Roof of The World

mushroom hunting

2011-10-16T13:07:00.001-07:00

Portlandia

2011-08-11T09:22:00.000-07:00

Hiking in Mount Hood Wilderness Area. I love mountains.

View from my commute to school across Sellwood Bridge. I think I really like this town.

Ikea. Piecing together my kitchen table.

Law School starts tomorrow. Excited, nervous, everything in between.

Summer 2011

2011-08-11T09:15:00.001-07:00

Life!

Seasons - Fall

2010-11-05T08:01:00.000-07:00

like hike?

2010-07-28T21:34:00.000-07:00

firecracker sprint

2010-06-28T21:29:00.000-07:00

my first sprint triathlon.

500m swim

20k bike

5k run

1:27:52

Anosognosia

2010-06-25T11:35:00.000-07:00

Five-Part Series from New York Times
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/tag/anosognosia/

"Wheeler had walked into two Pittsburgh banks and attempted to rob them in broad daylight. What made the case peculiar is that he made no visible attempt at disguise. The surveillance tapes were key to his arrest. There he is with a gun, standing in front of a teller demanding money. Yet, when arrested, Wheeler was completely disbelieving. “But I wore the juice,” he said. Apparently, he was under the deeply misguided impression that rubbing one’s face with lemon juice rendered it invisible to video cameras."

“A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His bill will hold more than his bellican,
He can take in his beak, enough food for a week,
I wonder how in the hell-he-can.”
- Woodrow Wilson

"I left the room, waited for a few minutes, then I went back to the room and said, “Can you use your right arm?” She said, “Yes.” Then I grabbed her left arm and raised it towards her nose and I said, “Whose arm is this?” She said, “That’s my mother’s arm.” Again, typical, right? And I said, “Well, if that’s your mother’s arm, where’s your mother?” And she looks around, completely perplexed, and she said, “Well, she’s hiding under the table.” So this sort of confabulatory thing is very common, but it’s just a very striking manifestation of it. No normal person would dream of making up a story like that. But here is the best part. I said, “Please touch your nose with your left hand.” She immediately takes her right hand, goes and reaches for the left hand, raising it, passively raising it, right? Using it as a tool to touch my nose or touch her nose. What does this imply? She claims her left arm is not paralyzed, right? Why does she spontaneously reach for it and grab her left arm with her right hand and take her left hand to her nose? That means she knows it is paralyzed at some level. Is that clear?"

This is just crazy interesting.

summahs

2010-06-14T17:12:00.001-07:00

back to dakine

2010-04-19T23:57:00.001-07:00

- Molokai - Coconuts - Hike Kalapapa -

Big Island

2010-02-17T20:11:00.001-08:00

napali kalikimaka

2009-12-28T17:23:00.000-08:00

Three days of summer sausage, cliff bars, and sore legs for a beautiful christmas on the Napali Coast of Kauai.

mauiwzer

2009-12-22T10:28:00.000-08:00

From Lahaina, looking towards Lanai at sunset.

The Road to Hana.

Dad checking out the ocean at black sand beach.

South side.

The Big AK

2009-12-04T11:07:00.000-08:00

Hatchers Pass. Almost Snowed-In. Shoveled our way down the mountain with Subaru.

Toyota Advertisment, Portage Glacier, Whittier

Snowshoes, Historic Iditarod Trail, Yurt, Eagle River.

Hiking Flat Top Mountain outside Anchorage

Hawaii Furlough Friday

2009-10-22T11:11:00.000-07:00

The Price of an Education

'Twas Furlough Eve, when all through the school
Not a student was stirring, because the adults all voted
And they said it was cool.

The State needs money and they only take cash
So bunker down in front of that t.v. honey
Tomorrow is the Furlough Friday Bash.

Everyone knows 17 days a year are extra
So the kids will stay home, the schools will all close
And if something changes, we'll text ya.

'Twas Furlough Eve, October 2009
A student updated her blog, "Math is simple when
My education is only one number for the state dakine."

Holoholo Kauai

2009-04-19T12:22:00.000-07:00

Ten days on the Garden Isle.

"Holoholo" - to walk, drive or ramble around for pleasure.

In the April 2006 issue of Backpacker Magazine i read an article called "Love on the Rocks" about a newly wed couple's experience hiking the Napali Coast of Kauai. At the time, I never imagined I'd visit Hawaii with the opportunity to hike Na Pali (the cliffs, in Hawaiian). But then, i guess it worked out. Who could have known?

So here I am in Hawaii and in an ironic twist of Cupidless-fate I explore Kauai on my own. But there on the luscious garden isle I discovered love. I discovered beauty, truth, nirvana, and perfect bliss in my solitude. The answer to life's eternal questions is Ryan Hamilton barreling down the coast in his PT Cruiser blasting Everclear into the gentle Hawaiian breeze.

My first night I slept in the car at Spouting Horn on the south shore. Back a single lane road past resorts and parking lots. Picture perfect dead end street. I woke up to a spotlight shinning in my face. Luckily the officer didn't seem to care, turned around and drove on. Here, I'd like to note that camping permits can be obtained from the Lihue State Park Office (808-587-0300). $3 for non-residents and free for those who live in state. I picked up on this later.

I woke early and drove up Waimea Canyon. Mark Twain is falsely credited as naming this "The Grand Canyon of the Pacific". He was in Hawaii, but never visited Kauai. And the actual Grand Canyon wasn't named until just before Twain's death. Nevertheless, it really does look like a little grand.

The sun was just breaching the mountains ahead of me while i started down the Kukui Trail towards the canyon floor. I knew I was the first on the trail this morning as i passed through fresh spiderwebs across the trail. The sound of my footsteps accompanied the farm yard melody echoing across the canyon. In the 80's and 90's two large hurricanes caused the unintended release of Kauai's fighting cock population. Chickens roam the island. The crowing feathered squirrels known as Kauai's broken alarm clock.

After picking up my camping permits in Lihue I drove up the coast towards Hanalei. At Anini beach park I passed the grassy area for camping and continued down the road. A the end of the road (roads are always ending on islands) i found an empty stretch of white sand curving around clear blue shallows. I sat beneath the trees hanging over the beach and waited for sunset. As darkness settled over my little plot of paradise, I quickly learned that my tent stakes wouldn't hold in that soft sandy beach. The stars above seductively suggested clear skies and I laid back on the unfurled tent. Halfway though the night, I learned of my mistake. Rain pelted down through the leaves as I stubbornly cursed and wrapped myself tortilla style in the tent fly. About 4 am, laughing and wet I begrudgingly trekked back to the cruiser.

Writing this now feels cliche, but time began to loose meaning. Sunrise and sunset where the most important events of the day. I set up camp at Ha'ena county beach park. Tunnels reef, within walking distance, kept me in excellent snorkeling every day. A little bakery/cafe in Hanalei kept me supplied with awesome Portuguese sausage breakfast burritos and coffee. Every night I fell asleep to the sounds of Ha'ena park regulars jamming with saxophone, ukulele, and booze under the pavilion. I hiked up to Hanakapiai Falls one morning. At the falls I looked around at a few other hikers as I stripped down to my skibbys and prepared to jump in. Hoping to convey in my look the suggestion they save me if it looked like I needed help.

And then it was time to tackle the hike out to Kalalau Beach. To reach this beach you either need a boat, a helicopter, or the desire to hike 11 miles along the beautiful and treacherous cliffs of the NaPali Coast. Past Hanakapiai Beach, a permit (obtained in advance from Lihue State Park Office by post) is required to hike and camp. I hiked for hours without seeing anyone. Though, there were a lot more people on the trail than I imagined would holoholo out along the cliff hugging switchbacks and talus slopes dropping into a raging turquoise pacific. I spent three days and two nights exploring the caves at Kalalau Beach, Big Pool, Hanakoa Falls and the deep lush valleys where Hawaiians once grew taro on man-made graded levels; the remains of which are still a prominent part of the landscape.

After 22+ miles, wild boars, rain, goats, powerbars, stream crossings, a few close calls, and some serious time to think, I near the trail head. I'm covered in mud, sunburned, sweat pours off my body, I'm still wearing my pack and maybe even a big grin. Two steps from the parking lot, a woman stops me to ask about the trail conditions. Seriously? Go hike! Stop talking to me. A scraggly girl about my age standing nearby overhears our conversation and asks if I liked Kalalau. Then she tries to sell me a DVD about a bunch of hold-outs playing music, hiking, smoking pot, and living in tents on the beach I have just returned from. I can't even really respond. Is this an amusement park? What just happened? Did she really just cheapen my entire life altering religious-like outdoor excursion? Pretty much. But you know what...such is life. Writing about it might do that too. And I really enjoyed my holoholo Kauai.

Check the hikers for scale, bottom left corner. v

anchor man

2009-03-16T22:22:00.000-07:00

Why are folks on the news suddenly so eager to point out what a bad idea it was to invade Iraq? Its just oh so reassuring that they can now confidently point out all of our mistakes along the way. Great, they can detail the absurdity in hindsight. I can do that myself.

Is it just me?

terrorist.

2009-02-25T21:38:00.001-08:00

exactly. irrational language.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/26/world/middleeast/26terror.html?_r=1&hp

unabashed self-promotion

2009-02-09T21:25:00.000-08:00

http://www.honoluluadvertiser.com/article/20090204/COMPUB05/902040337/1226

and...

I blew away the competition in Friday's third grade jump rope contest. criss-cross high speed mad skillzzzz.

philosophy

2009-01-07T21:47:00.000-08:00

so i had to bus in to kapolei this afternoon to buy my housemate a bicycle tire tube. i may be indirectly responsible for his flat tire. but my thoughts begin on the bus ride home. i've wedged myself next to one of those old men who don't like to share seats. so i end up half leaning off the edge of my seat with a backpack on my lap. and i'm stumbling through the library's copy of "The Portable Nietzsche". Some gold, "What, then, is truth? A mobile army of metaphors, metonyms, and anthropomorphisms - in short, a sum of human relations, which have been enhanced, transposed, and embellished poetically and rhetorically, and which after long use seem firm, canonical, and obligatory to a people: truths are illusions about which one has forgotten..." he continues. but i stop reading to watch the elderly couple seated in front of me. she leans away disgusted and he keeps glancing at short shorts in the aisle. every bus ride is an adventure and an education.

108 Hours in Maui

2009-01-03T23:57:00.000-08:00

http://travel.nytimes.com/2009/01/04/travel/04hours.html?8dpc

"True Travel is not the destination but the journey." My heart backs the idea but my mind, an emotional Brutus, is suggesting this as justification for bungling vacationers. Et tu? A few hours in Maui and I began picking away at the details that would stick with me. the way everything slows down as soon as you step off the plane. the way tourists drive the maui economy. the way a double rainbow arcs down the cliffs beyond hana and disappears. And for ms. fujii at the new york times, the way to travel without a true destination in mind.

Tuesday

5:00am

1) Bound for Maui

Luke and I have to leave makaha if we want to catch our flight. it takes longer to ride the bus from my house to the airport than it does to fly from oahu to maui (30 min.)

8:30am

2) Kahalui Airport

Well we're in Maui. But we don't have a place to stay or a means of getting around. First stop are the rental car booths just outside. The airport seems kind of empty. A few employees meander around. I think we may be beyond help from the airport information centers. enterprise, avis, alamo, sold out. one place has cars that they want to rent me (under 25 years of age) for some exuberant sum which i refuse to pay. ok. it seems there are some buses here. public transportation? perfect. where should we go? Jump on the bus. Alright sure we'll go there. Stop at the K. Mall transit center. i start calling around to hostels and craigslist ads i wrote down before we left. The North Shore Hostel in Wailuku ($25 a night dorm style) looks like our best bet. They have two beds open for tonight!

High Noon

3) Kihei Star Market

Learning to maneuver maui public transportation. looking for a beach and snorkeling. blue skies and sunshine. i think hawaii is beautiful because of color. cruising in 25 passenger mini bus past burnt red dirt moistened green waves blue breeze skies and yellow angel fish sunshine.

9pm

4) England

Luke and I miss the stop on our way back from Lahaina. we spot two guys from our hostel on the bus. they missed the stop too. they are from wakefield, just outside of Leeds. on their world tour. headed to australia and south africa.

Wednesday

7am

5) searching

i'm walking the streets of wailuku. the morning is still brisk. i tear the auto rental pages from a phone book and get a coffee at McDonald's. ($1.85?)

8am

6) desperation

luke and i are frantically dialing every number we have. public transport on maui is limited.

11:30am

7) Rent a Jeep

we end up at a gas station somewhere in kahalui and call the guy to come pick us up. drive up, pull away rusting fence. he isnt' very talkative. sign here and here. old sleepy guard dogs. gas tank empty. passenger side door doesn't open without the key. no roof cover? didn't even think to question. behind the wheel.

High Noon

8) Road to Hana

drive until the sun sets. put on raincoats when the downpour begins. loops and curves and hairpins. locals laugh and speed by. Need to stop at Wai'anapanapa State Park. Meet Johnathan, hitchhiker from oregon, black sand beaches and sprouting coconut. warm passion fruit banana bread from roadside stand. excellent. bamboo forests and waterfalls. the map shows a scratch of a road ahead.

7pm

9) Rainbows

Circle island. desolate and beautiful sunset drive. arching rainbows in the rear view mirror. cliffs edge the road dropping to a rushing blue sea and black rock. cows. beautiful.

11pm

10) fall asleep in the jeep somewhere south of Kihei. wake and watch the honu play. visit Makena beach early for crystal clear waters and near isolation.

Thursday - Saturday...

11) Rain

walk makai from the north shore hostel to Tasty Crust Diner 'world famous pancakes' (big breakfast for two: $18). They are good. reading 'sputnik sweetheart' on the top bunk. german tourists laughing on the balcony. watch "Slum Dog Millionaire" and enjoy.

12) Iao Valley

3 miles Makua from the north shore hostel. start hiking. the rental car was returned long ago. rain forest. the needle. bridges. not as impressive as i thought it might be. a good hike back. Rosa's Cantina in wailuku (great food and prices). snorkeling north of Lahaina on resort beaches. enjoy the reef and the crowds.

13) Paia

How did i describe it? hippies embracing capitalism. you know those chill little towns. where you need money to buy but anyone can look. tourists and good vibes. sometimes it works. makes you wonder where these people all come from. how they end up collecting here, loose change piles up with pretzel crumbs and the vcr remote beneath the couch cushions, lost pockets of the globe. catching rays. drinking tea at the Green Banana Cafe. waiting for the rain to pass. (advertised, organic eco internet cafe) they have nice tables outside. waiting for the bus, waiting for our flight, our last day in maui.

holidays

2009-01-01T14:00:00.000-08:00

Aloha and Mele Kalikimaka,

Wishing you a Merry Christmas from Hawaii. I won’t be able to spend the holidays with friends and family in PA this year. So, I’m writing to let you all know what I’ve been up to. And also to let you know that, though I miss home, I’ll survive this breezy 70 degree December.
In August I left Philadelphia on a plane bound for LA. With a plane ticket and the promise of an AmeriCorps VISTA position on Oahu I was ready for my week of training. VISTA is the leg of AmeriCorps devoted particularly to work in areas of poverty. Think of this as something like the domestic PeaceCorps. Through a year of service, my official goal here is to build sustainable relationships, resources and programs designed to battle the root causes of poverty. Under the Corporation for National and Community Service, I was challenged with the task of creating a literacy tutoring program for K-3 students at Nanakuli Elementary School on the Leeward coast of Oahu. The program relies on volunteer involvement which means one of my main goals is volunteer recruitment, management and retention. So far so good. Teaching kids to read proficiently at a young age significantly improves their chances of successfully continuing their education. Ultimately, putting up a significant roadblock for a poverty which is passed from one generation to the next.
In my short time here I’m afraid I have learned more than anyone I’ve helped. Through some inspiring mentors I’ve learned there are no problems only challenges. Every day is both a challenge and a chance to learn something new. I’ve learned that a community is a very intricate web of personal relationships. In Nanakuli a majority of these are family ties. Everyone I meet is somehow related to someone I already know. I’ve learned that snorkeling is much more difficult than it looks, but still a great time. I’ve learned where the honu (sea turtles) come up to rest on a hidden beach. Surf season and whale watching in Hawaii is during the winter months. Volunteers can be difficult to come by, but can also be a fantastic resource. Food stamps are great if you live alone, hold a steady job, and ride the bus. Watching movies about Hawaii in Hawaii makes me laugh. Even if you’re in the middle of the Pacific Ocean far from home, sometimes a family is wonderful enough to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner. Plate lunch in Hawaii is rice, macaroni salad, and meat. Guide books suggesting not traveling up the leeward coast cause visitors to miss some of the best beaches on the island. The aloha spirit is more reality than myth. The kids make it all worth it.
So while I work through the challenges of an outsider in a very localized community, I have been fortunate to be accepted into that community in many ways. This of course makes my job a little easier. A smile and a ‘howzit bruddah?’ goes a long way. I’ll be happy to move on in eight months if I know I’ve made some kind of difference, if only a few new friends.

Happy Holidays,

Ryan

Haleiwa

2008-11-05T22:35:00.000-08:00

If a monk seal falls alseep on a deserted beach, does his snoring disturb the gulls?

From far off there is only silence. Encased in a tempered glass fishbowl Imagination hitches a burning comet to the end of the galaxy and back. there is only silence. and through eyes searching from an undocumented precise point in space, it seems the world goes on spinning. without our immediate attention. this is both encouraging and a source of despair. Our looking glass is a wonderful fountain of contradiction.

November 4th, 2008. I left the house early and headed northwest up the coast. just before the sun stepped hot and bright over those mountains, i peddled and looked back. the lonely cars wafting pot smoke and the pickups loaded with surfboards grow less frequent as the pavement stretches out. by 8:30 it is only me, the fishermen, and the retirees staring into the blue abyss down at yoks beach. I stand for a moment at the end of the paved road and sip water i've carried in a gatorade bottle. time to move. rocks, mud, abandoned 4x4s, and washed out shadows of highway. Then a boat speeding along with me toward kaena point drops a line between swells. Sitting on the weathered coral, white and fragmented below the lighthouse, i read the small yellow sign tilted in the wind. Then scan the fingers of volcanic rock reaching out towards the reef. There, in a shallow bed of salt water humped up on the stones, my monk seal snores away. his snout spouts air across the surface of the water spraying his visibly fury back. an endangered species! less than 1500 monk seals, endemic to hawaii, are still about. a solitary creature without the instinct to flee. in translation, the 'dog that runs in rough waters'.

Across the sand and around the point weaving up and down all terrain. back on the paved road i spot two cyclists like myself. but cresting the small hill, i hear their engines kick on, and i try to pass them. flying downhill my knees pumping towards my chest. a simple jest. I swerve to the center of the road. i pass them! a defiant smile intact. and then they lazily swim by spouting exhaust in my visibly fury beard. I keep on.

At dillingham airfield helicopters cut up and down through the sky and i'm jeanclaudevandam. planes to my left are taking flight and i'm barreling down the highway catching quick glances over my shoulder. semiautomatic snorkel at the ready. Then pastel houses and horses and i swear a group playing polo. waialua red dirt and a small library with the dust of coffee grounds caught in spokes on my tires. sharks at the beach park. on the corner is 'wiki wiki java' where i sit for an iced coffee and listen to some middle aged guy sound tough and business like on his cell. then he introduces the brazillian women serving drinks to his teenage daughter and asks the waitress for a date. he's turned down. maybe I should have asked her out too. He seems to take rejection in stride and lays out a string of sad loves lost. The touristy looking elderly couple with white hair and tacky hawaiian dress flip through surfing magazines on the table as i get up to leave.

I catch the bus to waimea bay. I listen to bus stop lies and children bickering between fresh fruit stands. i have reached my elusively absolute destination. sit swim and decide to catch the bus home. text messages alert me to obama's win in pa. spinning in transit. reading 'kafka on the shore', bumping shoulders and balancing bags on knees with a sharp eye on my final ride. the phone rings. jubilation on the line. President of the United States of America! i was in haleiwa. my monk seal snores off kaena point.

suprises

2008-10-29T21:36:00.000-07:00

1. A hand scrawled sign: "Write in Ron Paul for President"

2. When locals assume I am from the area. someone suggested they can't imagine another reason for my being here. i think they are just being nice.

3. Dollar movie theater in town. A silly satisfied grin spread across my face when a movie ticket and a single dollar bill traded hands.

4. Photo Story on Waianae Coast featured in "Fader", a national magazine. i know those places and people. check it out online. thanx kazia.

5. clutter really bothers me. organization is important. 'pet peeve', a term whose use is reserved for middle school math teachers, nearly entered my vocabulary.

6. Barack Obama and Bill Clinton in Kissimme Florida. I think Obama has been reading Kierkegaard.

7. the phillies won? E-A-G-L-E-S!!!!

8. I passionately dislike chickens.

9. planting tomatoes in october.

Make A Difference Day

2008-10-27T20:27:00.000-07:00

rides the bus

2008-10-20T23:19:00.000-07:00

What follows is a combination of my angered scrawlings from the bus this morning and my now much calmer reflective thoughts. as i sit in my room hours later I'm finding it difficult to begin writing. Should I plainly state the actions leading to this post, hitting my obvious theme? "Two weeks ago I applied for Food Stamps with the Hawaii Department of Human Resources. This morning, 6:58am walking into the parking lot at work, i get a call from the welfare office in Kapolei." A historical fact. Suggesting the emotional state which prompted discussion in my mind? "I do not want to single out my experience as anything extraordinary. I rather note the ordinary nature of my entire day. This is a kind of struggle for me. in many ways unaware, uncomfortable, and unconnected. yet learning and understanding and still without solutions." For those more adventurous types, I may explain geography. "Makaha, where I live, is roughly one hour (by bus) north of Kapolei. Nanakuli, work, is just about right in between." Economics? "$250,000...well."

I am writing, I have the time and capability to write b/c in many ways food stamps are more of a luxury than a real necessity for me. This is a distinction I make. And this may have all been said so many times before and i am conscious of recording it once again. For my benefit. and for others who are as confused as I.

To enjoy healthy (expensive) fruits and vegetables, to break even 10 months from now, and to take advantage of my volunteer status, I was able to disregard my stipend as countable income. Making me eligible for State Assistance. In a small way i feel guilty. Am i stealing someone's opportunity? Do I really need help? its the government. I get paid by them anyway! but taxes and someone pays. They tax me too. i imagine these may be similar (certainly not identical) struggles for anyone else walking into the welfare office for their first time. it is easiest to refuse to accept you are scraping the bottom of the barrel. and by contrast, most will not accept how wealthy they really are or how deep you can actually sink. in the waiting room i may be one of the few lucky enough to be new to the process. Generational poverty is a different bird. This morning on the bus i heard two women talking about their respective rent rates, energy saving tips, and welfare benefits. these are the people to ask about going green. skipping out on hot water. unplugging the fridge. the women sitting closest to me commented that when she was growing up her family was really poor. but she struggled out of the situation and now provides for a family of her own. her son helps her and her husband with rent. he receives welfare checks too. poverty is relative.

So the call i get this morning. 6:58am. I have an appointment in Kapolei at 11 and need an exhaustive list of documents ensuring i am both a US citizen and living a life of meager means. how to gather all of these documents in four hours is difficult to comprehend. at the desk they are confused when i show a passport instead of a drivers license. it turns out the women was doing me a favor and scheduling me in an open spot without going through the process of sending me a letter etc. talking to her on the phone though, it seemed like I had no choice but to show up in four hours. in any case, i am told there are no afternoon appointments available. I will have to leave work, travel north to makaha, then south past work, to kapolei and then back to nanakuli. altogether this is not a problem for me. luckily i live and work near bus stops. i rationalized this in my head a few hours later. but there are few things more frustrating than waiting for a bus when you are in a rush. so my mind is crunching numbers. killing time. I am in the ideal situation for dealing with this. Most however, are not. I have a steady and secure job which i can leave for a few hours without being fired. i'll make up the time later. Most minimum wage jobs don't play by these rules. But telling someone in charge that I am leaving, or just asking for time off is still difficult. even if peers are in the same situation and if there is time to plan ahead. I am not ashamed to tell my coworkers where I am off to, but I also don't want them to think I am struggling. I am single and childless. what do i have to complain about? Most of the other clients waiting to be seen by their workers were mothers with very young children. I was able to come up with $40 at the start of the month for a bus pass so it doesn't matter that a trip to kapolei would cut into my daily transportation fund. these inconveniences seem hardly worth noticing until they become the logic of daily life. two dollars here or there. It just seems that there are too many contradictions. I accept, embrace, find enjoyment in the absurd and the ironic. yet, this is hard to work with.

In the light of my desk lamp, I am still upset by the process. In my case, I have everything to my advantage. For others, getting help is another challenge in itself. but i can't claim a solution. this is only an exercise. stretch.

parade & ka'ena point

2008-10-06T23:26:00.000-07:00

Nanakuli El JPO's.

homecoming and collecting candy.

makaha 360

2008-10-02T23:32:00.000-07:00

cloudy day. i only take pictures far from everything else. and they don't really explain...hm.

marching on

2008-09-17T23:43:00.000-07:00

6:20am. on the bus to school. elementary school. I've seen one other person reading a newspaper on the bus. now I'm writing. i wonder how this is perceived.

Upon my first visit of the farrington hwy home i did not perceive those subtle peculiarities of its occupants which now dig beneath my skin. not deep, but as if ants traversed my veins, tightrope walkers just below the surface, only enough to mildly irritate the man of steady nerves.
So in light of the silences and the stringent neurotic habits of one oddly obsessive housemate, i assumed this laughably tiny trash basket in the kitchen was only one of those images which makes this homestead of mine, individualized from the rest. my grandmother also keeps a tiny bin in the kitchen which she will empty twice a day if necessary. not unheard of.
This morning however, i looked down at the remains of my salsa creation from the night before. onion peels, tomato stems, cucumber shavings, all mixed in a heady steaming aroma of cilantro stalks and coffee grounds. and from this mass, situated precariously near the rim of the basket, (almost as if saying in a voice sounding oddly like george castanza, 'not trash') protruded a thick black conga line which danced around a small square of carpet by the sink and straight across the room, before ducking out beneath our front door. this morning i learned the reason for our presumptively humorous receptacle which requires emptying daily. one of many insect friends i will grow to love or despise here in hawaii. ants.

waianae

2008-09-06T17:12:00.000-07:00

everyone i meet who lives or works on the leeward coast, everyone who has visited or just heard of waianae, makaha, or nanakuli, seems to have the same thoughts. this is not a place for tourists and haoles like myself to flaunt about as if they owned the ocean and the sand. the locals are very protective of this beautiful place they call home. many of the homeless have been pushed out of their 'homes' and up the coast. the road ends about seven miles north of here and the buses don't travel any further than makaha. families live on the beaches in clusters of tents and tarps. biking up to kaena point, i pass 'camps' that are everything but permanent establishments. stones have been stacked out in front of makeshift shelters to create a 'yard' space with paths and places to park. many own cars and have jobs. kids go to school. they simply can't afford, or dont want to pay for, expensive housing. however, meth also seems to contribute to the problem. i really feel like i haven't been here long enough to make any judgments. i even feel kind of presumptive to write this much. on the other hand, everyone also seems to agree that people here are very friendly. from my very limited experiences here, if you dont make trouble, it will not come looking for you. just dont stomp through someones 'front yard' towing a boogie board and a six pack. driving and biking, a smile and a wave of acknowledgment seems to go a long way. there are many good people living on the leeward coast. this is a bizarre experience that i am enjoying and expect to learn a lot from. there is much more to learn.

pineapple exclaimation

2008-09-01T22:19:00.000-07:00

I wish I knew someone here who would appreciate/tolerate my ranting about how wonderful this pineapple is. It is good. Very good. I can't write it down. so ripe and juicy. wow.

VISTA Hawaii Beginnings

2008-08-27T23:35:00.000-07:00

I suppose moving to a new town where everything is unfamiliar does have advantages and disadvantages. Hawaii is pretty far away. this falls under both categories. i also have serious amounts of free time.
I feel like I left Coopersburg months ago. I don't think it has even been two weeks. The 18th I flew into LA for training. Summoning an air of confidence, while my guts rattled with airport food and nervousness, I made my way to the hotel. At the registration table I ran into Adam Stanley, Juniata '08 alum (VISTA Bakersfield, CA). This was only the first of many ridiculous coincidences which logically prove 'its a small world'. Everyone knows everyone and every other person I meet is from the east coast. Training was pleasant. Positive thinking, friendly new faces, and three solid meals a day can't be beat. Tuesday night, Luke and Jodie pulled up to the front door of the Crowne Plaza in their beat rental convertible with disheveled hair and a hungry look of days on the road in their eyes. I think we all realized that LA wasn't really our scene but we were all glad to be there. The volunteers headed to Hawaii quickly formed an exclusive club. In the back of our minds, "The poverty line on a mid-Pacific island rarely sees the mainland." Thursday night we all flew into Honolulu where we were greeted warmly with leis, hugs, and a ride to a nearby dorm for the night. Then more training on Friday morning. I should clarify. They gave us a giant three ring binder full of helpful information. And then training was over. Those 3 1/2 structured days and hours in the confines of hotel conference rooms drifted through my mind. I awoke in a Starbucks parking lot in Ewa Beach, HI. In a few short days everything changed. It was all so familiar, yet I was consciously out of place. Arrive in a strange town. Jet lag and baggage, literally, weighing you down. You become acutely aware of the physical space which you occupy. Not only are you desperately trying not to knock over tables with that bulky rolling suitcase, but the unknown makes even your muscle and bone uncomfortable. Keeping an eye on the sum total of my worldly possessions, sitting with my back against the wall, trying to sip an iced coffee slowly, burning under the shifting sun, I wished I were just a big dude. No one messes with a big dude.
Luckily, the people I have met in Hawaii are incredibly friendly and helpful. At this point, just about everyone I meet makes the transition exponentially easier. I've found a place to live in Makaha. The beach is across the street and the mountains are out my back door. Thinking about it now, there isn't really anywhere on the island where this isn't true, but I'd like to think I got a pretty good deal. I've started work at Nanakuli Elementary School. Tomorrow is day four. Still kind of unclear, but I'm sure it will all begin to make some kind of sense. There is a lot I would like to say about the school and about the area and about my impressions of Hawaii in general, but, another time. Aloha.

Surrender Your Student

2008-06-10T21:09:00.000-07:00

Earlier this afternoon I was searching for a train ticket from Baltimore to Allentown. There are, however, no trains arriving in Allentown. My disgruntled views on the state of public transportation in America, taking into consideration rising gas prices and the shallow end of the income pool in which I wade, will just have to be another story. The point of all of this is that a trip from Baltimore to Philly is a mere 37 cold hard dolla bills. And then, with a student discount, only 31!

And thats about when I sadly shook my "not a student" head.
I either have to go back to school, start making enough money to pay that extra 6 dollars, or retire.

manifesto of hope

2008-04-17T19:02:00.000-07:00

Thinking about thinking

I’ve holed up here in my dim library cubicle to write my last will and testament, my manifesto for hope. I will abandon logical criticism and everything I have learned. I will write for myself and for my reader. There is no need for apologies. I will battle the skeptical spirit growing inside me and I will focus on the hope and goodness I find inherent in humanity.
Achieving any ideal is no easy task. Moving the entire world beyond petty bickering is only an idea and not a solution. “The New York Times” reappears on the racks scattered around campus and every morning the world is brought before our eyes to be examined, scrutinized and criticized. World leaders are failing their people. Corporate CEOs are greedy thieves. Men, women and children are brutally murdered and tortured. Often they are innocent. Occasionally they are not.
As the ephemeral wide-eyed optimism of a college freshman sinks into murky visions of cynicism, I struggle. Four years later that freshman is agonizing over the economy, finding a job and paying rent. Will he compromise his ideals? Will he succumb to the pressures of just getting by? I imagine we all will at some moment. However, there is still a feeling within us; a small part of every person’s being which desires something better. Grasping this is my goal.
Let us move forward, focus on the future, live in the present and keep the past in the back of our minds. If it sounds paradoxical, then I think we have landed near the truth. There are moments when life seems so simple and good. There are moments when communities gather together to support a cause. There are those brief moments when it seems the world can be turned around.
For me, this moment is captured by Empty Bowls. A community gathers together and everyone gains. Young and old alike smile broad simple smiles as they fill their newly glazed bowls with delicious soup. Students, locals, businesses and churches all lend their hands. There is a feeling of community: a feeling that these people have all gathered together and set aside their differences to help someone else.
I am attracted to a presidential candidate who shares this feeling as well. This is my unabashed plug for Barack Obama. There have been too many divisions created in a world that operates on a national and global scale. Even if Obama were to fail miserably, I am attracted to his message of hope. He professes to be able to bring people from every race, religion and political party together .
I believe we all want the same things. We are veered off track by extraneous ideals and wild misunderstandings. At some point, even terrorists, the evil terrorists, are just people who want to live happily. It sounds naïve, but I believe we all feel this. Have you ever wondered, for only a split second, what makes us so different that we refuse to just get along? Do you still wonder?
Moving forward and bringing together international and local communities requires more than a great dogmatic ideology. This requires understanding differences before condemning them. This requires keeping an open dialogue. This requires placing trust in people whom we do not want to trust. This requires being flexible and thinking while we act. This all rests on keeping an open mind and understanding life from more than one point of view.
With no tried and trusted recipe, this is a start. This is hope. This may be all we have.
As rejection letters and loan payments arrive, as the world agonizes in confusion, as politicians try rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, it is easy to surrender. But there is no Man getting us down. There is only you and I, here, trying to move along.
In 10 years, where will we be? I can hope that you and I will not fall prey to cynicism and practical solutions. I can know we must be somewhere. I only want to suggest that we learn to work together. I want to suggest that you and I should never lose hope.

* ryan hamilton, Juniatian April 17th, 2008

disrupting fact and fiction

2008-04-06T10:57:00.000-07:00

Thinking about thinking

Every 15 minutes televised news programs serve the daily dose of updates from around the world in easy to swallow, sweeping sound bites. We drool over the simplicity of the ideas, the absolute certainty of our leaders, and the conviction that now we, too, know. However, as the cynic inside scratches through my confident cocoon, I often find myself wondering where the line between fluff and fact is drawn.
In the competitive world of media it seems that truthfulness and allure must reach a compromise. In reporting and politics, where an uneven balance carries heavy consequences, the compromise is especially pertinent. The American government claims Iran is building nuclear weapons. Iran flatly denies the statement. Whose story is more trustworthy?
I have no doubt that in the fast-paced, marketing-driven environment of media and politics hard facts can accidentally be replaced by attractive rumors. However, I never imagined that the same kind of disruption could tumble the romantic walls of my literary stronghold.
That is until early March revealed the literary world was infiltrated by a very convincing liar. Margaret Seltzer’s autobiographical gang memoir, “Love and Consequences,” under the pen name Margaret B. Jones, was shamefully exposed as a largely fictitious work.
Seltzer went to great lengths to convince editors and reporters that her “autobiographical” work represented the truth. She provided witnesses and photographs to corroborate her story. Even in the wake of James Frey’s “A Million Little Pieces” which ruffled Oprah’s feathers two years ago, Seltzer was never suspected.
Ironically, before Seltzer was exposed, a reviewer for the New York Times said, “Although some of the scenes she has recreated from her youth… can feel self-consciously novelistic at times, Ms. Jones has done an amazing job of conjuring up her old neighborhood.”
Nevertheless, the publisher is cancelling Seltzer’s book tour and recalling nearly 19,000 copies of the book.
Yet, when it was agreed that weapons of mass destruction were not being hidden in Iraq, troops were not recalled. President Bush continued his tour promoting the fight for freedom and the seemingly false allegations provided justification for a war. The public only revolts when an author fictionalizes her memoir.
The question this raises is—where does responsibility lie? Critics of the memoir debacles blame the publishers and editors for poor investigative practices. I say more power to the author for pulling one past us all. Oprah and other embarrassed readers need to get over themselves. Stop attacking the author and put responsibility back in the hands of the reader. The public’s naïve complacency and then sudden outrage upon learning it has been duped by an author is almost comical. Is the American public afraid to think, to take responsibility?
This critique may be reasonable in the memoir debate. Though again, it seems necessary to hold the news media to a more stringent code of conduct. In the case of politicians and reporters’ words, the public needs to be assured they are receiving genuine information.
Absolute dependence upon the media to report the ‘facts’ is necessary, but prone to invite trouble. How can “The Truth” be regulated? How can a single individual, a student in Huntingdon, determine the truth about an event taking place halfway around the globe?
Seltzer’s editor admits that she made the mistake of relying upon the author as a sole source of information. Ideally, the individual and the media can avoid this by gathering news and information from various sources. Yet, is there really any objective perspective?
The transfer of information nearly always requires a constructed narrative. In a capitalist society - or a democracy dependent upon public opinion – marketing often takes center stage. It is both liberating and frightening to play with these ideas. Sometimes I can only laugh, unsure if I should be disgusted or elated. It may be that the truth is only a story told by the most convincing liar.

*ryan hamilton - From April 3 Juniatian

Riding the border fence

2008-03-24T16:29:00.000-07:00

Thinking about thinking

The headline reading “‘Virtual fence’OK’d for U.S.-Mexico border” caught my attention on Feb.22 as I browsed CNN.com. Only halfway through the article, I self-consciously laughed aloud. Oddly enough, I could not help recalling my summers at camp.
Every year I looked forward to our camp wide capture the flag tournament. Hundreds of 12 year olds decked out in camouflage and sneakers. This was a serious endeavor. I relish the memories of my entire cabin being led, by a more adventurous counselor, through 500 yards of knee-deep muddy creek water. We were skirting around enemy lines. It was fantastic.
I largely keep these childhood memories of glory and defeat stored away in the rusty corners of my mind along with jars of fire flies and grape twin-pops. Upon reading this immigration article however, nostalgia emerged in a very unfamiliar guise.
“On February 13, an officer…noticed a group of about 100 people gathered at the border.” As a serious camper, I immediately recognized this tactic. ‘Everyone together! If we make a run for it all at once, they’ll never be able to catch us all.’ And sure enough, “Border Control caught 38 of the 100 people who tried to cross illegally, and the others went back into Mexico.”
Real people are attempting to cross the American border illegally. Border guards pursue and tag them out. This is not a silly back-yard game, this is happening every day. In my central Pennsylvanian bubble that reality is incomprehensible.
The solution however, is even more difficult to swallow. ‘We’ll build a fence!’ Maybe it is my naïve idealistic thinking, but this must be a joke. Perhaps there is also a specialized department procuring alligators for the moat. Granted this fence is not a medieval stone wall. No, this is the 21st century! This is the age of technology!
This is a ‘virtual fence’ equipped with “radar, sensor devices and cameras capable of distinguishing people from cattle at a distance of about 10 miles.” Apparently, the border patrol has accidentally arrested numerous herds of cattle. The age of technology, indeed.
Satellite feeds, wireless communication dispatch units, laser beams, space-age microscopic doohickeys, heat sensing infra-red, but it is still a fence. We have not progressed as far as some would like to think. This “solution” is only America’s thumb in the levy.
Why do we insist on wasting time and money on a temporary solution? The United States Government made a $20 million contract for the 28 mile ‘virtual fence.’ This follows the 2006 bill appropriating $1.2 billion to build a 700 mile fence. The border is nearly 2000 miles long.
The fence is an expensive and ineffective solution treating the very end of a long chain of problems. These funds can be put to better use. Immigrants do not enter the United States with the intention of harm. Why does the public fear infiltration? Is this racism or just ignorance?
To argue that immigrants are taking jobs away from Americans is misguided. American companies are increasingly sending work out of the country and illegal immigrants are working in the lowest of positions. Innocent people crossing the border in hopes of a better life are not to blame.
Illegal immigration and drug trafficking are still problems. Though, the ‘Fence Solution’ unconvincingly treats the physical act of crossing the border as if it were the true problem. I am truly surprised this mentality is so popular. Building a fence is only a deceptive last attempt; like using a thimble to bail water from a sinking ship.
If an individual really desires to ‘invade’ the United States, to work illegally or traffic drugs, they will find a way. A fence may temporarily slow these activities, but it does nothing to treat their causes. Why not allot money to the research and treatment of the real problems?
Immigrants would not illegally cross the border if situations in their own country were not so desperate or if legal immigration were a possibility. Drugs would not be trafficked into the United States if there were no market.
This is a half-hearted solution to real problems that are much deeper than just unwanted individuals crossing borders. This is not a game. Border control is a complicated problem. However, the true problems begin long before someone steps across a conceptual line in the sand. Building a fence is only the façade of protection and action.

*Ryan Hamilton
Juniatian - March 20, 2008

Identity and Renovations

2008-02-28T18:22:00.000-08:00

Founders Hall is not Founders Hall

It is difficult to miss the large wooden sign planted in front of Founders Hall depicting a sketch of the Hall following renovations. Standing there, with this historic building in the background, the problematically minded may wonder if the ‘New Founders Hall’ is still Founders Hall at all. This question of identity seems simple enough; still any uncertainty is not only the lonely ponderings of misguided metaphysicians.
What is it about the identity of this building which needs to be preserved so the renovated building is still Founders Hall? Intuitively, there is a problem with constructing a new building across campus and claiming it is also Founders Hall. Therefore, it seems there must be something inherent in Founders Hall, some essence, which needs to be preserved.
Those who are generously funding renovations claim it is necessary to preserve the clock tower. Yet, why not preserve the door frames, or decorate the renovated building with pictures of the original? Granted, in an economic sense, if the funding for renovations requires the original light bulbs to be preserved, then it seems prudent to comply.
It is often the seemingly inconsequential questions which stimulate the harshest debate in philosophical circles. While these are often ignored in everyday activity, there are always underlying philosophical quandaries. These occasionally rise to the surface of discussion and influence important actions in very real ways. The age-old trouble of identity, in this instance, pertains especially well to the renovation of Founders Hall.
The classic illustration of this problem is known as the Paradox of Theseus’ Ship. The story begins in a major port of ancient Athens with a ship owned by a merchant named Theseus. His ship has sailed across the entire known world and weathered many nights on the rough seas. Upon the death of Theseus, his ship is inherited by his son. At this time, old rotting boards are replaced with new boards and the sails are patched before Theseus’ son sets sail.
Over the following years, as Theseus’ son persists in the family trade, the rudder wears out and needs to be replaced; the oars are all discarded and working replicas are provided. Even the original mast cracks in a violent storm and is also replaced. Eventually, every original piece of the ship has been substituted for new materials. But is this still the same ship? If not, when did this ship cease to be Theseus’ ship?
Following this thought, if Founders Hall was leveled to the ground and an exact replica built in its place, could this building still be Founders Hall? This is a tricky distinction. However, buildings destroyed by fire or warfare are often rebuilt in nearly exact likeness and name with no questions asked.
Pushing this idea, imagine the materials from the original Founders Hall are all recycled and used to build a replica of Noah’s Ark. Is the ark then also Founders Hall? Answering yes, and assuming the ‘essence’ of Founders Hall is inherent in the plywood, bricks and mortar sounds wrong.
It seems reasonable to assume portions of the Hall are being preserved, not because of some belief that identity is inherent in the bricks, but because they are prominent features of the building. The clock tower is what identifies the original and the renovated as one in the same.
Keeping in mind the story of Theseus’ ship though, how is a ‘prominent feature’ determined? How many original bricks need to be reused for the identity of Founders Hall to persist? If the conclusion that identity is not inherent in physical material is correct, then why preserve any of the building at all? At some point, it becomes unreasonable to claim an entirely new entity is identical to the original.
At the very least, these are interesting questions to ask. The true answer, most likely, needs to involve the implications of emotional attachments to Founders Hall. In the end, the actual mental procedure may be further complicated by other matters or even irrelevant. However, it is clear this is an important and intricate discussion which has very real implications. Those funding renovations for Founders Hall would probably agree.

ryan hamilton
-taken from Feb. 28th Juniatian (omitting editor's corrections. i didn't really approve.)

thinking at half-mast

2008-02-20T21:50:00.000-08:00

The flag on campus has been flying at half-mast for a number of days now. I was puzzled and asked a number of other students about this. "Who died?" Eventually, someone pointed out the recent shooting at the university in illinos. This has been publicized, we've heard about it, read about it, and the wreckless and unexplained murder of college students slips our mind.

Convicts are doctors, too

2008-02-20T10:40:00.000-08:00

Thinking about thinking

Juniata graduate, Jim Kalinski ‘03 was recently expelled from John Hopkins Medical School when it was revealed that Kalinski held a record of aggravated assault and armed robbery. Kalinski created a fake identity, which he used to conceal his past, after his release on parole in April 1999. His falsified records were only noticed when Kalinski applied for a grant to continue his medical studies at John Hopkins.
The incident raises many ethical concerns for the medical community as well as safety concerns at Juniata. Professors at Juniata were shocked to hear about Kalinski’s past. One professor, who wished to remain anonymous, said, “Jim was a model student, polite, helpful, and involved in student life. He graduated at the top of his class.”
With meager legal precedent for the expulsion, John Hopkins has come under fire from human rights groups. They claim that Kalinski was wrongfully expelled; they say that he is not being judged on the basis of present behavior or performance, but because of the stigma attached to ex-convicts.
On the contrary, the National Medical Association (NMA), in an official statement claims, “The removal of Kalinski will uphold the trust which the public places in the hands of medical practitioners.”
Kalinski’s case, though entirely fictionalized, has an alarming resemblance to the actual case of Karl Helge Hampus Svensson. Svensson was recently expelled from The Karolinska Institute in Stockholm, Sweden where he was studying medicine.
According to the New York Times, it was discovered last fall that, “Mr. Svensson had been a Nazi sympathizer who was paroled from a maximum-security prison after being convicted in 2000 of murder, a killing the police called a hate crime.” In prison, Svensson took classes online and was then accepted into the prestigious Karolinska Institute.
With his criminal record out in the open, controversy arose concerning the character of those men and women whom the public depends upon for its continued health. Just as pressing however, is the ethical concern that a capable individual can be denied a future on the basis of his past. Should an ex-convict with previous Nazi sympathies be allowed to become a doctor? Maybe he has changed his ways.
Svensson proved himself through exceptional coursework and questions about his past were never raised. The discussion really centers on a question of human nature. The answers to the complicated questions at hand rely on the answer to one simple question: Can people change?
From one point of view, it can be argued that Svensson possesses the ‘know-how’ and intelligence to prove himself as a capable doctor. Is it right to deprive the public of a competent medical professional? If human nature is essentially determined by nurture, then it seems reasonable that a person who made unacceptable decisions in the past can be turned around. These ideas can be used to build the argument, made by human rights groups, that Svensson’s expulsion was unjustified.
On the other hand, if human nature is essentially determined by nature, then it will most likely be argued that Svensson cannot be trusted. Once a bad apple, always a bad apple. If a person’s identity and character are determined at birth, there is no rehabilitation project that can ever reform a convicted murderer.
However, there are not only two options. There are some who argue that human nature is determined by a combination of nature and nurture. This makes the issue even more complicated. There is also the notion that a ‘medical professional’ is not just a person with the necessary practical skills. Some suggest that a doctor is also a person who makes the kind of rational, moral decisions which a man guilty of murder has exhibited he does not understand.
The public places an almost unreasonable trust in medical professionals. Would the case be different if Svensson were training to be an architect and not a doctor? Is this a question of trust in the individual or comfort for the public? Which should be more important? It is always interesting to see how basic assumptions about human nature can determine policy and action in a very real way.

-RH, Juniatian, feb. 14 '08

Apathy and Politics

2007-12-13T17:37:00.000-08:00

Thinking about thinking

American civil rights activist Jesse Jackson once said, “In politics, an organized minority is a political majority.” Nearby Brady Township, in their recent elections, has shown that the minority need not even know they are in the race. It must be a fluke — or is it the beauty? — inherent in the democratic process which allowed student Jon Knepp to be elected Brady Township Auditor.
Knepp, a senior, told me he likes to write his own name in the blank ballot spaces when no one is running for the position. He finds it humorous to think that someone will have to count the single vote.
Jon’s mother, knowing that he does this, thought it would be funny to tell him she wrote in his name as well. The real joke is that Knepp was elected to township office with only two votes.
Knepp explained his duties, “The auditor oversees the financial transactions of a township.” It is a paid six year position. Knepp admitted that he has no experience auditing. He only said, “I plan to audit to the best of my auditing capabilities.”
Granted, no one was actually running for the position, however, Knepp was elected with at least twice as many votes as any other possible candidate. The landslide demonstrates how easy it is for any uncommitted and unqualified candidate to be elected, at least in a relatively small township. Knepp said, “This just shows how rampant voter apathy is, but also that people who say they can’t effect government are just wrong.”
It can be acknowledged that Brady Township is only a specific example, but if voters are not interested in running for office at the local level, it makes one curious to know how these same voters feel about national government. Knepp suggested, “Even if you don’t run a campaign, you can still be elected and if people knew this maybe they wouldn’t be so apathetic and positions wouldn’t go unfilled.”
Knepp and I reminisced back to the notorious 2000 presidential election. The election was riding on a couple hundred votes in Florida, a state where voter participation was low. Knepp suggested, “If people felt they were more involved at a local level then they would be more confident on a national level and we could really make some changes.”
Democracy may not be the perfect political system we envision. It is interesting to wonder if in the 21st century there will be a new form of government implemented to deal with our ever changing culture, ideals and dare it be mentioned, our apathy. For now however, it is the system which we have in place and emphasizing the positive aspects of the system is very important.
With the airwaves electrified by coverage of the 2008 Presidential campaigns I can only hope to persuade every student of age to take advantage of their opportunity to vote. The beauty of democracy is that every individual is involved.
Yet, increasing voter participation is a problematic issue in the United States. Enormous efforts from nonpartisan groups like the League of Women Voters and Rock the Vote are applaudable. Nevertheless, the problem persists. Is this seriously a problem stemming from apathy or is there something else?
The American essayist from Pennsylvania Agnes Repplier once said, “Democracy forever teases us with the contrast between its ideals and its realities, between its heroic possibilities and its sorry achievements.”
There is a vague feeling within our generation, an apathetic political mentality far from the ideals of democracy which needs to be questioned. I have heard many students express their disinterest in politics. Is this because people feel insignificant in national elections? Knepp commented, “Those people are only insignificant because they make themselves insignificant.”
Knepp has no plans to run for public office in the future. In fact he told me that he really has no interest in politics. However Knepp did say, “If I continue to see such apathy I may continue to write myself in and maybe I’ll squeeze out another win.”

ryan hamilton
-taken from Dec. 13th issue of the Juniatian.

Time travel and global warming

2007-12-04T09:29:00.000-08:00

Thinking about thinking

The 2007 Nobel Peace Prize was recently awarded, jointly, to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change and Al Gore. The award was given in recognition of the effort to spread knowledge about climate change. To learn more about this controversial and important issue, I knew my research would need to be unconventional.
Without a moment hesitation, I fired up my hybrid time machine and embarked on an epic adventure to get the down low on global warming and possible solutions. Who better to ask than those great minds and influential leaders of our past?
Of course, I made my first stop ancient Greece; an appointment with the man often noted as the father of western thought. In typical form, Plato replied, “Global warming is not the worst that can happen to men.” Aristotle was only slightly more helpful. He said, “The gods too are fond of a joke, but global warming isn’t very funny.”
Without any tangible solutions from ancient Greece, I decided to hop, skip and jump forward in time to visit my other favorite philosophers. I found Descartes sitting in a leather armchair in his study. When asked for his thoughts on global warming he replied, “I think the earth is warming, therefore it is.” Nietzsche only forcefully grumbled, “Global warming is dead.”
In hopes of finding a solution, I revved up my time machine once again. Shakespeare lamented, “I wasted resources and now doth my resources waste me.” Emerson was certain, “The end of the human race will be that it will eventually die of global warming.”
It seems that the issue of global warming falls into the hands of us all. However, little can be accomplished if world leaders are not engaged. With this in mind, I decided to ask past American presidents for their perspective. Thomas Jefferson said, “When in the course of human events it is no longer possible to live with global warming it becomes necessary for a people to remove global warming from their society.”
Jumping back into my time machine I arrived in the 20th century to talk with John F. Kennedy. His advice, “Ask not what you can do for global warming, but what global warming can do for you.” Franklin D. Roosevelt explained, “We have nothing to fear but global warming itself.”
Nixon declined to comment. Storming away I heard him exclaim, “I am not a dirty polluter.” When I arrived to talk with Reagan he was in the middle of a speech. “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” Seeing me in the audience he added, “And use it to seed a coral reef in the Caribbean.”
At that moment I thought, when the future of the entire world is at stake, the megalomaniacs of the past will certainly have an opinion. Hitler was adamant, “We need to stop global warming or it will conquer the world before we do.” Napoleon was busy, but took a moment to say, “Global warming is a set of lies agreed upon.”
Ironically, my time was running out. With desperation, I punched the random time travel button. Gandhi said, “Whatever you do about global warming will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.” Benjamin Franklin commented, “In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death, taxes and global warming.” Martin Luther’s solution, “Pray and let God worry about global warming.”
Back in 2007 once again, I felt there was still insight to be found. In an unprecedented feat of diplomacy and plot levering I convinced George Bush, Tony Blair and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to meet me at Boxers in Huntingdon. As we waited for President Bush and former Prime Minister Blair, I sipped a beer. Ahmadinejad said, “In Iran we don’t have global warming like in your country. Iran emits no CO2. I don’t know who told you that.” He promptly got up and left.
Sadly, my other two guests never arrived. It looked like I was on my own. The words of Einstein came to mind. “Do not worry about your difficulties with global warming, I assure you that mine are still greater.” It was late in the day, the sun had set, I could only finish my beer and begin the walk home.

*Ryan Hamilton
- From November 30 issue of Juniatian

the power of irrational language

2007-11-10T11:21:00.000-08:00

Thinking about Thinking

As 2007 comes to a close, the Senate has been busy passing amendments “to authorize appropriations for fiscal year 2008 for military activities of the Department of Defense…” The Kyl-Lieberman amendment, expressing the Senates position on Iran, passed on Sept. 26 with a vote of 76-22.

With the appropriate language in place, the Kyl-Lieberman amendment may be the first step toward a dangerous war with Iran. One section of the amendment proposes, “…the United States should designate the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps” (IRGC) “as a foreign terrorist organization…on the list of Specially Designated Global Terrorists.”

In the years following 9/11, ‘terrorism’ has become a very powerful word. Singling out terrorists or potential terrorists has allowed The United States to implement otherwise unjustified laws in our country, and fuel an otherwise unjustified war in another.

This is not to argue that these actions were necessarily wrong, though there seems to be a feeling of regret brooding around the ‘war on terror’. This only highlights how, with proper marketing, the American public will allow emotional language to sway their hearts and minds.

I do not want to argue that the IRGC are not terrorists. I do however want to point out that labeling this group ‘terrorists’ restricts choice of action. The American public’s current mentality makes it far too easy to justify the implementation of force in dealings with deemed terrorists.

A single word can be very persuasive. Language carries emotional and psychological powers that have the ability to blind us to reality beyond language and rhetoric. Certain propositions are just not exposed to the same critique we thrust on any other because of the way they are posed. This is why propaganda is so powerful and dangerous.

A person wielding these powerful words also becomes powerful themselves. As a simple example, imagine citing religious beliefs, as reasoning for exemption from a required high school health class. Religion is essentially a set of organized personal beliefs. And one personal belief could be that sitting through another year of required health classes is a waste of time. Not exactly an airtight argument.

Yet, if a person wrote ‘religious beliefs’ on the appropriate paperwork, there would be no questions asked. This is the kind unjustified language that the general public is willing to tolerate. By citing ‘religious beliefs’, no matter how unjustified, the student is not questioned because it is generally accepted that religious beliefs are to be tolerated and respected.

No doubt, tolerance and respect keep our society civil. Yet, when these notions are stretched to their limits, propaganda justifies outrageous actions and the public has the wool pulled over their eyes.

The word ‘terrorism’ has a persuasive emotionally motivated control over the American public. By documenting an agreement stating the IRGC is a terrorist organization, we have, to a great extent also agreed upon how this organization needs to be treated.

We toss around words in the wind, when we should really be treating them as the bombs they may one day justify. The American Public’s tolerance for the marketing of vague unjustified or irrational language is absurd. When sophistry is substituted for logical justification, language becomes emotionally motivated and irrational. If we are not careful, this language can justify drastic actions.

The public will not be told why the IRGC are terrorists; the public will hear that they are terrorists. The label controls the thoughts of the public by playing on their sense of morality and fear. Terrorists are bad people who need to be stopped. If the IRGC are terrorists, then this justifies a reaction appropriate for terrorists. If anything goes wrong, the Kyl-Lieberman amendment can be waved in the air; we all agreed.

Why are there certain instances where irrational emotionally motivated language exempts a person from providing the justification that we expect from everyone else? If this is how the world works, the public needs to recognize this and step carefully. Language is powerful, and irrational language is frighteningly dangerous.

-from Nov. 8 issue of Juniatian 2007

free speech, belief and punishment

2007-10-27T14:23:00.000-07:00

My second article. the first is below.

Thinking about Thinking

“I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” Over two centuries ago Voltaire revealed our current American notion of free speech. This very same principle encouraged Columbia University to invite Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, President of Iran, to speak in New York on September 24.
Ahmadinejad’s speech at Columbia University prompted controversy from all sides. Ahmadinejad is a prominent critic of western power and Iran is seen as a significant nuclear threat. The media was enthralled. During his appearance, Ahmadinejad went so far as to question the historical validity of the holocaust.
Ahmadinejad stated, “…if, given that the Holocaust is a present reality of our time, a history that occurred, why is there not sufficient research that can approach the topic from different perspectives?” Ahmadinejad and others support different approaches to the history surrounding World War II.
From a political or historical perspective the statement is certainly controversial, some would argue laughable. However, the speech also raises interesting questions about the implicit, more philosophical issues, of belief and free speech.
Ahmadinejad’s denial of the Holocaust is particularly interesting because in America the freedom to make such a statement is upheld. Contrary to this, in many European countries, most notably Germany and Austria, the same statement is a punishable offense. For obvious reasons, the Holocaust is a very sensitive subject in these countries; there is a strong obligatory feeling for coming to terms with the brutal reality of the past.
In February of 2006 David Irving, a British historian, was sentenced to three years imprisonment in Vienna Austria for his denial of the Holocaust. In lectures he gave in 1989, Irving denied that gas chambers were used for mass killing at Auschwitz. In April of 2007, the European Union passed legislation making it a punishable crime to deny the Holocaust.
The historical equivalent of yelling ‘Fire!’ in a crowded room, questioning the extent of the Holocaust is treated as anti-Semitic hate speech which encourages racism and violence. Essentially this is a personal belief, contradicted by vast historical evidence in this instance, which impedes on the freedom of others.
Ethically and morally these are intuitively contentious, even wrong beliefs. Nonetheless, with the words of Voltaire echoing in our minds, we uphold Ahmadinejad’s right to free speech even if his beliefs drastically oppose our own. The critic will insist we have an obligation to protect the ears of the uneducated from slanderous ignorance. But is legislation the right way to go about this?
Does our notion of free speech rest on the childish idea that sticks and stones will break my bones, but words can never hurt me? E.U. legislation implies that a personal belief can be detrimental to society. Anyone who has ever been a victim of hateful speech knows that words can be damaging.
So what is the relationship between belief and action? If a person believes that minority groups are inferior, they may or may not act discriminatorily towards these groups. If a person believes that a personal relationship with God is the one and only road to salvation, they may or may not discriminate against unbelievers. Is it the belief or the action which is wrong? There is a fine line. How do we decide to outlaw one type of expression and not another?
I want to agree that a person should be punished for promoting hate and violence, but where do we draw the line? By treating ill formed beliefs in a serious manner we only give credence to absurd theories.
If it is illegal to make an outrageous claim against the validity of the Holocaust then punishing other marginal beliefs is only a small step away. Maybe legal action is not the right way to approach this; intellectual discussion and education may be more appropriate solutions.
We must remember, the right to free speech allows a minority to speak out and instigate positive change. America’s founding fathers and Voltaire were rightly attracted to preserving free speech to allow for an open flow of ideas. Legally limiting the right to voice a belief, no matter how controversial, directly limits the freedom of us all.

Thinking about philosophy

2007-10-27T14:11:00.000-07:00

It is nearly november. I haven't written anything exciting in quite a while. I suppose i'm too busy with classes and studying and GREats. I have been writing for the school newspaper. i'm supposed to write a philosophy/world issues column and it hasn't been fantastic, but i'm working on it. I decided that i would post my articles, pre-edited versions, here.

Thinking about Thinking

The desire for knowledge seems to be a significant part of our human nature. Children are never satisfied with answers like, “I’ll tell you when you’re older”. They don’t accept, “Because that’s just how it is.” The search for knowledge is driven by a curious desire to understand the world we inhabit. Like inquisitive nine year olds with a hammer and the family stereo, we are all pounding away at the world, taking it apart, and occasionally learning something.

Students in every discipline pick apart the complex structure of the universe in their own manner to learn how it functions and why it came to be. The term philosophy stems from the Greek word philosophia, meaning friend or lover of wisdom. If it is accepted that a desire for knowledge is part of our human nature, then in many ways we are all philosophers.

It is a misconception to think that philosophy is a theoretical study of abstract ideas with no application to practical life. I will soon graduate with a degree in philosophy and my grandfather still slyly hints that he would be getting into the health profession himself.

Ethical concerns such as euthanasia, abortion and even justifications for war are all founded in philosophical problems. I think most scientists would agree that the debate between evolution and creation is not so much a scientific debate as it is a philosophical debate about the nature of the scientific method. This misunderstanding has caused passionate, but basically unwarranted, controversy in high school biology classes across America.

In Chinese Philosophy, a course offered at Juniata, students learn that the foundation for ancient Chinese government was very often linked to the philosophical discussion of human nature. The same thought can be applied to government in the United States today. Considering human nature, to what extent should the government be involved in our personal lives?

If human nature is inherently malicious, then it seems that the government should have more control to keep society in balance. In fact, maybe the general public should not be consulted at all and strict laws need to be enforced for the general good. On the other hand, if human nature is inherently positive and good, then we could conclude that there is no need for the government’s hand in personal matters. The public would be able to make the right choices on an individual level. Excessive control would be unnecessary and hence a waste of time and money. What does current government in the United States say about human nature? And more importantly, is it right?

The notion of ‘analytic thinking’ has almost become a cliché catchphrase for any respectable liberal arts education. However, this is not to say there is nothing behind the idea. Analytic thinking involves breaking down ideas and arguments to understand each piece and how they contribute to the whole. Philosophy is largely analytical in that it advances forward by assessing an argument, finding weaknesses and constructing a new argument with fresh ideas.

Aristotle, a famous ancient Greek philosopher wrote, “It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.” The study of philosophy requires the ability to entertain ideas that are drastically different from your own. The student is forced to view the world from a different perspective.

Thinking analytically is not only applicable to philosophy or philosophical issues, but is well suited to prepare the student for any endeavor they may undertake. One example is the Graduate Record Examination (GRE). This is a test often required for students applying to graduate school. It includes an analytic writing section where the student is asked to analyze the reasoning behind one argument and present his/her perspective on a given issue.

Philosophy utilizes an analytic mode of inquiry to undermine the foundations of all that we know. It also builds new foundations for that which we do not yet understand. Of course many other disciplines also promote analytic thinking. Philosophy is simply thinking about thinking. An education involving philosophy can lead to a fulfilling life and has many practical applications. Most importantly though, it will prepare the student to think for themselves.

writing from here.

2007-09-02T18:33:00.000-07:00

sitting in the basement of the juniata college library in huntingdon pennsylvania. USA.
one month to the day since i caught that great white bird across the atlantic and my head still swirls in moments of weakness. the girls on the computers across the room are talking about leeds right now. how weird is life. thats a statement.

memory comes and goes. remembering life in flashes of photos and colors sounds and smells. my greatgrandmothers apartment building had a particular odor as well as the gymnasium at the camp i went to every summer when i was younger. while i was in england the smell of windex made me think of my father, cleaning our old coffee table. stories of childhood are related back to you and i when we are older and we tell them again like we were there. a story never gets old, but maybe you've heard this one before. i puked in the second grade and laid my reading book on the airconditioner to dry. this scar on my knuckle, slingshots and bandannas at the dinner table.

Wakefields

2007-07-09T12:15:00.000-07:00

hidden between bustops, these fields kind of remind me of pennsylvannia. it isn't very sunny in england, but it does rain quite often. the green trees and fields, the power lines stretched up in the heavens over our heads. black cords, modern magic connecting the expanses of nature. even the pollen in my eyes makes me think of home.

If you're lucky enough to have looked through my pictures you now get an update on life in leeds. It is in fact drawing to a close. i attempted to draw out my time here and found a job working at the Radisson hotel, but august will see me back in huntingdon in time for classes to begin again. i fly back to the states on august 2nd. i'll spend some quality time in coopersburg with family and friends before moving into the house in huntingdon with jon, kazia, ross and the numerous pets. i'm not sure i'm ready to think and write about summing up my experiences here. i've met so many people and seen so many different places. i dont think i really started to understand england until a week or two ago, and i'm still baffled most of the time. anna and i nearly got hit crossing the street in wakefield. and catching a bus is largely a matter of luck. why they insist on driving on the other side of the road, no one will ever understand. but england is more than driving on the other side of the road, pubs, pints and popular culture. i wish i could expand. yet i think i have learned a few things along the way, even if they have nothing to do with england. wow, that was all real vague.

Getting Married

2007-06-27T15:05:00.000-07:00

i'm listening to the radio. not getting married. but everytime i sign on to facebook, my worldwide stalker gossip connection web, it seems someone else is getting hitched. and last weekend i experienced my first gay wedding. not My first gay wedding, but i waited tables and served drinks at A wedding. i must admit there were simple questions which arose in my mind, concerning those traditions we take for granted at any other wedding i have been to, and they were answered. there was no bride. just two grooms each wearing a tux. simple solution to a half joking half ignorant question. and honestly that was pretty much the only difference. both sides of parents spoke of gaining a son in law. i'm fairly certain there was a larger than average number of other homosexual men in attendance. the wedding party also seemed to consist of more friends than family as compared to the weddings i've been to, but this could be due to any number of reasons. so it was cool, they got married, everyone was happy.

1st of July, 2007: it has rained for the entire month of june. i need some sunshine. people have died in the flooding. will it ever let up? the 4th of july is only three days away.

French Riviera

2007-06-09T10:08:00.000-07:00

Enthusiasm was wearing thin. Twelve hours earlier we were eating calamari in the old town of Nice. The sun still beating down on our faces. a few hours by bus and plane and we were sitting in an all night hole in the wall in north east England, chilly Newcastle. our train didn't leave until 4:30 and the train station closed at eleven so we took to the streets with luggage in tow. dark crowded unfamiliar streets looking for somewhere to pass the time. 24/7 city cafe. greasy English chips and chicken. the bars closed at 2:00 driving crowds of drunken teens towards our hideaway. i only begin at the end of the story in an attempt to persuasively convey our state of mind. harsh reality, optimism, out of touch. the shock upon returning to England was not overshadowed by excitement and expectation as was our shock upon arriving in France. maybe it was just getting late and we needed to sleep.

'French in Translation'
Monday afternoon seven friends and myself boarded a plane in Newcastle England. walking into the boarding area, i noticed right away that almost everyone getting on our plane looked retired. Monday evening we were on the beach in Nice France. the 21st century is an incredible time to live. (going through customs in France i remembered i didn't speak french). that same evening we each treated ourselves to a pasta dinner and a crepe with nutella. the air was still warm, the waiters were friendly, the night was relaxed. the french riviera must be an incredible place to live.

Tuesday was devoted to the exploration of Nice and with the aid of daylight we got our first true taste of the city. the colors, architecture, style, food, and sun all made an impression as we headed towards the beach. by the time we eventually made it there a cloud formed in the sky and a light rain began to fall. disappointment. we walked along the coast with the sea to our right. the bluest water I've ever seen washed up onto the stony shore. i had noticed the musical sound this created the night before, and now i could see the stones rocking against each other with each wave. a man fished from the high rocks below the road. bright orange red and yellow buildings stood to our left with romantically carved balconies and faded blue shutters. all an apparent contrast to the bricks and dull modern facade of England. the old town was bustling with activity, shops, cafes, and tourists in designer clothes. narrow winding streets, wash hanging from lines stretched between windows to dry. artists, butchers, florists, all side by side.

that afternoon the sun was shinning bright and we went back to the beach. I had restrained myself from jumping into the sea the night before, knowing that we would be back. now however, there was no reason not to swim. no one else wanted to come, so i waded in alone. the water was cold, but not unbearable and i quickly got used to it, swimming out and floating, opening my eyes under the water to see the stones below. ten minutes later i waded out with a giant red imprint of a jelly fish on my right forearm. life just isn't fair, i only wanted to swim.

Cannes, where they host the famous film festival, is a half hour south-west of Nice and it's the city of the Rich and the Famous. there's a certain luxurious aroma in the air. tanned, wearing designer clothes and gold chains or diamond earrings. everyone. sunscreen for 20 euros, i preferred to burn a little. Anna and i met an older gentlemen who noticed us speaking English. he was from Manchester and has spent the last 25 years in Cannes. 'I've met all the stars, Nice is a beautiful city, where are you two beautiful people from?' that sort of thing. private yachts and private parties on private beaches, 'no, I'm not registered on the beach'. high class my friend. it was the old women in gold diamonds and red sweaters with high heels and great big hats and makeup caked on sunken tanned faces that kind of makes you wonder. these people are slightly out of touch with reality. i can't say it wouldn't be a relaxing life to lead.

Monaco is extravagant. one city, an entire country. the wealthy and the royal. Monte-Carlo is a world famous casino with a prominent position within the country, high on a hill overlooking the sea. when it opened it was known as the cathedral of hell. we walked down to the beach and watched a volleyball game through a fence. jellyfish were out in full force. we took a ten minute bus ride across the country and surveyed the port and everything else from near the palace. everything was beautiful. we went to the aquarium and looked at the fishes.....

Time again...i was writing this last week just after we returned from France and that's why the date of the post is what it is and in any case, i was getting sick and writing very slowly and then Monday morning i got a phone call and a job interview and Tuesday i started working at the Radisson hotel and its now Saturday afternoon and its been my first chance to write and I'm afraid those wonderful stories of Nice will have to wait for some other time. i don't think it was going anywhere anyway.

Time, as chorus

2007-05-28T12:09:00.000-07:00

It has been over a year since my first post and nearly a month since my last. and well, the jig is up, the time has come, the cock has crowed, the clock has struck, the tide is rising, and the sun is setting, its about time i wrote something down. Classes are over, finals are finished, I've spent a year studying in England. I pause here for contemplation. Enter Time, as chorus. wade through memories bound in digital frames lashed loosely together by imprecise language...I've been sitting here for 10 minutes now wondering where i should go from there. I've left myself knee deep in memory, sitting on the edge of the bed slightly baffled, letting my mind wander an hour or more away, trespassing upon the unknown lands of space-time. Saturday afternoon was sunny, or the sun filtered down through the clouds every few minutes and I took off walking. there is a large stone building that can be seen from Anna's kitchen window which from a distance i have always supposed was a castle. Here you may infer that it was not a castle at all. and when i finally got close enough to see the stone towers rising above the small brown town houses i had difficulty getting any closer. the roads i walked down ended in culdisacs and wooden fences and dogs, with English accents, barking behind flimsy wooden gates. a gang of children on bicycles raced around taunting and chasing each other weaving in and out of the houses along the paved footpaths which i also followed. my castle was not 200 yards away when a large metal fence lined with barbed wire stood in my path. a quixotian giant with six arms, each brandishing a razor sharp saber. i ducked down an uncertain path into someones backyard and attempted to circumnavigate the giant. In some roundabout way, following narrow alley streets and turning down shrubbery lined drives i eventually arrived in the parking lot of my castle. Its the 21st century, why shouldn't castles have parking lots? Exactly. no reason why a moat and horses can not be replaced by a steel fence and cars. Of course this all made more sense when I realized that my castle was in fact a Prison. Enter Time, as chorus. a metaphor surfaces on the still lake of consciousness. disillusionment, facade. I've often mentioned the island of claustrophobic geography, prison walls, the city. I've been reading too much philosophy and enjoying 'Orlando' by Virginia Woolf more than may be healthy for my writing. but here there is no turning back. the walk was worth it. Prison or castle, i found a wonderful pet store along the way.

the sun shines through the window as it rises somewhere close to 4:30am, if my half asleep attempt at reading a clock can be trusted. when i awake sometime later, grey clouds hover and rain is threatening a morning walk. an hour later the sun is shinning and then again it looks like rain. am i dwelling on the weather? but it has been light until past nine pm for a few weeks now.

So what have i learned? What great conclusions can be drawn from this experience? What am I feeling? Where am I going? 'Its all very wonderful, terrible, complex, different and good.' i'd like to end it there...but, i'm very glad I came to live and study in england, even if it is only for a short while. i've met a few wonderful people. i've travled extensively (i think so) and i've watched every Seinfeld episode two or three times at least. and i'm not quite ready to leave, but i really look forward to returning to Pennsylvania. so for what its worth. In Conclusion, i'm searching for a job. next week we are visiting Nice, france. Matt Foley says Nice is nice. i must go find out for myself. and then...i have no idea.

Book Review

2007-04-29T07:40:00.000-07:00

Incredibly my second semester at Leeds is quickly reaching its end. Not winding down, but building to a climactic and frightening finish with a week left of classes and then exams. just for kicks i thought i'd post some of the better things i've read over the past few months. i picked a book from each course that i found enjoyable or most important or the one that leaves an impression. i just found these interesting and thought i'd share. these may not be the best works from each course, but i suppose they are the ones that reached out to me and said, 'look at this, incredible eh?' so i thought i'd pass on the sentiment, maybe just so you know i've done more than travel and maybe so i could get back into the studying mood.

'Between the Acts' by Virginia Woolf
read for modern literature last semester, my first glimpse of virginia woolf. the story of a small town on the day of their town pagent just days before the outbreak of world war II. Interested in History, art, war, sexuality, personal anxiety concerning all of these. blah blah. i became really interested in the connection that woolf builds between words and thought and the way that a single word is packed full of many many connotations beyond itself. words branch out in webs across time and space. thought and speech are not necessarily aligned, or maybe more than we first perceive. i'm now a huge virginia woolf fan.

Article on Foundherentism by Susan Haack
i dont have the actual article in front of me, and the name of it eludes my memory, but i found this article to be a very effective contribution to epistemology; the study of knowledge, what does it mean to say we know something, how do we know something, is this different than belief etc? anyway, there are two competing theories in epistemology, foundationalism and coherentism, both describing different ways in which we gain knowledge. Susan Haack presents a theory of knowledge that combines these two and she cleverly calls it foundherentism (philosophers tend to do this sort of thing). she uses the idea of a crossword puzzle to simulate how we gain knowledge. she looks at our practicle uses of the word knowledge and creates a theory, as opposed to building a theory and attempting to describe how it fits into life.

'The Mill on the Floss' by George Eliot
i read a number of different authors and poets for victorian literature last semester. i can't say a lot of it really appealed to me. the poetry was...a bit tedious, as were some of the books. however, there were some really interesting contributions to literature and when looked at in the context of the period, how people viewed reading etc. some of it is really pretty good. 'the mill on the floss' may not have been the greatest story ever, and there is a lot of criticism, but george eliot (not her real name, and not a man, oh the things you learn) kind of caught my attention because her writing style was really wondering and somewhat philosophical, taking random turns to discuss things not at all important to the story.

'Language Truth and Logic' by A.J. Ayer
philosophy of language. Ayer's book is incredible for many reasons. One, he wrote it when only 24. two, although the position of logical positivism which he backs is no longer popularly accepted, the book is still read as a major contribution to the philosophy of language; (an attempt to say something systematic about language and how we determine meaning). Ayer proposes the idea that in order for a statement to be meaningful it must either be analytic (discoverable a priori, a tautology true by definition, math etc) or empirically verifiable (principle of verifiability) corresponding to something that can be determined through observation of the world. In any case, this leads to the conclusion that any talk of metaphysics (transcendental reality, religious speculation etc.) is essentially meaningless. This drastically changes the face of philosophy if it is accepted. Ayer's book is a straightforward and concise argument that cannot be ignored.

'Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion' by David Hume
David Hume is the arch empiricist of modern philosophy. Essentially, this book is a fictional dialouge between three characters discussing the philosophical foundations of religous belief. The characters all outwardly agree there is a God, however their main discussion revolves around our ability to determine the attributes of this God. In a skeptical approach to the discussion, Hume is attempting to avoid the religous dogma that we all too often fall into. very convincing arguments and a strong introduction to philosophy of religion, i imagine.

'Measure for Measure' or 'The Winter's Tale' by William Shakespeare
or any other play by shakespeare. i know he isn't always associated with a relaxing read, but it really is good. his plays seem to discuss everything and the language really is poetry. the hard part is getting past the first few pages i imagine, but after that it is very easy to be drawn into the play. 17th century hollywood. sex, drugs, murder. exit pursued by a bear.

(kinda) lost in translation

2007-04-20T12:49:00.000-07:00

but the fruit and the vegetables....Those ripe red juicy tomatoes make Barcelona more than perfect. City of design? Maybe. Picasso, Dali, who were they if you have tomatoes that leave your tastebuds tingling with anticipation for more. The tastes, smells, sights and sounds are nothing like that cold stale northern island of England.

'Ah no comprendo'
"two cappuccinos? Ok. where are you from?" (in spanish of course)
and anna understood enough.
' Greece'
'ah yes Greece, beautiful country. and him?'
'The United States'
'Ah...Bush!'
'yes, bush'
'Well, welcome to spain!'

Captain Hook bar, giant statues of cats, camels and mammoths, many many dogs, try a dino's gelato, friggo, el torro, park guell, cuitadella, girl from australia traveling the world, hostel with no windows turning into a sweat lodge, men on the street selling sixpacks, la rambla, old couple from oregon, rabla del raval, placa catalunya, bush, american embassy, barcelonetta, funicular de montjuic, crema catalana, tapas, ill on the pier, biciclettas. Barthelona, Girona, running out of a cafe to catch the last train, Figueres, Barcelona. sunshine, post cards.

"Luke Visits UK"

2007-04-09T06:00:00.000-07:00

This is a story about a guy named Luke and his adventure across the Atlantic ocean to visit his brother in England.

Luke's brother's name is Ryan. Some say they look alike. "You both have the same eyes." And the same blonde hair and red beard.

Ryan decided to take his brother to see the sights. This is a picture of Luke in London, standing across the Thames from Big Ben.

This is Luke standing in front of Shakespeare's Globe Theater. He is studiously holding a copy of Othello that he has to read for English Class. He might start to read it on the plane ride home. No time for books now. Ryan and Luke are off to the Tate Modern. Luke really enjoyed the slides.

Ryan is a Beatles fan and couldn't let luke leave england without a trip to liverpool. It just wouldn't be right.

They took a trip on the Magical Mystery Tour. "Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes..." Doesn't get any better than that.

They went to York too, and spent a lot of time wandering around Leeds with anna searching for a pair of sunglasses for Luke.

It was a great trip, and luke even bought sunglasses after much deliberation. but all good things come to an end. Moral of the story? Always visit your brother studying overseas.

pastel perspective

2007-03-28T07:53:00.000-07:00

I suppose I immediately began comparing Munich to England. the united states was somewhere else in my mind. Aleks and I had been walking the clean pastel streets of Munich, while snow slowly fell, for only a few hours when i noticed something different. Please do not take this as shallow or an expression an any ill will towards england, but as a general all around subjective opinion, the people in germany are just more attractive. better looking? ageing well? maybe its my own personal aesthetic.

And they obey cross walk signs.

In england, if there is a gap between traffic large enough for a small dog to quickly scurry through then there is plenty of room for a pedestrian to sprint across the street. often causeing cars to quickly break, and their drivers, in that time it takes for them to slow down, to give a friendly annoyed scowl. Aleks made sure i understood that a german driver is much less likely to slow down for any silly pedestrian attempting a cross. Crosswalk etiquette? Its like the living room lava game and stepping on the street when the light is red is simply frowned upon, i suppose.

anyway...i had so much more to write about munich, chai tea latte, oh german food, twin peaks, pastel buildings, madonna, castles, dolly parton, jenny, the devestations, mermaids with eating disorders and well there just isn't any time now that i've procrastinated so much. i apologize. i'll just post some pretty pictures and then get on to another post and studying and traveling and.

are you aware you are seated in an emergecny exit? (Fight Club? a glance around) yes i am. And are you willing and capable of performing the emergency exit procedure? (tyler durden, a look at the guy next to me, is he laughing inside like I am?) sure.

mountain goat syndrome

2007-03-12T05:48:00.000-07:00

Its just an itch in the back of your mind when rocks rise up before you. it might just be stepping up on the curb or maybe its a tree or a grassy slope or a long flight of cement stairs leading towards an art museum in philadelphia. the possibility of getting higher, a change in elevation, a vantage point. something makes you go to the top. i don't really understand it. ross told me, "its mountain goat syndrome, i've got it bad". yeah me too.
It turns out that ross also has columbus syndrome; see a body of water and it must be crossed. last week, in an incredible feat of human endurance, ross rowed a boat across the atlantic ocean to come visit me. And when he arrived, after considerable dancing, shouting, frisbee tossing, football watching, and shakespeare lecture listening...we decided there was no way to go but up. to the topper most of the popper most if one were quoting the beatles.
To be short. we headed towards the highest mountain in all of england and wales. caught a train from manchester to bangor in wales and then a bus to caernarfon. really clean, cheap, cozy (owner little weird though seems like a good guy) hostel called totters. wandered the tourist town, castles and fishing, until we ended up exhausted and on top of a hill overlooking everything. MGS (mountain goat syndrome).
Next day. a bus to llanberis and the beautiful countryside of wales. snowdonia national park and the base of snowdon mountain (highest in all of england and wales 3500something). beautiful beautiful hike. lakes, sheep, mountains, 18th century pen-y ceunant isaf tea room near the start of the trail. down the first road behind the rail station. we walk into the tea room after our summit and are greeted by the growling of a friendly black lab who, as it turns out, only understands welsh. and then his eccentric companion, owner of the tea room, speaks english as well, and loves to talk. we're given tea and free slice of cake and praised for our pennsylvania heritage in a country (the US) that deserves to be slandered nearly as much as england. theres a large welsh community in PA so we're ok. luckily we aren't from london. but everyone in wales was really friendly and helpful and beautiful mountains and lots of sheep and rock walls and highest mountain in england and wales. its really easy to get on a bus to any small town and find a cheap place to stay, some decent food and a mountain or two to hike. all in northern wales.

near disaster results in greatest grilled cheese ever recorded in history of mankind.

2007-02-19T06:34:00.000-08:00

I just made the most impressive grilled ham and cheese sandwhich ever to grace mortal eyes. i think it was perfect. thick slabs of cheddar cheese and three slices of ham melted deliciously between two whole wheat pieces of bread lightly dashed with english butter and fried a to a crisp golden brown on both sides. Disaster was putting the butter in the microwave. i didnt' expect the wrapping would ignite. only my dignity was hurt when my flatmate came into the kitchen just in time to see me frantically blowing on a flaming stick of butter. it must be taken into account that i've spent the past 4 days asleep with a fever, only waking to eat (wonderful greek sandwhiches) and attempts at reading ayer's take on the philosophy of language. Any practical accomplishment, no matter how meager, is a bit like a light at the end of the tunnel. seriously though, this grilled cheese was no wimp. the cheese was melted to perfection, not too gooey, but just enough and warm and crunchy but not stiff and stale like those sad imitations of grilled cheese you would be served in a school cafeteria. oh this was a grilled cheese like no other.

Speakers Corner

2007-02-05T05:12:00.000-08:00

Imagine a large modern city. Like any city, this one has its share of evangelical religous zealots, racist fanatics, outspoken marxist supporters, lonely politically inclined obnoxious conspiricay theory believing middle aged men prone to argument, and (as if we need to make it a catagory in itself) the mildly insane. Its difficult, but now imagine this eclectic group of people were all to gather together, in early democratic fashion, on a regular basis in a public arena in order to 'enlighten the masses' who came to debate and listen. Envision a surreal ancient athens where politicians with ragged beards, grown men dressed like superheros, and racist grandmothers shout from the third rung of footstools while surrounded by crowds of heckling spectators. If the picture isn't quite clear in your head don't worry because you can go see this spectacle of modern society for yourself.
If you happen to be lucky enough to be in London on a sunday morning I highly suggest you make it a point to visit speakers corner. hop on a bus or the tube and head towards Hyde Park. You can't miss the crowds gathered around the men and women shouting from their vantage point a foot or so above the heads of everyone else. I wasn't sure what to expect. In my head i may have envisioned soap box speeches and enthralled orderly attentive crowds. I wasn't prepared for the scene that unfolded before me. around half past twelve anna and i got off the tube (an experience in itself) around green park. we meandered along towards hyde park and browsed the books being sold on the street while sipping coffee from starbucks. It was a sunny morning and hyde park was full of runners, bikers and groups playing football(soccer). we consulted the sign near an entrance and discovered speakers corner was located on the far side of the park. The corner is offical and has maintained this tradition of public speech from those days long before radio, television and the computer. we now have more efficent means of mass communicating, but i suppose the idea of public dialoge does have its allure.
Although i was the only person talking to patrick, he maintained his stoic posture standing atop his chair. looking down, he explained that i should talk to jesus if i wanted to fullfill my purpose in life; to prepare for life after death. For 16 years Patrick has been standing on his chair in hyde park every sunday and i imagine hes talked to a lot people. however i doubt as many people have disagreed with him as with the older woman who was speaking not far away. her fanatical shouts encouraged a crowd of disagreeable spectators to descend into her vicinity. This elderly white haired woman straightforwardly criticized...pretty much everyone but herself. The logical progression was difficult to follow but her main point was that if you aren't from pure english heritage you should stay out of england. immigrants from europe are terrible people, from the middle east are terrorists, and americans are going to hell for giving up and leaving england. she didnt' want anyone to come back either. Hecklers moved in roving groups from one speaker to the next attacking them and debating with them. one particulary obnoxious english man fancied himself quite witty so continuously made loud irrelevant remarks over his shoulder to the rest of the crowd who laughed along. i have no doubt he did this every week.
i can't explain how random the crowds were. half of them very serious and the other half there for pure entertainment. cheaper than a movie. one man dressed in peculiar garb and jamacian flag pronounced 'the black man' as the master race who would soon take over the world. Another, went by the name of Mr. Satan, read insulting jokes and complained about women. An old man stood on his chair in the center of this disarray and sung hymn songs. have you ever wondered where the guy who carries the sign, 'the end is coming' spends his sunday mornings? those passing through the park stop at each speaker for a few moments and move on or stay to debate, sometimes recording the debates, but it seems mostly to be entertained by the outspoken individual who feels the necessity to tell the world whats on their mind. free speech is a beautiful thing.

todaisymonday

2007-01-29T12:37:00.000-08:00

A new post, though weighing heavily on my mind (as these important matters do), has elluded my every attempt at creation. there seems to be so much going on that i can't bring any sort of coherence to the chaos of thoughts that need to be organized and broadcast to my few but faithful readers. i just need to transform these explosions into words. its therapy and fullfilling for myself, as well as hopefully informative or at the very least (or the very most) entertaining for the reader. so begins my short rant on life in leeds; perspective from ryan.

Second semester classes began last week, Shakespeare, history of modern philosophy and philosophy of language. i'm reading othello and Leibniz and can not yet explain philosophy of language. its difficult and somewhat embarrassing not being able to describe, beyond reiterating the title, a course one is currently enrolled in. "well you see, its the philosophy of language, so you know language and the philosophy and study of it and um...well i'll tell you in a few weeks." after all thats why i'm taking the course. and hopefully i'll soon be able to explain more, or possibly not. The other main second semester difficulty i have encountered is that of sarcasm. meeting new people and getting to know those whom i informally and shortly met in the first semester the question of sarcastic etiquette has been prominent. i've just recently come to understand, through some awkward moments, that not everyone i meet has the same inherit sarcasm which i believe i demonstrate a bit too freely at times. i merely mention this as a warning to those yet ignorant of this problem. it seems that sarcasm can be misunderstood, misinterpreted and misconstrued as offensive. bluntly, strangers may find their sarcastic acquaintence obnoxious, cynical, complaining, depressing and even to be a terrible person. i have discovered the importance, in the occurance of cringing faces or casting remarks, to highlight the previous statement as a joke, or plainly, sarcasm. in the interest of humanity as a whole, you have now been notified of this phenomenon.

Here on the island of England, I have found the amount of time i spend sitting in cafe's drinking coffee with a book, newspaper, or pad and pen on the table in front of me to be quite wonderful. the life of a student isnt' so terrible. The newspaper generally confronts me with a number of conflicting and entertaining thoughts which i too rarely ever carry beyond the close of those smudgy gray pages, but some do deserve mentioning. the worlds pending doom is a general topic in the news. global warming and waste alongside britains prisions overflowing and violence in lebanon, violence everywhere. however there are articles which inspire hope. Barack Obama http://www.barackobama.com/ has announced he will run for president of the United States, and my mother sent me an email about a book called, "The Last Messages", published in Finland, which is written entirely in text messages and i think it sounds fantastic and i learned about the life of Jean-Francois Deniau, although it was his obituary, he sounded like a neat guy. I began these newspaper mumblings however, to discuss my thoughts on the feverish upcoming presidential election, a topic which has been highlighted quite often in the english news. Although my intentions and subject of contempt may be all too clear, i will attempt to harness my argument into a universal code which i believe should be an ideal embraced by all who plan to connect themselves in any which way with electing/promoting/judging, of any human being.
My proposal is a simple one: Evalute your subject upon the basis of their particular personal character, but most importantly the ideas they express which stem from this. It is abhorent to think that illogical marketing of race, gender, lineage and other such necessary conditions of life should hold any prevelance over the mind of the person who stands before you. Allowing this marketing to sway a decision, be it to the negative, or just as bad, towards the positive, is illogical, unnecessary, and ignorant. I say, let ideas govern our decision making, let positive empirical evidence of these ideas functioning and in practice govern our decision making. Do not let the person stand before their ideas. ignore everything but ideas and practice. simply. my thoughts in universal language.

-the tale of plastic pete-

Winter months marked
by banners in the trees
windy weather gladly proclaims
from tops of bare brown branches
our desolate earthly disease
plastic tangled between sticks
where summer months
sprout bright green leaves
we hang our trash
in modern martyr fashion
to flutter in the breeze.

january retrospect

2007-01-18T07:32:00.000-08:00

The sirens that have been wailing all night and into the day, the 92 mph (maybe kilometers, but real fast) winds, and a bit of a cold make today a fine day to stay indoors. its half past three and already the sun has begun its descent; unless of course i'm mistaken and the darkened dismal color of the sky is only an effect of intense cloud cover and strong bellowing gales. my Exams are finished. I now have until monday to contemplate my own thoughts, a majorty of which, by now are all tied up and tangled with thoughts from lectures so the two are at times indistinguishable. For better or for worse. my first semester in England has officially come to an end, christmas and new years passed. january is nearly over already. students that were only here for the semester look forward to home and are sad to leave. others look forward to a new semester, and I, to warmer weather as well.

In the midst of studying for my epistemology exam, justfied true beliefs, gettier paradoxes, contextualism and more of the same, i began to enjoy myself and even took a moment to write a short essay I have entitled, 'Why I Like School'. Its silly and deceptive and very honest and exagerated and entirely true.

Why I Like School...

My experience as a student has shown me that as the semester progresses so does the confusion. Books pile higher in haphazard pyramids, no longer time, or just a lack of desire, to put them neatly lined up back on the shelf. Papers become crumpled between books and margins are scribbled full of thoughts on lectures and mostly thoughts far from lectures. All semester you read and study and discuss and generally become terribly confused and frustrated. There are those rare moments of inter-semester epiphany and joy, but it gets better than that. The enjoyment truly comes at the end when studying for finals and you look back at the blazed trail of confusion and fashion it all together into comprehensible personal understanding. You look back at W.H. Auden and realize the poet you didnt' enjoy at all during the business of seminar is fantastic. And maybe, when its all said and done you forget some of the facts and theories and key historic figures who made little impact anyway. However, if all goes well, you carry away some new ideas and you've formed a center of understanding from which you can continue onwards. And this is wonderful.

When I discover where we go from there i'll be on to something.

holiday

2006-12-29T15:44:00.000-08:00

Christmas in Amsterdam. with kyle and anna, staying in the Bed and Coffee which didn't entirly live up to its fantastic name; even if they did provide a bed and coffee, they also managed to decorate our room with disco balls, pyschadelic light fixtures, and colorful paintings of pigs. the Brussels light show gave christmas eve some true spirit and glorious grid stamped fried dough dusted in powdered sugar or dripping with chocolate; the belgium waffel steaming just in spite of the cold december, well its really good.

bicycles bicycles bicycles. our first hours in amsterdam i was sure we were in danger of bicylce gang attacks. it just turns out that everyone rides bikes. i'm not sure it can even be explained, I wouldn't believe it unless I saw it.

Van Gogh, wooden clogs, red light district, bicycles, canals, coffee shops, rembrant, utreicht, brussels, waffels, squares, trams, bicycles, trains, directions in dutch, intermission in the movie theater, postcards, holiday.

a very different christmas, away from home.

*pictures compliments of anna and her camera.

Roma

2006-12-17T06:57:00.000-08:00

We meander through the ruins of the Foro Romano and my tour guide, the one and only matthew foley, nonchalantly points out a small structure he tells me is the belly button of the world. I've been in Rome for almost a week now with travels to pisa and Firenze (italian)(florence, in latin, matt explains they both mean flower). essentially i'm prepared to calmly wrap my mind around the incredible (michelangelos David, leaning towers, basilica di santa croce, italy, americans in italy, the vatican museum, three euro gelato, the pantheon) but the belly button of the world takes a few moments to sink in. this changes everything. i stand on stone at the place the romans believed was the center of the world and frankly i suddenly feel kind of important. at that moment my perspective shifts and i'm looking out at the world that blosoms before me; at the center, the world certainly is there for the taking. of course i'm aware of the insistent reality lingering in the back of my mind, 'not actually the center', but what if it were? maybe that isn't so important in this day and age, or maybe today, the center of the world is less geographic. in fact its determined by very different factors. in any case, the perspective one gains from the center is both rewarding and possibly dangerous i imagine. but i'm babbling because i have no words to describe rome. its an incredible city, with ancient history and modern culture inhabting the same streets. Foot locker sits a block away from the vatican, i ascend the dirty cement stairs of the metro into the sunlight with the colesseum rising in all of its ancient glory directly across the busy street. this alignment of past and present was an idea that spanned the entirety of my visit and i couldn't get it out of my head.

because, rome wasn't built in a day, when in rome, know as the romans know, all roads lead home. some are just longer than others.

London-The City

2006-12-05T04:46:00.000-08:00

As someone who has spent a majority of their life in that special geographic pocket situated snuggly between New York City and Philadelphia affectionatly known as the lehigh valley, which harbors such small cities as allentown bethlehem and easton, i have suprisingly spent little or no significant amount of time exploring the concret- sidewalks-man-made jungles-The City. It is important to note i've also, more than once, struggled on the side of some lonely mountain to erect a tent in the rain, praying silently, or yelling outloud if there is any suspicion of hail, for the thunder clouds to hold off just until i can figure out how to peice together the color coded poles and find the stakes for the tent. (i admire those who can build immense structures from nothing.) For these, and most likely, many other reasons i was truly intrigued by three days in a city the size of London. Edinburgh, was the first time i realized how a city can dominate a landscape and when i look at london in the same manner, it becomes a testament to the intellect and power of Man. however, like any cynical victorian I am somewhat distraught. The city is beautiful and it is an incredible center of intellectual discourse, yet riding the tube below the busy streets of london and rushing through crowded squares one senses a loss of individuality and one feels rather more like a cog in the machine than an operator of that machine or even themselves; the city. But this is all rather cliche and dull and depressing and london is just a really big amazing place with enough going on to keep a person busy for a lifetime. my three days, really more like two, and these few paragraphs will attempt (quite vaugely) to sum up everything you ever needed or wanted to know about london, england, the city, and life in general.

I suppose it began thursday afternoon when i walked down to the national express coach station in Leeds. i carried a book of plays by Oscar Wilde that i began to read while i waited for joyce, who on her way to visit a friend in kenya decided to visit friends who are currently residing in the UK. apparently, as you do. after two nights of hobnobbing around leeds involving a necessary visit to the basement, walks down briggate, an interesting spanish resturant, and watching episodes of Friends at anna's flat, we boarded a bus early saturday morning. 4 hours later london engulfed the coach. and i was never seen again...would be a good start for the making of a sci fi novel...but we just stayed with some friends in london. Saturday night: thai resturant, servers who seem to insist i order a drink, subtle flashbacks to the chinese place in edinburgh, and a play by eugene o'neil, moon for the misbegotten i belive, starring kevin spacey. cheap seats mean you see half the stage and stretch around the guy who is actually standing in front of you so he can see himself, if you wish to see any more. it was however fantastic. Sunday: awake early for tourism, buckingham palace, cafe, Charles Dickens house. i stand looking out his window at his backyard. Dickens is larger than life, his back patio was quite small. tower bridge. big ben, note the red phone booth, double decker bus and big ben all in one photo, every conception of london. art museum, natural history museum, dinosaurs, the tube, i'm in the westminster abbey coffee club. a christmas service at st. pauls cathedral. man has created his own wide open spaces contained within structures like this cathedral. much more that i've missed. Monday: millenium bridge, very cool. the globe theater, The Tate Modern. i could only wander for 40 minutes before leaving joyce to board a bus back to leeds, but in that short time saw photographs by sherman, paintings by dali, picasso, pollock, monet and wow. london is great. very expensive, very intense, a cultural conglomeration. essentially its a crazy place and i'm learning to appreciate the city. the cafes, the pigeons, the unfriendly people, the museums, the friendly people, sidewalks and dirty sidestreets, long wide broadstreets, the gritty underground, the expensive coffee(note: i don't appreciate, and never will appreciate, the expensive coffee. just on principle.), cathedrals and used bookstores, street performers, homeless, lawyers, bus drivers, kids on skateboards, bright sun reflected on steel bridges, even the rain that falls quite differently; a cultural conglomeration, london, the city, gain a new perspective, such is life.

<"NewsFlash">

2006-11-24T08:04:00.000-08:00

The Times, Friday November 24, 2006. "the poisoned russian spy breathed defiance at the Kremlin as the effects of a mystery cocktail pushed him to the brink of death." "Nine members of Britain's most prolific counterfeiting gang, a criminal syndicate that forged 20 pound notes on an industrial scale, were jailed yesterday...recovered..notes with a face value of more than 14,280,320 pounds." This is real. incredible. the world is extensive. yes extensive and elusive and at large, said to be armed and dangerous, police caution do not try to restrain the suspect without backup. and it continues.

"Thousands of Christians on campuses across Britain claim that their right to freedom of expression is being challeneged by student associations attempting to force Christian Unions to allow anybody, regardless of faith, ethnicity or sexuality, to sit on their ruling committees and to address their meetings." Is this seriously a problem? an atheist who wants to run for president of the christian union? None of the articles i've read really describe how this craze began(merely hints), but all across Britain student unions are cutting christian organizations out of their funding and, as underdog religous groups do, the organizations are fighting back against their oppressors with vigor. "eight church of england and roman catholic bishops as well as lord carey of clifton" have sent letters to The Times expressing their outrage. Is this a question of tolerance, religous doctrine, secularist agenda, morality, economics, insanity? maybe i've missed the point.

"A teenager calmly informed a friend in a text message 'someone will die 2day' before he murdered a pensioner chosen at random in the street." "The current fleet of four nuclear submarines containing 16 missiles with 200 warheads will not become obsolete until 2024." "150 killed in assault on slum city" "grandmother blows herself up in gaza"

Due to the rising number of child obesity cases, groups have been forming to ban junk food advertisments from television that targets children. "for health and consumer groups only a total ban before 9pm will do." I can't even comment. hours in front of the televison may be part of the problem. i'm not a health specialist, but..

I apologize, you can read the paper yourself.
Last night i watched a film called 'network' directed by sidney lumet, 1976. A news anchor calls bullshit on the air and becomes an apocalyptic ranting star. i thought the film was fantastic.
"I'm as mad as hell and i'm not going to take it anymore!"

It seems we have every reason to stay inside, to cower in fear, and then again maybe we have no reason at all. our ship is sinking in the sea and as water pours over the sides we're mending our clothes sitting in the slowly flooding captains quarters. yet i hesitate to paint such a bleak picture because on an individual level, in common everyday life, people are just good, except of course when they are not. which might be where the breakdown begins. it seems so easy to bring people together, we really aren't so different(someone should talk to the guy who began the rumour that we are), in fact most people can at least learn to get along. there are entire organiztions of like-minded individuals who work hand in hand to build a happy, safe, clean, friendly community. Theres the group of friends who buy the neighborhood homeless guy dinner, theres the person who will stop anything they are doing to help you out when you need it the most. but somewhere the sense of human community breaks down and degenerates into hate, misunderstanding and violence. everyones fighting for peace. if only we could at least agree on that. we're all as mad as hell to be standing knee deep in the murky sea, but no one seems to know where the leak is, and even if we did we haven't a clue as to how to save this ship.

Rene and Kerouac

2006-11-12T13:51:00.000-08:00

space and time are slowly loosing meaning. more and more. on a bus. its friday 15:34 and already getting dark. to scotland. news papers and empty coffee cups on the seat next to me, empty the only one on the bus. the rest stop in newcastle england is no different from a reststop in western pa. the untrained reststop observing eye could mistake them at a glance and frankly this upsets me. what did i expect? a reststop with not fuel, toilets, food, parking and coffee, but piles of shale, knights, old women serving tea and robin hood? five hours on a bus leaving from allentown and, if the traffic was right, you would be very lucky to hit ohio. we will cross half of the UK. its raining. i forgot my umbrella. a store owned by wal-mart, i chuckle, no one is safe. reading the paper. edinburgh? 14 C. i think i can hear four different languages being spoken in my immediate vicinity. even in the dark, or perhaps due to the dark, i envision the city built upon the landscape and for centuries continuing to be built upon itself. filling every space, inhibiting all movement, growing up and out in blocks of stone an organism a bacteria feeding on itself on the landscape on the rock faces molded on mans terms alive and constraining built to contain the flow down streets and up stairs continuing. 18:47 the hostel! crammed into the kitchen and waiting. an hour later still in a que waiting for a room 21:00 aleks and i managed to be the last two to get a room, but we scramble out for a look at the city, edinburgh. the search for the chinese resteraunt pauline swears she saw on the way in. two hours later we settle for a meat pie and chips. but the hunger for chinese will threaten us again soon...free breakfast in the hostel botanical gardens sunshine downpour sunshine rain cloudy weather oh coffee the museum. the descent to streets below. an entire street of used book stores i think i've died and gone to heaven we leave one and enter another next door, books piled on books on shelves on shelves on books and a dog and i purchase a copy of marx's communist manifesto and the women behind the desk, to my enjoyment, begins to get nostalgic. oh when i bought this book i had to get it from this shady guy on the street and you know it was illegal, i'm spanish, and to this day i keep a flower cover on it because my father nearly had a heart attack when he saw it, oh read it when you're young. 16:33 i can't stand to see people running to catch the bus. man was not made, man has not evolved, to be frantically running desperatly pleaing with short quick steps bag hung over the shoulder one hand outstretched as if to grab the bus and slow it down if he could just get near it the other hand stiff at his side begging the city bus gods to just this one day relieve his anxiety and let him get to the bus in time fear and foolishness plastered to his face. i'd run for the bus too. but17:52 Chinese Resteraunt. aleks and i climb the stairs and before i gain control we are wisked into the restaurant seated by two waiters and staring around in disbelief at the rose on our table the white linen table clothes and the nearly empty room. would we like a bottle of wine? the sign downstairs said chinese takeout. a giant mound of chicken chow mein is placed before me and one of our waitresses, yes there were many, dishes out rice for aleks. im a little uncomfortable. i want a cheap dirty and quick chinese buffet in huntingdon and i have a big cloth white napkin in my lap, will this be expensive whats going on. the waiters patrol like guards pacing back and forth across the room parading for their meager crowd of customers if the dish is empty it is taken away before i know i ever ate. so the night continues on and we walk and follow a ghost tour until told we didn't pay and walk and the hostel bar and pool and numerous games of hangman. i get the top bunk. being the last two in line we're in a room with the organizers and the couple i jokingly imagined were on their honeymoon, it turns out they actually are married. but they all sleep early and soundly and so do aleks and i. the hostel hallway smells like the big building at camp men-o-lan. so another breakfast of toast in the hostel and we visit the art gallery and buy coffee and i rant about how frustrated i am that i can't get a decent cup of cheap coffee. i've spent more money on coffee than i like to think about. oh to think we took those long mornings of continuous coffee at the coop-d for granted. but more walking and talking about television friends sex and the city animaniacs victorian literature etc. but back on the bus and returning to leeds i've been reading big sur by kerouac for two and a half hours straight and when i attempt to bring the oatmeal raisin cookie to my mouth half of the crumbly goodness plummets towards the center of the earth so in a manic scramble i stumble and reach out and self consciously bring the nearly departed cookie to my mouth suddenly in a moment of clarity or confusion realizing i'm on a bus in england and i'm almost suprised by the fact that i've just discovered. back in newcastle at a rest stop 40 international students congregate outside the bus getting ready to board. when the driver climbs in the other side and sits down we all see him in the window and sigh as if enlightened and chuckle as if embarrasssed all at once together because the door is on the other side of this crazy english bus we've all lined up outside.

sea side.

2006-11-01T15:58:00.000-08:00

are you going to scarborough fair?

I should have spent more time thinking about writing and less taking subpar pictures. Contrary to the dreary cloud cover displayed in these photos scarborough really does give one the feeling of fanfare. A beachside town in october still bustling and selling incredible amounts of ice cream, i imagine the hordes that swarm the area in july. wandering, enjoying the ocean view, kids on a rope swing, the castle with an entrance fee means we walk the outside wall instead. the village market, old books, old ladies, old clothes, new clothes, fresh meat, fresh fish, antiques, cheap toys, the wafting smell of marijuana? winding streets, an ancient cemetary, endless flights of steep stairs, fish and chips with tea at winking willies, how english, walking the beach, a happy dog, children in the sand, sudden interest in digital video, oh a beautiful patch of blue sky!, the sun slowly sets, broken benches, transition to the train.

strawberry fields forever

2006-10-23T09:35:00.000-07:00

The day i heard my first beatles song was the day liverpool began forming in a haze out of my imagination. The real Liverpool is nothing like the one i envisioned however. This Beatles fan mecca is much larger than the city i anticipated and looking back i really have no idea what i expected. Liverpool is a large industrial city but also contains that northern england small town feeling. Main streets are lined by expensive stores and pubs, looming cemet buildings make me think of gotham city, but the side streets wind down shadowed alleys where you find out of the way shops and clubs with dark steps descending from the cobble stone street. I tried to imagine the city without the Mcdonalds and focused my attention on the prevelance of industrialism; possibly closer to the way it looked when john and paul walked down these same streets. Is it possible they sat at the foot of this same statue?Its difficult to imagine the city before the beatles made its name known around the globe. Sadly we only got to spend a few hours wandering the city, i think i could spend days there. it was however long enough to meander through the beatles museum, have a pint in the cavern club and make fun of sculptures at the tate museum of modern art. I feel there is much more of liverpool that i'll need to explore before leaving england. Liverpool...i'm still kind of amazed i was there.

aleks was amazed this john lennon statue was sporting such a fantastic leather jacket.

ilkley

2006-10-16T12:26:00.000-07:00

A solo english mountain day.

I suppose even in central pa they should be considered 'rather impressive hills' and not really mountains, but its all relative. This morning i decided i would have my mountain day and, if only for a few hours, leave the city for more approachable countryside. From the leeds train station it was only a 40 minute trip at the cost of a cheap pint before i stepped off the platform in Ilkley. I gathered directions online which were scratched onto a sheet of paper in my pocket, but still managed to 'explore the village' quite a bit before finding Wells road. Ilkley is even smaller than york, but i feel it still has quite a bit to offer. the main streets are lined by coffee shops and small stores that one could wander in for hours. I think there are darwin gardens? too, but will save those for another day.This afternoon i was much more interested in the surrounding hills and continued my quest for the cow and calf rock formation advertised on the ilkley website. I wandered up the street through a residential area and onto the pedestrian footpath before turning to walk along a worn rock and mud trail leading towards, as it was dubbed in my directions, the white buildings of white wells. they were nice, and offered a scenic view of the village which was mostly obscured by fog. the trail however continued on and so did i. I've discovered this intense desire within myself to continue just over the next ridge, and when i get there, just over the next ridge. on the muddy path i ran into a number of others enjoying the trail. everyone from the dog walker to the afternoon strolling couple to the vest wearing, hiking stick in hand, fanny pack totting...well the more serious hiker. Somewhere along the trail i vowed to name my dog (one day) Maggie. i'll call her in an english accent and claim thats how you pronounce her name.
i stopped for lunch on a pile of rocks that had no resemblence to a calf or a cow or any other barnyard animal, but who am i to judge? sheep grazed on the hillside above me and i took time to admire early 20th century grafitti carved into the stone. descending the hill i took pictures of the ducks in a small pond for jon and for posterity. I stopped for coffee and a quick breeze through the local second hand stores before heading home. a successful mountain day.
This is only my very limited opinion, but i feel like leeds is not so very different from any other city anywhere in the world. I've really enjoyed getting outside the city to small towns with typically english architecture rising above rose gardens and grazing sheep not far from local pubs. If i were just traveling without the wonderful inconvenience of my studies, i think i'd spend the majority of my time in the smaller towns; ilkley, guiesley, warfdale, skippton, york.

i found this in a paper left on the train...
http://www.historymatters.org.uk
the headline read, bloggers' chance to make history.
very boring or entirely interesting? such is life.

next weekend i travel to liverpool. maybe i should listen to only the beatles this week as a sort of reverent dedication.

Double Take

2006-10-11T13:28:00.000-07:00

evolution and agriculture

It was a few days ago that i suddenly took notice of Charles Darwin's profile staring back at me from the back of the 10 pound english note. I laughed outloud, and had to look again to be sure it was really him. In the states we struggle over decisions to teach Darwin in biology classrooms and here his face sits behind the queen on the currency. I found it amusing.

Yesterday afternoon marked the very first sighting of a John Deere trucker hat. I get the feeling that in Huntingdon PA if you dont own this same hat yourself someone you know has at least two, but seeing the hat in Leeds it just seemed entirely out of place.

conversation starters

2006-10-07T16:02:00.000-07:00

I heart WY
Try to strike up a conversation and feel like an ass. let the good times roll.

the dry walk up, head tilt and awkward pointing gesture:
"I dig the I Heart Wyoming t-shirt, where did you find it?"

the condesending look:
"Its not WY for wyoming."

quite confused, the thought never even entered my mind:
"oh...um."

lay on the sarcasm:
"Do you know what part of the world you are in?"

very very hesitantly, maybe i'm even more confused than i realized:
"um...yes?"

you'll need a knife to cut this:
"The UK...England...and this is Leeds...West Yorkshire."

big gulps huh? welp seeya later:
"hmm...i see"

i had thought the shirt was quite clever too. never mind.

notes from abroad

2006-10-02T05:44:00.000-07:00

First off; i'm mooching a wireless connection from a nearby neighbor who has randomly decided to make their formly secure connection unsecure. i'm elated, but the connection is terrible and doesnt' seem to last.

i've survived my first week of classes and while i didn't really know what to expect i think i'll figure it out from here. lots of reading and studying on my own which will be a good change and maybe i'll even learn about discipline. anything could happen.

I have discovered a distinct difference in the manner in which people give directions here. Friday afternoon i began wandering around the school of english in search of my seminar room. House 8, which is connected to 10, but doesn't really have a door and seminar room 6 in 13 something on the 1st floor; labeling of floors is terribly confusing here. In anycase, I started asking for directions from a number of students, who as it turned out were as lost as i. It wasn't long before i found myself utterly alone in some far and forgotten corner of the building. here only the muffled sound of fingers on a keyboard could be heard resounding from behind a half closed door. i knocked and found a white haired older gentlemen sitting at his computer. he proceeded to tell me i was no where near where i needed to be, but he could take me there. so i followed him down the stairs and through a door and across the hallway and through another door and down another hallway before he pointed me towards my destination. This is possibly the third time since my arrival in Leeds that i've been, not just directed as to where to go, but actually physically guided there. People stop what they are doing, turn around and head the other direction to help me out. am i that pathetic looking or are they just friendly and helpful? i'd like to be optimistic in this case.

Early yesterday morning we boarded the train in Leeds and crawled slowly out of the city into english suburbia before catching glimpses of the sheep and green hills of the country side. Shortly thereafter we were in York. The trip was enjoyable. Aleks, Anna, Spyros and I visited the national railway musem, wandered the streets in search of a cafe, attempted to stay out of the many used bookstores, enjoyed the english weather from beneath a tent in the market, spent time in the York Minstrel (my first cathedral, i was impressed), lost a few hours in the eclectic York museum, had lunch in the Old Lion pub where we discussed fantastic greek phrases translated into english, and then walked along the great York wall before heading back to leeds. there were many other thoughts and expanded versions of stories, but they'll be saved for...something. cheers.

muse

2006-09-24T15:35:00.000-07:00

America the Island.
And me without my telescope.

maybe its my own blind ignorance or my tendancy to focus on, well other things. when it comes to the discussion of world politics i'm at a bit of a loss. i'd like to lump in the rest of america with me, but i do know there are students my age with vast stores of important dates, names and the current status reports of every nation on the globe. i don't mean to jest. there are those who get more enjoyment out of world politics than the average american could ever fathom outside of sporting events and sex. while you may not have to cancel monday night football, having at least a general understanding seems to be important. while there are these elite few who truly understand, maybe more than i realize, i get the feeling that relative to the remaining civilized world america is slightly...isolated. once again, possible its just me. its incredible how every movement made in the states is observed from abroad. decisions are calculated with all eyes turned towards the man across the water. i am troubled because my knowledge of world happenings is a bit subpar. maybe i should have been reading more than the sunday comics. earlier this week in conversation, a student suggested that when america holds an election the rest of the world should be counted in the vote as well. i imagine its not terribly original, but it did make me think. go read a newspaper.

classes start tomorrow, but i dont have class on mondays so i have another day to wait. i've been sick for the past few days so have been laying low. i wanted to write something here about vampires and how ridiculous they must feel running for cover when the sun comes up. its possibly the most inconvenient thing i can imagine and also why can't they see in the dark, like a bat can? i was watching this movie and the vampire had to use a flashlight. she even used a glow stick at one point. kind of real lame. get a job. so i did write something.
so classes start tuesday and i'm a bit excited and hope to take a trip this weekend somewhere into the country side in honor of mountain day, maybe every monday will be mountain day. i'll attempt to take pictures eventually, i'm awkward enough without the camera at the moment.

simple difficulties

2006-09-19T10:12:00.000-07:00

I'm a junior in college studying philosophy, i have traveled great distances, i spent the past summer using a chainsaw, and i even cook my own meager meals. yet, i spent the past half hour attempting, unsuccessfully mind you, to dry my clothes with the most complicated drying machine i've ever encountered. The girl who lives on the first floor is working on her Phd. and when i asked her for help, she told me that she just ended up laying her clothes on the radiator. This can't be right.

Classes will finally start on monday. i'm very ready for them to begin, while i'm not yet registered they tell me it will be ok. i just want something to occupy my time.

dis ain't wyomin

2006-09-15T10:01:00.000-07:00

yesterday as i browsed through the store in basement of the student union building i stopped at a stand full of umbrellas and contemplated if 6 pounds was a reasonable price for rain protection. i decided to search elsewhere, being it was only cloudy out and if anything it would only drizzle. i payed for my coffee and outlet adapter before heading up the stairs to find, in a beautiful twist of irony that only real life can provide, heavy drops, nay bombs of rain racing through the sky towards earth. for reasons of pride and simple disregard that only some will understand i didn't turn around to buy the umbrella but walked home through the downpour.
so england. the milk is either whole, slightly skimmed, or skim, none of that % crap and they drive on the wrong side of the road. i may get used to everything else, but in the end their driving will still scare me. i'm sure of it.
i'm living in leeds and the city is gigantic. even bigger than coopersburg. i know. nearly every afternoon for the past week i've set out for a walk and when i become disoriented or tired i wander back towards campus. although i've spent countless hours walking, and today taking the newly discovered free bus, i have yet to explore everything. i live in an apartment with 7 other students, only three and a boyfriend of whom i have met. its a general consensus that not everyone has moved in. my flat mate across the hall is a grad student from spain studying philosophy. it made my day when i found out. my room is the corner of the attic and bit cozy but will do just fine. the skylight, or slanted window, the roof being the only wall open to the outside provides hours of rain watching enjoyment.
Classes don't begin until the 25th so i'm not entirely sure what i'm supposed to do until then, but i'm exploring and attempting to converse with the many other internationals as well as the few english students who are already in leeds. it should prove to be an interesting year. i'll send my address to anyone interested, i may even get a mobile phone, going against all principle, but a necessity if i wish to exist. and i do. Cheers.

box turtles and billy bragg

2006-09-08T21:06:00.000-07:00

Steve Irwin is stabbed through the heart by a sting ray and died earlier this week. through the heart. The story has been plastered across the news media. I'm sure you've noticed. Only the first few hours after his death was it necessary to ask, "have you heard?" As I paced back and forth across the house this past week i contemplated his death. the death of an incredible man who was more cartoon than real flesh and blood. through the heart. a man i didn't know personally. In the very same week Facebook ignites a revolution by displaying how creepy and close the internet can really make people. http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1532225,00.html?cnn=yes
They then apologize, "We really messed this one up. When we launched News Feed and Mini-Feed..."
What is one to do? I've paced and packed and visited friends and family in anticipation of my rendezvous across the big water. After returning from wyoming, meeka and i visited juniata and jonestown, monogohela and coopersburg as well as some northern industrial town. its good to see family and friends. the family/friend relationship is an interesting concept that some claim to understand. people who truly care about you under any circumstances. incredible really. a constant in a revolving door world? possibly. maybe i'm being naive. but i'm rambling. i hope to update and such, later on. to be entirely honest i do not know what lies ahead, and i guess i'm ok with that. keeps things interesting.

Wy-Omin

2006-08-18T21:15:00.000-07:00

sleeping bags
four wheel drive
chainsaws
waking up in the cold
swimming in glacial lakes
snow on top of mountains
wildflowers
shoveling shit
splitting wood
getting paid to hike
hay in all pockets
three amazing meals a day
classic rock accompanying all possible activities
tents
falling asleep before sundown
afternoon naps
weekend saunters
solitude
dogs on the back of pickup trucks
headlamps
horseflys
talking and singing to horses
cribbage
chicks driving pickup trucks
giant mustaches driving pickup trucks
open space
elk
eating leftovers all weekend
albertsons
bear claw ice cream
mosquitos buzzing in my ear as i write
french press
expenssive coffee
cheap coffee at sinclairs
yelling "The Virginian" every time we pass it
seeing the same strangers in town
rodeos
the fat creek joke
sarcastic swearing making beds
who put this towel here?
cribbage, yes again
throwing rocks at a stump
the matt cave
blazing trail
dumptrucks
katadain and rowdy dog
death canyon
the bench
hiking
wyoming
a short drive home.

12,804

2006-08-06T18:12:00.000-07:00

Early this morning as the sun rose above the mountains turning the rocks that special morning rose color, thats what crayola would call it, we began our ascent. By 6:30 we were passing the sign for the lupin meadows trailhead. hiking up to the meadows we ascended a ridge and just as i thought we were in the middle of nowhere the crowds came into view. As a jump off point for most hikes and climbs up any of the tetons the meadows are a busy place. we passed the climbers still crawling out of tents and scrambled up talus slopes. we followed a couple who were most likely as lost as we were across a snow field and up to the saddle between the southern and middle tetons. it was there matt decided to nap and i continued my ascent up the middle teton. Its interesting the way sound plays off the rocks in the wind. you can hear conversations hundreds of yards away one moment and nothing the next. pulling myself over a ledge or slipping on loose rocks i, for just a second, wondered what i had gotten myself into. an hour later i was clinging to the highest rock i could find. two inches from my face a metal disc bolted to the rock by the USGS named my summit the middle teton. Bagging summits is more of a competitive sport than simply enjoying walking up and down in the mountains, but the view is uncomparable and occasionally it feels pretty good to ascend a well known name. one feels totally in control and entirely helpless standing atop the rocks. W.W. is receited in a whisper. For a few moments i clung to the rock like a cat up a tree contemplating my climb down.
descending back to the saddle it began to rain and matt and i slid and climbed as quickly as we could down the wet rocks and snow. luckily the rain didn't last and we survived our hike down with only sore bones.

first frost

2006-08-05T19:41:00.000-07:00

august second marked the date of the very first morning frost on flat creek.
early tomorrow morning we hike the middle teton.
kyle and stan leave for wy-omin this thursday.
good times to follow.

Campin.

2006-07-30T17:40:00.000-07:00

over the past two days Mike and Cindy treated us to a weekend camping with them and their friends, the self-proclaimed working class of jackson, in the beautiful gros ventre mountains. It was fully enjoyed. they circled the trailers and campers full of atvs and pulled out lawn chairs that only moved when the shade did. different from our usual weekend escapades; a relaxing weekend of four wheeling, sitting in the shade eating peanuts and the most stories and jokes i've ever heard in the course of two days. i'm afraid most of them can't be repeated in such a mass media manner but may be relayed later in person.

Death Canyon

2006-07-23T16:19:00.000-07:00

The name is not my own invention. Death Canyon is the actual name given to this particular canyon which we couldn't pass up. Twenty-six miles over two days, with elevation changes to make your legs turn to clay. in retrospect it was a bit long, but a very enjoyable hike. It did however begin on the wrong foot. The alarm rang saturday morning and we decided to sleep in instead of getting an early start. we eventually left the apartment and discoved vacum sealed tuna at alberstons. by 10 we were nearly at the trailhead but the road became too rough for the elantra to navigate so we saddled up and began our hike. There were a lot more people on the trail than we are used to seeing and the interaction was interesting. are there any true written rules for passing on the trail? we crossed paths with an older gentlemen who recently had two knee replacements and was persistently continuing up the trail without any water. it was at least 90 degrees. i lent him a nalgene and wished him luck. Later we came upon a man from cincinnati on his way to the summit of static peak. as we filled our nalegenes in the stream he stopped to talk with us. It turns out he was looking for adventure and headed towards the Grand the next day on a guided climb. the ranger he had met the day before told him the water wasn't safe to drink but after seeing us fill up he decided to dip in as well. Its my feeling that if you are careful theres a much better chance of dying from heat stroke without water than dying or even getting sick just from drinking from the stream. At static peak divide we met a couple from atlanta in jackson for the week on vacation. Its interesting to see the diversity and the numbers attracted to the tetons. seasoned hikers and clowns alike enjoy the mountains and will travel from across the country or even across the world. something to think about. At the boundry of the jedediah smith wilderness area we spotted across the basin an opportunity we couldn't pass up. doing so would leave us with a lifetime burden of regret. a small lake sat beautiful across the basin just below a hill of snow. the pictures explain more. The sport doesn't have a name as of yet, but one of the first rules will be no more and no less than underwear and hiking boots can be worn.
we eventually made our camp, by throwing down our bags, near mount meek pass. tuna wrapped in pitas filled us. waking up in the middle of the night i've never seen so many stars filling the sky.
the next day was slightly less exciting but it was a nice hike. we followed the trail to fox creek pass and then down death canyon shelf where we passed quite a few hikers who seem to be from all walks of life. a slurpee from loaf-n-jug was a perfect ending to the weekend.
oh beautiful glacial valley.

Heat of Summer

2006-07-21T19:23:00.000-07:00

Revised picture compliments of Joe Boyd.
Classic rock wisdom of the week: "love is like oxygen, too much and you get high, not enough and you die."
The past week -
sunday night,
finish Jailbird by vonnegut
monday,
ranch laundry in town
horse fly trap construction
tuesday,
trail blazing and exploration
shoveling horse shit
Its interesting that on the east coast the concept of working on a ranch is seen as an adventure of a lifetime. In wyoming however, the ranch is a job similar to any other. most enjoy their job and thats why they do it.
wedensday,
hiking camp. only a stake through the heart will send the horse fly, spawn of satan, back to hell. possibly too many vampire movies. time spent sitting on logs in woods discussing everything.
science fiction; Rule Golden by Damon Knight, kyle if you get bored, find and read Incommunicado by Kathreine MacLean; not incredibly written but interesting.
Thursday,
trash to dump in town
splitting wood
painting the barn
swim in the lake
dinner dishes and serving
Friday,
cleaning cabins
working with kyler, hes 16 and a wyoming regular, a good kid. reminds me of luke occasionally.
i've decided that at 16 you think you know everything and you have no idea how to say it, but you try again and again to say it anyway. at 20 i still think i know everything and i even think i could say it fairly well, but i am a lot less likely to admit this to others. someday i'll learn.
tomorrow morning,
death canyon

Thunderstorm

A thousand hands
rolling under hills
of beating snares
unaware tapping tips
five off beat
fingers muffled as
if outside laughing
sounds between cotton
sheets of tumbling
maleable spheres creamy
center of sunlight
now very faint
clouded muddy stream
of conscious flowing
freely falling dropping
through open space
too cramped for
clacking bellowing energy
a thousand hands.

not dead yet

2006-07-16T19:33:00.000-07:00

saturday afternoon we left for driggs idaho, much like jackson but smaller, less tourists.
we spent the afternoon at the used book store and wandering around town until we decided to begin our hike up devils stairs. the stairs weren't bad, the flys could drive a man insane. we pitched our tiny tent and crawled inside. we awoke, sometime later, to find people on the trail and our bags scattered where we left them. these things happen. a nice sunset. sunday afternoon we threw food in a plastic grocery bag, this is how we've begun carrying our food. not exactly hip, but it works. we also each carry a nalgene. a few weeks ago i read an article about water purification in backpacker and since we've given to drinking straight from the stream or spring. no one has died yet. arriving along the top edge of the alaska basin we constructed a snowman. possibly wilderness blasphemy but we had a good laugh indeed. moose sighting even without moose calls. the flys begin to attack again. rock collecting. not really any idea how far we walked..somewhere between 5 and 25 i'm sure. we were hiking in the jebediha sp? wilderness area; a bit different environment than the gro ventre even so close by. it was beautiful.
only 4 weekends left until we begin our traverse of these united states for a second time.
Snakes on a plane. does anyone else find this to be an awful idea for a movie? civilization ha.

the lone ranger

2006-07-14T18:18:00.000-07:00

I do believe the idea for showers was God's gift to man.

Its true i enjoy spending time in peace and solitude. The past few weeks however have given me a new perspective on the sailors loneliness, the brokeback phenomenon as well as the mountain mans curse. While we haven't turned to whores, homosexuality, or hunting? for gold?, theres a chance we could be spotted chasing chipmunks with spears or threatening each others lives over a game of cribbage. Formerly played by housewives and grandparents, cribbage takes on a new importance while alone in the mountains. I understand why men were killed over a game of poker in the wild west. Matt and i spend half of our work week at a hiking camp. we're there to watch over the camp, take care of work etc. there is no one else there. this is in addition to our self imposed weekends in the wilderness. i suppose we enjoy it. i'm fairly certain we get paid to go hiking. we have yet to discover the catch.
Matt and i take each solitary moment (that we spend together, i promise its possible. someone related it to marriage, explains some things, a lot to learn) and do our best to savor it. the lone rangers downfall is beautiful and terrible. a week after we get home matt flys to rome. from wyoming, no cities, to the the eternal city. I shall soon after be headed in the direction of Leeds, another large city. it should all prove interesting.
tonight shall be our first real venture into the "social" jackson...if you can call a midnight showing of The Goonies true interaction. tomorrow to driggs idaho.

address

2006-07-09T20:28:00.000-07:00

If you are so inclined.

ryan, matt etc.
PO Box 9760
Jackson, WY 83002

we'll be enjoying wyoming
until august 20th, or something near there.

Jackson Peak

2006-07-08T16:07:00.000-07:00

book lust

2006-07-01T19:36:00.000-07:00

watching reality bites.
saturday morning = yard sales in jackson wyoming. so we walked away with used books; as you do. we stopped at the great used book store supported by jackson as well, but i restrained myself there.
It rained thursday afternoon and we spent our time off reading in the tent. i listened as matt called home and proceeded to confound mr. page. he didn't understand who was calling claiming to be, "your son, matt". matt couldn't understand how he dialed the wrong number. in any case we got the chance to talk with kyle who, as i understand, has two cds in the works. jazz as well as the combovers. thats my promo. i look forward to free cds.
we were tuned into the rumor of an abandoned canoe earlier this week by mike and cindy. they work at the ranch and have somewhat looked out for us. they advise us in practical matters and are always eager to point us towards a neat trail or place to camp. in any case we spent the afternoon searching for the canoe which we planned to commadere. sadly we spent 3 hours traversing the sage brush and rocks around the lake with no pirating. something about wandering a shore adorned in sandals and ripped pants with an old oar in hand makes one long for the sea. i can't imagine what people thought of the two guys carrying paddles down the gravel road. im' sure we looked lost. we hitched a ride from the end of the lake back to our car in the back of a pickup truck driven by friendly fishermen from california.
we've discovered that jackson hole, although it gives off an auro of hustle and bustle, is really just a small town in the middle of no where. with one or two main roads we've run into or seen the same people over and over again. if you aren't in the backcountry, where you would be alone, you are at albertsons (grocery as well as liquor), the library, or wandering the streets. we saw a german couple at the rodeo who we later saw in a parking area in teton national park. i've seen the same crazy bearded old man outfitted with rucksack and blue jacket twice now. i see people from the library everywhere. the same drunken mazda who stopped to discuss directions with us while we walked on the road was also seen at albertsons. of course the yardsales had a regular crowd as well. its an interesting phenomenon.
father and brother are coming to visit next week. i'm excited, i think they'll enjoy the mountains as much as we do; we'll enjoy pretending to be locals. on that note, this nearly thought provoking bumper sticker seems appropriate. "my wyoming has an east infection".
matt just pranced across the room singing something about ice cream; bearclaw. its fantastic.

Helter Skelter

2006-06-30T21:07:00.000-07:00

CABLE TELEVISION!!!!

7:14am a short walk to breakfast and coffee and coffee and its still cold but its only a short walk and....then.
"sorry guys."
"the what?"
"Again?"
"no one's seen the horses."
"Theres been an escape."
"A break out."
"They've discovered charley tunnel, we dig through the night."

I feel like its been much more than two weeks, but we're in town once again. the following is excerpts from letters and random writings and thoughts on another letter and anything.
Last weekend matt and i crossed 7 mile mountain, as it has been nicknamed. there is a summit just above the ranch known as the sleeping indian and this hill as we've begun to call them is connected by saddle and summit to a number of other mountains whose total distance is roughly? yes. sentences. no. not far up the trail we discovered a fantastic waterfall which matt claimed looked like a movie set and essentially it just had to be done. we discovered a beautiful green lake that gave us our precise location on the map. the water was clear and sparkled in the sunlight. evergreens lined the bank and of course there were wildflowers. Its peaceful on top of the hill and without a trail we drap ourselves to the nearest high point for a look around. we've discvered the edge of a cliff which we need to travel around. a similar story repeats itself, a number of times. this is partially due to what i've named the deceptive mountain distance. it can be related to more than mountains. the connected peaks are all sparse meadow and rock with the occasional patch of snow this late in the season. the snow reminds me of the merainge topping on lemon merainge pie. a discussion of they get that golden tint just near the pinnacle of the merainge gets us soundly around another cliff.
i think i'm learning to appreciate how the same trail can give new insight and new adventures at a different time of day or year. even only weeks apart hiking the same trail we've seen so many new things. matts glasses are now under only two feet of water in disappearing lake. i suppose its very possible that a second glance at a different time could change many things, in many aspects of life. maybe i should keep my eyes open.
Elbows.
rubbing elbows and elbow grease. what we do. who we meet. and don't.
the people who come to the ranch as guests are generally well off as far as i can tell. they come from across the country in private jets and bring nannies to watch the kids as they fly fish. they have ex-navy seals taking care of their kids and insist on the bell boy bringing their bags into the next room. all together though they're nice folk. polite, etc.
generally our work encompasses all areas of the ranch. we work in direct consultation with the chef to ensure dish sanitation and serving. manage the upkeep of secondary energy resources, supplement the labor force needed for habitation adjustments, work alongside those in charge of overseeing the recycling and wastemanagement programs and occassionally feed the horses hay, which subsequently is found in all of our clothes.
Wilderness camp.
For the past few weeks we've been setting up the wilderness camp where matt and i will spend nearly half our summer. with no one else in sight. we cut wood. and look at wildflowers. and build things. we cook. somewhat. and read and hike and find trails. we hiked with our boss, joe earlier this week and tied yellow tape around trees to mark our trail. a bit lost; along the way we passed red, white and orange tape. it was a good hike and will eventually be a good trail. ups and downs. like the mountains. such is life. "those are some big rain drops." "twould be hail"
matt and i sit cross legged at the edge of the meadow just above the camp. a large twisted evergreen tree accompanies us atop the hill and together we listen to the rustling long stalked yellow wild flowers whose name is unimportant in light of their grace. there are many insects. they buzz. tomorrow is another day.

early afternoon walk

2006-06-17T12:11:00.000-07:00

this is true.

from the apartment we decided to take a short hike up and around the hills in our backyard.
the green roofed buliding at the foot of the hill is the apartment we stay at on our days off. this is a veiw just south of jackson.

i couldn't even force myself to go out in public. i'm going to shave right now. but how could i resist posting? matt laughs every time he looks at me.

Gros Ventre

2006-06-16T20:39:00.000-07:00

i had some wonderful correlation between great expeditions and my notes from last weekend but upon review almost a week later i've decided that what i wrote was mostly crap. these things happen. so the notes from our weekend in the gros ventre are only notes, thoughts etc. i've been trying to rethink my idea of a travel narrative. combine a strict account with reflection and thought. maybe even make it interesting. i've discovered the blog idea to be very different from a personal journal in that the blog needs to interest not only the writer but the reader. obvious of course, but often a journal is only interesting becasue it is written for a single person with no thought given to the reader. hopefully this will improve.

"Two roads diverged in the wood and i took the one less traveled, this has made all the difference; Frost."
"yeah, but we're trying to get somewhere."
"maybe we should get out the map"
-with a slight miscalculation matt and i have rolled up our jeans, changed into sandals, and waded bravely, yet inncorrectly into a stream of waist high snow melt.
-dinner is a hobo; no, but tinfoil packet of leftover chicken, vegetables and pasta. compliments of andy, a cook a the ranch. they claim the only difference between a chef and a cook are tattoos. as far as i know its true. andy cooks in puerto rico during the winter, his girlfriend and her friend are also working at the ranch. if it were not raining we would have warmed the hobo on coals, but instead we throw wood on the fire and eat it cold.
-theres snow
-we are following flat creek south, upstream to the source
-with snow melt and rain the water is high and everywhere. we cross streams and creeks by log rock and leap. we shimmy, wade and stretch from one spot of dirt to another. streams and meadows are crossed in a similar manner when the water is this high.
-its raining and cold, but beautiful.
-snow covers the path, but its not hard to follow the stream or tracks of elk and coyote.
-make camp and attempt to build a fire with wet wood; fall asleep next to the half constructed fire when the sun comes out.
-always bring more dry socks than you think you will need.
-continue our ascent as there is still daylight left.
-there is 3 and 4 feet of snow covering everything. the stream can be seen rushing by through tunnels of ice and snow. it would be best not to fall in.
-i continue up alone. myself, rock, ice, sparse trees, the sky is getting closer. maybe a roof of the world.
-moose calls to matt
- fill my pink nalgene with cold sweet water from the side of the snowy peak.
-sound my barbaric yawp (i dont know any bloodhound gang(smile)) ski down on my shoes
-Matt has followed my footprints and he spots a sign pointing towards flat creek in one direction and granite creek in another. barely rising above the snow this is a graceful indication of our current location.
-biscuits and summer sausage, kings of our domain. humbled by the power that surrounds us.
-reading james joyce, a portrait of the artist as a young man.
-gets cold in the mountains, sleep between rocks and chills
-collect rock for ross, bask in the sun beneath a tree
-the small white flowers in each clearing are very small. they present themselves so subtely that they go unnoticed until one is standing directly upon them. it is only then you will look up and notice the green clearing speckeled by offwhite is actually blanketed by flowers.
-matt fills his boots with fish on our return trip. (those streams are wet and the decaying logs are slippery) no lifeboat, only a short quickening of the heart.
-we stop at disappearing lake; it will be gone by august and return again next spring with the snow melt and rain
-of course we are inclined to swim; a leap from a nearby rock gets us in and most likely when matt looses his glasses. i've been in some seriously cold water, but this may win.
-one weekend, 20 miles, a mountain, a stream, snow, rain, and two beat ranch hands
-home sweet home.
this is our summer residence, the bachelor pad. everyone else lives in fancy cabins. somehow we were convinced to set up the tent. one could say its quaint, or even cold.

Yellowstone backcountry weekend

2006-06-04T20:42:00.000-07:00

In Jackson we sauntered into Albertsons grocery store and immediately lost all sense of direction. It was nearly 40 minutes later when we emerged from the vast store of produce, packeged, frozen, and organic goods (for not only the rich but the hip as well). With us we carried the scant items we purchased; milk, jelly, trail mix, loaf of bread, 4 bannanas, and a 5lb bag of rice. If matt can catch fish (no problem) we eat like kings, on a limited budget, for at least another two or three weekends.
We spent our first friday evening sitting at the kitchen table in the apartment on deer drive. The evening dwindled away as we drooled over recently purchased maps of the area and discussed possible weekend pursuits. early the very next morning found us in Yellowstone National park.
Stopping at the backcountry office we learned more about the valley where we hoped to spend our evening. As soon as we walked through the door of the small brown wooden trailer office we were persuaded to watch a video, most likely made before we were born, about the dangers of the backcountry. bears, bison and thermal activity oh my.
After a lunch of peanut butter and bannanas, we hoisted our packs onto our backs and hit the dusty trail. It was soon discovered i packed too much crap i didn't need, but alas this knowledge arrived too late.
Not a mile into our hike we were confronted with a bison. the very same species continued to force us into arcing circles off the trail for our entire trip. to fully appreciate the rudeness of the bison who will not step to the side of the trail you must first understand that in yellowstone, bison are rarely rare. in fact they abundant in the area we were hiking and tend to use the trails because they are easier walking. The typical yellowstone tourist (later i'll discuss the elitist theory) however, seems to find the bison incredibly interesting and tends to pull off the road at every sighting. it becomes unnerving. we saw a bison hitchhiking on the highway. frankly after the first two or three bison neither matt or i could understand the further fascination. they can be entertaining, but i digress.
Our hike saturday afternoon was somewhere between 8 and 9 miles and quite enjoyable. nearing the top of every ridge we hoped to find a bear on the far side, at a safe distance of course. to our dismay we arrived at the top of every ridge with no bear on the other side. There was only matt and i (we saw no one more than two miles from the road) with heaving chests and sweaty brows sarcastically discussing the effects elevation will have on the pa hiker. feel the burn. our trail began in lamar valley and rose slightly through the valley intersecting with the cache creek trail which we followed until stumbling upon our lovely campsite. we set up our bear bag near a grove of evergreens by the stream, and pitched our tent approx. 100 yds away across the meadow/bog area beneath a tree amongst bison droppings. nearly quaint. completing this task we followed a stream up the side of the mountain and purified water before making our ascent straight up the relatively small mountain. needless to say we were zonked, i dont think i've ever actually used that word before but it was typed, by 7 and fell asleep by 8:30. we intended to awake at 5 but took a nap after the alarm and awoke at 6. we broke camp, ate poptarts, purified more water and hit the ole dusty trail once again.
due to a fire in 1988 that ravenged a large portion of yellowstone most of the trees in lamar valley and along cache creek are downed and lay on the mountain sides like a box of toothpicks dropped by some divine being and never picked up. we were lucky enough to spot a heard of 12 or more mule deer crossing the stream and bounding away up the mountain. we didn't encounter any bears on our return hike but did run into more bison, which we strategically avoided by skirting around them through the downed trees. we figured the bison wouldn't be able to run through the tree trunks but read later they can jump six feet high. i think i may have accidentially ganked a book of yellowstone trivia.
we decided to see the sights and stopped at firehole river hoping for a swim but were disappointed to find the river closed and most likey for good reason judging by the whirlpools and high water. we drove on to old faithful where we sat with the rest of the tourists and waited for the geyser to erupt. while the eruption is impressive and amazing i'd like to be there the day it doesn't errupt. that would be a day. we forgot a camera. sitting on the bench we were situated beside a chubby 10 year old with a digital camera and his grandparents. the jokes and the discussion of the building crowds were less than lovely. to be there alone when the great geyser erupts would be bliss. man and nature in combat far from flash photography, ice cream, and lines of cars. we're elitist and thats just how its going to be. dodging the patron in kakhi pants, brand new hiking shoes and a hawaiian shirt with camera slung around the neck i occasionally wish i were there alone. do i feel like i hold a greater appreciation for the wilderness around me just because i've hiked a bit? maybe. i once had brand new hiking shoes, how am i different? then again maybe its something more. or less. we really shouldn't judge. the people surrounding me could be the most interesting people i'll ever meet. but i never do. so we continue to judge and wish we were there alone. elitist i believe. i'm ok with it. such is life. old faithful was impressive.
we met eric, who is on waitstaff in yellowstone, 40 mintues later and he treated us to a cheap employee dinner that really hit the spot. eric we forgot to pay you. we will. thanks for dinner. visit jackson. eric then joined us in our search of huckelberry springs. the spring is between yellowstone and teton parks behind flagg ranch on grassy lake road. find it; the trail isn't very long at all. huckelberry springs is a hot spring that flows into a larger stream. the spring is damned in places to create warm pools of water that rival yergeys hot tub. the view was beautiful.
thus ends our weekend. tomorrow is work and the arrival of the first guests. we're attempting to do wash at the moment and i think the washer is going to explode. best to all.

mountains and moose

2006-06-02T16:13:00.000-07:00

wyoming is big and wonderful
i dont have pictures at the moment.
we're in the jackson library. there are tree trunks supporting the ceiling in places. its spectacular. the ranch sits on a lake in a valley shadowed by snow capped peaks. this morning while splitting wood matt and i took a break to follow two bald eagles around the lake. more when there is time. the library is closing. yellowstone this weekend. hopefully we won't get too close to any grizzly bears.

notes on the road

2006-05-28T17:39:00.000-07:00

Matt and I have been keeping notes along the road in what has been dubbed the Captains Log. We are currently a few hours from Jackson Wyoming in Pronghorn Lodge for the evening. This is our trip to date:

may 26, 2006 -

9am-Rendeveous at Blue grass trail in coopersburg 9:15- Adventure hats in place, our trip has begun 9:17 enter cvs, note the bearded guy in blue jeans and cowboy hat wearing sandals 9:30 leaving center valley after filling up 9:35 listening to sand canyon...directions? oh well we have a map, adventure ensues 9:39 guitar solo..look for signs to wyoming, "I dont know where we are...this way!"-matt driving 9:46 beginning to rain and all of the windows are open, windshield wipers turn out to be less than ideal, im sure they sell them in wyoming 9:50 Moose calls. there don't seem to be any moose in Pa, 30 minuts of driving and still not to wyoming 9:55 first tunnel, bobdylan 10:16 west 80 driving 10:18 "jesus is lord" mudflaps 10:55 driving behind a sheriff car, death cab, still driving 11:40 begin the odyssey by Homer, a book on tape 12:46 discussion of the traffic we are currently slugging it in, but who would even drive if it weren't for the rush you get in traffic. peanut butter and chocolate teddie grahams for lunch 1:39pm bad news. pulled over by a friendly state trooper who mentioned we were speeding. 84 in a 65, fine will put a dent in our funds. however, in the immortal words of the grateful dead "keep truckin" such is life. Note: adventure hats were removed as trooper approached confidence was thin 2:25 welcome to ohio. open present from kyle, poems by Japanese monk and cds, thanks kyle 3:04 if it were ever raining cats and dogs it is now. we've pulled over for a moment so the rain can let up 5:59 Riddles and the first gypsy sighting of the trip 6:23 Welcome to Indiana, the crossroads of america 6:30 Indiana looks a lot like ohio 6:45 slight detour into michigan while searching for a diner. there are no diners in michigan. 7:57 back on the road, we have no idea what time it is here. Ate at clays family restaurant, i recommend the pecan pie and coffee. staff is wonderfully friendly not bad food. 8:03 Note: driving off into the sunset in a lone ranger fashion means the sun is in your eyes. lower sun visors. toward the wild west. 10:03 welcome to chicago, i've lost track of states, but we must be in illinois 10:39 Like the bony hands of a corpse rising through fresh soil, the top floors of high rises and church steeples rise along the interstate. they are buried by tons of concrete and majorly concealed from view. Houses rise in rows from behind wooden fences 7 feet high. listening to death cab. i think cities make me clausterphobic, sp? 11:52pm the belvidere oasis, apprx. 20 minutes from the border of wisconsin. the plan is to sleep in the car while parked in the rest stop parking lot. its an art only perfected through practice. find an inconspicuous parking space. not alone in the back corner where no one can hear you scream, yet you can't sleep in the front entrance on the sidewalk. of course not too close to the sign telling drivers there is a two hour parking limit. crack the windows a hair and lock the doors. pray the cops aren't too nosey. nap time. more driving ahead.

Saturday Morning the 27th, 6:50am Air is cold, sun is rising, the primal search for coffee begins. 7:45 welcome to wisconsin, yay! 10:15 Crossed the Mississippi river and entered minnesotta. wisconsin was nice. 12:10 just exited the SPAM museum. we couldn't not stop. they love their spam 12:38 nilla waffers and green pepper all smeared with peanut butter for lunch on the road. i think its nearly healthy. matt contemplates his new theory that peanut butter tastes good on everything. 1:59 minnesotta sp? who cares, its a long boring interestate 2:24 the beach boys in the midwest, guitar solo, windows down, i think i smell the ocean 2:43 apparently i missed the sign for south dakota, barbara anne 3:47 short trip into mitchel to see the worlds only corn palace "Be A-Maize-D" we were. 6:10 South dakota smells like cows and it easily wins for most billboards. the state is complemented well by modest mouse and the unicorns. sudden realization, we've driven pretty far 6:34 now entering mountain time zone sign. so here it is now 4:34...7:43MT Staying at the sunshine inn located in wall south dakota. sweet sleep, wyoming tomorrow 7:02am complimentary coffee to go and on the road again. discussion of travel west by wagon train. I'm willing to bet 80% of our generations knowledge of wagon travel is constructed around the oregon trail game. for better or for worse 9:06 Mount rushmore. surreal, really neat. hiking and rocks etc. first trees of any significance we can think of since Pa 10:25 Leaving the crazy horse monument. at first we were a bit upset about the $20 addmission fee, but it turns out the entire set up is privately funded through a nonprofit organization that is run mostly by the original sculptors wife and kids; fairly groovy if you ask me. meeka was right, its huge. time to hit the dusty trail 10:53 rocky racoon 11:08 Wyoming welcomes you, yeehaww and other such shouting 12:06 first tumble weed sighted...tumbling across the road. we both yelled, its true. its been a long drive and we're easily excited by that sort of thing anyway. what are the wooden fence like looking things along the road? 1:04 just entered and passed the town of Lost Springs, population 1 ...2:20 stopped for gas in lasper and noticed the bird we hit was still stuck to the front of the car. removal was necessary and an old map came in handy. 7:54 we're now in Landar, aka lamar if you ask me, but we were pulled over again, at least the cops are friendly. (we kept our adventure hats on) who changes the speed limit from 45 to 30. hotel with internet makes this post possible. the pronghorn lodge. jackson tomorrow. mountains with snow. we're excited. occasional yelling can't be stopped.

song of myself, today

2006-05-22T15:14:00.000-07:00

So i've decided to give in and enjoy the internet. more or less. i suppose i stole the blogspot idea from jon. credit where credit is due. in under a week i will be leaving PA for wide open wyoming; mountains and wildflowers abound; i've heard. I'll be spending the summer working on a ranch with matt until the end of august when we return and i head towards england. i'll be staying in leeds where i will be studying for a year. Being slightly disconnected from home for such a time i felt a blog would be an interesting way to share, stay in touch. I apologize now for the grammar and punctuation mistakes that will be threaded throughout my posts. i have little motivation for the nerve racking? time consuming job of editing. hopefully this will serve as a place for me to share stories and insight to my own life, which is somewhat weird for me, but could be neat.