their cards should be placed face-up in the center along with the others.

 

I welcome any suggestions you may have–it might be fun to build in some special conditions, exceptions, or complications. I’m sure you could also easily make this into a drinking game? For example–players may take no more than 5 seconds to pass a card and must drink if they fail to do so. And of course, whoever loses–drinks!

form

I know, in my “heart” that I am much more than this form.

I know that this body, this three-dimensional structure, potentially nothing more than an illusion itself, a construct of a formless mind, is really the very smallest part of the entity I call “me”, “myself”, “I”, or “Andy”.

But also recognize that this form is (for now) the easiest and simplest way for me to communicate with others.

Others? Other forms? Other consciousnesses? Other protrusions into this three-dimensional world of a common consciousness? (In effect, am I talking to another version of myself? Is this an egoic conjecture?)

In any case, this being our most convenient interface, I can understand how some might feel loss when the body of another expires. But liken this loss to the unplugging of a telephone from its wall jack. If the cord (body) is removed from the network (three-dimensional world) is the telephone gone? It can be reconnected, though it may ring differently, or respond to another number.

As with all my metaphors, this one is grossly imperfect. To really coincide with my thinking, every cord would have to link to a single perfect telephone.

In any case, I can’t wait to see what happens when we all start behaving like cell phones.

moments

Day 1 – Thursday, the Ides of March

Vacation begins when I press the motorcycle’s starter button.
I stop at an ATM and withdraw money for spending on meals and things. I hope it is enough.
I meet Chrissy at Burrito Brothers for a pleasant see-you lunch and then head for Orlando.
I’m going to my sister Joan’s house. Her family and I will catch a flight to Denver later.

The ride is my first “long trip” with this new motorcycle. I’m learning what the motor sounds like at 70MPH. She and I will be good friends.
I travel by highway–a route shunned by most “bikers”.
They generally conform to the idea that highways are less enjoyable than curvy, country roads.
Maybe they are right.
Maybe all it takes is an alternative attitude.

I arrive at Joan’s house just in time. She is basically ready to go. We transfer my luggage and pack her kids into her car and we’re off to pick up her husband, Scott, from his office.
The flight is uneventful, and its been an otherwise typical day of traveling, with expected delays and crowds and such.
I finish Kerouac’s On the Road on the plane, and doing so carries a sense of irony.
We are driven 2 hours west of Denver to warm beds among a cold, black night.
The transformer-sofa is in its bed form, and I fall asleep quickly.

Day 2 – Friday, March 16, 2007

I wake up before the others, and set myself upon breakfast. I eat a lot, anticipating a need for energies! I find that my teabag doesn’t quite sink into the hot water like it does at sea level.
One of my other sisters, Colleen, and her family are here, having arrived before us.
I finally see evidence of this as my niece Katie stumbles down the stairs.
I’m ready to go get skis, boots and poles and form a new, intimate relationship with the cold snow…
but I see my sisters and their husbands have much to do so I try to be helpful…I get the kids’ breakfast ready.
I am just as happy to do this as I am to get situated and start heading up one of the lifts.

Skiing! I’m invigorated! My skin is cold, but it doesn’t penetrate.
A toasty cap or two on my head keeps me warm inside.
Before long I’ve remembered how to manipulate these odd boards into something that can actually move me around the mountain.

I make 5 runs down the slope and taste ice on three of them, but narrowly avoid just as many more.
My brother-in-laws, in a non-competitive sort of way, give me an excuse to push myself as I try to keep up. They offer good advice, which helps.
Most of my past experience was green runs, but today I finish several “blues” and one “blue/black”.
My thighs burn, and I like it! This morning’s yoga proves to be a brilliant idea.

For lunch, I stop in a deli. There is nothing vegan on the menu. I ask, “I’m a very strict vegetarian, do you guys have any ideas?” The Jamaican’s eyes light up and he says “Yes! I do!” and then makes me a delightful veggie sandwich. Its exactly what I needed–not the food–the attention to my request, and willingness to help. Bonus: The food is great, too!

I’m in love with my body again, but this is not vanity.
This activity is a whole-body challenge–a wakingly vivid reminder of what it means to have a body–to be a human being, in form.
I’m enjoying its smell, which is neither offensive nor pleasant…its just natural. It just is.
I’m working with the mountain, the snow, with skis, poles, and my body to change my perception from moment to moment.
I am thoughtless, and trusting my body to move when it should move, bounce when it should bounce.

The dryness of the air affects my behaviour.
Under no other circumstances has it occurred to me to step out of a hot tub into 50 degree air.
But I did it, without hesitation, and it felt good!

This place has more amenities than I care for.
I started reading Love in Action by Thich Nhat Hahn
There is not much air at 11,000 feet.

Day 3 – Saturday, March 17, 2007

My face and neck have succumbed to the solar pressure of countless ultra-violet rays.
Every strain and ache of muscle is valued–more fresh reminders of what its like to be in a human body.

A small victory is had when the employees of the burrito place mistake Scott and I for locals.
I think I would not like to be seen as a tourist
To me that equates with being inexperienced and inconveniencing others
hmm…perhaps another judgemental perception I need to examine.

Raccoon-google burn is commonplace–nobody even sees it on each other anymore.

It turns out that more than I ever need in life fits into a single duffel bag.

More skiing. Mostly blue trails on Peak 7.

Day 4 – Sunday, March 18, 2007

I leave the room earlier than the previous two days–I am on a lift by 8:40a

By now I have established several dozen 8-minute frienships.
An Irish Londoner named Dennis tells me I look smart. I think he’s referring to my clothing. My sisters are convinced he’s hitting on me. I don’t think so. He says he’s never seen so much interest in St. Patrick’s day, even at home…in Ireland.
Maya is on her way to work at the restaurant on Peak 9. She never lifts up her goggles and so I can’t see her eyes, but we pursue a pleasant conversation about snowboarding versus snowskiing.
Mike has brought his son John from Vermont and he gives me tips which sends my confidence soaring when I try them and find they really help me improve my control. (“Constant shin pressure!” and “Put your hands in front of you like you’re driving a car!”) Priceless. He offers me a capri-sun. How nice!
I don’t remember his name, but I met the architect who designed UF’s Cancer Institute.

Most of these ski-lift conversations go like this:

How [are|is] [you [all|guys]] doing?
Great! You?
Good. Where are you from?
Florida! You?
Florida! (smiles and cheers and identification because we’re from the same state)
Its cold here!
Yeah, but different.
Yeah, different–there’s no humidity!
So, which way are you gettting off the lift?
[Right|Left]
It was a pleasure chatting with you. Enjoy the rest of your stay!
You too!

These 8-minute frienships, as superficial as they are, serve a purpose.
Their shortness doesn’t diminish their value.
Actually, its amazing what people will tell a “total stranger”.

This is my last day of skiing, and I have psyched myself up to trying something harder. On Mike’s advice (I ran into him again) I attempt a black diamond run called Little Johnny’s. Its exhilarating! And it seems to match the threshold of my ability. So I do it three more times.
The sun is starting to drop and I redo a few of the blue runs. On one of them a ridge gives way to a dropoff containing moguls that weren’t there this morning. I land but before I can get control I’m pointed at a girl who is stopped, and in avoiding her I crash spectacularly–head over heels as I feel & hear my neck crunch under my weight. I think I’m okay.

I shoot some video of a few of my downhill attempts, camera in left hand, poles in right. Fair warning–this video is really bad, and will likely make you seasick:

Monte Cristo, a blue trail
Northstar, a steeper blue trail
Little Johnny’s, a black diamond

4:30 arrives, the lifts are closed. I have been on the slopes for 7 hours and 30 minutes. I’m exhausted, but still springy and I return my equipment then head to the room to say bye to Colleen and her family, who are leaving today.

We have dinner at a pizza place called Eric’s. Scott keeps laughing at me because every time I sit down I make noises like I haven’t seen a chair in a year.

Day 5 – Monday, March 19, 2007

Our ride arrives early, just before 8:00 and we’re heading East again.
Doug points out all the neat landmark-y things we couldn’t see on the way in.
We make a second trip through the Eisenhower Tunnel, which carries us under the continental divide.
I see several mountain towns that all sprung up during the gold and silver rushes.
Life seems simple in these towns, and curiosity starts pinging.

Airport stuff, security, etc. and we’re back in Orlando after one of the most softly-executed landings I’ve ever experienced.
I finish Love in Action on the plane, and feel a welcome peace in my heart.
I finally catch my breath again.

I take to the bike, leaving Joan’s house with just enough money for the return tolls.
As I exit Orlando, a marigold sun smothers the cityscape from behind pink and blue clouds.
Merging onto the turnpike–I find a nice stretch with good visibility and wind the bike up to 115MPH before finally twisting off the throttle.
I leave the Okahumpka service plaza, now pushing photons into a cold Florida night.
I spend most of the rest of the trip behind this truck or that. Drafting 30 feet off their rear bumper makes 80MPH feel like 25. Of course, there’s always the possibility that there’s something in the road you won’t have time to avoid…

I arrive back in Gainesville’s wide, open arms feeling hungry, tired, cold, and penniless.
I turn off the bike’s motor and head inside, happy.

pond

Well, it only took 6 months. I just need some hyacinth for the center, and some comets to make it official! Thanks for all the help, Wes & Chrissy!

12:00

After getting in my motorcycling accident, and then buying a new bike, I finally decided to get my body checked out (priorities, you know?) So, what do you get for a 12-hour waiting marathon at the North Florida Regional Medical Center Emergency Room?

• A fairly clean bill of health
• A prescription for Prednosone that will likely go unfilled
• Instructions to follow up with the family physician
• An exclusive ticket to the E.R. Symphony where the rhythm and percussion sections are beeped, tapped, whirred, and clunked by various bits of machinery, And where the melody is provided by the nurses happily chirping their requests into the intercom, by the Orderly who keeps walking by singing “Wind Beneath My Wings”, and by the crazy-nutcase E.R. patient who keeps walking by humming “oh no oh no oh no oh no”.
• Exposure to Gainesville’s finest citizens exhibiting their best behaviour and endless reserves of patience (uh…sarcasm?!?)
• One free cat toy (they love the identification wristband)
• These heffin’ sweet pictures!!!

P.S. It appears that nothing is permanently damaged :oD

Life’s Little Book of Instructions, the Andy Edition — Making Tea

1. Find a coffee mug of suitable volume. It may be necessary to pull one from the diswasher, which is full of clean dishes that have yet to make their way to their respective homes among the cupboards.
2. Fill the mug with water from the sink. But don’t forget to twist on the water filter–we’ll spare no effort for the perfect cup.
3. Open the microwave. Take out the 2-day old cup of forgotten tea. Place the mug of fresh water in the microwave, setting the timer for two minutes on “nuclear”.
4. While the water is heating, extract a single packet of Black Tea from the cupboard above the microwave.
5. Carefully open the packet to avoid tearing the bag, string, or handy paper handle.
6. Holding the tea bag close to your nose, breathe in fully, allowing the fine aromas to fill your lungs, and create anticipation for the forthcoming cup.
7. When the microwave timer beeps, open the microwave door, but only long enough to drop the tea bag into the water–we wouldn’t want to unneccesarily lose any heat.
8. Wait approximately 5 minutes for the tea to properly steep, not forgetting that its waiting for you in the microwave. While the tea is steeping, throw away the tea bag packet and any other visual reminder that you’ve made tea.
9. Promptly forget.
10. Wait 48 hours, then revisit step 1.

doing laundry

When I launder my clothes each week, I end up folding something like this:

• 2 pairs of blue jeans
• X pairs of black socks and Y pairs of white socks. Neither X nor Y is less than two. Together, X and Y is around 6 or 7.
• ~7 pairs of boxer shorts, lots of colors and patterns
• ~7 plain t-shirts, differing only in color, but mostly blues, greens, and blacks.
• ~4 polo or button-down shirts, short sleved, with stripes
• 2 printed t-shirts with some lame design
• maybe 1 pair of pants
• if its wintertime, go ahead and add a few pairs of thermal underwear, as I am allergic to cold weather.

Why would anyone care about this? This is the internet–are “other people” even relevant?