Tuesday, September 07, 2004

Rushing towards Sunday.

I went up to Moscow last weekend to visit my brother and drop off some of his stuff. After an eight hour drive which should have only been six (it turns out I am terrible at following directions) I finally pulled in to town much later than I had hoped and met my brother at Bucer's for some espresso and Jazz. I always find visiting family very refreshing. When I am with family I don't have to go through the tiresome ritual of etiquete that I do when I am with less comfortable company, I never have to worry about being myself.

Throughout the course of the weekend, we drank a lot of coffee, went on a tour of the U of I art studios, read a lot of comics, and watched a bunch of cheesy 80's movies. Not to terribly an eventful weekend but still, Sunday came to soon and I almost wanted to blow off the date with M that I had been looking forward to all week so that I could "geek out" with my brother for a couple more days. Almost...... I packed up my stuff and left for Boise at the crack of ass Sunday morning. It was tough to leave after such a short visit but I will be back soon.

Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Details.

Just 5 minutes ago you were having a great time with your friend in the hot springs, laughing and reminiscing about the days events; freezing your ass off in the river, falling off of the raft while "riding bull" through one of the rapids. But now you are both silent, conversation is no longer necessary. Nature is trying to show you something amazing and she is being assertive about it, you have no choice but to shut up and pay attention.

The rain comes down swiftly. The kind that envelops you in sound and sensation. The ambient clatter of the drops as they hit the nearby river and stones. The tickle as they land on your head and run down your chin. The rain is heavy and powerful but in the distance it seems to float gently through the mountains as if it were just slightly heavier than air. The wind is so strong that the tiny waterfall that once fell from the rock outcrop above into the pools of your hot springs has disappeared, swept away to join seamlessly with the rain.

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By the time the thunder and lightning start you are on the verge of mania. You understand! With the lightning so close you know that the water has become a dangerous place, but it hardly seems to matter. Nature is trying to show you something amazing and you understand. You will not leave. But the storm will, it will gather its energy and power and move along taking your epiphany from you and carrying it away. You knew that the understanding could not stay but still you try to hold on to it as long as you can. Your memory chases after the storm, grasping for just a small part of that awe. You return to your laughing and reminiscing and the details fade. Your memory nothing more than a souless recollection of what had just passed. The souls of such things cannot be captured for any length of time, they are so much larger than us.

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

I am an onion.

I met a new friend this weekend, we hung out, drank beer, and had an in depth yet utterly pointless discussions about the philosophy of ethics (such discussions, although fun, usually come to no definitive conclusion). It's rare to meet someone that is so open about their beliefs and feelings around a complete stranger, its refreshing, and puts me at ease (most strangers make me nervous).

Anyway, she told me that she has an innate talent for "reading people," a talent that I often wish I had, but don't. She demonstrated this ability by telling everyone in the room something profound about themselves. I was skeptical at first but as she made her way around the room it seemed that people mostly agreed with her observations. The most important thing to S is justice. C just wants to be loved. Then she got to me. She was unable to tell what I was looking for in life, she said that I have a very layered personality but that my true self is not as hidden as I think it is.

Her reading of me was very vague (as such things always are), but I thought a lot about what she said. I, myself, don't really know what I'm searching for. I know that I am searching for something, but I have no idea what. I think this is what leads to my restlessness in life and love. I am always pushing for the next big thing, the next season, the next place to live, the next group of friends, the next lover. So much so, that I often have a hard time being happy for any extended period of time. Not to say that I am unhappy, it's just that I always have this nagging feeling that I would be much happier if I could somehow get to where I want to be in life. The problem is, once I get there, that spot doesn't seem as fulfilling as I thought it would be (the "grass is always greener" syndrome).

As for my personality I know that I am layered, this is something that I have been trying to fix for some time now. I find that being myself is one of the hardest things to do, and that staying myself, especially in the company of strangers, takes a lot of concentration. Though it's a comfort to know, that during my constant battle with these "layers," my true self is not as hidden as I think. This is something that I did not realize about myself and it is a true compliment.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

I hope you read this.

"I hope you read this." That was the title of J's e-mail to me. I never really wanted to hear from her again, I just wanted to get her out of my mind and into my past but she is back in town. She told me what she had been through since we had last spoken and it sounds like a lot. She sounds like a new person. I will not believe her though, not this time, I have heard too many lies and been hurt too many times to ever believe her again. I can only view what she wrote me as a curious fiction, perhaps a story of the person that she wants to be, perhaps a story of the person she thinks I want her to be, but whatever it is, it is not truth. I have seen the way she burns her bridges, the way she uses up friends, family, lovers until there is nothing left. I can tell that she had burned her last bridge in California, and used up the last person that reached out to her there and that she is in need of a friend. A true friend, or another friend to use up, this I don't know. Even if I did know I'm no longer sure how to be one to her and not the other.

When I was young, my mother and I used to have fierce fights. We have "philosophical differences" on how to live life (your average parent-child relationship). One of these arguments in particular left us both worn and drained, and I was on the verge of giving up. She told me to put my hands out and she hit them away, then she told me to put them out again, and she hit them away again. She kept asking and I kept reaching out, and then she stopped asking and I kept reaching out. "That" she said "Is what love is."

I have never since heard an explanation of the nature of love that is so simple and clear. We reach out to the ones that we love, knowing that we will get hurt and that we will be pushed away, expecting to get hurt and pushed away. Regardless, we continue to reach out to them because we love them and we know that they need us to reach out to them and offer our support even if they can't always say it.

I can't speak for everyone, but I myself have my breaking point. I could lie to myself and say that I am trying to help her by showing her that she can't expect to rebuild a friendship after sucking it dry, but I know that isn't quite true. The truth is, I am tired of being hurt, and I have complete confidence that J will hurt me again. God knows that I have been the cause of my fair share of pain in my life and it would definately do me good to reach out a little more but I'm not sure I have it left in me to be the friend that she needs. Perhaps I don't love her anymore, but I don't think I will write her back.

Monday, August 09, 2004

Sleepless in Seattle

Last weekend was the Seattle Lindy Exchange and, seeing as the swing dancing scene is Boise is so lacking it makes me want to cry, I decided to make the 7 hour journey to Seattle to dance with some real lindy hoppers. I myself, am just a wannabe, fake lindy hopper, these exchanges always remind me of that. However, I am much better at pretending now than I used to be and can now comfortably dance with anyone that asks without having to worry about stepping on toes.

I pulled into Seattle Friday evening and met up with my friend R, who, along with some of his friends, I would be staying with. R used to live in Boise and is thinking of moving back for school. I think it would be great if he moved back, R is a really nice guy and a great dancer and Boise definitely is in need of both. Anyway, we headed to the first exchange venue and I felt immediately at home. We still had an hour until the first event was scheduled to start and already the dancing had begun. A group of people had brought their car around and were playing music through open windows as they blues danced in the rain. That's just how hardcore fanatical lindy hoppers are, rain never hurt anyone and besides, we would all be sopping wet after dancing all night anyway.

The next two days were great fun. I met a lot of new people and saw a lot of familiar faces, it was really good to be surrounded by people who were as passionate about swing dancing as I am. It's nice to have someone join in when I subconsciously start doing the Charleston in the grocery store rather than stare at me like I'm crazy (this is usually how it goes in Boise).

I stayed a lot later than I should have on Sunday, there was an outdoor dance that afternoon and I was having too much fun. Finally, I left at 4:30, which would put me into Boise at about 2AM. I danced with R once before I left (which convinced me that I have a lot to learn when it comes to being a follow) and wished him luck in his decision.

Over the past 3 nights I have gotten a total of maybe 10 hours of sleep and now I am beyond tired. I have gotten to that stage where my body has given up on trying to put me to sleep and everything just sort of spins around if I try to move. That, combined with the "happy" feeling induced by all of the caffeine that I have had today is strangely like being drunk. It was well worth it though and I can't wait 'till my next swing dancing weekend (I think there is one next month up in Moscow, ID ^_^).

Friday, August 06, 2004

An artsy evening.

Yesterday was first Thursday. For those who don't know, on the first Thursday of every month all of the art galleries in town stay open extra late, serve free wine and hors d'oevres, and have live music. On this particular first Thursday I started out at the Boise Art Museum with my friend C. The main reason that I wanted to go to the art museum was to see the much hyped Edgar Degas exhibit. The exhibit consisted mainly of bronzed sculptures of naked women doing various things (none of which were particularly interesting) and horses. I have to say that I was a bit disappointed. The only sculpture of Degas that I found remotely interesting was of a horse that was leaning forward as if straining to pull something very heavy. Luckily there were some interesting exhibits by John Grade and William Morris so the visit was not a complete bust. These exhibits featured organic seaform-like sculptures and colorful blown glass with tribal undertones. Incidentally, William Morris studied under Dale Chihuly (one of my favorite modern artists) who's influence could definitely be seen.

After the museum trip C and I decided to hit some of the galleries downtown. Most of the local art here in Boise consists of westernish landscapes and, again, horses. The free wine, however, more than made up for the lack of imagination and soon we were quite tipsy. After a while, the galleries were closing and C had to get up for work tomorrow. I bid C goodnight and, seeing as I had taken Friday off, decided to close out the night with some scotch and techno dancing at China Blue.

I ordered my drink at the bar and headed over to the dance floor and was caught off guard. She was beautiful! Beautiful in that unconventional, hard to notice but once you do you can't keep your eyes off her sort of way. She was dancing in a way that was not showy, she was dancing as if she was connected to the music, she was dancing alone, for herself and she was beautiful. I watched her for a while, exchanging smiles as I enjoyed my scotch and after a few songs she went to pick up her bag and headed out the door smiling at me the whole time. I hope this was a "he's kind of cute" sort smile rather than a "maybe if I smile and maintain eye contact the freak that has been watching me all night won't try to follow me" sort of smile. At any rate hopefully next time I run into her I will have enough of my wits about me to actually say something rather than stand there with a stupid grin on my face.

Monday, August 02, 2004

I am a dirty, good for nothing cheater.

I must confess. I went mountain biking yesterday with N at Brundage Mountain and, after 4 hours of biking, I didn't even break a sweat. How is this possible you ask? Chair lifts!! I have never been mountain biking at a mountain with chair lifts before and, I am ashamed to say, I liked it. I REALLY liked it. It was all high speed, adrenaline inducing fun with none of the "I really wish I was somewhere else right now", "When will the hurting stop?" hard work. I fear, however, that this may reduce a healthy, character building hobby into the exercise equivalent of sitting in front of the TV for hours on end. I must be very careful so that I don't get too dependent on biking with chair lifts. God knows I definitely have an addictive personality.