Monthly Archives: December 2007

thoughts

the river why – david james duncan

the river whyi guess it shouldn’t be any huge surprise that, after finishing the moon is down, i’ve run off and bought more books. this despite the fact that i brought two other books i need to finish, the quiet american and principles in the sciences (an old, march 1944 university of chicago reader i picked up in the annual used book sale near uc.. good luck finding a link for that one). but they were from the local independent bookstore, bookshop santa cruz.. so i’m supporting a cause, right?

so i picked up two books, one being the river why by david james duncan. a good friend in college read this book and recommended it.. and if i remember correctly, he recommended it over a river runs through it by norman maclean. not unlike a river runs through it, the river why starts out by throwing the reader a bunch of good if slightly disjointed stories that are, in one way or another, about fly fishing. they’re all very good and applicable and loosely chronologic.. they just come off as somewhat random, which i like. i’ll give you full run-down when i’m through.. that is, if i stick to this one and don’t pull my normal about-face and jump on to the vet’s daughter. i’ll keep you updated..

bookshop santa cruz

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return your seats to the full, upright position

do pilots these days get trained on how to have possibly the most dull sounding voice possible? i feel like i’d rather call the cable company and get bounced around for a while on their automated phone networks than listen to another pilot explain in the dullest terms possible what the next four hours are going to be like.

airplane, the moviei honestly can’t describe to you how irritated i get when i hear them over the loud speaker and they get going full swing. why do they always have to end their sentences by speaking through their noses and with a decrescendo?! if they want to add emphasis to anything, it seems like they just raise their eyebrows.. don’t they know we can’t see that! instead it comes out as (if anything at all) as a mild increase in volume in a sentence destined to end with a nasally downfall.

it just sucks the life out of me to hear people so uninterested in life or their speech. don’t get me wrong: i know they’re probably great, exciting people who, outside of the cockpit, are pretty damn fun.. but what goes on in there that makes life so painfully monotone? it nearly sets a state of a panic in me: for a minute, i fear that life is destined to be like that moment, monotone, old, stale with recycled air, muted colors, and surrounded by people constantly half-asleep. i hear them and immediately my outlook on life starts taking a nosedive into some nameless field in the middle of unknown land.

one day, though, i know i’ll fly with a pilot with a sense of humor. as a happier parting note, i’ll add this bit of humor that was apparently overheard.. real or not, it gives me hope that there are people out there fighting the overpowering dullness that threatens to drag us into the doldrums.

In the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, masks will descend from the ceiling. Stop screaming, grab the mask, and pull it over your face. If you have a small child traveling with you, secure your mask before assisting theirs. If you are traveling with more than one small child.. pick your favorite.

happenings

the roaring 20’s

hobbit town at nightso i’m currently in santa cruz, california with my mom visiting my aunt and two cousins, j1 and j2. i have to say: if i were to move out west, this place would be tops for me. now, that could be just because of those three people.. but damn if this isn’t an awesome area. there’s always been something about redwoods that just feel like home. the smell, the protection of their canopies, the nettle mats that surround them.. my whole being slows down whenever i’m near them. yes, i know that makes me sound very.. earthy.. but it’s true. i just feel like i’m supposed to grab a book or journal and go sit under them while a silent snow gathers on its branches. i can work a lot out in that space..

j1 and j2 are two of the best.. i mean it, really, they’re two of my favorite people around 😉 j1 is about done with high school and will soon be headed off to college – a crazy thought considering it really does feel like just a couple weeks ago that she was j2bouncing around and tugging on my shirt to tell me about heading to the boardwalk. now she’s a pretty accomplished dressage rider (i’ll have to ask her if that’s what she’s called) and is a heck of a softball player, too. she’s avoided the lens thus far, though, so we’ll have to pin her down later. j2 is going to be in high school next year and can text faster than i can type. she’s a softballer, too, but she’s also into volleyball. just need to start making climbers out of the two of ‘em. kinda hard, though, when i only get the rare snapshot of their lives. maybe they’ll teach me to text like they do.

the place we’re staying is a little hobbit town called babbling brook. it’s kind of funny in that it really does seem like it’s straight out of a children’s story but it’s fun. there are even a few redwoods on the grounds, the kind it would take you and three of your best friends holding hands and stretching out to try to hug the trunk.

at night, they put out cheese and crackers, wine, and a few other treats. last night we went downstairs to relax before heading over to aunt d’s for dinner. on the radio was what had to be some of the best 1920 music, real 20’s jazz like bessie smith with the crackled sounds of an old vinyl (though i’m sure they were cds). and let me tell you: something about music, the warmth, and my j2 and momexhaustion made the whole scene perfect.. just one of those warm, anonymous places in the world where you can get lost and pretend, if only for a little bit, that everything is going to be just fine, that you’ll always be warm, and that you can go to sleep every night with someone in your arms.

so in walks amanda and the 1920’s picture was complete. she had pin curls (or are they finger curls.. or is it a bob cut..?) and i swear she walked around in black and white. thin smile and all, i suddenly felt like i was in a smoky speakeasy with jazz and muted trumpets playing distantly. the one other couple there even asked her if she was french, to which she replied quickly and unambiguously, “no”. she was the server/hostess/cook/receptionist for the evening and (wo)manned the desk, kitchen, and dining room all at once. being the wallflower that i am, all i could really do was smile dumbly and eat my cheese.. and so i did until we left for aunt d’s.

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love and squalor

for esme - with love and squalorhttp://new.vindy.com/news/2007/nov/28/man-70-rescued-from-squalor/

squalor:
n. A filthy and wretched condition or quality.

i’ve been meaning to post on this for a little while now.. but i saw this story a while ago and the first line struck me. i couldn’t help but wonder a little.. do people come to the rescue for those in a state of mental squalor? and when? if it takes three months like the man in the story, sounds like i’m due for some heroics.

and i couldn’t pass the chance to mention a salinger story i love, for esmé – with love and squalor. there was a girl in college who loved tea and walks on brisk nights.. ashley (her name was almost lost in the cobwebs). she gave me her copy of nine stories with the red ink under the parts she loved.. parts like:

i stood in the rain and read all the names

..i remember wanting to do something about that enormous-faced wristwatch she was wearing – perhaps suggest that she try wearing it around her waist.

and, most importantly and applicably to my current state of being..

you take a really sleepy man, esmé, and he al-ways stands a chance of again becoming a man with all his fac– with all his f-a-c-u-l-t-i-e-s intact.

and her pointed emails that i could never return.. “i can tell you’re interested but you hesitate”.

perhaps she’d be the one to burst in with a fireman’s helmet on, ax in hand, and smash these doubts to pieces while having me watch dead poet’s society or listening to the details she loved in coldplay’s god put a smile on your face (honey honey).

perhaps another night and it’d be different.. and i’d get something other than “boring” earl grey..

happenings, thoughts

my dash 7..

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today i found out that, as of january 1, i’ll no longer be a fmsm employee.

fear not: i didn’t lose my job.. fmsm was just bought out– or wait, merged– err.. i don’t know. anyway, we’ll be stantec employees (or more on cnn)as of the new year. new year, new names.

my dash 7from wilco’s dash 7 –

Because I’ve found the way those engines sound,
Will make you kiss the ground
I found the way those engines sound,
Will make you kiss the ground,
When you touch down

it’s funny.. i’ve known something was up for some time now. the closed doors around the office are always a dead giveaway. this time, though, it went on for longer than usual and no one was letting up. usually you can get a hint here or there from someone.. but this time lips were sealed and direct questions were directly avoided. as speculation increased, so did stress levels. i figured, though, that having the news would ease concerns and lower the blood pressure. sadly, not so..

now that this bird has landed and i’m kissing the ground, i’m finding that i’m just as anxious as before.. maybe even more so. about what.. i’m not exactly sure. i doubt there will really be any major changes, at least initially. i guess i’m mostly just stressed now because i see the people around me are worked up about their futures and the uncertainty of tomorrow. personally, i’m in a decent position: no debts or dependents, no home to payoff or family to support.. but my co-workers have a lot more riding on this, family, kids, homes, careers, retirement.. dogs 😉 .. and there’s no doubt that the uncertainty is disorienting at best.

it was a strange scene: the entire office gathered in a room that’s still under construction and the office manager made the main announcements while the president followed up with his thoughts and feelings and a few of the details and reasons why. i didn’t really watch them, though, and instead watched the faces around the room. i don’t think people really grasped what was going on for the first thirty minutes, their faces locked into as straight a face as they could manage. it wasn’t until later that the anxiety would well up and, if it weren’t for their determination to remain as solid state as possible, would wash their illusions of the future out of their eyes.

hysteriawhat if anxiety acts as its own self-sustaining emotion? i see the anxious faces and hear the anxious speculation around me and it, in turn, makes me anxious. and i can hear it in their voices when they talk together.. one person starts speculating and the edge in their voice gets sharper.. and the people listening get edgier themselves.. and like a flood behind their eyes, you can watch their anxiety rise and they’ll pass it on to the next group they talk to. soon enough the epidemic grips the entire office.

i’m not here to say let’s turn that frown upside-down and everything will be just honky-dory.. i just have to wonder aloud if we can’t calm ourselves down in a group scenario like this. you can almost watch the hysteria spread from one group to the next, faster than news of cookies in the break room.

another part of this that nags at me a bit is that i feel so very small in this process. i have nothing to say about what happens, have little control over my eventual situation, and, now being one of over seven thousand stantec employees, well, i feel that my voice could be lost in a hall of echoes. the obvious analogy that gets drawn is one of pawns in a big chess game, small, largely expendable, and easily forgotten.

now, none of that is to say that i believe in that.. i think there’s a difference between feeling one way and honestly believing in that feeling. i do think this change will open up a lot of opportunities and that good things will come of this all. and more than all that, i know that these are only circumstances.. and one can never be a victim of circumstance without also being a willing participant: i’ll always have choice and so long as i have choice, i have the choice of being alright with this, with seeing the positives.. or, if i see too many things that i’m decidedly unhappy with, then i’ll always have the choice of walking out that open door.. i have that infinite freedom (“man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.” and “freedom is what you do with what’s been done to you.” –jean-paul sartre).. then again, if they play the game right and for long enough, even pawns can become royalty.

..i know this is hardly a linear post. and it’s mostly a smattering of incomplete thought.. but that’s all i can offer for now.

time may tell all.