August 28, 2007 | Filed under: I'm a Dork, Is She Still Talking?

Every once in a while I do something even more dorktastic than I previously would have given myself credit for. Like right now. I’m sitting, Indian-style, on a pillow (the concrete of the patio was too cold) in my backyard, writing and watching the lunar eclipse. Yes, I had to set my alarm for 2 AM and get out of bed for the experience, which is pretty dorked out, but anything in the name of science, right? (My neighbors appear not to agree.)

I’ve been struggling lately with the sense that All Is Not Right In The World (by which I mean, my teeny tiny self-centered little world). That’s not to say that everything is wrong, just that I’m not 110% overjoyed, bursting at the seams, because Life! Is! So! Glorious! It continues to be a difficult adjustment for me — going from the ever-changing, ever-accomplishing life of a student to this thing we call Being a Grown-Up. Why did nobody tell me it would be so boring? For all intents and purposes, this is what my life will look like for the next thirty years. Approximately the same job, approximately the same personal life. Accomplishments that take six months or a year or two or five to achieve, rather than a semester. The feeling that things aren’t happening fast enough.

I sit here and stare up into the void, the moon covered by a shadow over all but a tiny little crescent at the bottom, which still effuses clear, bright light, and I am awed.

I realize simultaneously how insignificant my worries are and yet, how incredibly special life is. My life, the life of everything else on this planet. It boggles my mind, the knowledge that in the great big wide universe, in which the earth is but a speck and on which we are subatomic particles (relatively speaking) there exists … well, everything. Flora and fauna and huge land mammals and even huger sea creatures and just how is it that carbon and nitrogen and hydrogen and oxygen atoms combined to make all this possible? How incredibly fucking special are we that this is the only known place in the universe to support life beyond some simple-celled organisms. How incomprehensibly complicated the mundane life is day-to-day: wake up thanks to an electrically-supplied blaring alarm clock, shower with water purified and pumped in from a remote location, drive to work in an internal combustion engine vehicle powered by the pressurized remains of dinosaurs, are you kidding me? This is mundane?

After craning to see the moon through the bushes for the last half an hour, I’ve had to relocate. And maybe that’s the answer to my recent mental churning — life does move along, changes are happening, but at a pace that’s imperceptible to the impatient naked eye. We don’t notice until a major shift is required.

There are those who will say that a lunar eclipse is nothing special nor spiritual; an event that is explainable entirely through scientific theory. Me? I know better. It is a personally-addressed letter.

* * * * *

Dear Kate,

We hear you, with all your worries and concerns and trite little whinings. Please to have this can of Shut the Fuck Up.

Love,

The Universe

August 23, 2007 | Filed under: I'm a Dork, Is She Still Talking?

I should be running tonight, but instead I opted for a gajillion-calorie dinner and the pre-season Packers game. Ugh. Thursday nights are the worst.

I know most people dread Monday mornings and Wednesday is “hump day” (who the heck came up with that particular expression, I would like to know, because I find it just … icky, for reasons I can’t fully verbalize) but for me, the lowest energy point in my week is Thursday night.

One particular childhood memory highlights this beautifully. I was probably in second grade and my parents took us to McDonald’s for dinner, which was quite a rarity. I selected a cheeseburger and Hi-C orange drink (the usual) and dutifully ate my dinner without contributing much to the conversation. Fifteen minutes later, I was curled up on the hard plastic bench, asleep, a good hour before my bedtime. Ordinarily my mother would not have permitted such impoliteness (benches are for sitting on, not laying on, and I was certainly old enough to know better, especially in public) but I was so clearly wiped. out. that she let it slide.

In college I could nearly set my watch by what I termed my Thursday Night Headaches, which were just as they sound — headaches that routinely developed by Thursday night. (Some lucky weeks the headache onset came in the afternoon.) One student organization I belonged to held weekly exec committee meetings on Thursdays, 7pm. That was the longest year of my life, because we had important stuff to hash out each week and each week I felt like shit and each week I felt guilty for not being at my best and each week I resented the fact that that meeting was the only thing that stood between me and my bed. And they almost never ended on time.

It’s like my body says, “Pardon me, but I have spent the last four days getting the crap kicked out of me and now I am D-O-N-E, done. I know, conceptually, that there is one more day left in this week, but that fact means nothing to me.” I am tired, listless, have no decision-making skills, and want nothing more than to fall into bed and wake up on Friday morning, despite the fact that if I actually attempted this, I’d surely be awake by 4 AM on Friday, a time which, even for me, does not fully qualify as “morning.”

Needless to say, I am a fabulous addition to any Thursday night happy hour you may have planned. The over-tiredness is complemented quite nicely by a couple of beers, and pretty soon I magically have more energy but don’t care about a darn thing. And for someone whose brain is permanently stuck in overdrive, those hard-fought, not-caring moments, they are pure bliss.

August 20, 2007 | Filed under: It's Called "Having a Life." You Should Try It., The California Adventure

I’ve been spending a little too much time in my head, which doesn’t make for very good blog fodder, and you’ve gotten quite a dose of my psychotic ramblings lately, so we’ll pass on that option for now. Instead, it’s much easier to tell (and show) you what I’ve done recently, if by “recently” you mean “an entire month ago.”

I woke up one Thursday morning and said to myself, “Self, I think I’d like to go hiking this weekend.” And, because I was Single! and Free! and Had No Commitments Other Than My Friday Night Plans! I could make a decision like that and just dash off for the rest of the weekend. A couple hours of internet research later, I had a destination and reservations for camping overnight.

(I know what you’re thinking. No, I didn’t choose this destination because of its name. If you must know, I rather despise whiskey. Yes, yes, including Irish whiskey. Commence the stoning.)

On Saturday I did a lovely scenic hike up to a waterfall, which provided some nice vantages for picture-taking and a good spot at which to eat lunch and read a book. Until the hordes of other people showed up, and then things felt a little too personal-space-invading for my taste, so I headed down the mountain.

Back at the campsite, I tackled the day’s main project: setting up the tent. I was about 90% done when my campsite neighbors wandered over, offering assistance. I graciously accepted their help, as we took apart everything that I’d assembled. And I can only hope that my graciousness kept on shining when we then put it all back together, exactly the same way I’d had it twenty minutes prior. But, no matter, eventually the tent was up.

Yes, I slept in a sleeping bag. On the ground. With no air mattress, for I am hard core. (Though not hard core enough to consider backcountry camping; I have no desire to haul my tent around with me all stinkin’ day.) Also, I’d say “slept” is an overstatement. More like “napped sporadically for seven hours.”

Day 2 consisted of more hiking. Specifically, the most challenging route available in the park. It was a loop trail so I knew it didn’t really matter which way I went, but two different sets of directions told me to do the trail clockwise. I’m not really one for directions, so of course I ended up doing it “backwards.” No, actually, I started out just fine and was following the directions to a T. However, I was so busy congratulating myself on accurately locating the trailhead 75 feet away from a gravel road by remembering that 8 steps = 5 yards (thank you, years of marching band drills), I missed my next turn, a mere 100 feet up the trail. About a mile in I stopped for water, looked at the map and decided, yup, I’m going backwards. Of course, this being a loop and all, I knew it didn’t matter which way I went — I’d end up back at the parking lot either way. I began to question the directions. Then I realized, the only reason the directions would tell you to go one way vs. the other is if one direction is a lot steeper than the other. So I checked the elevation profile and discovered that my stupidly-missed turn had added an extra 500 vertical feet to my day. Awesome.

You probably can’t tell from this picture, but for much of this hike the “trail” was essentially walking in a dry riverbed, one foot directly in front of the other. 50 degree inclines were not unheard of. Good times.

Putting my waterproof boots to the test.

Directional snafu aside, I made it to the top.

My mother fretted the whole time (You’re going by yourself??? But bad things happen to single women who go traipsing around alone!) and even left me a voice mail on Sunday, reminding me to call her when I was home. A reasonable request, but still — ten times more hovering than I’m accustomed to. She chilled out once I called to let her know I wasn’t dead, but still expressed that she doesn’t like it when I do these things by myself. It’s just not safe.

Good thing she doesn’t know I’m going to Europe. Alone.

View the complete set of pictures here.

August 13, 2007 | Filed under: Is She Still Talking?, People I Like Even More Than My Job

I haven’t been home since six o’clock this morning. I spent the last five hours talking almost non-stop at two different bars. My dinner consisted of several pints of beer and some onion rings.

It’s the best I’ve felt in months.

August 12, 2007 | Filed under: Because They Pay Me

It’s not everyday that I can so clearly see the fruits of my labor. But today? I have a clean desk. And all it took was removing enough papers to fill two entire trash cans! In my toils, I came across many, many important documents. From 2006. They were important … back then. Now? Not so much.

Behold:

We shall not speak of the piles of business cards littering the desk space
next to my phone.

After all that hard work, I figured I deserved a reward, for I am klassy. Also, cheap: I sprung for the 18-pack because it was only a dollar more than the 12-pack. Buy in Bulk and Save!