So, having been raised agnostic, I've never really understood what people get out of faith.
I really don't.
I cannot conceive of a God who gives a shit what we do on an individual basis, any more than we care about what a given single ant is doing at a specific moment in time.
Or to put it another way, God may see the fall of every sparrow, but I don't think He/She/It/They cares very much.
But I do find myself profoundly awed and moved, from time to time, to feel something I feel must be akin to religious devotion.
Standing on top of a small mountain in Utah, looking down at a small herd of bison grazing on a bleak island in the Great Salt Lake as a powerful wind whips salt spray nearly a mile up the mountain to me.
Watching as a magnificent storm tears its way through the sky of southern Indiana, the lightning dancing from cloud to cloud.
Seeing a bird of prey strike at its victim, doing exactly what it was built to do.
The feeling of warm, familial camaraderie I experience with my friends as we sit around a roaring campfire under a beautiful full moon.
Standing uphill of Secret Creek near Talkeetna, and turning to find Mount Denali clearly outlined as if it's only three feet away.
Hearing the crash of waves on the seashore as I walk along a cliff in northern California after sunset.
The almost insane joy I feel as I fire a round and it slams into the target.
The sounds of gifted singers performing, say, the operas of Puccini.
Thing is... no church I've yet encountered would include any of these in its services.
And thus, I remain uncommitted.
But I do live in awe of the universe we inhabit, and some of the things we, as a species, do for no readily apparent reason.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
The Death of Effort...
... came about as soon as the new computer had arrived.
Seriously.
This damn thing destroyed my entire day yesterday, and it wasn't even particularly hard to set up.
It's just... seductive.
"Hey, you know how slow and crunchy your old machine has gotten? Take a look at THIS."
And then my brain melts and it's four in the morning and I've done.... nothing of value.
Accursed machine.
How I love it.
Seriously.
This damn thing destroyed my entire day yesterday, and it wasn't even particularly hard to set up.
It's just... seductive.
"Hey, you know how slow and crunchy your old machine has gotten? Take a look at THIS."
And then my brain melts and it's four in the morning and I've done.... nothing of value.
Accursed machine.
How I love it.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Of Moose and Men
Dinner tonight consisted of steaks hewn from the carcass of an honest to God Alaska Moose.
How I've missed that flavor, the taste I've always considered something of a blend between beef and venison.
My only regret is that I wasn't the one who'd killed it.
No, this largess came from a relative of my dad's best friend. That worthy does not buy meat in grocery stores.
Not when a moose can tip the scales at well over one thousand pounds.
And thus, while I sat in an unfinished house in Ogden, God-Help-Us-Utah, I was able to feast upon a wild creature struck down for no more reason than because it is, in a word, delicious.
My enthusiasm to return to Alaska could not have gotten greater... but it IS more motivated now.
How I've missed that flavor, the taste I've always considered something of a blend between beef and venison.
My only regret is that I wasn't the one who'd killed it.
No, this largess came from a relative of my dad's best friend. That worthy does not buy meat in grocery stores.
Not when a moose can tip the scales at well over one thousand pounds.
And thus, while I sat in an unfinished house in Ogden, God-Help-Us-Utah, I was able to feast upon a wild creature struck down for no more reason than because it is, in a word, delicious.
My enthusiasm to return to Alaska could not have gotten greater... but it IS more motivated now.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The High Country
So, I have finally found something I enjoy doing in Utah.
Today, instead of limping around the neighborhood as physical therapy, I drove up into the mountains and started walking up an old, unused road.
And somewhere up there in the big empty, I managed to have a good time.
I saw nothing particularly noteworthy- just the mountains around me.
I did nothing particularly cool- just limped along for about an hour and a half on my bad leg, letting the snow cushion the impact with the ground.
Nothing profound, nothing earth-shaking.
Just a stroll in the sun in the high country, in sun strong enough that I was in my t-shirt in short order.
And I would have kept walking forever, if I hadn't had the dogs with me.
After all, old crappy roads have to end up somewhere.
But for just about ninety minutes, all was right with my world.
And that's worth a bit of gratitude.
Today, instead of limping around the neighborhood as physical therapy, I drove up into the mountains and started walking up an old, unused road.
And somewhere up there in the big empty, I managed to have a good time.
I saw nothing particularly noteworthy- just the mountains around me.
I did nothing particularly cool- just limped along for about an hour and a half on my bad leg, letting the snow cushion the impact with the ground.
Nothing profound, nothing earth-shaking.
Just a stroll in the sun in the high country, in sun strong enough that I was in my t-shirt in short order.
And I would have kept walking forever, if I hadn't had the dogs with me.
After all, old crappy roads have to end up somewhere.
But for just about ninety minutes, all was right with my world.
And that's worth a bit of gratitude.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
An Educational Experience
So, as part of my gradual plan to drag myself out of abject poverty, I have some hoops to jump through.
Among them, a series of online video clips by the people who determine the standards by which this profession is judged.
And dear lord, are they idiotic.
In one of these segments, clearly developed by someone who has never had a job outside of education, the virtues of a three-ring binder to encourage organization are touted.
I had several three-ring binders in my youth.
I broke or otherwise destroyed every last one of the useless things trying to make the crap fit inside.
Additionally, at 28 years of age, I have long moved past the need for a smiling, encouraging teacher.
In fact, those who know me can attest to the fact that I respond very badly to cheerful people.
And thus, I find these videos far harder than the classroom observations, online discussions, and travel involved in this job.
Because in many ways, they seem to encapsulate everything I hate about the profession, and everything I intend not to do.
Students are not morons. Even the ones who are morons do not take being talked down to terribly well.
Because if there's one thing we come out of school filled with hatred for, it's the patronizing fucks who treated us like children.
So, much as I did in some of my classes, I will nod, pretend I give a fuck, and jump through the hoops so I can leave.
My, but education is in good hands.
Among them, a series of online video clips by the people who determine the standards by which this profession is judged.
And dear lord, are they idiotic.
In one of these segments, clearly developed by someone who has never had a job outside of education, the virtues of a three-ring binder to encourage organization are touted.
I had several three-ring binders in my youth.
I broke or otherwise destroyed every last one of the useless things trying to make the crap fit inside.
Additionally, at 28 years of age, I have long moved past the need for a smiling, encouraging teacher.
In fact, those who know me can attest to the fact that I respond very badly to cheerful people.
And thus, I find these videos far harder than the classroom observations, online discussions, and travel involved in this job.
Because in many ways, they seem to encapsulate everything I hate about the profession, and everything I intend not to do.
Students are not morons. Even the ones who are morons do not take being talked down to terribly well.
Because if there's one thing we come out of school filled with hatred for, it's the patronizing fucks who treated us like children.
So, much as I did in some of my classes, I will nod, pretend I give a fuck, and jump through the hoops so I can leave.
My, but education is in good hands.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Burning the Midnight Oil.
Okay, so it's 11 PM. Blow me.
I find myself online and writing this because, at present, the whole damn house is fll of gimps.
I think my puppy is the only completely healthy creature here.
I, of course, am still on crutches.
My sainted father is now ALSO on crutches, and hooked up to the cryo-cuff I got with my surgery. And taking my pain meds. I'd be angrier about the loss of premium lortabs for later sale if he hadn't paid for them in the first place.
My mother just got over injuring her wrist and is now arguably the most able-bodied human in the house... but I still need to open jars for her.
Between three people, we have four good arms and four good legs.
Pretty damned pitiful.
The final float in the Gimp Parade is our old Labrador, Carmen, who is now reaching that creaky arthritic stage that all old dogs seem to achieve overnight.
Which leaves my puppy, once again, as the healthiest specimen we have. I'd cry if it wasn't so damned funny.
I find myself online and writing this because, at present, the whole damn house is fll of gimps.
I think my puppy is the only completely healthy creature here.
I, of course, am still on crutches.
My sainted father is now ALSO on crutches, and hooked up to the cryo-cuff I got with my surgery. And taking my pain meds. I'd be angrier about the loss of premium lortabs for later sale if he hadn't paid for them in the first place.
My mother just got over injuring her wrist and is now arguably the most able-bodied human in the house... but I still need to open jars for her.
Between three people, we have four good arms and four good legs.
Pretty damned pitiful.
The final float in the Gimp Parade is our old Labrador, Carmen, who is now reaching that creaky arthritic stage that all old dogs seem to achieve overnight.
Which leaves my puppy, once again, as the healthiest specimen we have. I'd cry if it wasn't so damned funny.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Ten Years After
Due to a few messages about my high school graduating class' ten year reunion (which I won't be attending- not because I'm too cool, but because I'm too busy. And poor.), I've started to think.
Ten years ago, I was a very different person. Some things never change, but I can honestly say I barely recognize the addle-brained 18-year old I used to be.
Ten years ago?
I was a skinny virgin whiteboy who had showtunes in his walkman (yes, walkman), a trenchocat that looked preposterous on me, the 2nd Edition AD&D Players handbook memorized, and was convinced I knew what I was doing.
Now? I'm a stockier non-virgin-but-not-getting
Yessir, I've come pretty far in the last decade.
Ten years ago, I didn't own a gun, my own car, or a computer. I owed no money to anyone.
Now I own three guns, a '97 Saturn that looks like a thousand miles of bad road, and a computer cobbled together from spare parts and bad ideas. I now have a five-figure debt.
Ten years ago, I had never been drunk.
Now, I get utterly shitfaced drunk as an inoculation about every six months, give or take.
Ten years ago, if you'd asked me where I saw myself in ten years, I would have spewed some vague blather about theatre.
Now, if you ask me where I see myself in ten years, I laugh despairingly, shrug, and say "Who knows?"
Ten years ago, I knew NONE of the people I met in Indiana. Now I can't imagine a life where I DON'T know them.
A lot has changed, and I couldn't say for sure whether the changes have been for good or ill.
In some ways, I miss the confidence of my 18-year-old self, that cocksure arrogance that I'd sort things out.
In other ways, if I met my 18-year-old self, I'd kick his ass into a fine red mist for all the STUPID shit he/I saw, did, didn't do, and believed.
One thing I do know however... In spite of the dashing of about every ambition I had at the time, in spite of the train wreck I've made of my financial situation, in spite of my continued inability to figure out what I'm doing, I'm more secure- not confident, mind you, but secure- in my own skin than that scrawny, awkward kid I was ten years ago would have imagined possible.
And thank heavens for that.
Ten years ago, I was a very different person. Some things never change, but I can honestly say I barely recognize the addle-brained 18-year old I used to be.
Ten years ago?
I was a skinny virgin whiteboy who had showtunes in his walkman (yes, walkman), a trenchocat that looked preposterous on me, the 2nd Edition AD&D Players handbook memorized, and was convinced I knew what I was doing.
Now? I'm a stockier non-virgin-but-not-getting
Yessir, I've come pretty far in the last decade.
Ten years ago, I didn't own a gun, my own car, or a computer. I owed no money to anyone.
Now I own three guns, a '97 Saturn that looks like a thousand miles of bad road, and a computer cobbled together from spare parts and bad ideas. I now have a five-figure debt.
Ten years ago, I had never been drunk.
Now, I get utterly shitfaced drunk as an inoculation about every six months, give or take.
Ten years ago, if you'd asked me where I saw myself in ten years, I would have spewed some vague blather about theatre.
Now, if you ask me where I see myself in ten years, I laugh despairingly, shrug, and say "Who knows?"
Ten years ago, I knew NONE of the people I met in Indiana. Now I can't imagine a life where I DON'T know them.
A lot has changed, and I couldn't say for sure whether the changes have been for good or ill.
In some ways, I miss the confidence of my 18-year-old self, that cocksure arrogance that I'd sort things out.
In other ways, if I met my 18-year-old self, I'd kick his ass into a fine red mist for all the STUPID shit he/I saw, did, didn't do, and believed.
One thing I do know however... In spite of the dashing of about every ambition I had at the time, in spite of the train wreck I've made of my financial situation, in spite of my continued inability to figure out what I'm doing, I'm more secure- not confident, mind you, but secure- in my own skin than that scrawny, awkward kid I was ten years ago would have imagined possible.
And thank heavens for that.
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