Christmas?

So let me do a little recap of xmas articles I've seen in the last few days:

1) Santa-on-a-cross

2) We wish you a minimalist Christmas

3) No use for Yule

Gotta say, overall I'm pretty happy.

In Tim news, in the midst of a discussion with my mom about why exactly I had spent 544.5$ on a Playstation 3 after I had failed two of my classes in part due to video games (not quite like it sounds, but definitely just as awkward/defensive) somehow we got to talking about what I was like as a child which yielded this story:

When I was about 4, because we were still living in Seattle my mom was telling me the story of the Israelites' Exodus from Egypt, specifically the bit about the Red Sea. I can remember thinking that it was all well and good that it was opened up for them or whatever. But then, apparently, she told me the part about God closing the sea on Pharoah's army. I guess I looked up at her and said, in all seriousness, "That naughty, naughty God".

Substitution

I've felt a lot of lonliness this semester, maybe this college career. It has resulted (predictably) in reflection on lonliness.


I love how angsty this gets.

There is this paradox. People have spoken of feeling alone when they are surrounded by people, at a party or workplace por ejemplo. And this experience is certainly not foreign to me. I think that feeling can be named 'alone'. What I've been experiencing is almost the exact opposite. When I'm completely alone, when walk up the stairs, returning to a cold room with not even the traces of company, it's in those moments that I become aware of this closeness to someone. When no one is around, that is when I believe, when it's true, when I feel more tangibly than anything the presence of someone I love. My imagination plays a role, of course. That's probably why this person is most often a woman. Which sheds light on another interesting side: waiting. Because after I've settled in my room and it's clear no one is actually here, I usually engage in this sort of active waiting, or preparation. I do work, mostly. But it is always this attitude that this whoever could come walking in at any moment. And there's two layers to it: the first is the obviously longterm one, that this presence I feel or expect to feel is just the deepseated desire for one other human being that, in the word's of a friend, I would "do passionately and often". And no mom, that most certainly would not be the extent of the relationship (but if I have anything to say about it, it'd be a factor for darn certain). The second kind of waiting is that although I'd be far from bored or disengaged, when that person arrived, you could bet cash money just about everything except for them would be the farthest thing from my mind. That's the second kind of waiting.



Of course, there is no physical presence. I mean that's the whole point of this message.

In place of sharing kisses and conversation with my lover, I heave a sigh to my God. And it feels good.

Rent-a-Rower: Uncommon Projects

Last weekend, I got to ride in an elevator just shy of 100 years old, built in 1908. It's the oldest elevator in Tacoma. At that time I was helping a church move their organ out of storage. So we moved all of those pieces, saw cotton/canvas insulated wired that powers the bellows and stops from the console. It took about 5 hours. The organ is going to take about a year and a half to construct, apparently.

3 months = 1 Sentence

My thoughts are like clounds: big, beautiful, and complex but more than anything, fleeting.

SEX

This post was originally removed. I've put it back in for various reasons, but mostly because the main reason I removed it was that I was told most girls who read this would be totally scared away from me. OK, fine. Well, then they ought to be scared because with it's on the outside or the inside, this is a part of me or at least part of my history.

So here it is:

There is a lot of sexual relief in homosexuality for me.

I'm terrible aware that I desire orgasm, especially shared orgasm.

But even more so in a child-like, confused way, I am aware that if my pink intersects with a female pink, I will drown in pleasure and we will fuse together. My mind tells me that if my heart is pure, the best (but not necessarily) result would be conception and a child.

While I just described a joyful event, for many people very much including myself, the reality is terrifying, implying some darkness, a crazy spiral.

I don't know what to do. I mean really, thanks whomever. Here I am, almost 21 and utterly frustrated. Where are the boundaries? NO ONE has ever told me what sex is. Everyone in my life has parted with advice about general lifestyle, beautiful wisdom like a flower parts with its petals. Not so with sex. It's scary.


I have been taught and there are inconceivably elegant books written about some of the most intimate details of something as majestic as the universe. I can express in staggeringly accurate terms some fundamentals of launching a mass into orbit 270 km above the earths surface. I know what some stars are made of. Heck, I just found out that the sun rotates about every month. Whats more, the area at the equator rotates faster than the poles. That is fundamental and extremely mysterious, but we drink in details.

Well I have the same thirst about sex. Surprise. And ya know, the best part is, I probably wouldn't be making such a big deal about it if so many people weren't so afraid of it. Funny right? When a lot of people get scared of something, no one talks about it and when someone does, everyone else gets more scared. Oh wait, am I a Christian? Is one of God's most oft repeated commandants (granted "born again's" it is in that nasty Old Testament) "Do not be afraid".

I mean, chuck theology out the window. Actually bring it back in, I want to make a quick comparison. So the way we have things set up is this: Philo-sophy and Theo-logy, that is the love of wisdom and the study of God. Granted, both of those are positive things. But, even though wisdom is portrayed as a person (a woman more specifically, but I won't get into that) God is actually something personal. I mean, going back to chucking theology out the window, if God is a spiritual or super spiritual being or some psychological construct, people find personal relief in the divine. WISDOM ISN'T PERSONAL, SO WHY WOULD WE LOVE IT AND STUDY THAT WHICH IS PERSONAL? Anyway, disregarding most of the nature of God, any divine being that commands/asks us not to fear has got something going on. I mean if anything asks anyone not to act out of fear, its a pretty safe bet that they are trustworthy.

So I dunno, right? I'm a little confused. Maybe we should be afraid of a person that didn't have a physical penis and now does have one. Like they are a threat. To us. Like we should fear them. Like Jesus tells us to.

I mean, if we're going to talk about changing our bodies, I would much rather sit on my soon-to-be-obese ass, using my imminently-atrophied muscles to change channels on a television, watching a majority of programming designed to lie to me just enough to spend my money on shit I've never need and would probably just contribute to my decline than get a vagina where I didn't have one before. Much better to be out of shape than to get a sex change right?

I'd apologize if I hadn't thought about this so much or wasn't so darn pissed off. Actually, more than anything, I might as well just claim responsibility for my own sexual ignorance and frustration right? Can't blame anyone but myself for a personal lack of exploration.

This is the message that had been in the place of this message.

"So I removed this because my mom asked me to and I respect her.

She said that it "reflected sex as an experience and not an expression". I agree with her that sex is not just something to do, that it is a piece of a healthy relationship.

If you want to read the original post, as it is a valid record of my thoughts and feelings at one point in time, feel free to email me at timjpost@gmail.com.

I may be re-posting it again, after I have re-read/modified the post, or maybe after I actually have sex. No guarnatees."

Three Homes

I am realizing that I'm growing up. Someway. I understand that I need to put effort into it, that I have to be some sort of self-propelling being. In any action, if it is traced far enough back, it ends at my self motivation.

Thats all I have to say about growing up except that sometimes I do propel myself and sometimes I don't. This is a difficult existence. I need God in me.

I had that thought as I considered my 3 homes and two families. I intended to write this back in August, so now it is more like I have one home for each family. Even so, the time and care I invested in the house I lived at made it a home certainly and I cared about it.

It is strange having three homes. I think mostly, we either have one home or everywhere and anywhere is a home. And I find so much in each one, I certainly don't need all of them, I find overlapping advantages everywhere. But each of them has or had their own certain trait, a mood or even just a level of order or purpose.

Very much, it makes me want to build my own, to be responsible and a master. Heck I'd like to simply be responsible.

Among Giants

The trip in the Olympics was amazing. That is simply it, I was found, in reality, in certain moments, I was found completely.

The time that stands out particularly in my mind, I actually got in trouble for. I had gone off by myself exploring just a little ways and I found a grove of trees up on a very small ridge, overlooking what was probably a pretty large valley. It was so cloudy I couldn't tell. I pushed through some of the very short pines, the seemed to be old men and women that moved very slowly, so slowly. I joined them, and found a spot to sit down. I could see out into the cloud. I could look down the ridge wall and see trees and rocks sticking out. It was like there was a clear bubble about 50 ft in diameter about me and then everything just disappeared into fog.

A few days before I had left, I saw a movie called The Fountain. It is beautiful, to say the absolute least. In one story, a monk carefully removes and eats the bark of a tree he loves and is trying to save. It was intimate. There are not combinations of words that come to mind that could possibly relate how incredible that relationship was, between that tree and that person. I had been looking the entire trip for a place to meditate, and I found it right there. The clouds were moving in front of me and I had reclined into the branches of a few trees. They formed a spingy, supportive cushion for my back and I just opened. I noticed how tight I had become, having to walk with hurting feet and only enough food for a couple days and enjoy it. I was still soft, but I was becoming carved. I asked the trees for them. I sat and sat and thought about God and death and life. I tried to understand the absolutely incredible amount of rocks that I had walked over or seen. Have you noticed? There are a lot of rocks in this world. Why?

I opened my eyes and slowly took the bark off of one of the trees, a small piece, about the thickness of bark and as long as my thumb. I put it in my mouth and chewed it and swallowed it. It was a symbol, a communion. It felt like the tree I took it from was female. But in retrospect, that is what I had/have/was taught to look for. Alone, with nothing but my father and brothers and rocks (which are good things to have, for sure). But maybe I thought I would be "wrong" if I wasn't desperate for some form of motherhood or a mate. Just a thought. Anyway, I felt much more a part of the environment, something certainly separate from these things, as I had human produced chemicals in my body and my clothes were made mostly out of plastics. Heck, even the fact that I had clothes mostly made me separate from my environment. But I felt like a citizen of this Earth. I still do.

I realized on that trip that the human experience is a travel of potential differences. For days we were up in the mountains, among peaks and ridges. For other days, we were down in the lowlands, hiking on trails through woodland. While I was up in the mountains I imagined those who had gone before me. I imagined them as ghosts, or legends, always walking in the snow, always sharing communion with the things around them. But eventually, occasionally they came down. The ones I imagined as the friendliest would take sojourns into the mountains for rejuvenation, but one cannot be rejuvenated forever, by the same thing. It doesn't make sense. I realized that my time here, in school, and my time in the mountains and the time I will hopefully be spending in the plains of America and God only knows where else are all life. They are all existence and they are perpetually changing. I am full, I feel good. I am hungry, I eat, it tastes good. I am weak, I exercise to become strong. I am lazy, I push my self to work hard. I work hard, I exercise, I rest. These are all good changes.

I learned what my dad meant when he said so long ago, in reference to school work, "Sometimes you just have to keep on hiking. It may be a quick, gratifying experience to glissade down a snowfield just off of the trail but ultimately you will have to climb back up and out there, you have to get yourself to your campsite." We had to make it places by nightfall. It got cold and dark, and usually it stayed that way, except for the brief flash of dinner. The second to last day, we had to go 16 miles and there was simply no way faster (perhaps no way at all) except to hike it. That was a very telling feeling. It was a tangible accomplishment. I sung a song.

Another distinct memory I had was just after lunch on that second to last day. We were walking across one of many bridges that spanned these creeks that had cut very steep, intense gullies into the ridge. At the middle of many of these bridges, looking down the gully, 100 ft away it was about 90-120 feet lower. The bridges themselves were usually about 40 feet long and maybe 50-60 feet high. As we walked across this particular bridge, I noticed a tree on the opposit side. Part of its trunk was growing straight out of a rock, before it twisted and the rest of the tree started growing towards the sky. It was like something people don't believe in nowadays, and those sorts of things were all around. Huge stumps, either dry rotten or charred by lightening. The place we camped was a huge bar on the Quinault River, called Wolf Bar (thats how I know it is a bar :D ). There was one main trail that wound through this amazing grove of pine trees, covered in moss and all about 10 feet apart. It was not thick forest. Beyond it, a beach of smooth rocks of all different sizes and sand stretched out ~150 ft to the river. A wind/breeze was constantly blowing down the river (I know because I tried for about 45 min to take a nap on a sandy patch. I got rest but I certainly didn't fall asleep). On the other side of the river, thick pine trees came right down to the bank. Again, our grove and the forest on the opposite side were both delightful, but also the contrast between the two.

It was much warmer, closer to the Earth.

The clarity I gained from that trip was exquisite. It was complemented or enabled by the fact that I didn't have internet (or a decent computer) at my home over the summer. A definite plus.

I have many stories. When I came back, I saw friends, and we talked about trips they had taken and it surprised me how many of my memories had to be "woken up" by their stories and that mostly, I could individually remember only one or twos stories from my 50 miler and Philmont. Of course, I actually thought about many of my trips and recalled more, but it is a little strange that I didn't really value those experiences or something. Honestly, (and if I have kids, they can quote me on this) I think it was so much virtual media, anything from computer games to music on demand to books to televisions. I mean, especially video games. Especially video games. There is just no substitute for real, confident thirsty experience. In the words of Richard Feynman "I have to understand the world, you see." This understanding is possible. You must see and think. You must get wrong answers and take ridiculous risks. Because really all we have is wrong answers, it just happens that some are less wrong and more useful than others. And thank God.

So anyway. There is nothing that cannot be done. There are a lot of derivatives (such as Solomon's "there is nothing that hasn't already been done." which I think is true). There are also a lot of qualifiers such as "you must possess an active uterus to have a child after having sexual intercourse with person with a penis". But those are trivial, almost backwards. It's the wrong way to think about things.

That is what I learned, is that we exist and we have life and it is directed and we have to do things, it just takes time.

Who picks up the Trail of Clothes Beautiful People Leave when they go to Bed Together

This is one of my favorite thoughts or reflections over the summer. The feeling(which I will get to) has mostly atrophied in the face of school and crew and day-to-day, month-to-month responsibilities.

The idea is that all aspects of a person's life need to be taken care of. Someone has to do the work from pulling plants out of the ground for food to designing/building the pens and pencils used for signing business mergers.

I have always loved the image of a pair quickly taking off one another's clothes after a particularly wonderful evening or long separation. Walking as they kiss, a lot. There is an honesty there that can't be bought, a desperation, a giving up. It is an escape from all of the arbitrary signals and subtle plays of the modern world and a return to something we as a race or society or animal have enjoyed since our beginning, whatever that may be. I find it very comforting that more or less, we cannot continue without sex.

So anyway, they have an excellent night. What next? And its this contrast that I love so much more than the actual passion and heat. The difference between ravenous hunger and content fullness. The satisfied appetite that provides a human foundation for survival in the most transcendent definition of the word.

Afterwards, someone has to pick up their clothes. The contrast between the glamour of their lifestyles and the triviality of the tasks that inevitably surround all of us. In this vision, they pick up those clothes.

All of our glamour and complexity and discovery... Everything is supported by a million simple things. The food we eat, the clothes we wear. Our cars. The customs and oral histories, complex rituals. These are something like luxuries. Not so much in the sense that they are frivolous, but certainly in the sense that we could not have come by them without the creativity and devotion of others. And certainly not without our own ability to switch between embracing the complex and intense and the simple and calm.

The engineer must practice problems and engage real objects.

Nurses have to know human patients and standards of measurement and pharmaceutical theory.

Students absolutely must know the pieces of nature scholars discovered to create lessons. Students must know concretes and abstractions.

Writers must have lives and a strong grasp of language. Pastors must have strong and dynamic relationships and a solid, reliable understanding of God.

Everyone must embrace what they perceive and also embrace what they think about what they perceive.

We cannot get by on thoughts alone or feelings alone or spirituality alone. Or any other aspect of the human body. We cannot live by simply maintaining our physical health.

Part II: The Meander

Well it looks like this post idea has mostly spoiled, since I left it too long. i cannot put my mind back where it was two months ago.

Except that I was lonely.

The summer, in reflection was difficult in some ways. For the first month, my heart would cry out for people, demanding it of a body slightly out of shape and a mind that was all too bored.

I remember one night, I had just finished watching Will & Grace. Bad idea. I had made myself a reasonable dinner that night, so I was well fed, but people hungry.

I was incredulous, that (regardless of whether or not it was true) I didn't feel like I had anywhere to go, anyone to go to. My mainstays were the Rose, and occasionally I'd see some people from church, but really, in the intimate meaningful form of the word, I was alone. More or less surrounded by people and alone.

And I wanted a relationship.

I realized that, I went outside and prayed to God that I would get some indication of the person I was going to marry. Then I just waited in the backyard waiting for some young woman to walk around the corner and we would go inside and spend a lovely evening together and be happy for longer than we were on this Earth.

No one came and I gazed at the sky, trying to communicate my feelings with God. Trying to articulate me. Trying to find myself.

I went inside and fell asleep.

Not current July events

So due to the dual forces of spending time with actual other people and procrastinating this blog for god knows what reason mean that it doesn't come out nearly as regularly as I hope and you readers are left with what this will probably turn out to be: a digest of Tim's Current Events and probably an over-lengthy, meandering, pseudo-existential investigation.

At best, it seems difficult to fully articulate what has gone on. As far as I can tell, thats because it involves girls. After getting back from Colorado, I was hanging out with folks at the Rose and talking to them. On July 4th, I took a fairly long walk with Caitlyn. We mostly talked about Stephen and what he means in this world. But at one point, near the end, she asked me "Why are you and Terra so afraid of each other?". Terra Marotz is a dudette I met second semester freshman year. Totally cool. We were afraid of each other basically because of society. She was dating this guy and had been for like a year (at the time that Caitlyn and I talked) and we couldn't get close because it would be suspicious.

That was going to be longer than I intended. I can't remember the order of things that have happened since I got back, but here are some of them. I met for like 40 minutes of coffee with this girl thatI go to church with named Jessie. It was awkward becaus I was like 20 min late and she had to leave for a study group soon. Also, as we were talking, I asked her "how are you with God?" and she gave me this stare and said "I don't think we're on that level yet". Usually, I don't have a problem talking to people about God.

Went upto Seattle with Marty and met Monica we walked around Pike's Place Market and then to the Sculpture Park. Then we went to Monica's sister's birthday party (her sister's name is Stephanie. I knew of her in highschool b/c I knew Monica, but we never really talked) which was ultra cool. Stephanie was wearing a magenta dress, a tutu and small wings. Her hair is sort of a maroon color. When I knew her in highschool, she was very demure and withdrawn, so it was a very enjoyable shock. Also at one point in the party, I met a girl called Jessica Linnenkol. I know her from my 7th and 8th grade years and a Christian private school. I have never met someone from there by random chance. It took me about 15 minutes and trip to the bathroom to match the face I saw that day with the face I remembered from school. After that, Marty and I went home.

I cleaned my entire house one day, starting at 18:00 and staying up until about 03:00. I organized a ton of school papers, set out all of my receipts and pulled my bank statements from my bank website so I can put it all in my computer. That still hasn't happened.

I helped Marty put some ceiling and walls in the former playhouse named "Wild Garlic". From my perspective, it is a most astonishing project.

I have been working full-time. Apparently I have been in a "bad mood" for the last couple of days and my boss has been asking me why. I told him it is because the office is so negative. Deep down he took me seriously but on the outside he doesn't really know how to deal with it because emotions are coming out in the work place and thats something he only expects to deal with at home. With his wife. And his daughters. I've done a lot a lot of web-browsing at work and that just makes me feel awful. My mom recommended I read this book called "The College Student and ADD" or something like that and I have and I'm becoming convinced that my mind works differently. It's hard for me to shift out of lethargy. All of the other guys at work browse to, but at the "right times" when there isn't immediate work to do. It's more efficient and honest than what I do, but they're still getting paid for it. I feel like I'm being eroded. But when I am doing actual work, it's very enjoyable.

After being asked by Caitlyn why I was so afraid of Terra, I actually had a long conversation with Terra in which we came clear with each other. It felt very honest and healthy.

I left last saturday to go up to Snohomish so I could catch the Edmonds ferry the next day across to Kingston in response to an invitation I recieved from Monica's dad, Stephen that I could visit him as long as I a) had something to talk about and b) would eat his food. Finally (after cancelling twice) I made it. In Snohomish I stayed with Grace and stayed up late talking with her. I went to (Catholic) church with her the next day and then went over to Kingston. I made it to the Barrett's (Stephen) house and had a very illuminating few hours of conversation with him. I also got to speak a bit with Monica as we biked down to Albertson's to pick up some stuff for dinner and dessert. Stephen cooked an immensely tender flank steak and Monica made impressive chocolate souffle w/ caramel sauce for desert. After that, I caught the ferry back to Seattle where I met Stephanie and we went to Compline at St. Marks Cathedral. After that we talked long enough for me to miss the late bus back to Tacoma, so I stayed with her until the next morning when I caught a bus back at around 06:30.

(More or less ironically, some guys at my work have been asking me about my romantic situation. I haven't even tried to start explaining. Actually I have. And it ends up in a sort of massive, unfocused confusion).

I ate twice at Farelli's, the new pizza place on Garfield Street and it's really good.

Terra got back from Montana on Monday and we had a long talk that night.

Out of much, she said two things to me that struck home that night. The first was that I was laying out girls like steaks on a grill, eyeing each one to see when it would be done and which one would turn out the best. My response was that I never plan to sacrifice love to romance. But that doesn't change the fact that I am working to know very well many seperate girls that are isolated from each other. The second was that she asked if knowing me was going to be like a rollercoaster. Like a rollercoaster in the sense of emotional volatility, not like its exciting. Both of those made me question myself a lot. In fact, I am still questioning.

(I wish I could bring together all the people in my life, easily. Cook food for them and give them a week in a beautiful house, free of the internet, of television, of electricity. I wish they could each have their own few days of sunlight and forests and then all be introduced to each other, to talk about what they thought of each other, what one had heard from me about another. I want this because I love all of you and I want to see you grow and I know that can't happen without being nurtured by good friends.)

I helped move an old WWII two tugboat which, Marty informed me, can pull anything that floats. It had two V12's that could fill my bedroom and were just generators for a huge electric motor. On that trip, I also met the man who owns and engineers the 4th largest steam engine in the world, weighing in at 1 million pounds and the philosophy and ethics professor who was named the United State Army's Most Valuable Employee in 2000.

I just resolved to allocate some actual thoughts and reflections to a second part.

West Side of the Rockies

The sort of daily:

I got home from work and I've been thinking almost obsessively about my internal character. I've mentioned this before but consistency in my habits and actions seems insufferably simple and simultaneously quite elusive. It's almost as though my mind is just a great bay where ideas dock to, unloading and trading ideas that analog almost directly to thoughts and actions, and leave just as they came. They trade with each other. It's very difficult for me to find a sort of focus that lets me relax, but at the same time does justice to those ideas. If the Bible says "He who ignores the cries of the poor will also not be heard when he cries out," I can't just set that aside. When I'm late for work, or when I feel a pang of guilt (or desperation) for having banished another important relationship to my very nebulous mode of thought I am describing, I feel like a liar if I simply push those things out of my mind to focus on solving a single one at a time. Not to say that I don't have entire structures of lies that I depend upon, daily.

Yesterday (Monday) and maybe the day before that, I had moments of clarity. Yesterday (admittedly, after watching "Will and Grace".. while I was supposed to be cleaning the house) I felt an incredibly strong and singular desire to meet the one person I can spend the rest of my life with and love. It was simple, and it was longing. If love is forever a compromise, I think I might just abandon the whole thing and live my life serving the poor. Compromising is what happens to spaceships when they are boarded by hostile aliens, or governmental parties when they are both wrong, but neither are willing to admit it. I want to look into eyes and know I will be content for my entire life. If I have to wait until I look into the eyes of God for that assurance, so be it. My mind is dark and confusing and distilled enough as it is. I want to immediately esteem what that woman says over anyone else, aside from God, and I that allows for "I don't know" because Marty's dad said people don't admit what they don't know often enough (people named Tim Postlewaite, for example).

So really, I have no good ideas about the whole thing. I just know that sometimes my heart aches and I'm concious that nothing from friendly companionship, dating, one night stands (not a cup of tea I'm going to try, but I see why people would), fellowship, a relationship with God.

And one final thing. When (if? man, I hope its when) I meet that woman and starting having a relationship, I want to enjoy her. I know that sounds like a no brainer, but unless there is something I am just majorly missing, it seems like most couples don't. I want our enjoyment of each other to be a bigger deal than how much we limit ourselves from enjoying each other. To clarify, there is woman from CS Lewis' The Great Divorce who, as she loves and is loved, causes others to love their own respective spouses more. But that woman still had her husband and they loved each other. I don't want our faithfulness to be measured in how much we restrict our feelings for others, but more how appropriately those feelings are expressed, especially towards each other. I know this is sort of turning into a Christmas list, but I want to play. I have so much hope for that time, building card houses together, playing word games, hiking, watching chick flicks, feeling like a 'found' person, dressing up to go out, having dinners. I know it takes effort and a good attitude to maintain all of this, but I'm convinced that it is far from impossible. Also, I know (and am thankful that) there is more to relationships than all of this. But if anyone thinks they have to be less, then they are a damn fool. Love is expressly designed to be enjoyable and healthy, by God. Pardon my frustration :)



So thats where I'm at right now, but I'm going to write about where I was at a week ago, when we took a trip to Vail, Colorado (the word Colorado, by they way, is an Americanization of "colo roja" which is loosely Spanish for "color red" referring to the river. I have no idea how the "j" was replaced with a "d" and why the "o" and the "a" were switched but hey, thats America for you. We pronounce things better wrong). All said and done, it was a beautiful, fantastic adventure, wedding, and vacation. Outdoors-wise, we took a fairly tame river rafting trip, went on one of my father's (in)famously longer-than-implied hikes, explored some seriously cool caverns (around which probably the best "adventure park" in the world is set).

This is now about a month after the fact and a lot has happened in the interim. It is good to see family and I am sorry that it doesn't happen more often. There were huge houses in the mountains in Vail and what that means is a lot of money. I got along well with my cousins. I missed Jonathan, the one who was getting married. I also didn't spend nearly enough time with Jeff, one of the most beautiful people I know.

Asphalt

Left off with the trip from God. Originally I didn't write that it was from God, feeling wary that my friends who aren't Christian or more liberal would think I was too religious and maybe that my friends who are religious or more conservative would think that this was just beautiful, nice blessing. It was blessing, and it was beautiful at times, but it was also kind of worrisome and not entirely relaxing, until I actually let go of common sense and went into the Ocean.

Aslan isn't a tame lion. To all my church friends, love mother-in-laws, people with issues (me, and don't forget that. And I'm saying that I have issuses because a lot of the time, I try to put myself off as perfect, or at least amazing, when really I'm not.), gay people, crazy people, feminazi's, buddhists, anti-war advocates, environmentalists, devil-worshipers. Look, it's in the Bible, love sinners. I apologize if that sounds harsh or one-sided, but I am seriously worn out from going to church expecting to find at least the trappings of unconditional love, getting home to be with friends who are upset with the church as whole but turn out to be exceptionally sensitive and relaxed. And not-church-friends, I'm not making a judgement either way to whether you are good or bad, I hope.

Okay, nevermind. That was a bad hole. I love all of you. Of all the people I have met, there is not one that did not deserve my love. In fact, really, its an honor to be allowed to honor something as brilliant and fascinating as you human beings.

Anyway, back to the whowhatwherewhen. My memory of the content of this next post is patchy, but I remember it being important.

It begins mainly with my brother Greg's graduation. It was a very purely good to see him graduate, keeping in mind the things he has accomplished this past year. Eagle Scout, Emergency Search and Rescue certified, completing his senior project. Of the three of us, Greg far and away impresses me with his consistency. In our younger days I can remember myself (and perhaps John) more or less resenting him for his middle-child resistance to conflict. But underneath that, there was always a pang of being wrong. That pang has grown into a respect for my that will probably soon be impossible to deny. Which isn't to say that John doesn't also continually astonish and impress me. Okay, actually, for my entire family, I don't think I can really write words that express how intensely faithful and beautiful they are. Hopefully, you probably just have to see my face as I talk about them.

Hm. Don't think I meant to take that tangent. But it was worth it. Despite how enjoyable they are, I don't think of them often enough. It's strange, thinking about a wife and marriage and "my own" family... Although I long for a woman to spend the rest of my life with, I cannot imagine an existence other than pain and darkness in which I wasn't able to see my brothers and parents often.

Anywhoo, other than honoring my brother (which was very good) the graduation was... highschool. If songs are allowed to be called "good" for purely sentimental reasons, I think it's fair to say that this ceremenoy was, for sentimental reasons, pretty poor. One teacher gave a pretty engaging speech about, in my interpretation, that despite the virtual aristocracy of the Plateau the students impressed him with their surviving passion and intelligence. Of course, in a school where, the sports teams (and only a few of those) gets a king's ransom of funding, leaving the visual, performing and musical arts essentially to die (if the funding was in fact a king's ransom, the king being held hostage is probably creative energy) it's fairly obvious that there is not going to be overwhelming amounts of creation or ingenuity. At least not that I felt. Again, it was good to see Greg and honor him.

It is actually the things surrounding the graduation, on either side that I was concerned with. On the before end, I rode the bus into Seattle. It never ceases to fill me with anticipation, coming up I-5 past Boeing Field and viewing those first few massive, orange pier cranes. And then dropping into the city, being let off in a sort of nether region, 4th and Jackson, between the sort of industrial sprawl which meanders around Qwest and Safeco field, and the dense, focused vitality of downtown. And all of it connected, like skin holds the body together, by asphalt. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade a forest for anything, but I love walking the streets, bicyclng down the hills, nestled in automobile that might kill me but hasn't yet, past shops and hundreds or thousands of lives every day. There is a character there that can be interactive. Some love it, some hate Seattle with a passion. There is a personality that is not nearly as developed, diverse, or accessible in suburban areas. I felt all of this in a very explicit contrast and harmony with the intensities of nature, having returned from the coast only recently. In the end, I felt very warm and at home in both places.

On the other end of the graduation of 2007, there was an almost impromptu series of people from my class or older that I hadn't seen for anywhen from a few weeks to a year or two. It was mighty curious. As it turned out, Ashleigh Gage was willing to open her house for a few hours after for three of my high school companions of varying degree, Alex, Krystyna, and Aubrey. We were temporarily accompanied by Ashleigh's twelve or thirteen year old (?) cousin. I think children, or at least girls grow up too quickly. In fact, I often feel compelled to be silly to make up for all of the seriousness I thought was required of me as soon as possible. I like making bouquets and leaving them to be found.

We talked all the way back to Sammamish, bought some food, mango and Pirate's Booty, if I remember correctly. Alex and I both had some tart which was delicious and had begun to lightly mold. If there is one thing I have learned from Marty, it is this: if food is moldy, cut off the mold. Then look at it again as if there had been no mold. Then decided whether or not to eat it. As far as I can tell, I haven't gotten sick to date :D and I've enjoyed some pretty excellent stuff.

Most of what I remember of talking is that it was extremely odd. Some highschool habits had stuck while others showed no trace in us. I noticed myself doing or saying thigs that I never do anymore, feeling things that I generally don't feel. It was troubling because most of it felt like props that had to be put up and I have no idea why. That's all pretty vague, but I remembered it left me in an ultimately strange place and that I was very thankful to be friends with Alex Graves. Not for any one particularly strong reason. Later Alex, Aubrey, Krystyna and I went to Alex's house to talk for a while. The girls left within about 15-20 minutes of each other and then Alex went to bed and I blanketed up on the couch after beginning and dozing/watching Life Aquatic. THen around 5 something in the morning, Aubrey picked me up to take me to the bus station so that I could get down to work in time, which I did.


I am trying to remember what I felt after all that, because it was fundamental. I think that week, I felt increasingly lonliness and apathy, but all sort of spiced with a desperation to see people yet the isolation was perpetuated by tiredness from weeks working days and and empty house. It culminated thursday, I think, whn I went to see people with Marty. That might have been the week before leaving for Colorado.

I was reading His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman, which is a very strange series. One of the strongest themes that always hits me is the adolexcent love between the two protagonists, and it only just appears perhaps two thirds or a three quarters towards the end of the final volume. It is innocent and passionate and intense all at once, and it feels like something I've either not had yet or missed completely. It is portrayed as though all of their actions, from spending time away from all others, to showing affection, to kissing, to simply being aware of each other is unabashed and unapologetic. and I that idea is both astonishing and very resonant with me.

I have written a lot tonight, and I plan to write more tomorrow. Of course, I planned to clean the house tonight, and I ended up writing, so we'll see if I plan to write and end up cleaning the house.

I wish all of you who have actually mananged to make it through these posts are well and that you wish all those that I know and those that I don't the same health and blessings.

Seasalt

So this is part two of what was going to be a really cool post about camping on the Pacific. Now its a trilogy. It's gonna be Pre-salt, Seasalt, and Asphalt. I say "going to be" because I haven't written this one (obviously) or the last one yet. Man, I love how I'm sort of taking this seriuously. Explaining why this is late.

Enough of that.

So I went to sleep. Marshall's backyard, in Toledo, in a tent. I think that was around 11. Honestly, one of the last things I remember is this popcorn Marshall's mom made, which was basically popcorn sprinkled with Parmesan cheese. In fact, thats exactly what it was. I woke up at 3 because Marty, Marshall, and Natalie had gone on a walk somwhere late that night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I still love how seriously I'm taking this... no really. Okay its about three weeks later now from when all of this actually happened, but I hope it's still worth writing about. Sort of like how I hope this chicken in my freezer is still worth eating.

By the way, that dashed line signifies the time lapse. I'll probably never use it again.

So I woke up a lot. Turned out to be a good thing because I always had the pleasure of falling back asleep, usually warm. Yay for tents and sleeping pads.

The morning seemed to move with us, at our pace. We woke up, dressed and breakfasted with the sun, which is convenient because it meant we were on the road by about 9, heading out to the coast. By this our most intimate weekend fellows, the wind and the rain were keeping us close company. We stopped at a grocery store and in full spirit of proverbs 23:6-7 "Do not eat the food of a stingy man, do not crave his delicacies, for he is the kind of man who is always thinking about the cost. 'Eat and drink,' he says to you, but his heart is not with you.' ". Well, our hearts were definitely with us, as it was.

After more driving we arrived at the highway running along the coast. By this time, my personal hope of spending the day lying upon the beach had been transformed, radically and, depending on your point of view, mercilessly (considering the solemn, and yet almost gleeful joy of the weather, dashing my wish) or mercifully (as in one Calvin and Hobbes comic, Calvin and Hobbes are discussing wishes and Calvin wishes for something along the lines of a helicopter or super powers and Hobbes wishes for a sandwich. Naturally, as Hobbes points out, he got his wish) transformed into the hope of just getting to sleep in something that was warm and dry (which is rather uncommon in those parts). We drove about, still half-heartedly entertaining ideas of just striking out and pitching our tent, to heck with the rangers. Then I'd had enough and was willing to pay for a site. Given the weather, even if a ranger had found us, I'm not sure he'd be so much reprimanding as thinking we were complete fools and had already gotten our just reward from the mere environment. That adventure may just have to wait.

We got our site and began two activities that continually vied for the spot of "Most Trying upon the Patience of Tim Postlewaite", at least for the time of which their successful accomplishment was in serious doubt. Those two activities were starting a fire and setting, which, despite my most fervent and astonished worrying, turned out very well. They were both adventures in and of themselves.

Anyway, once the fire got started, that was almost the end of any constructive actions. For all we could tell, that fire was basically the only thing worth living for. Tell me about anything, true love, the meaning of life, music, the advent of caclulus, food and water, airplanes, justice and mercy, and you would probably a pretty hard time convincing me anything was more important than that pile of soggy, burning hunks of wood. Well maybe not food. And, as far as I was concerned, we were getting enough water for Noah to let all the animals know that there was going to be a 40 day, 40 night reunion tour of the whole freakin Earth all over again.

Of course, being as singly content as a toddler with a cardboard box can only last so long. Over the course of about 40 minutes, the novelty of having only one side of our bodies warm and dry at any given point had worn off, so naturally decided to go swimming. It was one dream that, come hell or high water (which, as far I as I was concerned, were both about to make a singularly stunning debut) was going to happen. Everyone had their doubts, keeping in mind hypothermia, so it fell to (cough) the two Boy Scouts, Marshall and myself, to hold up the long, and time honored tradition of being complete (but watchful!) idiots. All of us changed into our suits and embarked on what I felt to be the climax of the trip.

The beach was a short way through a fairly thin strip off trees that ran parallel to the beach as far as we could see. As we made our way along what was, despite all appearances, a path, I made myself stop shivering. Good sign. As the beach crept up from behind a sand dune (as much as something as colossal and awesome as the shore of an ocean can creep up behind anything) we were met with the sight of wisps of sand, playing quickly across the beach in the more excited gusts of wind. I can't remember a time before that one in which I had seen sand moved so quickly, motivated by nothing but the air. Never felt it before either, which I'll get to later. After we made it over the small hill seperated the beach from the land, in a very uninterrupted motion, we strode down to some logs, stripped down and walked into the ocean. There was a very call thrill. Waves crashed in, creating pushes toward the beach, but a wholly perpendicular and just as insistent current was in the air with the wind. We proceded further out, Marshall, Marty and I. Grace, who had been ill with mononucleosis remained on a bunch of logs, away from the water. Natalie patrolled up and down the coast as our life guard while Ashley stayed somewhere between her and us. I don't remember much of what the others were doing because the dual feelings of the massive expanse and raw power of the ocean and storm, combined with an immense fulfillment of expectation and longing for the chance to abandon so many traces of society were overwhelming. I would walk into the wind or out into the waves, feeling both of them crash over my body. My skin had become so tight that warmth became firmly tucked in my chest and casually rationed itself out to my extremities. The chaos of being buried in a wave became a tumble of relief from the unconcerned violence of the wind. Thoughts fled, leaving vacancy in my mind for peace and meditation. Nothing changed and nothing stayed the same. I couldn't stay there long enough and I would not stay there forever.

It was lucid, reckless abandon. Ivory bliss, and a taut relaxation that cannot be adulterated by any sort of human ideas or thoughts. Humanity can only (thank God) submit to such majesty. Without submission, the majesty can do nothing but remove its blessing.

Somewhere in my mind I was keeping watch of Marshall, who would go out further than any of us. The waves were such that although he could stand during the trough of the wave, he was behind the crest and we would lose sight of him. Eventually he came a little further in. I walked up the beach to pull on my clothes, in a pile, subject to the early stages of burial. Eventually everyone made their way back to the logs and Grace, which had served as a beacon so that we would not lose our bearing. We headed back to our camp site. Dinner was cooked and we ate, rum was mixed with cranberry juice and passed around, much to everyone's delight. To our further delight, finally, the cranberry juice ran out. Our glasses were the finest, none other than bottled water bottles, wihth the tops sheared off with camping knives. We had many fine things, including fruit, potatoes, and yams all seperately wrapped in tin foil and roasted. There were bratwursts and nuts and cabbage and cheese. All in all, it was a fine meal. I spent it mostly with Grace in the (twelve person) tent. Generally I was tipsy from the rum, to the point where everything feels delicious. People came and went, but mostly it was just Grace and I talking. I was vaguely aware of some light drama involving Marshall, Natalie, Ashley, and Marty but it wasn't my part of the story. Plus, I was very much enjoying the effects of rum. As well as the others. At one point, Natalie I beleive accused me probably a being drunk to which I responded in firm negative. Apparently, it was firm indeed, because then she (probably rightfully) called me defensive to which I replied with all of the intensity I could muster, "I am NOT defensive!". Of course, no one believed me. Gradually we all came to be in the tent as darkness fell. Talk became less frequent and then we fell asleep.

The rest of the trip was fairly non-eventful. We woke up and ate breakfast, packed up and left, smelling of smoke and saltwater. We wanted to get back, a desire made much more acute by the fact that in our car (Marty, Grace, and Ashley had left seperately and earlier because Grace and Ashley had to be back in Snohomish by that evening) drove 40 minutes in the wrong direction on an ocean highway. When we got back we set up the tent (to dry it out) and washed up, and reconvening at Natalie's house to finish off the food and watch the Chronicles of Narnia and Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Long weekend.

Pre-Salt

This post (actually the next three, maybe four) has been long in coming and addresses one of the most excellent experiences I have had perhaps in my life and certainly most recently.

Tangent: Before I really get into this, I just want to note that I am considering treating these more like publications than simple releases. Right now, and for the past couple of days, looking over my last posts, I am pulled to craft more expression into them. Then again I think that may simply come with time.

Tangent: I am getting to the point where I wish I could change my bicycle into other things like food or a form of worship. It is such a good thing to ride. I want everyone to start ride it and take it out for like 10-15 at least. The down side is that with my estimations now, I still need 500-600 to start to get the "extras" (see gloves, padded shorts, panniers, etc. (see necessities)). Fortunately, by my parent's wonderful generosity, I have the bike itself (they payed for the first half because I apparently goofed up the transfer of the first half from my savings to checking). I secretly pray for some massive oil collapse so that I can heroically take my bike over the rubble and destruction, delivering medicine and happiness. I'd basically be Balto mixed with a bike messenger. I'd probably save the day, fall in passionate love with some grateful, yet also heroic woman. College is great, but really my plan is to become a bike hero.

Um, wow. I knew I'd been thinking that, but never really got it out there. Anyway, this most amazing experience logistically consisted of leaving last Friday "right after work" (work ended at 17:00

Tangent: I'm training myself in 24 hour (aka military) time and less rigorously in metric. I have a binary 24 hour clock which helps and I have my personalized google homepage set to Celcius temperature, which I like a lot. 30 degrees is freaking hot. I guess you'll'll (that is, "you all will") have to deal.

So "right after work", which ended at 17:00 translated to 18:30. So far so good. Natalie Heikennen (theater major, a little older than me, totally cool although for some reason I'm not fully aware of, I've always felt just a little awkward around), Marshall Hughes (in ROTC, Eagle Scout, swears like a sailor, drinks like a fish, but most importantly loves like a brother), Marty Peterson (If you live in WA, come visit me sometime before mid-July because he is leaving for Norway to go build a Norwegian boat starting with cutting down the trees, so that I can introduce you to him. You must meet him. If you don't live in WA, then well basically the same thing applies but I understand if you can't make it before mid-July) and I (I'm basically confusing) left for Marshall's town of Toledo. It was a nice drive down the Five, full of good music and conversation. When we started approaching Toledo, Marshall spoke to us of his childhood adventures, who he bucked hay for.

*BREAKING NEWS*: Not necessarilly good news. I just bought Kingdowm Hearts and Kingdom Hearts II for the Playstation 2 (or 3) for about $40 from Amazon.com. Apparently they are really excellent role playing games, a joint effort from Disney and Square Enix. This is Friday. I am post about something that happened right now in a post that is largely about things that happened a week ago. This is probably an example of my inconsistent living. I was distracted from blogging by work. More or less.

Back to it, though. So we are driving down into Toledo with Marshall telling us about everything from Boy Scouts, exploring and football to drinking and run-ins with THE LAW. You should ask him to tell you. And actually most of the story telling happened while he was taking us on a tour of Toledo, after we had met his parents and their house which we stayed in (or around, in the case of the boys + Natalie) for the Fri-Sat night. When we got back from walking around (which Marty and I did barefoot and it felt great) we had some pizza for dinner. I spent a bit of time talking with Marshall's mom and Natalie and Marty, and then I went in to watch the evening news with Marshall's dad. I hadn't watched the news in like months, so it was pretty interesting to see what the network thought was important. I can't remember what it was. I think the others had gone on a walk but I couldn't be sure. Anyway the evening just sort of passed. Until the most important part. Which was, undoubtedly, the watching of "Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb", for those of you who don't know what it is, it is a movie set in the middle of the Cold War era, dealing with the issue of Mutually Assured Destruction. Marshall's dad sprinkled the viewing with trivia while fairly demanding that everyone else keep quiet. Some of the trivia seemed to pop up a couple of minutes later in the dialog, but it was interesting nonetheless. The film was directed by Stanley Kubrick (A Clockwork Orange, Full Metal Jacket, 2001: A Space Odyssey) which means the entire film was a bunch of "absolutely absurd moments juxtaposed with stark reality" - Marshall's Dad. And I agree entirely. It was fantastic. I laughed a lot. It is clever and absurd. Well, the movie and its creation is clever. Apparently, society is absurd.

After that, I chatted a bit (sort of awkwardly because I what I actually wanted to do was sleep) and then I went to bed and drifted off to the sleep. For the first of a number of times that night.

Tired Eyed

So the most recent news in my life is that I spent a couple hours with a good friend-girl (to use a mom-term) and Marty and then about an hour with just her, talking. Her name is Grace and she is pretty neat. She appreciates literature pretty intensely and she's a strong Catholic, but also feminist (unfortunately feminist is kind of an awkward term, but she's a good, healthy femminist).

Tangent: I'm going to try to keep this blog as honest as possible. It seems to me unavoidable that truth is the first step to good communication and sometimes its painful and surprsing... But then again, apparently humans usually tell their aquaintances about 90% of their lives and leave the other 10% for just close friends. Or something like that. I'm pretty sure I heard it at youth group at some "relationship talk". On the other hand, I don't think I have that much to hide. I suppose it would be good to get it out there that I have smoked pot twice, the first time not feeling anything and the second time experiencing a massive high, I don't drink often but I had enough alcohol one night (well, combined with my first cigarette since junior year of highschool) that I started throwing up. The difference between the feeling your about to throw up and the feeling just after throwing up is fantastic.

Back to it: It wasn't groundbreaking or anything, but we were just laying on her bed, talking. It was nice to just be with someone, to feel them and really listen and have some silence occasionally.

We talked until about 2:15am, which was good, but I also had to get up for work, which is where I have been all of today and for most of the time of the last 2.5 weeks. Work is kind of strange. Our work doesn't always seem to correlate the importance of a function and the time/energy it takes to complete. For example, we can spend hours dressing cable that took about 40 min to plug in. For the most part, work is fulfilling. I'm needing to learn a lot since my boss is definitely gone in July and the other main telecom guy could be gone by fall which more or less leaves me. Interesting situation since I skipped basically my entire life for about a month out of last semester, which no one was happy about.

Anyway, bringing it back to the topic, my mind goes through a lot everyday, from the time I actually wake up (which is usually after I've gotten out of bed and walked into the kitchen) to the moments before I fall asleep. I guess that sounds pretty cliche, but for example two mornings ago I woke up thinking about getting to work on time even though its cloudy and cold and how that will affect the brightness of the day which occasionally corresponds to my happiness and went to bed thinking about a game called freeciv, how much time I've wasted playing video games how promising my future is, how mysterious God is and that I really have no good context for my future which is scary but its worthless and painful to actually feel scared sometimes.

I'm going to go eat. I started writing this and it was invigorating now I feel like I'm struggling to throw down words to validate and argue some philosophy.

Square Wheels on a Flat Road

SO THE INCONSISTENCY BEGINS! Of course, by this point I've actually realized that no one is reading this because I haven't told them about it at all. This is going to be a short post like a week-ish late.

News: My housemate-to-be-not is in the hospital. Its unpredictable and upsetting. The greatest news of all is that I now am riding a Rivendell Atlantis bicycle. It is possibly one of the most enjoyable experiences of my entire life. I also got my Bible back from the house in Sammamish that I live at, which is totally cool.

The bike rocks.

I'm pretty sure it deserved its own line. I'm also planning on going to the SIFF (Seattle International Film Festival) alot next week. I have a link to my Google Calender of shows, performances, art things, etc. that I am planning/want to go to. In case anyone reading this (unlikely) cares.

Sine of (Pi over 2)

Calculate the title and you will get the value corresponding to the number of this post. Or figure out that this post is number one, corresponding with the value one and if you know that the sine of zero (Pi over 2)'s is zero and the value of three (Pi over 2)'s is -1, then you will probably have begun a much more interesting, and informative journey than this web log, as it is.

The actual content of this blog will hopefully be dedicated to the going's on of my life. I enjoy very much writing emails (proven *ahem* by the quality and not the quantity) but I have found that unless I start getting paid to do so, I won't be getting them out to every one. Thats just time and space.

Today, I got back from a 102-105 km (64-65 mi) bike ride at 12:30 am, spent the night at my former roommate and close-enough-to-brother Marty Peterson's house. I got up and made it to church (Fellowship Bible Church) and then talked with Eidi and Brendan for awhile before leaving for Seattle and the Folklife Festival there-with-in. The folk festival was amazing including meeting an excellent homeless man named Curtis who helps people park under the Alaskan Way Viaduct (free on Sundays!), meeting up with another close-enough-to-brother Alex Graves and friend Heather. Witnessed some cool Mexican music and dancing, many various percussive instruments, a bagpiper (intentionally) accompanied by a hip-hop drummer, some butoh dance by a group called Death Posture which is really indescribable. I was initially quite profoundly disturbed by it, but it soon became very emotive and expressive. It would probably require at least another long post. Following that, the four of us (Heather's friend Ava joined us) we saw some excellent bluegrass, and went to the centerhouse and heard some more really cool music that I can't identify, and some other cool music that I could which was (and this was amazing) Коробе́йники. For those who have no idea what this is (probably most, I imagine) this is the the Tetris song for A Mode. Apparently it's originally a folk song based on a poem of the same name written in 1861. So there is a Russian folk associated with Tetris and what was supposed to be associated with Zelda? Could it have been Ravel's Bolero? I think so. On that note we headed out, promptly lost Alex (which was a rather amusing theme for the day) and after seeing a samba parade and viewing a few other street performers we made our way back to the Vera stage (where we saw the Botah) and talked as we got ready to leave. Actually, this was when I was able to meet the Botah performers, which was really quite amazing and gave me almost all of the perspective I have on their work. Also, a figure dressed entirely in camoflauge with earth tone face and head coverings, no shoes, but wearing gloves jumped into the bushes next to us, and began climbing out and sneaking around. I think it was a performance piece. He also sat next to some girls that looked about his age and mischeviously put his finger to his lips, indicating they ought to be quiet since they had spotted him. In broad daylight. I was impressed.

Finally, I'm now at home. I hung out with Alex and looked up the Botah and bagpiper we saw, picked up my brother Greg who had just returned from Holden Village which is in my book far and away one of the most amazing places in Washington. Then I spent a long while talking to my mom about my experiences and listening to hers (occasionally).

Over all it was a good day. "Unfortunately", my life usually isn't this exciting. Or at least it hasn't been so far. We'll see what happens. I'm also exhausted.

So thats a taste of this blog. I'll probably get more philosophical. I plan to write down the seemingly random but ultimately meaningful thoughts I have during the day. I would prefer this show my mental/emotion/spiritual locations, directions and actions as well as my physical/logistical. I'll probably also get more inconsistent and tangential but, at the end of the day, that hasn't bothered me before so I don't think it will bother me now.