I'm chicken!

You Are Chicken

Bah! You're hardly meat. But you are quite popular, and people aspire to taste like you. You're probably quite skinny and free of vices. Except letting people eat your eggs.

What Kind of Meat Are You?

Clearing the air

So. My laptop got stolen. Three days after I blogged about seeing a drug deal, my laptop got stolen. I guess a lot of people would say I should have seen something like this coming or that I live in a really shitty neighborhood. But I didn't and I don't really. I live in a not-bad neighborhood and who expects their stuff to get stolen in a not-bad neighborhood...or even at all? So it was a complete shock when Marcus called Eric at dinner and said he needed to talk to me (I had forgotten my phone at home). We were at Oregano's celebrating a well-executed choir performance, enjoying our garlic bread. Eric handed me the phone and Marcus told me my computer had been stolen. He said that he was really sorry, but he thought he'd left the back door unlocked and that someone came in, took my laptop (and nothing else) and left. He sounded really solemn and sad and like he was expecting a big scene or hysterics from me. But I felt fine, really. My mom and my sister didn't get how I could be so calm about the whole thing, but really, I didn't feel violated in any way. Someone had looked at my house, found the door unlocked, took the only thing of value he could see, and left. If he had stolen my underwear or slashed my bed apart with a razor or written "die, bitch!" on my wall, then I'd be scared. But this was just a theft of my stuff, not of my person. It sucks, and I'm going to make sure the doors are locked all the fucking time now (like I didn't before!), but to me, this crime isn't threatening, just unfortunate. So that's what happened with my laptop. I guess maybe its time to move.

In other news, for a good laugh, go here

I think I may have just seen a drug deal

I live on the edge of a nice neighborhood. For those of you familiar with Tucson, I live in Catalina Vista. Its midtown, but with old nice homes full of families and yuppies and people with fancy dogs. But I think, despite that, I just saw a drug deal go down across the street from my house.
A guy pulled up in his car and another man approached him. They exchanged something (I couldn't tell what) and then the guy who approached walked away. The car pulled away and the guy got onto a bike and rode off carrying a large plastic grocery bag which I don't think he had when he approached the car.
I'm usually pretty naive about these things. I drove down Van Buren Street in Phoenix and didn't see a single prostitute. I didn't get it when a guy on the street offered us pot the other night. I usually need these things explained to me. But that was pretty darn conclusive. Even to me.

Shit.

Climbing is life?

I went climbing tonight. Eric and I have been trying to go every Sunday, just to keep ourselves active and for the last couple of weeks we've been pretty successful at going consistantly. We never really go for very long, since we both get off of work at five and the gym closes at eight, but we can usually get a nice bit of climbing in.
Sometimes, climbing feels great. I get off of the wall, and even if I don't finish a route, it feels good to just get up there and do it. Even when climbing doesn't feel great, its usually at least a good time. But every once in a while, there's a night when everything just feels like shit and tonight was one of those nights. Everything was off. My feet were wrong, my arms were weak and I wouldn't have been able to hang on to a monkey's ass if it had stretched it out and defecated on me. Horrible.
But that's sort of how life has been going lately. Sometimes, its wonderful. I know where I'm going and how to get there. And even when its not great, its at least not horrible. But more and more often, it feels like shit, like I don't quite know what to do with myself. Unsure of what I really want and if I'm doing what I need to get there.
With climbing, I can just take off my shoes and harness, walk away from the wall and wait till next time, when surely it'll be better. But you can't do that in real life. Still, things have to get better, right?

The Second Century

Last night I did one of the most foolish things think I've ever done. I participated in my second Century Club. For those of you unfamiliar with this prestigious group, a Century Club is drinking 100 shots of beer in 100 minutes. Foolish, yes? I think so. But I've never had a huge problem with foolishness, especially when I think it will be fun foolishness. What I thought would be merely foolish turned into one of the most painful nights in my recent memory.

As I said, this was my second Century Club. The first was in Flagstaff at the House. That was a night of miracles. I, the notorious light-weight, whom Andy once dubbed "a cheap date," whom everyone was sure could only make it to the early twenties, was the last to vomit. PJ, who swears vodka keeps him healthy, was first. It was as if the gods smiled upon my endeavor, lending me the strength to not only finish the Century Club, but also the rest of the keg. And when I did finally vomit, it was Renee, of all people, Renee who hated me like a cat hates mayonnaise, Renee who sat by me and comforted me while we bonded over a mutual romance interest. Truly, a night of miracles.

Last night was a night of horrors. The gods had forsaken me. I began strongly, keeping pace with Kyle and Sam, only slightly more drunk than Karyssa. But as the night went on and the shots tallied, the room became a blur, voices became a swirling din around me and my urge to vomit could not be denied. I made it to 89. 89 ounces of beer in roughly an hour and a half. Everyone thought I was done once I puked. But I rallied. Foolish, yes, but never a quitter. I came back to the table, downed the two shots I had missed, and finished with the rest. I scorned the gods who had left me with only 11 shots to go. I laughed in their faces and, in typical omnipotent fashion, they made me pay. By the time I had finished the remaining shots, I could hardly walk. Kyle calculated my blood alcohol content to be roughly .20. Eric led me to the car, buckled me in and took me home. We had to stop twice on the way home so I could puke. When I got home, I spent two hours paying for my defiance. Two hours, sprawled in front of the toilet, Eric behind me with toilet paper and a glass of water. Two hours of shaking and shivering on the bathroom floor before Eric half picked me up and took me to bed.

Surprisingly I was fine at work the next day. I didn't have a heinous hangover, but I felt tired and sluggish, and I had a tender spot on my chest where I had hit the toilet so many times.

I will not be so foolish again any time soon.

The President of Pakistan

I like the President of Pakistan. I say this knowing nothing about him except for what I've seen on the Daily Show. But on the Daily Show he was self-possessed, witty, and articulate, despite being offered twinkies by John Stewart(of course, if John Stewart offered me twinkies, I'd do my best to be witty and articulate as well...but I'm not the President of Pakistan). The crowning moment was when Mr. Stewart asked Mr. President of Pakistan who would win an election in Pakistan right now: George W. Bush or Osama Bin Laden. Ballsy, Mr. Stewart. Ballsy. Mr. President of Pakistan answered the only way he could: "I think they'd both lose miserably" (or something very close to that.)

Well done, Mr. President of Pakistan. Well done.

Why Kevin St. Laurent is a god among dancers

Kevin St. Laurent & Laura Keat - Montpellier Swing Dance Festival 2006 I don't really care for the partner. She's good, but only because she's dancing with one of the most inspired dancers ever (although I will say this: if she's the same girl who won the 05' PHXLX Solo Charleston Comp, she's got some serious moves on her own...this just isn't my favorite display of them). He's just brilliant! Keywords: lindy hop, swing dancing, jitterbug

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Kevin & Frida with Zack & Carla - BarSwingOna 2003 (Barcelona, Spain) Nobody's even watching Zack & Carla!! How can you with all that fun and energy going on between Frida and Kevin?!! One of the coolest obviously lead-follow non-choreographed dances ever. Keywords: lindy hop, swing dancing, jitterbug

Guns Germs and Steel My Ass

Once again I'm attempting to read Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond. Once again, I find myself wanting to throw the book across a room like a crying baby. Ugh. I can't even get through the introduction without shaking my fist in anger! Mr. Diamond proposes to answer the question of why european powers were able to conquer basically the entire world and why the vanquished cultures of Africa, Indonesia, North and South America and Australia still feel the socio-economic effects of that conquest. He attempts to do this by using a New Guinea as a sort of test or model site. That's my first problem. History isn't a science. History doesn't work on tests or models. It just doesn't work. It can't. Every historical event is both specific and ephemeral. What once was is gone forever and you can never recreate it in some sort of 'test'. Comparing an event to a model is to necessarily hinder your understanding of it, since you are bound by the model. So testing is out. So is modeling. They don't work for history. And the study of the conquest of the world is, of course, a historical one. It happened in the past over a rather long period of time.
That's the other thing...Mr. Diamond seems to assume that the conquest of the New World, Africa, and Australia all happened at roughly the same time with the same effect. Its simply not the case. You can bet your ass that the British convicts that first colonated Australia left a considerably different mark on Aboriginal society than the Spanish conquistadors did on South America. So what's the point of comparing the two? They happened at considerably different times under considerably different circumstances. Comparative history has its place, but don't use apples to understand oranges.
There's one other thing that irks me about this book, and that's Mr. Diamond's assumption that all european conquests ended in cultural loss. To some extent, I suppose that's true. Loss is sort of part of any war of conquest in terms of people, infrastructure, indentity and culture. But the loss of culture isn't isolated to just the conquered. The conquerors are just affected by cultural exchange as the conquered. South America is again the perfect example. Just how Spanish is Mexico? How Portuguese is Brazil? Sure, they speak the language of their conquering people, but who associates g-string bikinis and white sand beaches with Portugal?!?!
I guess that leads me to my one concession for Guns, Germs and Steel : that geography really does play a part in how history moves, that there are other forces besides those of humans that influence how history unfolds. I like that. I like that he realizes that and has caused others to realize that. But these idealogical gaps between he and I make it hard for me to read his book. I have a feeling I'd feel the same way about his book Collapse. So I'm going to put Guns, Germs, and Steel away for now and maybe someday I'll be able to get past chapter one without wanting to punch somebody in the throat.



And if you want to read a cool book on ecological history, read Ecological Imperialism by Crosby. Much better.

Ah, Procrastination

Here's a list of things I have to do either today before 11:30 am or after 8:00 pm:
1.Call my landlord and potentially resign my lease.
Called my landlord. Rent is going up. Didn't tell me until two days before my lease is up and worse, showed now signs of planning to tell me.
2. Do enough laundry for the weekend. Finished, but my pants are still wet.
3. Get my car's oil changed, its brakes checked, and its tires rotated
Finished, except for the brakes. But who needs brakes anyway? I live on the edge!
4. Think of and get Eric another birthday present
Shit.

Its now 8:30 am. I think I'm pretty much fucked.

Updated 11:31 pm

Outside Climbing by Moonlight Kicks Serious Ass

Tonight was my first bit of climbing outside. It was awesome. Just really easy stuff, nothing harder than a 5.4, I think. But its got me thinking about actually buying shoes and a harness and stuff. And Kyle maybe even has a harness that he'll give me! Sweet! Now my forearms hurt and my shoulders are all tight, and to be perfectly honest, I feel a little shaky, but its in that good I-just- worked-out sort of way. And it wasn't nearly as scary as I thought it would be. Before I got onto the rock, I got that little kick of adrenaline that I always got before a performance. Everything got all shaky for a minute and then Eric asked if I was ready (he was belaying me) and I was, so off I went! And all the shakiness was gone. And I finished both climbs! I wasn't quite sure what to do at the end of the climb. At the gym you just lean back and let your belayer let you down, but outside its a lot more scary because you can't always see the ground below you and you have to watch for rocks jutting out. But it was fun. I did the same thing...just leaned back and walked backward down the wall. What made it even cooler was that this was all at night! So everything was lit either by the full moon or by my headlamp. Sweet! Eric got some really cool pictures of us and the landscapes. Mine are ok, but nothing special I don't think. And besides, pictures don't really capture how cool it was to be out there on the rock in the moonlight. Everything look amazing and we didn't even need headlamps on the way back up. Eric and I were starving afterwards (of course) so we stopped and got some doughnuts. Now were home and tired, and I think its time to go to bed. But damn...what a cool night.

That last post should have been dated today, July 9, 2006. Whoops.

Let the Long Silence End!

So. Its been many moons since I last posted. I apologize. I was going to do one epic post to completely bring everything up to date, but it turns out I'm lazy. Here's the highlights:

1. Eric and I took an awesome mini-roadtrip to southeastern Arizona. We hit Sonoita, Bisbee, Montezuma's Pass, Parker Canyon Lake, Chricauhua National Monument, Portal, and New Mexico all in one day. Good times.

A self-portrait at the beginning of our trip

A lovely picture of Eric

a particularly large and frightening speciman of cow, one of many that were present on
our trip through Sonoita

Parker Canyon Lake

Eric almost falling into Parker Canyon Lake

Eric answering Nature's call. Note the classic superhero position.

Looking west (I think) from Montezuma's Pass. Check out the fire-retardant red stuff along the ridge to the right.
The entrance to the Chiricahuas from the east. Fucking beautiful.
The rock formations in Chricahua National Monument

We stopped to see the Thing, a cheesy roadside attraction east of Tucson. It houses a Very Special Exibit depicting ancient forms of torture. A truly one of a kind expirience.

A good trip, all in all.

2. I've started rock climbing. No pictures yet, but since I've discovered that people often do silly things worth comitting to digital memory, I've started carrying my camera around. I'm sure pictures will be forthcoming. In short, rock climbing is challenging both mentally and physically and it involves swinging from ropes. What could be more fun??

3. Kyle, one of my good friends here in Tucson, has gotten me into UFC fighting. For those of you who don't know what it is, Ultimate Fighting is a mix of wrestling, jujistu, judo, boxing, and kickboxing. I never thought I'd be the type to get into something so violent (my early obsession with Street Fighter II should have clued me in) but as soon as there's an elbow to the face, I get all giddy and excited. Last night was UFC 61, Ken Shamrock vs. Tito Ortiz. Now, usually I think Tito Ortiz is a huge douchebag. And he is a douchebag. An enormous one. But Ken Shamrock is a bigger one. So I wanted Tito to kick his ass. Hard. But I was robbed. After a minute and a half and after five, maybe six blows to the head, they yanked Tito off Ken and called the fight A MINUTE AND A HALF! Very disappointing. At least Ken Shamrock got his face bashed in five or six times. Click here for more details

4. Eric has started to teach me to drive stick. Its very jerky.

5. Monsoons have started. Pictures forthcoming. Yay for rain!

Programming

My first foray into writing (or in this case rewriting) code. My head hurts and the stupid font won't change.

Also I have completed none (0) of the things on my previous post's list.

I'm going to take a nap.

Another Lazy Day Off

I love days off. I just wish someone else had Tuesday off. Instead of joyous days of fun (despite the heat), I'm sitting here in my apartment, putting off laundry and watching swing videos. There are several things I could be doing that could even be construed as 'fun' (laundry of course being excluded) such as but not limited to:

Spending my Borders giftcard
Playing Minesweeper
Hanging out at Bookmans
Eating an Eegee
Writing to Fraser
Playing with my new mp3 player/ jump drive

However, none of these things sound very thrilling right now, so instead I'm blogging, which is a damn sight better than all the things I should be doing:

Laundry (going commando is not an option)
Mopping (only slightly less repulsive than laundry)
Returning my enormous stack of books leftover from this semester's research to the library
Visiting Grandpa
Paying rent (ok, that one I'll definitely get done today)
Cleaning out under my bed
Taking my old clothes to Goodwill
Getting my brakes checked

So here I am, alone and procrastinating, waiting for someone to get off of work so I can go play. What's especially frustrating is that last night was a very good time. Eric, MikeE, his girlfriend Chrissy and his brother Andy and I all went driving around. It was great...we took Eric's X-terra over a seriously fun (read: seriously damaging) dirt road about 8 times and then just drove around Vail, looking for hills to speed over and just talking. It reminded me of times in Flagstaff when Andy and PJ and I would just go driving, usually with beer, and usually with PJ doing something stupid and reckless. Take away reckless PJ and the beer, and that was last night. Good times.

1984

I just finished reading 1984. Wow. Talk about depressing. This isn't my first foray into the works of Mr. Orwell, so maybe I shouldn't be so surpised at his political cynicism (Animal Farm practically made me cry....ok, not practically, literally), but damn that's a sad book. I realize its supposed to frighten you, that its supposed to make you question and examine your government so that sort of thing never happens. But jesus, coulnd'nt there have been something? The answer, of course, is no. That would diminish the impact of the warning. In order for the message to really sink into the reader, there can be no way out for the hero. The result is frigtening of course, but that's the point, isn't it?

I just hate feeling frightened and disturbed after finishing a book. I know that not all books are going to be rosy endings and ride-off-into-the-sunset-for-another-adventure types of reads. I don't think that they should be either. Literature reminds us of things that we forget in the daily drudge of life. But I feel frightened and disturbed enough in my daily life already...its as though Mr. Orwell is imposing the same dominating fear on me in order to be effective that the Party imposes on all its members. And I don't like the feeling. Again, I suppose that's the point of 1984, to show what a heinous thing government can turn into and realize and cherish what we have already. So now I'm going to read something more uplifting and optimistic.

Crime and Punishment, here I come!

Hilarious Things Customers Say

As my first post, I'd like to tell a story.

Yesterday, I was helping a older gentleman in a Boy Scouts of America uniform with some cordage. For those of you who don't know, I work at a backpacking/camping/traveling institution quite well known here in Tucson. We carry bulk cordage that can be cut to the customer's desired length. So, as I was measuring out Mr. Boy Scouts' cordage, I asked where he was going. He answered that he was leading a leadership workshop to train new scout leaders and (in a completely serious manner, worthy of a catholic bishop saying mass) that he "didn't do the little boys any more." He "trained the adults how to do the little boys." Working retail has its downfalls. If I were working at a bar, I could have rejoined "I thought the catholics had a monopoly on that sort of thing" or some other off color remark, as I had wished to do. Unfortunately, all I could do was nod, cut his 4mm spectra cord and send him up to the register. The redeeming joy of retail: Sharing hilarious stories of customer comments with co-workers, and now with you.