Why do all the cool guys drive away to California? Not cool. The following is an ode to my dear friend Joe:
I remember midnight caving, Joe Nights, the redness of your head when you saw my mom after you called yourself a female dog in her class, camping at the Ocoee, kayaking Tellico and the Ocoee (with you running over me multiple times, ha, ha...and then me scaring you to death...but we don't need to remember that episode), Nickle Creek concerts, road-biking, ice-skating in Colorado, bouldering at TBA, rock-climbing, swing-dancing at Strawberry Festival, Shirley's, and, of course, Big Band Night; chai time at Starbucks, fluff-less conversations, keeping the spirit of vagabonding alive.
Last chai, traversing the "other" downtown bridge, exploring Renaissance Park, rolling down the random hill, throwing bamboo and ice off the bridge (such a satisfying sound!)
Joe...you are a good friend. I wish all the best for you, and even from across the country we'll have to keep each other accountable from leading mundane lives. I shall miss you, my adventurous, bald friend
La naturaleza and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn Quotes
La naturaleza
This weekend I felt the power of nature. I went mt. biking past creeks, boulders, deer, cat-tailed wetlands, and an amazing overlook of the TN River surrounded on all sides by forested hills. We ended up biking some time in the dark and I came fumbling out of the woods just as rain began to pour.
Rain continued to amaze me as last night I slept on my porch and felt the vibrations of lightning flow down from the sky and up through the concrete ground below me.
Today I went jogging after the rain had momentarily ceased. Everything was fresh and bright green. Cotton-like fog rose above the hills. It felt good to be a part of it all and realize how nature, especially weather, blankets life with change.
11:37 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn Quotes
"Sometimes I think it's better to suffer bitter unhappiness and to fight and to scream out, and even to suffer that terrible pain, than just to be..safe." She waited until the next scream died away. "At least she knows she's living." (p.341)
"People always think that happiness is a faraway thing," thought Francie, "something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up; a place of shelter when it rains--a cup of strong hot coffee when you're blue; for a man, a cigarette for contentment; a book to read when you're alone--just to be with someone you love. Those things make happiness." (p. 457)
This weekend I felt the power of nature. I went mt. biking past creeks, boulders, deer, cat-tailed wetlands, and an amazing overlook of the TN River surrounded on all sides by forested hills. We ended up biking some time in the dark and I came fumbling out of the woods just as rain began to pour.
Rain continued to amaze me as last night I slept on my porch and felt the vibrations of lightning flow down from the sky and up through the concrete ground below me.
Today I went jogging after the rain had momentarily ceased. Everything was fresh and bright green. Cotton-like fog rose above the hills. It felt good to be a part of it all and realize how nature, especially weather, blankets life with change.
11:37 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn Quotes
"Sometimes I think it's better to suffer bitter unhappiness and to fight and to scream out, and even to suffer that terrible pain, than just to be..safe." She waited until the next scream died away. "At least she knows she's living." (p.341)
"People always think that happiness is a faraway thing," thought Francie, "something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up; a place of shelter when it rains--a cup of strong hot coffee when you're blue; for a man, a cigarette for contentment; a book to read when you're alone--just to be with someone you love. Those things make happiness." (p. 457)
I shouldn't ponder this late at night
I'm home alone without my cell phone because I geniously lost it last Friday. I've still managed to spend time with friends, but, still, coming home to an empty house has made me lonely. How strange, eh? My dependency on socialization has increased in the past year or so, which is sort of scary. My need for church has also grown. I think it has something to do with pain and trauma that I hadn't experienced until the past few years. I also think I have greater realization about the nature and diversity of choice. For example, one can believe anything, can do anything (if one has the means), while at the same time all sorts of poo can happen to someone of which they have absolutely no control. The need for something stable is strong, and yet what we view as stable is not necessarily stable for someone else.
It seems that these lonely periods in my life, and painful moments in general, force me to analyze the world. The mindless whirl of normal living is gone. On the drive home from Barnes tonight, a million thoughts raced through my brain. Unfortunately, recently my short term memory doesn't seem to be functioning very well.
One thought:
I often think about people I've met traveling, especially Roberto from my World Mission Tour trip, who have expressed to me their need of community and church. I think the written word is one way to connect people--especially their deeper thoughts. I've been reading a lot of nonfiction for the past few months. I think writing forces people to delve into the deeper recesses of human ponderance and call out to those who empathize or those who don't, but should know about something . "We read to know that we are not alone." If I could get my self discipline in gear, I'd really like to write about the people I've met across the world. To be able to write their stories and see their connections to others outside of their personal experience (I've also been thinking about applying for graduate school in compartive literature).
Only reading, however, doesn't completely cut it for me. Real life is needed. Recently I've been frustrated by my inability to form deeper levels of communication with some of my friends. There are a few people with which I've been able to do that, mostly people I've known for years (and yet some people I connect with instantly more than with others I've known for a long time), and I treasure them so incredibly much. I crave this level of communication. My great satisfaction with learning the Spanish language came when I was able to communicate with my Spanish-speaking friends on a deeper level.
Getting to that level, no matter the language, can be really scary and therefore inhibit people from doing it. I treasure all of my friendships, and I know there are probably multiple factors for those with which I don't have a deeper communcation, including ones from my end of the relationship.
One reason I'm an active person is to try to rid some of these factors. I am comforted by how people tend to open up more when they are doing stuff (i.e. hiking, climbing, drinking coffee, etc.). People need to have some reason to get together and interact. In East of Eden, John Steinbeck writes how people go to church or the saloon not necessarily for different reasons. My frustration comes when after long periods of time of doing activities a deeper communicative relationship is never achieved.
It seems that these lonely periods in my life, and painful moments in general, force me to analyze the world. The mindless whirl of normal living is gone. On the drive home from Barnes tonight, a million thoughts raced through my brain. Unfortunately, recently my short term memory doesn't seem to be functioning very well.
One thought:
I often think about people I've met traveling, especially Roberto from my World Mission Tour trip, who have expressed to me their need of community and church. I think the written word is one way to connect people--especially their deeper thoughts. I've been reading a lot of nonfiction for the past few months. I think writing forces people to delve into the deeper recesses of human ponderance and call out to those who empathize or those who don't, but should know about something . "We read to know that we are not alone." If I could get my self discipline in gear, I'd really like to write about the people I've met across the world. To be able to write their stories and see their connections to others outside of their personal experience (I've also been thinking about applying for graduate school in compartive literature).
Only reading, however, doesn't completely cut it for me. Real life is needed. Recently I've been frustrated by my inability to form deeper levels of communication with some of my friends. There are a few people with which I've been able to do that, mostly people I've known for years (and yet some people I connect with instantly more than with others I've known for a long time), and I treasure them so incredibly much. I crave this level of communication. My great satisfaction with learning the Spanish language came when I was able to communicate with my Spanish-speaking friends on a deeper level.
Getting to that level, no matter the language, can be really scary and therefore inhibit people from doing it. I treasure all of my friendships, and I know there are probably multiple factors for those with which I don't have a deeper communcation, including ones from my end of the relationship.
One reason I'm an active person is to try to rid some of these factors. I am comforted by how people tend to open up more when they are doing stuff (i.e. hiking, climbing, drinking coffee, etc.). People need to have some reason to get together and interact. In East of Eden, John Steinbeck writes how people go to church or the saloon not necessarily for different reasons. My frustration comes when after long periods of time of doing activities a deeper communicative relationship is never achieved.
What's with the Black Box?
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Labels:
friends
I spent this past weekend bonding with my old roommate in Nashville. Some highlights (geez I've been lazy lately):
Girls standing on the bathroom sink hairspraying their hair at the Rocket Town concert. I was way too unhip for these kids with jaunty-angled modern mullets and crotch-damagingly tight pants.
Having a slumber party complete with Adventures in Odyssey and a cup of warm milk and honey.
Spending all morning having stimulating conversation and working on Nashvillian Christmas songs.
Playing frisbee and later eating Mexican food with Belmont boys in Nashville's very own barrio. Learning about the "Comericial Voice" major.
Swing-dancing with middle-aged men to synthersizish Big Band music. I quickly retreated.
Getting rained on in the middle of Asian-style Macbeth. Taking cover under blankets and then the Parthenon. Resorting to Maggie Moo's for chocolate peanut butter ice cream.
Girls standing on the bathroom sink hairspraying their hair at the Rocket Town concert. I was way too unhip for these kids with jaunty-angled modern mullets and crotch-damagingly tight pants.
Having a slumber party complete with Adventures in Odyssey and a cup of warm milk and honey.
Spending all morning having stimulating conversation and working on Nashvillian Christmas songs.
Playing frisbee and later eating Mexican food with Belmont boys in Nashville's very own barrio. Learning about the "Comericial Voice" major.
Swing-dancing with middle-aged men to synthersizish Big Band music. I quickly retreated.
Getting rained on in the middle of Asian-style Macbeth. Taking cover under blankets and then the Parthenon. Resorting to Maggie Moo's for chocolate peanut butter ice cream.
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