Food for the Brian

White to Black

2007-04-27T11:05:00.000-04:00

sometimes a song gets stuck
playing round and round inside your
head down to the place
where you began to walk when you saw
visions of this place
were never what they ever seemed to be
come innocence:
a better you than what you're used to.

CHORUS:
take me down, take me down
illusions are not reality
not everything they used to be
take me down, take me down
take down my postit off the wall
hold it in your hands and fold it
's fine, it's time to be ok,
you can go i understand it
's logical to say,
it's going to be ok.
it's going to be

ok, at one point we were young
but everyone gets old within the
fading is not so bad
it makes the change from white to black
ok, yeah i get the point
me down in the right direction
s are sometimes mistakes
are never quite as bad as they seem.

CHORUS:
take me down, take me down
illusions are not reality
not everything they used to be
take me down, take me down
take down my postit off the wall
hold it in your hands and fold it
's fine, it's time to be ok,
you can go i understand it
's logical to say,
it's going to be ok.
it's going to be

ok, talking to yourself
gets the thoughts you need to say out
loud tones make you deaf
so you can't hear the sounds that argue
ments are made to burn
then someone says that you will be
ok, yeah i get the point
the only one you'll ever trust is

me, yeah, what's my name
s are a personal illusion
or just a slight of hands
are made to hold and not be broken
pieces, pick them up
you never know when you might need them
hold on for your life
is just a passing moment and it's gone.

CHORUS: x 2
take me down, take me down
illusions are not reality
not everything they used to be
take me down, take me down
take down my postit off the wall
hold it in your hands and fold it
's fine, it's time to be ok,
you can go i understand it
's logical to say,
it's going to be ok.
it's going to be

ok, it's finally time for me to say
all the things i wanted to
break apart at the seams
when everyone tries to disagree
ments are the last resort i see
me coming to the end.

what you do from this point on
time just don't be late or bend to
yesterday was wrong
but tomorrow might not come to say
it's going to be ok for you to go on
to a new beginning
's are better than the endings suck
real life's different than the readings.

if they don't tell the truth to you
remember this, this song today,
when i tell you from my heart
what I know when i say,

it's going to be ok.

Wings to Fly

2007-04-27T10:40:00.000-04:00

And do you know what it feels like,
to have the winds of change pass you by and say,
"Hello, goodbye".

Well that's ok, no I don't mind,
I did not get these wings to fly,
I did not get these wings to fly,
I did not get these wings to fly.

And time will change a man, but still
when you're sitting beneath the window sill
this time you feel no change around,
this time it's time to change around.

And when a second chance drips down your face,
to tease your lips with sweet embrace,
you hollar back into the sky,
"I did not get these wings to fly!"

~ ~ ~

And do you know what it feels like,
to have the winds of change pass you by and say,
"Hello, goodbye".

And night sets in, the black so bland,
you hold your face in front of your hand
and watched them as a passerby,
then watched them as a passerby.

Then the clock will take its toll until,
you find you're sitting beneath the window sill
you're waiting for the change around,
just waiting for the change around.

And when a last chance drip right down your face
to tease your lips with sweet embrace,
you hollar back into the sky,
"I do not have the wings to fly!"
I do not have the wings to fly,
I do not have the wings to fly,
I do not have the wings to fly..,
I do not have the wings to fly.

And so the story goes...

2006-11-02T14:43:00.000-05:00

...Not quite as expected. There's an important lesson to be learned while here at the University. It's not a lesson specific to what kind of university you attend. You might attend Harvard, Yale, Purdue, Ohio State, University of Wisconsin - Madison, or little ol' Bemidji State University in the "arctic of Minnesota". This is the lesson of remembering what you were for and can't quite seem to remember, where your metaphors are as mixed as you can make them like your days that link together. If you're at the here doing the work, you are here to change.

You are here to grow, and the piece of paper that is handed to you on stage at the end of the show (usually saying you will receive the actual piece of paper saying "Good Job" at a later date) is nothing more than saying, "Time's up! If you didn't change yet, you've got some bumpy roads ahead! Caution!"

I am 22 years old, born and raised in Minnesota, in love with the lakes of the north, content in a deep relationship with my family, and I am doing absolutely horribly in my studies. However, this is just one stage of the game. From what I can discern, I have gained something unintended during my time here. I will return home for a time, find whatever work I can, do my absolute professional, hard-working best, and breath for a while.

If you play this game at the University for too long you can grow tired. It's those that come to the institution of learning and quickly adapt to not playing a game, but living through their studies as they would with any other part of their lives that are quickly successful.

Do not mistake me for being one of defeat. I will return with a new light, new hope, new focus, and a new foundation of living life in the current moment. More often than not, it is our own words that are most difficult to hear, and the things we fear most in others are those things that we see in ourselves and spur denial, doubt, and disbelief.

In the words of Burt Munro, "A man is like a blade of grass. He grows up in the spring, strong and healthy and green. And, then he reaches middle age and he ripens, as it were. And, in the autumn, he finishes, he fades away and never comes back…I think that when you’re dead, you’re dead."

Spring Break and Happy St. Patty's Day

2006-03-17T14:24:00.000-05:00

Spring Break: It's the hype of the semester's middle from day 3.42. Exactly. It's definitely not on everybody's mind on day 1. Perhaps it's crossed a couple minds on your campus during day 2, because since day 1 those minds didn't want to be on campus and it took until day 2 to realize that Spring Break would be the nearest escape (not vacation, but we'll get to this shortly). It's not at the beginning of day 3 that Spring Break crosses everybody's mind, and not quite half way through. It's right before halfway through day three (which is almost halfway through week 1), when it finally hits you:

"God...how much longer until Spring Break??!"

This subconscious awareness makes itself known directly at the almost halfway point in week 1 because the fact is, it will be 7 MORE WEEKS until you get a breather. A little devil is on your left shoulder with the shotgun shooting the angel on your right while screaming in your ear, "Yes, this is going to be fun! Oh shit! Not again!" all at the same time. A little psychotic? Yes. Undergraduate collegiate reality? Oh yes.

The second most important point about Spring Break: it is NOT a VACATION. It's an escape - yet barely that. Regardless of where you go, the inculcated behavior of undergraduate life will haunt you - the power of which will only begin to fade on the plane or car ride back to school - just in time for your rhythm to hiccup a lugie into the back of your throat (metaphorically speaking). Whether you're in Destin, Naples, Orlando, Miami, Tampa, Tallahassee, Ft. Lauderdale, Clearwater, Jacksonville, St. Augustine, Sarasota, Daytona, or the Everglades (yes, everybody goes to Florida...and if you don't, you suck…(I suck)…), you'll be lying on a beach (or if you're in the Everglades, on the back of a Crocodile) and something will seem just a little bit off, and you won't realize quite what it is...

Let me inform you. It's the same thing that will make you think while on Spring Break that in your sleep, the beautiful, natural, peaceful sounds of birds chirping in the morning is your alarm clock, as you blast your covers off the bed and jump up like it's Pearl Harbor outside shouting something to the tune of (while still in that halfway asleep mode), "Shit! Only 5 minutes until the dune buggy talks! I've gotta get my froops on and get my ass down to the shorts!" (which translates as: "Oh, blast, not again. I have 5 minutes ‘till lecture starts. I better get my ass down to class."

It is this same anxiety that haunts you in the morning (unless you're in the habit of simply rolling over and slapping the thin air to turn off the chirping birds) that will have you lying on the beach (or the back of a crocodile) wondering what just isn’t quite right.

It is for this single reason that Spring Break will remain an escape. It is and will be an escape from which you’re trying to escape the entire time until finally you do. And as you do, you find yourself right back where you started with half of the semester left, no idea what you're doing, where you’re going, groggy, tired, and ready for the weekend as ever (of which you just spent 14 hours traveling), wondering when the summer will finally arrive: 7 more weeks.

And by the way, HAPPY ST. PATTY'S DAY!

Getting Sick (SNIIFF!)s

2006-02-09T17:36:00.000-05:00

The last thing that, as a college student, you can really afford to do with your time is get sick (ill...though this is somewhat of an accurate statement for other meanings of "sick," we will focus, for now, on this one).

It's really sick, too, the way that feeling sick just sort of creeps up on you – in a very sickening sort of way. At one point, you'll be sitting at your desk, the kitchen table, or a coffee shop doing one of the activities associated with one of the above-mentioned places, and all-of-a-sudden, it smacks you upside the head (as your drop your coffee):

"Well..." SNIFFFF..."NO.....no, no no....no good..."...SNIIIIFFF...."No, no good. Won't have anything to do with i-SNIIIIFFBLASTFU#@#@#!!"

And suddenly, your speech, sinuses, throat, and throbbing head collude into one thought of:

"Oh hell…sick.”

…which actually turns out to be more of a sort of a question, really, which is then promptly answered by an immediately urgent need for you to visit the john - for whatever reason.

The uncanny thing about being sick is its relationship with memory. Every one of us has been sick and (hopefully) in a state of wellness. But the results are really quite interesting when you ask yourself if you remember what being sick actually feels like. The answer to this question is usually something along the lines of, “Well,…..huh…not quite sure what it felt like. I know it wasn’t good, though.”

In spite of this phenomenon, people generally believe that they can relate their own experiences of being sick with others, which, in an interaction between two people, often takes place something like this:

"Not feeling so good today, eh?"
"DnO."
"Coming down with something?"
"DES."
"Yes, it seems that's been going around. In fact, I had it last week."

First of all, we haven't even quite established what, exactly, it is yet. Secondly, how the devil do you think you can know what another chap has when first, he hasn't really told you, and second, the only thing that he knows at this point is that he's miserable, feels like hell, and could, perhaps, vomit all over your wool, blue sweater with little snowmen that your mother knit for you during Christmas at any moment.

Needless to say, being sick isn't great for getting anything done, either. Your brain will usually function at about half-capacity, whether you know it or not. If somebody acts strange with you today, it's probably because last night they called you on the phone, you answered, and instead of saying your usual, "Hey, kid, how’s it goin’?!", you, without knowing it, slipped something more along the lines of, "yeah!, garbled rocks and four!" followed by something entirely too personal like, "Oh, shit."

What your friend on the other of the phone didn't know, is that this...well, confusion...was caused by your attempt of studying your Calculus book just after an intermission of reading through a problem in your Applied Regression Analysis book concerning rock-climbers and the chances of the dashing themselves to pieces on the rocks in some ridiculous, contorted move. The “Oh shit,” if thought about, is quite self-explanatory.

With countless interactions like these throughout the day - most of which you are not aware - it is certainly no exaggeration to say that you are exhausted and don't quite know why. Further, yet, you end up fracturing your brain slightly as you crawl into bed trying to think of how you got sick in the first place and conclude with a shrug, another battle hole blown through a kleenex, and a shiver that runs from your neck down to your toes,

"Being sick SNIIFFFFs."

STAT 512: Applied Regression Analysis

2006-02-01T23:35:00.000-05:00

I listened to a China woman today as she talked about clouds, swaying her hands through the air as though using the stale particles of dust and must floating through the room like some sort of canvas; to paint a picture of life and a model of the way things should be.

Sunlight filters through the sliced fog of filth, and morning light - according to everyone's faces - is not considered a gift at the moment. Those of us that are still awake and just beginning to see, squinting into understanding, frown at the picture being painted on the wall.

The China woman slows, and the lead brushstrokes come to a halt. What an aw-inspiring load of nonsense that finds its way towards reason through the painting of a picture in a foreign tongue. What a finger painting. It's a suitcase of rocks she forces herself to carry, weighing down her arms and vicariously through her decreasing energy slurs her speech to some dialect yet undiscovered.

Another curve, another line, another few last letters of the alphabet that she slaughters punctuated by even bigger dots that don’t belong.

I sleep.

The Science of Matter Fabrication

2006-01-31T14:37:00.000-05:00

"Matter is commonly referred to as the substance of which physical objects are composed" (Wikipedia). It is also known as "a subject of concern, feeling, or action; trouble or difficulty," and still better yet, "something sent by mail" (Dictionary.com).

Furthermore, the Encycli-Wikipedia states that "Matter creation is process inverse to annihilation (total destruction, complete obliteration, absolute BOOM....etc.). It usually refers to pair creation, i.e., the conversion of photons into a fermion and antifermion pair (a bunch of little particles that busy themselves and their existence with lots, and lots of spinning)." What's more is that "since momentum conservation law prohibits the creation of a pair of fermions out of a single photon (emphasis added), pair creation (emphasis added again) involves at least two (...) photons (or a single photon and one or more fermions)."

What physicists didn't piece together (and what Einstein didn't want to tell us - which is why he locked himself up most of the time) is that people are made of matter, too; lots, and lots, and lots of it.

Within this matter are lots, and lots of photons converting into lots, and lots of fermions (usually found in white, American guys [here, it is of important note that, again, according to Wikipedia, "All elementary particles are either fermions or bosons (bō`zō)ns," which are very much related - for a better understanding of bosons, see the entry "bozo": a much more intergalactically accurate definition]) and antifermions (usually found in - well, everybody else, according to current theory).

With the infestant number of fermions and antifermions that populate the homo sapiens species there is enough matter creation taking place right behind our noses (and under them) to cause quite a few problems and beg the answers to a few questions. All of this matter creation lends itself to lots, and lots of spinning - lots of it.

In fact, there is so much matter-creation taking place from all this spinning of fermions and antifermions that there is strong belief in many scientific circles (of course, not located on this planet) of a connection between human matter-creation and the expansion of the universe and are close to finishing the proof, in fact, that this is the purpose of human existence (a lot like trees, plants, and all that extra green stuff are around to help regenerate oxygen for the humans). It is, therefore, quite easy to see why the origin of the human species had to begin with two people (biblically labeled as "Adam" and "Eve"), so that there could be enough of a supply of fermions and antifermions that could interact, collide, spin off from each other, and result the creation of more matter. One of the common methods of doing so was through the process of reproduction (kids), which in turn created even more problems, which created even more matter, etc. - the effects of which are exponential.

What's even stranger than this, is that human's (regardless of constantly complaining about not having the foggiest about "their purpose in life," "why am I here," and "who the hell is this 'God' frude anyway") seem to have an innate knowing of their matter-creation objective (MCO) in life keeping it in the foreground of their mind. This is easily observed in that one human can often be seen walking up to another human saying, "Something the matter," or, "What's the matter with you?", or after a long soliloquy of events, the patient person listening (all the while creating a matter of their own through checking their digital watches every five minutes) says, "Ahhh, so that's what was the matter." Depending on the ferocity of the fermions or antifermions at work, each of these observations can lead to be very entertaining ones.

Humans are very hard-working and innovative, too, concerning their MCO. Not only will they be curiouser and curiouser about "What the devil is the matter with you?", but they will then proceed to send you mail about the matter even when matter wasn't their to begin with, and now that it is, something must - of course - be the matter. They became so proficient at this process that a really ambitious group of MCO workaholics got together and picked a bunch of days when everybody should send everybody else some mail when nothing was even supposed to be the matter saying something to the order of, "Hi, heard it was your birthday today! What's the matter?", or, "Hey, heard you felt like hell and needed a reminder. By the way, what's the matter?"

Needless to say, with the increasing population, more pressure on philanthropic organizations, the falling prices of psychiatrists, and the increasing expediency of the postal service, the universe is expanding at rapid rates and may soon begin it's contraction. At this point, humans will have to rethink what the matter is with their objective, and what exactly to do about it. One of the current alternative plans for reinvesting humans is to stick them in the back-burner of Star-Trek's Enterprise space-ship (and other ships like it) as an ecologically-minded alternative to the first half of the matter-antimatter drive that propels the ship into space at warp speeds.

Ambition

2006-01-16T21:41:00.000-05:00

Wake up.
sweat....SLAMsleep...
think....ponder...dreaJUMP in place,
throw back the covers!

adrenaline
AMBITION

cold - ice cold
feet
hands
face...

minutes pass
dress to travel
hours fly by
sunlight retires to the basement cellar
lamp light, musty books

sweat, caffeine, rush...
faster, FASTER!

think, add, calculate, posit, postulate, hypothesize, discuss, listen, feel, be silent, listen again, listen again, (re)focus, readagainandagainandagain...drift, FOCUS!

weights on the sails pull downward,
lead becomes heavy
bump,
shuffle,
THUD...
inner mumble, mixed thoughts, any chalk with your coffee?...
first....thing...
...tomorrow
...

Taken By A Friend

2006-01-16T21:40:00.000-05:00

I think about you when i shouldn't; when i have books to read, homework to do, people to consider, and i consider you. You say you don't need the same, but what if i would give it. You never happen, but then you always do. I think sometimes, even though i try to send the message in a silent way, you don't get it. I've paid in blood before, with a bleeding heart and a mind that tries to hold on to some kind of sanity saying, 'mercy,' nothing but a fading film of black and white on a red background. Where i am, not only is it lonely, but it's cold. Surely somewhere else has to be at least as half as cold as me. Keep my secret well - even though i don't have one on purpose, but then again who ever does. But secrets should not be held in forever. Until then, all i can say, my friend, is that i'm going to be busy. Maybe in six months, may three, maybe a year from here i'll come back down again and breath - gasp - and one last time hold it in. But until then, again, i'm going to be busy.

Missing Thistle

2005-10-10T00:46:00.000-05:00

If you look closely you can still see it;
Its shadow shaking in the breeze at the top of the bluff,
Just as surely as it once did.
It was straight, and strong, like anything
Of character is,
But it was not without its flaws.
Soft bristles, with a sharp edge,
Kept them at bay for a time,
But its face full of such beautiful color,
And bright,
Was enough to make more than just the observant
Passerby stop,
And look. But not touch.
And how it fit so well with its surroundings,
Except for its charm, would have made it seem
Nothing more than natural.
When the day was clear to the horizon, and
the sun purred with pleasure, it was easy
To fit a melody to the picture it painted -
Soft, sweet, calm,
Peaceful.
But now it is gone, plucked as if
Possessable, leaving nothing behind but a
Memory of what it once was, of what
It has become - a silence, an absence,
A hushed loss, of life found, and lost -
A missing thistle.

Zombie

2005-09-16T16:48:00.000-05:00

Music is something very powerful. It can make you depressed, joyful, full of sorrow, nervous...the entire spectrum of emotions can be brought about by the right song for the right person.

I pulled this one out of the archives. This was truly one of the first recorded songs - done with a computer microphone on a two track progression. I find that songs like this are sometimes necessary to pull myself back up and get back on the saddle; to rise up to my feet.

Procrastination, All Nighters, and Insomnia

2005-09-13T05:24:00.000-05:00

Procrastination is...well...there's no question about it - it's a bad habit. And yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's a habit. Once formed it is one of the most difficult to break. Moreover, it can sometimes be fatal to your life. This is a lesson learned with difficulty and, so it seems, practice.

A common side effect of procrastination has come to be known in the collegiate world of undergraduates as "all nighters". These consist of lots of coffee, perhaps some caffeine pills, a lack of focus, a significant decrease in the marginal productivity of laborious study for each next unit of time given to the cause, and eventually panic. Yes, panic is an occasional indirect side effect of procrastination, brought about by the slow ticking of the clock - wherever it may be amidst the clutter of books, papers, dirty clothes, notes, and dirty dishes - that ushers in the dawning of the next, new day. Unfortunately, this next new day is the due date of every piece of material you've lost sleep over studying. The morning comes too quickly, the night slipped away even faster, and you struggle through just one more day...just one more day...and suddenly, it's all clear.

Long Way Down (the rabbit hole...?)

2005-09-06T03:05:00.000-05:00

This song currently has several reasons for being posted:

1) I like it
2) I miss having Tommi, my sister (keepingthegate.blogspot.com) singing along with songs, making up lyrics, and stealing the guitar away from me.
3) It's an all-nighter, once again (third week of classes), and I am procrastinating (a blog post soon to come on this subject)
4)......um....all of the above.
---------------------------------------
Um, some explanation:

All the music that you see on here is original...somewhat obvious, as it's not all studio-quality sound. Original voices, original lyrics, original chord progressions...this is home grown stuff, making up a representation of what embodies my family, my life, my education, and my time on this big ball of mud.

Long Weekend

2005-09-02T11:00:00.000-05:00

It's a haitus, and we're doing the same things that we did a year ago all over again...almost, anyways. In some ways, the few mistakes that exist within the song are meant to be - showing the trips and falls that we make as a result of a change in rythm within our everyday lives. But for one weekend, breath.

After the Rain

2005-08-25T21:30:00.000-05:00

This is my addition to your world, tommi....for now: After the Rain
-------------------
This song was found hiding within the anxiety for the hammering semester of 18 credits; within those few precious days before all hell breaks lose upon your doorstep; within those few precious days where sunshine would be the perfect anectdote, and it rains. This song came after the rain.

Technorati's Bush Indictment - Accident?

2005-08-10T08:11:00.000-05:00

There's been a hub-bub going on Technorati within the last 24 hours concerning "Bush Indictment". Personally, I don't think that this is a bad idea. Unfortunately, my friends, it is too good to be true. There have been those of like mind expressing their similar views and those who are still under the illusions of a president worth their while currently being in office.

What confuses me is that this "mistake" (what some people claim to be a "google bombing") has been on Technorati for the last 24 hours....I think Technorati would have caught it by now if it was a mistake.

There are three steps to action: 1) Thinking something, 2) Saying something, 3) and then doing that something.

The one benefit I see from this "mistake": the thought of actually indicting Bush has been put into the air. We have, now, only to complete the third and final step. Congradulations, America, to being one step closer to freedom and liberty!

As far as the origin of the story is concerned, it seems possible, through perusing on the internet, that the origin of the story might have been here. Good luck in your search. And remember, Think, Say, and Do!
_____________________________
UPDATE: 6:45 pm, Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Check out Technorati one more time, now:....no more "Bush Indictment"...at all....huh.

Smoking Bans: If the Monkey Wants to Smoke...

2005-08-09T10:33:00.000-05:00

Smoking bans seem to be the fad of the decade. Since post Y2K (with a short break during the chaos of 9/11), smoking bans have been one of the major attention-grabbers, it seems, in both local and national news sources during the political off-season (with an occasional mention of it during the campaigns). As an FYI: I used to smoke, but no longer do. However, I do think that if somebody chooses to smoke it is their decision. What we need is cooperation between the two factions: conscientious smokers about where their smoke-drift is hitting, and non-smokers claiming responsibility for their location: if there's smoke, and you don't like it, DON'T GO THERE. gr....ok, back to the story.

It was just within this last year that smoking-ban crusaders at Purdue University, for example, were on a rampage with fencing in smokers into a smaller and smaller space; metaphorically and literally (and this kind of action just scratches the surface of what's happened in California with smoking bans). This article, one of the more recent, is very, VERY watered down from its beginning. This is the nature of politics, I understand. However, it was still...entertaining to witness the audacity of Purdue Student Government members within their assumptions of controlling the rights of other individuals; to the extent that their proposed plan on banning smoking went outside the limits of the University itself and into local establishments. I'm glad they have the balls to demand something so extravagant, but am also glad somebody is apparently there to pull in the reigns a little bit.

This was all brought back into discussion for me by witnessing this video taken by CBS of a chimp in a zoo down in South Africa - extremely provoking. (Thanks to Abe and Jenn for introducing the video).

First: it was amazing to me the extent to which the chimp was able to use "mimicry" too look so human. IMHO: it wasn't mimicry folks. This was just a chimp deciding it was cool, or comfortable, or relaxing, or entertaining (whatever the reason) to smoke. If you take another look at the video, do you see any of the other chimps smoking? No. Is it because they're not smart enough? Probably not. Anybody think that perhaps...just perhaps.......they just didn't want to? Hm.

Second: it was oh-so-convenient for this news/broadcasting company, out of all the people at the zoo...in South Africa, to ask an Africana little white girl what she thought (or rather, for the proper answer) about the chimp smoking, the answer being given in the perfectly cute British-like accent. Thanks CBS.

Third: the zoo keeper. Dude, do ya think that maybe, just maybe, the chimp wants to smoke by CHOICE? I mean, seriously. Let's lock you up in a cage for years on end with crappy food, a bunch of noise, endless supplies of bratty little kids pointing their fingers at you, people throwing cigarette butts on your lawn, and see how long you last without picking up the habit.

It is a hard habit to break. But, if the monkey wants to smoke, let 'im.

Riding Motorcycles: Feeling Death

2005-08-08T12:34:00.000-05:00

Motorcycles, champaign, and victory cigars - the main ingrediants for a wonderful celebration for the culmination and completion of a three-month project: rebuilding three motorcycles, one of which was over 20 years old, and the other two over 30. We did not know what we were getting ourselves into, but we managed to finish it right on the deadline. We had said at the beginning of the summer that we would have them put together or out of the garage by the end of July. Come July 31st, we were sipping champaign around a fire at dusk, sharing the best and worst moments of one of the most gruesome projects we had ever undertaken. Needless to say, mine still has....well, glitches...and it won't be ready to ride until AFTER I'm back in Indiana.

Until two weeks ago, I had never driven a motorcycle before in my life - at least not any further than the end of my driveway. Dirt-bikes don't count. Four-wheelers don't count. We're talking something that has enough cc's of displacement (big enough engine) to get you cruising down the road at 70, 80, 90 mph. If you want to get an idea of what it's like, here's what ya do:

Get your car going about 70 - 75 down the highway.
Turn off the stereo.
Roll down all your windows.
Grip the steering wheel with both hands.
Sit in your seat like you're hold an innertube between your legs.
Now imagine:
your roof is gone
your passenger door is gone
the driver-side door is gone
the back door of the car is gone
the front of the car is gone
the wind-shield is gone
the floor of the car is gone

it's just the wind, the steering wheel, the seat, and you, screaming down the road at 75 mph.
No walls to hold you in
No floor to catch you
Just two wheels, and an engine.

I was talking with BradLinks about this earlier today, and he had the best description of it I've heard yet: "When you're going down the road that fast - with nothing to catch you or hold you in [like a car] - it's like seeing death so close up that you can actually feel it."

And in my opinion, it's a rush.

Congradulations to Jenn to getting on top of a '77 CB750 A, spilling it, and getting right back on. In the words of Queen, "Get on your bikes and ride!"

Making Friends in New Places

2005-08-06T20:53:00.000-05:00

Festus Rockensock (real name): 30-somethin' year old electrician working at Ainsworth Engineered, Ltd., USA, friend of James Godwin, and one crazy, humorable, smart-ass, decent, Northern Minnesota guy.

I've known Festus Rockensock (a.k.a., Fester, Festus Rockensockem, Festosius, Smart-Ass, and Buddy) for just about three months now. A recent and proud father of a beautiful baby girl, he has worked at Ainsworth, a Waferboard Plant, for the last 15 years.

Although I have had some self-demeaning and frustrating experiences during my summer job at Ainsworth as a Systems Technician Assistant/summer temp, Festosius has given me the opportunity to experience some positive, light-hearted good times at work.

Me: (clicking on my keyboard at 90 wpm, eyes glued to the computer screen for data entry)
Festus: Holy shit, Jimmy! What the hell are you doin' over there?
Me: Festus Rockensockem! I'm doin' my job (grin). How ya doin'?
Festus: If I were tryin' ta type that fast, it'd look like this (I slide over, he takes over the keyboard):
"s;lakjfl;skdjfsdldkflkds sdlkjsdfld!akjs;;slsldlj"
Ha!
Me: WOW. That's pretty good (big laugh).
Festus: Ya see, Jimmy, I'm a hunt'n'pecker.
Me: A wha'?
Festus: A hunt'n'pecker!
Me: (confused look)
Festus: (Still at the keyboard) See:
"m....y..(space).....n........." where's dat 'a'?....ha!.."a....m........e.....
...and eventually, within five minutes, he managed to type out: "My name is Festus Rockensock!"
Me: It's a good thing you're not doin' my job then, eh?
Festus: And it's a good thing you're not doin' my job, too, eh?
Me: Yup!
Fesuts: Alright! Back to work (puts his hard hat back on). See ya Jimmy! Don't work too hard!
Me: You too!

A special Rockensockem thanks to Festus and people like him for making the world a brighter, better place in which to live.

A Bush in the Woods

2005-07-29T09:15:00.000-05:00

The President of The United States of America

...which means what, exactly? Say the words out loud. Listen to their grandeur, their stateliness. Think of presidents past, of accomplishments made, a country formed, blood let in patriotism, strength, and honor. Think of what it means to be a true American.

As a citizen of the state of Minnesota, I have felt political...embarrassment before - embarrassment close enough to humiliation that the lines between the two become blurred. Jesse Ventura was elected the 38th govenor of Minnesota in 1998. At the time, it was embarrassing. My sister and I were in Japan engrossing ourselves in the culture and language for our personal edification. The news of this election was strong enough to reach the coasts of Asia and to infiltrate the Tokyo news systems for a significant segment of time. Before then, I had never been so internationally...embarrassed. California citizens might currently or recently have had a similar experience.

Last night I shared another experience through (Pro)Claiming Age's blogrole and was utterly blown away. Found on www.onegoodmove.org, this video of George Bush really dropped my droors. It floored me. It knocked my socks off. It stole the cream. It flustered my feathers, and it definitely screwed the monkey.

OK, so let's revisit that very first string of words with a slight grimace. Stateliness?? Ugh.
This got me searching for consistency...were there other examples of the "President" doing this...stupid, stupid, thing? Yup.

Here's at least one other video'd record thereof.
I also thought it was quite interesting that the pictorial proof provided by this other blog-author for his account of a similar personal experience somehow - misteriously - disappeared. At this point, I am more willing to believe that the author's story of protesting and being given "the finger" by the President of the United States of America is true, than to believe in it's fabrication.

So what's dirty? The name that the Bush holds as our "President", or the Bush itself?

Peace within the Chaos

2005-07-28T11:53:00.000-05:00

I will be enjoying this last little bit of summer...very much. Not really because it's going to be so fantastically excellent in any particularly special way. Rather, I have found in hindsight that the first half of my summer has been...well, lacking - in many things. Namely, lacking in sleep, cleanliness, discipline, and self-enjoyment. This last one has really been an eye-opener for me. It is so easy with a dirty physical labor job and an extended project on a couple of motorcycles to get carried away from a personal hold on self-identity.

In any case, I am finding pease amidst the chaos of the summer. Our motorcycle projects are coming to an end, my lovely summer job has two weeks (which will seem like only days soon enough) remaining, and just when I'm starting to feel the confidence of a space reclaimed as my home, my Bemidji, I will have to leave once again. Ah, the life of a struggling college student.

In the mean time, I'm trying something new. I'd like to share a piece of music, family, and me with the rest of the meandering public, as well as perhaps the one or two consistent readers I have out there.

About two months ago, my brother, sister, and I did some recording of some of the music we've made together over the past couple years. I'd like to share some of that with you over the course of time. This one is something I wrote recently, entitled Runaway.

London Bridges

2005-07-07T14:03:00.000-05:00

“…the top of the bus was sheared off, like a sardine can…”

“…five minutes later an explosion occurred near King's Cross, killing 21…”

“It remains unclear how many died in that incident.”

“…not allow violence to change our societies or our values.”

“…they had received no warnings…”

“…designed to kill and injure innocent…”

“The war on terror goes on."
New York Times Online – July 7

I received an e-mail for a friend in Indiana this afternoon… “can’t believe that terrorists attacked London…” I thought she was joking until I saw the articles in the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Washington Post, CNN, USA Today…My gut wrenched, just like it did on the day that the trade towers went down and the Pentagon went up in flames. I felt so helpless.

Ten minutes later I received an e-mail from my friend Tetsu, who lives in Tokyo - I hadn’t heard from in months. “I felt anger,” he wrote. During my visits to Japan, I would often find discrepancies between international views on breaking news around the world. Today, however, I found that the views around the world are much the same concerning the tragedy in London: terrorists.

Tony Blair states that we will “not allow violence to change our societies or our values”. We already have. Seven years ago we would have seen an act of “terrorism” as an isolated event, but today we are at war with “terrorism”.

This gives me mixed feelings. What the !@*# is “terrorism” anyway? And how do you “go to war” with it? What the hell is my sister and your brother/father/sister/mother doing over in Iraq? Where are the soldiers that we are fighting? Where are they from? When will they stop fighting? Never. “War on terrorism” is no new concept to man. It is something with which we have dealt since the fall. Thanks to the media and propaganda, however, we have a handy little label to grasp onto – something onto which we can vent our frustrations, hurt, and pain from seeing innocent brothers and sisters fall in blood to the ground and return to dust.

I felt anger today.

It’s good to know I’m not alone.

I Love My Summer Job

2005-06-22T18:10:00.000-05:00

It seems that most kids in college have some kind of summer job – whether they’re an intern, straight-up minimum wager, construction…most of the time, we’ll take anything we can get. There’s still an amount of the student population who has the opportunity to take summer classes, finish more quickly, not work in the mean time, and be done with the whole business – lucky them.

I am no exception to the norm. Every summer has involved some kind scramble for work – a photo studio, an electric meter shop, hotel’s front desk clerk, and vacation relief worker. Those are mostly official titles. It’s interesting how each next, new employer has a special name for your job. Example: If I work the front desk at a hotel (answer the phone, return phone calls, make reservations, cancel reservations, check people in…glorified cashier’s job), then my title is "Sales Representative". If my job at an electric shop is: unscrew, screw new ones in, unscrew, screw new ones in – oh yeah, wash windows – then my job title is "Temporary Meter Technician Assistant – Summer Temp". I have never worked at McDonalds or Burger King, but I’m sure that if I did, the official title for handing out the bags of food, filling pop, grabbing napkins, mustard, ketchup, and complaints, my official title would be something to the tune of "Customer Service Team Member".

This is where Dr. Phil’s advice finally comes in use for Employers: "Get reeaaaal!" All of these jobs are boring, unskilled, low-paid, and (if we’re lucky) hot, greasy, sweaty, cramped, crappy, crappy jobs. We know this – every time we flip a burger, bag some groceries, sweep a floor, or wash a car. Why do we do it? Because we are dedicated to a cause: our own. It is this commitment to overlooking the imbalance indicative to a cost-benefit analysis in each of these jobs that shows our commitment and dedication towards the goals we set. So, don’t talk up our job…we know it’s a bum rap, but we’ll do the best we can.

And for you potential employers out there, remember that a job like this isn’t a sign of weakness, but rather a display of character, determination, and dedication towards the future.

Cons(piracy) Theory

2005-06-15T18:01:00.000-05:00

Yes, Conspiracy Theory with Mel Gibson was an excellent flick. This article is not about that movie. Has anybody noticed how Michael Jackson, starting early January of this year, just suddenly appeared in the spotlight. Although this could have been seen as a dark omen for Jackson, I believe it was very much a bright flash for his career.

I do recognize that Jackson was still selling music, making some music, and investing in the music industry in general. However, it did occur to me that I hadn't even thought about Michael Jackson until his trial started, stealing the stage of the press. This was an experience that I found I shared with a couple others. This lead me to thinking.

The last occurrence of a celebrity involved in this kind of criminological import in the news was OJ Simpson. Before you think any further, ask yourself: Who is OJ Simpson? I mean, without that trial, how many people would even know the guy's name? What does “OJ” stand for aside from Orange Juice? Funny how that's the only way we know to refer to one of the most famous running backs in American football history.It's somewhat obvious that OJ's trial was not his attempt at a publicity stunt. He did not have nearly the amount of liquidity in assets as Jackson, nor the publicity potential. Murder, however, never has a good vibe with the general public and good publicity.

Michael Jackson went to trial in early January of this year on four charges of child molestation, four charges of administering alcohol in order to commit a felony, one count of attempted child molestation, and one count of conspiracy to commit child abduction, false imprisonment and extortion…..10 is a nice, round number.

Few people knew who OJ Simpson was. Few people knew Timothy McVay. However, if a trial of that magnitude could be harnessed, the good publicity potential would be enormous – enough to make Jackson’s CD sales skyrocket after the fact. My criticism is not against the jury, but rather against the charges. Michael Jackson was innocent before the trial started – indefinitely innocent to the extent that neither the prosecution nor defense had any question about it.

Conspiracy? Yes. Genius? Yes. I may just have to download one of Jackson’s albums out of admiration for a (cons)piracy well done.

Cars, Roadtrips, and Sane Insanity

2005-06-04T13:06:00.000-05:00

This week(end) has been one of those more than interesting weekends. My sister is home from Iraq for two weeks and then will be returning for another seven to eleven months of service. I will be praising a Higher Being when she returns home for good. Nonetheless, I've managed to suspend belief for long enough to enjoy her company while she's home, making the most out of the time that we have and trying not to fret about the fact that she'll be leaving in 7 days, 2 hours, and 12 minutes. If you're interested in reading more from her directly, she has her own blog of liberation and reflection from an "inside" perspective of what's really going on over there at keepingthegate.blogspot.com. Another blog worth reading with regards to the same topic can be found at thepowerdecades.blogspot.com. Although I will cover some reflection on the war in Iraq at some later date, this entry is more of an introduction saying, "Thank you for reading, I feel crazy." I am not as much complaining about the sporadic craziness of life, as much as attempting to analyze how it is (con)structed. The precursor is this:

1) If you have only one key to your car, get a copy made. Now. Right now.
2) When you make plans to go on a road trip, make sure you DON'T follow them.
3) Take your own advice.
4) Savor every moment of craziness you have...it makes those not-so-crazy moments that much more memorable.

The origin of these thoughts returns to some thinking in a political philosophy class that I was doing in my previous semester at Purdue University in West Lafayette. As far as the gender exclusivity of this next part of writing, you have my conscientious apologies. For an explanation of this style of writing, I suggest a book entitled On Bullshit, which is an excellent read.

A man is only insane if he is of the minority opinion or view concerning any certain matter. We can see this by the degrees of insanity that exist in the world– from someone who is socially ostracized for their peculiarity or eccentricity to someone who “ought need to be committed.” The greater in number there are of people in like mind, the less insane and more sane a person becomes. Were a man several hundred years ago to have believed that the world were indeed flat, he would have been thought to be of the right and sane mind; a well informed one, no less. However, today were he to believe such a thing, he would be considered either very ill informed, an idiot, or mad. It is true that some men we call insane do believe themselves to be Napoleon, for example; but what is insanity except an internal experience with which the general population cannot relate? Were a man as such to go unchecked in the wilderness, removed from society, his truth could be, in his mind at least, accepted as absolute. True, we call these men insane, but if it were a common thing for most men on the planet to believe themselves to be a different person other than who they “really” were, it would be the ones who did not believe themselves to be someone other than who they really were that would be considered lunatic, and thus the madman would be considered sane.

So please: stay sane, stay safe, keep smiling, and remember: wherever you find yourself, there you are.