Seeking Out the Unusual

songwriting pt II

2009-11-04T13:54:00.000-08:00

I wrote a song.

Shot in the dark and on a 5-year-old Aldi digital camera, you might not believe it is a video --and you might not be able to hear me-- but I promise I did it. I like how it turned out, A/V issues aside.

lyrics below...

Cold November, cold November night
The weather's better in a sweater but a shirt won't make it right
Even the sun sets low
Too cold and so, he goes
On this Cold November, cold November night

Cold November, cold November day
Gotta keep on keeping on, at least that's what they say
But even the sun sets low
He gets tired and so, ...he goes
On this cold November, cold November day

Cold November, cold November night
Just you, me, and a blanket and I take it I'll be alright
Even the sun sets low
But the fire will keep its glow
On this cold November, cold November night

Requiem Aeternum

2009-11-02T21:07:00.001-08:00

Today I went to a Roman Catholic High Mass.

The All-Saints Mass was accompanied by Mozart's Requiem (here's a taste), along with Bach and Palestrina for communion and Samuel Barber for postlude.

This was the first time I attended a mass, and what an introduction it was! 220 minutes listening to a service which, except for the homily, was completely in Latin.

But, alas- I work tomorrow and need some requiem myself so this is all for now.

Only the one and only...

2009-10-29T21:05:00.000-07:00

Today I watched the Chicago Bulls open their season against the San Antonio Spurs at the United Center.

After an impressive opening ceremony/show which included Benny the Bull straddling the top of a 20 foot ladder at center court, the new Chicago Bulls drum corps, and the booming sounds of Star Wars music, the Bulls charged out of the starting gates and into a new season, a season laden with expectations.

Chicago is looking to surpass last year's 41-win effort and shed the first word of the title "possible contender," a label which in 2006 gave fans reason to be excited but which leaves today's Bull fan wanting more: the future has become now and potential needs to become kinetic. The ending to last April's epic 7-game series against the Celtics was the final curtain to fall -there is nowhere else to hide. We know these guys can play, and we know they can hang with the NBA's best. We are not expecting a trophy (yet), but we are expecting the Bulls to advance deeper than the first round of the playoffs, a feat not accomplished since the last title run over 10 years ago.

With Vinny Del Negro at the helm having one year under his belt, and without the spotlight on a GM drama, the Bulls have reason to be more confident. The awkward stage is over. Unless you count Derrick Rose postgame interviews.

The Bulls ended up winning tonight's game 92-85 in a very efficient fashion. There weren't too many beginning-of-the-year gaffes. At one point Joakim Noah did throw the ball to a teammate--a teammate who was sitting on the bench--but I just chalk that up to Noah's strange interpretation of life, and not beginning of the year rust. The wheels looked greased already with 20 of Chicago's 35 field goals coming off assists, single-digit turnovers, and nearly 7 players in double figures.

A balanced, deep attack is Chicago's strategy. On any given night, any player could drop at least 15, and on most nights the box score will read similar to tonight's; 5+ players scoring 10-20. While suburban high school coaches will surely praise this NCAAesque style of balance and equality, this very honorable path could end up leading to nowhere. This is the NBA, and when the screws start to tighten when the snow starts to melt come spring, the pressure is never felt equally. Some players can withstand it. Others get crushed a little bit crushed. Only a few can push back.

Anyone on the Bulls can score 15 in December, but in this league playoff games are won by assassins, not nice people. Only once in the past 20 years has a championship been won without being led by someone capable and confident of taking over, a clearly defined leader who wants the ball. In the end, it can't just be an "anyone" or a "whoever is hot." It must be someone. And that someone is going to have to be Derrick Rose, if he wants it.

Big thanks to Cooly for inviting me.

music

2009-10-27T13:58:00.000-07:00

Today I listened to all of Beethoven's symphonies, back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back.

Before starting each new piece I did some brief research and found some interesting facts. The spacecraft Voyager, hurled to the nether lands of the Universe 40 years ago, has on it a recording of Beethoven's ninth, giving whatever eventually finds it a glimpse into our culture. When John Kennedy was assassinated in 1963, the Boston Symphony Orchestra was in the middle of a Haydn symphony. Upon news of Kennedy's death, the conductor was summoned from stage. He alerted the audience of the tragic story and immediately led the orchestra in the funeral march from the Fifth Symphony. Finally, there is a rumor that when the first CDs were being designed, the original one-hour capacity of each disc was increased to 74 minutes to accommodate one performance of the Ninth.

Over the course of nearly five hours and 20 minutes, these nine pieces of music reminded me why learning about it in college isn't something to regret, even though (or especially because..) I don't plan to make money with what I've learned.

The American genius Leonard Bernstein opened his treatise on music, The Joy of Music (which was written for the public, not academia) with a script from a daydream he had. In the scene a pilot, a nuclear physicist, and Bernstein are flying down a highway in New Mexico, discussing music. One asks Bernstein why he likes Beethoven so much. Bernstein first tries to sell Beethoven in terms of the gravity he has created. Beethoven's work is so widespread: evolutionary and democratic proof that it has been elected to greatness by the people. This is an unacceptable answer to his audience and so Bernstein breaks the music down into its quantifiable qualities--harmony, melody, etc--only to find that in each category Beethoven is surpassed by other composers. Bernstein than says:

L.B.:
Form is only an empty word, a shell, without this gift of inevitability; a composer can write a string of perfectly molded sonata-allegro movements, with every rule obeyed, and still suffer from bad form. Beethoven broke all the rules, and turned out pieces of breath-taking rightness. Rightness--that's the word! When you get the feeling that whatever note succeeds the last is the only possible note that can rightly happen at that instant, in that context, then chances are you're listening to Beethoven. Melodies, figures, rhythms--leave them to the Chaikovskys and Hindemiths and Ravels. Our boy has the real goods, the stuff from Heaven, the power to make you feel at the finish: Something is right in the world. There is something that checks throughout, that follows its own law consistently: something that we can trust, that will never let us down.

L.P.:
But that is almost a definition of God.

L.B.:
I meant it to be.

There is something innately musical in human creatures. From the first coos of a baby to a mother's comforting hums; from songs bursting with love to songs picking up the pieces of love, burst; from the joyous wedding marches we walk down with to the funeral dirges we go out to, in every culture and in every land our lives are invariably and unavoidably intertwined by music: Bach, Phil Collins, and Dr. Dre alike.

Perhaps music is in our nature because it is pattern distilled in its purest form. We live in a universe ruled by pattern viewed by a mind programmed in pattern. We are intelligent because we can make sense of pattern and apply pattern. We did not invent the wheel because we are original thinkers: man simply recognized the pattern of need for transport and the pattern of performance from circular objects and put them together. Language-human's ability to communicate large amounts of information accurately and efficiently-can be reduced to patterns by elementary students. Medicine, law, and the internet are, at heart, all patterns. Music can be said to be the perfect pattern. Its form is its substance. Its use of pattern is not a shell or a vehicle for anything else. It is the very essence of pattern.

Or, perhaps music is in our nature because it is beautiful. Alongside visual art, music has been pleasing people for thousands of years. Even the golden ratio, phi, the supposed source of all beauty, is found to be at the very foundation of music theory: the relationship between tones. Music is not just beautiful, however. It can only exist through time, not apart from it, just like us. More so than any other art from, music imitates life.

I think the above ideas may allude to music's greatness, but not its innateness in our being. The reason why I believe it is in every one of us is because of its uncanny property to connect people together in a physical-spiritual way that little else can. We sing together. We sing to each other. We sing because of another. Music is never truly found in solo form. And when you consider the plight of the human species, spinning through space and fraught with evils and sorrows of all kind, you might just realize that above all things, music is the ultimate tool we have been given to battle doubt and despair, to remind us that we are not alone.

Glad, as His suns fly

Through the Heaven's glorious design,

Run, brothers, your race,

Joyful, as a hero to victory.

Be embraced, millions!

This kiss for the whole world!

Brothers, above the starry canopy

Must a loving Father dwell.

Do you bow down, millions?

Do you sense the Creator, world?

Seek Him beyond the starry canopy!

Beyond the stars must He dwell.

-Final verse of the Ninth Symphony, taken from Friedrich Schiller's An die Freude (Ode to Joy)

Let's all try to be like bowling pins

2009-10-26T21:24:00.001-07:00

Today I watched a night of league bowling.

Since you can imagine for yourself what happened, I'll just write a haiku:

pins keep getting smashed,
knocked to ground time after time;
but keep getting up

Milestones.

2009-10-22T13:54:00.000-07:00

Today I started a job (!)

One month ago today I did my first unusual activity, betting that eventually I might run across someone with an unusual need. Today was that day. A few weeks ago I spent the day with a computer software engineer. After poking about his office and work for a few hours I went home, pleased with the small amount of new knowledge I walked away with and amazed at the vast amount of information about the internet that was still out there.

So I certainly was surprised when I read an email two days ago with an offer to go work with Justin. My job is to do quality assurance: to scour the site asking questions and looking for flaws, weaknesses, or places that could be improved. I am told that while my complete lack of computer knowledge might make for some communication difficulties at first, it also will provide a different perspective to the collective. It is a part-time job, leaving plenty of time to research and apply to a graduate program for next fall and time to continue my quest to seek out the unusual side of life.

The company, CareRunner, provides a product to people who are caretakers of loved ones. It centralizes all necessary information about a person's care (medical history, financial information, news about treatments and research etc, community discussion boards etc.) on one site, and allows this information to be shared with all who share in the caring.

After only one month, this project has taught me a lot . I continue to be astonished at the amount of feedback, help, and encouragement I have received. I have learned a little about a lot of things I previously knew nothing about. I marvel at the "viral" effect that people plus the internet have; "viral" in the sense of how quickly and how far ideas can spread. This small-time idea has almost 2,000 views in dozens of countries on five continents, making the potential reach a single person can have, even without having any momentum to begin with, seem almost limitless.

The most valuable lesson I've learned has been about attitude. Many human characteristics--habit, satisfaction, and fear, among others--often render trying new things a touchy subject and makes the seeking of them out a rarity. With a reason to seek these things out (the blog) this seems easy for me to say, but I also know that without doing this, nothing would have happened. I wouldn't have done any of these things. Yet, had I for some reason done these things without the blog, I'm sure they would have been just as valuable. Even learning semaphore. Whenever this blog comes to a close I hope to take away the boldness it has given me to take roads not often taken. That's the real point.

I'm excited to know that I'll be able to continue this project for a long time now that I know a bit more about what lies ahead. I do have one plea: I want to hang out with you at your work or hobby. Learning from others always yields the best results.

In the words of Jed Bartlett: What's next?...

Navigare Necesse Est

2009-10-21T20:11:00.000-07:00

Today I read a book.

The book, Excursion Through America, is actually the journal which German journalist Nicolaus Mohr kept as he traveled as a guest of Henry Villard, president of the Northern Pacific Railroad, to watch the connection of the line, which was being built from both directions. I read the historical introduction last night and decided this morning, after reading the first 20 pages, to read the next 350 before day's end.

Now for a bit more background. Villard's railroad was in a precarious financial situation. He devised a grand plan which would serve two purposes--publicize its opening and woo potential new investors--by inviting 1,000 of the world's most famous, influential, and wealthy people. Kings and Queens, academics and politicians, writers and diplomats all received a letter in the mail promising a lavish, two-month journey into the American West, all paid for by Mr. Villard. 372 said yes including Nicolaus Mohr.

The journey took Mohr from New York to Buffalo to Chicago to the Twin Cities to Fargo to Bismark to Portland to Seattle and back with Yellowstone, Milwaukee, St. Louis, Philadelphia, Boston, Washington, and Baltimore thrown in at the end.

Mohr varies his writing with description ranging from straightforward to romantic, comparison between his European, German culture and the culture of the emerging Republic, social commentary, and he even takes an occasional splash in the pool of reflection. He is also very quick to praise nearly everything (except the state of the dirt roads he found in every city), each city described as more wonderful, beautiful, and warm as the last. But then again, if it was all free, I would probably say the same thing.

I came away with a thirst for adventure, though my perspective of it changed by the time I reached the end of the book. After the first two chapters I began to feel cheated that I wasn't born 150 years ago. "If only I were born when there were still new lands to explore" I thought to myself, "then I would go out and do it." It seemed like the world had run out of mystery long ago and I was stuck, roving around in drab. But, by the end of Excursion I remembered a lesson I learned during the time I spent this past summer in Idaho, realizing that until you go out and explore something yourself, it remains undiscovered. While there might be fifty million people who have hiked the great American trails over the course of history, you haven't gained a single step on any one of them because of it. The mountains of the West may have ski resorts and interstates and Starbucks nestled in them, but those things do not take an inch away from a mountain's vertical leap into the sky.

George Mallory, a British explorer who died in an attempt to be the first to scale Mt. Everest, was asked once why he wanted to do something so absurd. He answered simply, "because it's there." His answer had nothing to do with hopes of becoming the first to do it, becoming a hero, or being brave. It would not have mattered if one hundred people had gone before him. He wanted to climb it simply because it was there.

And there is a whole lot of "there" out there, so I would not wait for your free ticket in the mail to get started...

Postlogue

2009-10-20T11:58:00.000-07:00

Waking up wasn't hard, the temperature was cooperative, and, most importantly, I am not dead as you probably have deduced by this point in the sentence.

To people walking in the club at 4:20 (am) we must have looked like the old pictures of the Rough Riders riding into view while coming over the crest of a hill, my aunt yelling out orders like Teddy Roosevelt while we rode our treadmills--sixteen of them--side by side. Taped to each of our treadmill was the battleplan for the morning: a minute-by-minute account of when and to what extent we were to raise or lower our speed or incline. We coordinated the launch of the attack, all hitting the "START" button at the same time.

Teddy and the boys.

Right. Left. Right. Left. RightLeft. RightLeft. RightLeft. RightLeftRightLeft. RightLeftRightLeftRightLeftRightLeftRightLeftRightLeftRightLeftRightLeft.

That was what it sounded like as I ran on the human equivalent of the mouse wheel. Other than the previous night's meatloaf, I felt great. I think I was inspired by the first chapter of the book Born to Run I read before going to bed. In it, the author tells of his search for the almost mythical Tarahumara people of Mexico. These people allegedly live in a community devoid of crime, poverty, and health issues. They are all happy and can run 100 miles a day, no problem, sometimes up a mountain.

Towards the end of the run my knee hurt. My right foot also developed a blister. And now, 9 hours later, there are little hurts over the rest of my body. But I had a great time and look forward to doing it again.

In the end, this wasn't about running. It was about being in the Rough Riders. Coming from all walks of life, these people get up before 4 to run with each other, which is somthing in itself; something even more extraordinary than the 10+ miles this one guy Chris ran in one hour flat. There is commrodorie, a definite sense of belonging, motivation in knowing that the people next to you won't let you quit and comfort in knowing that any one of them will help you if you need to stop.

It turns out the secret to the Tarahumara doesn't lie in their DNA, arch supports, PowerBars, altitude, or the length of their skirts. It's becuase when they run, they run as a team.

"That day, for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run."

2009-10-19T08:12:00.000-07:00

Today I'm going to bed very early.

I'm going to bed very early because I'm going to wake up at 3:30am and go work out with a bunch of fitness fanatics. These people don't work out to stay healthy, to lose weight, or to compete professionally. They work out because they are masochists, hell-bent on making their lives absolutely miserable. They have found that working out at 4am is a truly dynamic kind of awful because 1) you have to roll out of bed when it is really cold and when you are really tired 2) you don't get to eat a good breakfast until after you've burned away at least 2,000 calories and 3) you pant helplessly while someone who looks like Billy Banks yells at you to pant harder, making this the best form of self-torture since the invention of the cilice. Because I expect to die from this experience I am writing about this before I actually do it (I also want to try writing a preview instead of a reflection).

The art of running has a peculiar history. Take, for example, the marathon. There once was a Greek man who ran just over 26 miles and then he died because that was a stupid thing to do. So then, people said, "I'd like to try that." How fantastically stupid is that idea! What would your reaction be if someone said "I read in the paper this morning that someone went to a bar, loaded up on the three dollar draft special, and then tried to drive home in the rain, dying in the process. I'd like to give that a whirl! No, wait, I'd like to standardize it, popularize it, and turn it into an Olympic sport." People continue to suffer the same fate Pheidippides did 2,500 years ago. The death toll from last week's Detroit Marathon currently stands at three.

Yet running continues to garner support from people across the globe, even smart people like Doctors. Actually, the truly smart people in this sweaty, blistery hoopla are the good people at Nike. They took the one "sport" that is accessible to anyone, even the poor, and have turned it into just another tool to keep the poor man down. Think you can run in whatever shoe you want? WRONG. You have to buy mesh covered slippers -flimsy excuses for shoes, if you ask me- if you want to be considered a truly dedicated runner. They don't even keep your feet dry if you splash through a puddle. Think you can wear your comfortable white socks? WRONG. You must buy socks so expensive they're sold not in packs, but in individual pairs! Absurd! If you don't buy them, you are told you will get Trench Foot or something, which can't be true because Trench Foot is a very old-fashioned sounding disease, something that should have been eradicated when words like "ice chest" and "bloomers" and "locomotive" went out of fashion.

At some point, the people who make PlayStation got word of this cash cow and schemed to make billions by creating the Walkman specifically for runners (someone in the translation department got fired over that one), a running accessory-turned-essential that dramatically increased a runner's weight and severely threw them off balance. The cruel punch line of the whole Walkman ordeal is that you can only hear the music in between desperate gasping for breaths.

And then there are the shorts...:

Short shorts. Notice the upper thigh/lower glut. What?

...not to be confused with the jogging suit (note: jogging, not running), which is actually quite hip, practical, and multi-functional:

Jogging suit, circa 1986. Tasteful. Simple. Elegant.

There are many other great products which are too often associated with running when in actuality they were originally intended for other, more credible, uses. Gatorade was invented with football in mind. Energy bars were made for mountain climbers and hikers. The iPod? -suburban teens.

While cardiologists, personal trainers, and Madison Avenue will continue to try to hijack the facts, they will never be able to extinguish the flame of truth. Running is plain dumb.

Special thanks to my Aunt Beth for inviting me along tonight/tomorrow morning.

My visitation will be on Thursday.

XXIIV

2009-10-16T17:09:00.000-07:00

Today I turned twenty three.

While this isn't exciting material to read, it is unusual -the only requirement- so I'm posting it without regret.

I ate some cake, am currently listening to 23 by Jimmy Eat World, and will soon go enjoy a cold beer with some friends; none of which are unusual things. So this is gonna be it.

pump it up

2009-10-15T20:13:00.000-07:00

Today i carved a pumpkin.

The story of the pumpkin actually began at Jewel-Osco where we were picking up flowers, not pumpkins. Then we saw that there were pumpkins for sale outside for $4.99. You would expect at that place, at that price, the pumpkins would be disgusting. Actually, they were perfect pumpkins. So perfect, in fact, that the check-out lady commented on the pumpkin's perfect disposition during the entire check-out process. Consider this the first recorded example of deus ex machina during this project.

The expectations were high with a pumpkin so perfect. Kati, an art major, was immediately put in control of the operation. The question of what to carve remained. We tried to think of something funny. Apparently we aren't too funny. Then we tried to think of something cool. Apparently we're not too cool, either. Then my mom suggested stars. Genius. We googled Starry Night by Van Gogh, and modeled the pumpkin after that (substituting Valparaiso's Chapel instead of the weird pointy thing Vince used).

+ =

To be funny, we carved a single star on the backside:

Check out the cool reflection on the wall:

Who doesn't like stars? I can see a few people out of 7 billion who may not like ice cream, puppies, or mustaches, but I don't see anyone not liking stars. I think that even Kim Jong Il, Osama Bin Laden, and the late Saddam Hussein appreciate(d) the beauty of shooting stars at night. I dare anyone to come up with something as popular.

7pm, 150 Dexter Court

2009-10-14T19:01:00.000-07:00

Today I went to a city council meeting.

I wasn't sure what to expect as a rolled out of the subdivision on this dark, misty October evening. From what I've seen on television, city council meetings are rarely populated by more than a handful of citizens. I wasn't even sure where to go when I entered city hall. Luckily, a sign pointed me to the courtroom -the same courtroom where I lost $150 to a judge five years ago. I still protest that to this day. How could I not yield to a non-existent stop sign?

Stepping off the elevator I was surprised to see the hallway outside of the room packed with people. Ordinary looking people: not the Suits I was expecting. After looking at the photos of the councilmen on the wall (I can't decide whether I like or dislike lapel pins), a man approached me and asked me if I wanted a button. He was handing out buttons with a dog on it. I said, "well, what is this button all about?" At first he looked startled that I didn't know what he was talking about. He then explained to me an ordinance the city is considering which would ban pit bulls from the city with no grandfather clause. All the people in the hallway were there to speak out against the measure. They seemed very riled up. After listening to some juicy gossip, I sought shelter in a nook which housed a water fountain in order to scribble a few things down in my notepad, excited my visit coincided with a meeting with potential to be very, very interesting.

While I was still jotting some thoughts down, the elevator opened and out walked a familiar face. It took me a while to recognize it, but I eventually remembered that this was the same guy who appeared to be the aide to the State Representative who came to watch the world record i saw a few weeks ago. He introduced himself first (as the aide to Representative Farnham) and we spoke for a while. I was excited to learn of a new law which extends the amount of time some people are allowed to be covered under their parent's insurance. My coverage under my parents ran out when I graduated. I bought temporary insurance for my summer exploits. This insurance, however, ran out when October began. So thank you, former Governor Rod Blagoyevich, for making that dream a reality.

A closed door meeting finished up and then the regular meeting began after the longest "five minute break" I've ever experienced. The meeting began in prayer. I thought this was a little strange considering the First Amendment and all, but I didn't want to bring even more controversy into the room (remember: pit bull people) so I just let it slide. We then said the pledge of allegiance which brought back glorious memories of coloring dinosaur pictures in Mrs. Peara's second grade classroom.

The best part about the meeting was what I liked to call "Open Mic Time." During the first 30 minutes of every meeting, any person is eligible to sign up to receive a three minute floor to say anything they wish. The first man wanted to discuss a sewage problem by his house. He also had a sweet mustache. The second man has been waiting for a stoplight at the corner of Summit and Shales Parkway for ten years and is done waiting. The next eleven people talked about pit bulls. They came from all over to stress that cruel owners, hyperactive media, and a lack of public education give pit bulls a bad rap. After listening to the speakers, which included three people who are professional dog trainers, I have to say I agree with them. But then again, I almost always root for the little guy.

There were a few funny exchanges. Here was the best:
Dog Loving Lady: How would this even be enforceable? Elgin doesn't require you to register your dogs. I tried to. I looked online. If you required people to register dogs you would have a better understanding of what you were dealing with and if you charged a fee you could have a new stream of revenue to use to fight the real issues: cruel ownership, gangs, dogfighting etc. Banning a specific breed does nothing. ...... (insert three minutes of dog talk)
Mayor Schock: Time.
Dog Loving Lady: Am I out of time?
Mayor Schock: Unless you have any more ideas of where the city can find new revenue streams.

After the 30 minutes was up the pit bull horde got up and left. My new Friend, me, and three old people were left in the dust. A Suit turned to me and asked "you're not with the pit bull group?" We shook our heads. He looked amused. He was also reading a report on India during the meeting. I looked over his shoulder and tried to read along, for fun.

The meeting lasted for four more minutes. Five measures were passed, unanimously, in lightning speed. I couldn't even catch what they were for, except for the second one was a spending measure to purchase a new massive vacuum for the Water Department (which I was pleased with, having spent two summers with the vacuum crew).

I might do this one again.

churchhopping

2009-10-13T11:32:00.001-07:00

Today I tried my hand at photography.

It is a "calendar day" in Elgin today-- sunny blue sky, colorful and crunchy leaves, and crisp cool air-- a day when even a poorly shot photo would still be pretty enough to make it on the October page of any calendar. Along with that confidence, I packed an old digital camera and my little notepad and headed to downtown Elgin.

From the day Elgin's founder guaranteed a free piece of land to anyone who wanted to start a parish, Elgin has been a city of churches. Today, the Yellow Pages has two pages of listed churches in this town of 115,000. Today I went downtown where the most magnificent of the church buildings stand. Ten churches -ten big churches- share an area the size of about two square city blocks. My goal was to take pictures of each, and get inside a few. The following are the pictures I took. Click on any picture to see an enlarged version.

St. Joseph's Catholic Church.

First Universalist Church. This church looks like it belongs in Scotland. Or a Dan Brown novel. There are no significant right angles used. It is (very roughly) octagon-shaped.

The Eagle Nest Church. Hands down the second best name for a church in Elgin. The best?: a church which opened its doors a few years ago is named "World Church: Making Dreams Come True!"

First Congregational Church. The first church built in Elgin, the original 1860s building still stands, along with a few additions. The picture on the right is of a post which stands outside of the doors. It is a five-sided post which says "May Peace Prevail On Earth" in five different languages: English, Hebrew, Spanish, Hindi, and Arabic (shown).

The inside of the First Congregational Church. This circular space looks very American. It has the look of an 1860s revival meeting or a state congress. Beautiful windows adorn every inch of wall space. The windows along the back of the sanctuary are shown above left.

Church of the Redeemer. It can get lost among the big boys.

Should've written the name of this one down.

First Methodist Church. It hasn't changed much over the years. This is the third FMC to occupy this plot since the 1860s. This building was built in 1924. The front of the church is entirely carved wood. Even the music stand up front is ornately carved. Gorgeous.

The building formerly known as St. Paul Church. A new church just moved in. It also was home to Fox Valley Lutheran Academy when I was a student there.

St. John's Lutheran Church, the Church I grew up at/in.

The back from the front, the front from the back, and below from above.

The Gothic-inspired doorways are beautiful. Too bad most people use side entrances.

St. John's has the tallest steeple in town. When the copper is polished once every 25 years or so, I'm told they gleam like the sun.

a woock is a woock, of course, of course

2009-10-12T17:34:00.000-07:00

Today I learned more about what it means to be a Woock.

In the third drawer of my Dad's filing cabinet lies a folder labeled "Woock family info." In the folder you can find papers, letters, and pictures about the family which have been compiled over many decades. Today I read them and learned some more about the reasons I'm here.

The "pedigree chart" my Dad made in college, shown in the worst resolution possible.

My great-great-great-grandparents came over from Germany and settled in the Midwest, mostly Wisconsin. My four pairs of g-g-g-grandparents had the names: Francis, Frederic, Wilhelmina, Ferdinand, Sophie, Fred, Caroline, and Charles. So we're pretty much German on that side. I'm especially grateful to learn that there is a Ferdinand in the family. The first Woocks who came to this side of the world did so in 1860, making next year our sesquicentennial anniversary of being American. I'm considering having T-shirts made and selling them online.

Not surprisingly, the family trade of the Woocks was agriculture. Between corn, dairy, and hemp, we have helped keep America fed and happy since the Civil War era. Fun Fact: Ferdinand worked in a lumber mill that was booming, working overtime to supply lumber to rebuild Chicago after the Horrible Chicago Fire that destroyed most of the city.

From a letter sent by a distant Woock who lives in Oregon I learned that our family has a strong Catholic background, dispelling an earlier notion that we were unequivocally Lutheran.

Good health has carried through for the most part, with very few early deaths. Charles, however, had some bad luck with a tree landing on him and killing him. His son, William, also had a string of freak accidents including (but not limited to) falling off of a roof, appendicitis, and getting T-Boned by a school bus, although he was more resilient than his father, living to be 94.

We've been a largely peaceful bunch, with only two members in the last five generations to serve in the military (that we know). They both fought in WWI.

I guess the rest is up to me.

While it may not be glamorous, it is good to be a Woock.

Double Word Score

2009-10-11T15:56:00.000-07:00

Today I wrote a letter.

This morning I was at the Blackbird Cafe, one of my favorite places in Valparaiso. I was there playing a game of Scrabble and enjoying the best muffin I have ever had in my life (apple cinnamon). While waiting for my turn to play I was looking at a few of the many books which lay haphazardly along the entire length of a ledge on one side of the cafe. One of the books was facing away from me, it's binding against the wall. I noticed the crease of a folded-up piece of paper sticking out from the pages. Curious, I picked the book up.

The folded piece of paper turned out to be a card. Inside was a letter covering the inside two panels as well as the backside of the card. The letter began with greetings to a friend, and revealed the author had recently moved to Portland, Oregon. Reading on I found the female author was looking for a job as an office assistant but was having difficulty doing so, working at a coffee store in the meantime. Towards the middle of the second panel the tone became more serious as she admitted feelings for a co-worker--Aaron. She was confused, didn't think it was the right time, revealed substance-abuse issues Aaron struggled in the past, and her own history of "baggage." The letter ended abruptly. I was enthralled with the peephole I had found into this unknown person's inner-feelings, and, ignoring the fact that it was my turn in Scrabble, flipped through the book and found more notes. None were as personal as the card. Some showed phone-numbers, names, unintelligible scribbles, favorite quotes from the book they were in (a book from the early feminist movement), and even the name "Aaron" written in large, cursive letters on a piece of paper taken from a yellow legal pad.

I assume the things I read were real and were left in the book accidentally. However, I kept thinking back to discussions had in class about the nature of fiction, history, memory, and truth, among other things. The content of the notes was not clever or intriguing (thousands of bad novels and millions of real lives probably contain the same scenario), but because it came from the hand of a real person who did not intend for it to be read by anyone besides the recipient, I was enthralled. There is no connection or trust between me and the author, yet I did not feel regret reading her private notes. I imagine that if I knew her, even if i knew her very well, I would feel guilty for reading what was not intended for me. How odd.

I will write a letter from an imaginary person to an imaginary person about an imaginary situation. Tomorrow morning I will go to the used-book sale in the library, find a book with an interesting cover and put the letter in its unsuspecting pages. The person who will eventually read it will most likely assume it actually had real origins. For some reason, I have a few moral reservations about doing this, but I am going to do it anyway. What I write will not be history. It will be fiction. However it will be read as truth and will never be refuted. So which is it, really?

This is all very strange and I don't even completely understand everything I am doing. It almost feels like peeking in Pandora's box.

Our perception is our truth despite our best intentions and our deepest wishes.

speaking in tongue.

2009-10-08T13:49:00.000-07:00

today i learned semaphore.

semaphore is a method of signaling people from long distances. wig-wag signaling is the form used on ships. people hold two flags in various positions, each signifying a different letter.

british musicians john, paul, george, and ringo attempting to sign 'help.' they are actually signing 'rujv.'

learning semaphore first meant figuring out the logic behind the actions. imagine yourself as a grandfather clock. positions are every 7.5 minutes. your right hand is the hour hand, and your left hand is the minute hand. every complete revolution with your left and the right moves ahead one click. the hands never occupy the same slot. the letter 'j' is an exception, skipping over the pattern before "k" continues it. this is a direct insult to "j." other letters don't receive the same treatment. towards the end, the system breaks down, but there are so many useless letters at the end of the alphabet, this isn't surprising. but "j" sits in the middle of the alphabet at no fault of its own. even if it is rarely used in nautical situations (which is not true: jigger-mast, jib, junk...), there is no reason for skipping over it. it's not like any signal is harder to make than another.

my friend cooly bought an iphone the other day. we've come a long way...

if you'd like learn semaphore in case you trip and fall into a time machine and get transported back to a schooner the 1880s, click here.

semaphore in a baja.

thank you.

2009-10-08T05:13:00.000-07:00

today i would like to say thank you. thank you for reading. thank you for writing to me with suggestions, advice, and your willingness to help.

after being up for just about two weeks, i anticipate this website reaching its 1,000th view before the weekend. thanks for reading so much, especially those who keep checking in from time-to-time.

this past week i received a number of emails from people who were unclear about what i am trying to accomplish. i think the closest thing it resembles is a kid in a sandbox, only instead of sand i have words and instead of buckets and molds i have unusual experiences. the primary purpose is to develop a style of writing, which is clear, distinct, and which inherently causes people to question, wonder, and dream a little differently. having complete freedom to build all sorts of castles with turrets and moats and mountains and towers and drawbridges, and then watching how well they withstand the tide, the wind, and other kids running along the beach is the best way i know to get better. i am able to try different styles (i am looking for a style that is a little more impressionistic and a little less legalistic) in different settings (personal challenges, interviewing other people, experiential...) with the understanding that i have people watching. i hope that some posts, or parts of some post, crumble and fall over. if not, then i am not a very good experimenter. by living out my experiments for all to see i get the added benefit of free advice from a wide range of expertise, which is a very good thing because often i cannot see my own crumbles and cracks.

this project also seeks to accomplish a few secondary things:

it is for fun! - trying something new everyday is both invigorating and a great way to learn. finding something new everyday, however, ultimately is a way to introduce new raw material for me to play with each day.

it is to find a job - this is not so much a goal i have as it is a possibility i see. i certainly am seeking a job, and do so the old-fashioned way with the rest of my time (in real life i am looking for a job in a college admissions offices or a job which entails writing somehow). that all being said, i do not expect this project to yield a job: instead, i see it possible for someone to stumble across the site and, after reading it, think they know of a place where i could fit in. because of that, i am not looking for people to do anything specific for me other than read the site and pass it on. in a similar open-ended spirit in which this project was conceived, i want to leave this area as-is, without a more defined approach, so that i don't rule things out and limit what other people might think of. in the end, if this site even gets me to one interview, it is going to be because somebody reads it and says, "oh, i think i know someone who could use someone like this" rather than because i asked for a specific kind of job.

i spent much of yesterday taking into consideration the feedback that i have been receiving and am inspired to keep experimenting, using many of your ideas. i already have a few thoughts, this being the first: thanks!

more to come.

(and this doesn't count for today's unusual thing)

BONUS.

2009-10-06T08:21:00.000-07:00

YESTERDAY i went to a casino, making it the first doubly unusual day i've had.

having never been to a casino before, i recruited my friend danny to be my guide. we left for the mighty grand victoria in elgin, illinois, a mere ten minutes from my house. after being carded three times, we found our way to a craps table.

i didn't know anything about craps, so i watched danny play for a while. i still don't know much about craps. it is the most complicated game of any kind i've ever come across. wikipedia has a 8500 word article outlining the basics of the game.

the table minimum for craps was $5. i don't like the idea of putting my money out there when i don't understand how it's going to be taken, so i went to look for other games. blackjack, the game i would feel comfortable losing at, had an even higher minimum: $10 per hand. i circled the room, a long, narrow room (the grand victoria is a riverboat casino), in search of something to play, and counted over one-billion flashing lights. also, the dings and rings that the slot machines emit are coordinated to play in the same key in order to avoid severe cacophony (i am taking the gre on monday. that is one of the words i learned last week while studying).

i decided to play nickel slots. i put a five dollar bill in the machine. i put it in and dean martin's face appeared. then i lost three dollars in one spin. seeing as how it was nickel slots, i'm not sure how i lost three dollars in one spin.

i stopped putting money in the machines and went back to watch craps. for some people, craps is a religious experience. danny was the youngest player at the table by at least 30 years. all of the older men watched the die tumble with church-like solemnity. they each had rituals before tossing the dice and hugged complete strangers when things went well. one man, mario, kept laying down $100 dollar bills in order to keep playing. another man, who wore an awesome cowboy hat, kept attracting people to the table with the luck he was having.

danny was up, then down, then up, then down, then way down. he took his remaining chips to the roullette table and put it all on all red. he won. then he put it on all black. he won again. he went back the craps table, a table with a higher minimum, and then played for another hour before pooping out.

i still came out ahead, however. because we were first time visitors, we both recieved a free buffet dinner. we cashed that in immediately.

speaking in code...

2009-10-05T10:56:00.001-07:00

today i spent the morning with a computer programmer.

my friend and co-founder/chief architect for CareRunner.com invited me down to work for the morning. i drove down at 9am and spent the next two and a half hours treading the waters of computer lingo which came pouring over me like a tsunami.

the door to the fourth-floor office. it reads; "the sleepless & thumble monks."

justin works out of a small office in downtown elgin that he shares with one other person (who was not there today). the space looked similar to the spaces movies, tv, and magazines portray programmers occupying: a spartan room demanding efficiency and productivity with its no-nonsense tables and chairs, bland color scheme, and complete disregard for a "theme" while at the same time being a laboratory for creativity and wit--a rugby ball resting on the windowsill, an empty six-pack box with strange artwork on it taped to the middle of a wall, post-it notes with clever sayings and thoughts written on them, a menu taken from a local restaurant with the chinese calendar printed on it adorns the doorway.

the office.

the start-up company justin works for is connected solely by the internet, its dozen or so employees operating in various locations throughout the country. what consumers see is a website which helps to coordinate and centralize all the information necessary to care for an elderly family member or friend. what i saw was a snapshot of what it takes to deliver this product. what i ended up learning was a little about computer programming and a lot about people.

before even turning on a single computer, we spent nearly a half-hour discussing the way the company is organized and the way in which things get done. CareRunner uses a method called a "storywall," a way which simultaneously enables people to understand what needs to get done, enables work to be distributed efficiently, and ensures top results.

the story wall.

the most visually captivating thing in the office is the grid of yellow index cards taped neatly on a wall. on them are one sentence statements: "as a recruiter i can can view a candidates resume without downloading it first"; "as a recruiter i can link a candidate to a position"; "as a user i can update my personal account in formation." in the corner of each card is a number, anywhere between 1 and 8.

while there certainly is a hierarchical structure in the company, there is little evidence of it in the day-to-day operations. instead of a manager there is a "storywall." rather than listing problems to be solved or assigning specific tasks to do, the company simply states features they want the product to have in an open-ended statement. then, each statement is given a corresponding number which gauges the amount of time it will take to make the idea a reality. the average life of a particular story wall is usually two weeks. employees are able to choose the stories they want to work on. if small mistakes are noticed or a tweek is needed (a broken link, a misplaced item), they are posted as small chores and are able to be claimed by anyone. this all takes place online. each morning a short conference call enables each team member the opportunity to describe what he or she has accomplished and what he or she is currently working on. it also is a forum to exchange ideas, brainstorm, and troubleshoot together.

this method allows a great deal of independence for each member, and increases a sense of ownership in each project. the open-ended nature of the work (you are given a simple idea and use your own devices to get there) creates an environment for creativity and eliminates some the problems that come from delegating and micro-management. the transparency of the work (everybody can go online and see who is working on what) ensures accountability (everybody will notice if you are not accomplishing much) and makes opportunities for feelings of accomplishment (everybody will notice if you are doing great work). it helps break down segmentation of the workforce or the "information silos" (which occur when tasks of a particular nature always go to person "X") by encouraging people to try new challenges at their own pace and by promoting constant exchanging of ideas (people are linked in to a chatroom all day where throughout the day questions and answers are posted for all to see in realtime, giving everyone an opportunity to learn from other people's solutions and mistakes without ever needing to reiterate).

this system seems to keep the job interesting, keeps the workers interested, and is capable of quickly adapting to any changes or problems that do arise because it eliminates the delays a chain of command structure might have, and it never leaves anyone out of the loop or confused because everything is on the table at all times for all to see.

this system begins to feel pressure when too many people use it and it wouldn't be applicable in all situations but it is a terrific alternative in many cases to traditional workplace structures.

i sat in on the morning conference call and then watched as justin did all sorts of fascinating things on the computer. i cannot describe the whole process, as it all happened in a completely different language, but i will say that computer programming is a process more creative, amazing, and in some ways beautiful than most people realize. perhaps justin said it best:

i was lost in a jumble of code justin was furiously typing and i said that while i can appreciate the amount of thought and talent that goes into programming, it is hard to truly behold it without a significant amount of training whereas, with something like music, a large majority of the output of musicians can be instantly appreciated by listeners, to which justin said, "but you understand when a website works really well."

reveille

2009-10-04T18:58:00.000-07:00

today i went to lake michigan to watch the sun rise.

i woke up at 0535. the glow from the alarm clock, the street light, and the moon was the only thing keeping the veil of complete darkness from covering everything. i put on three thin layers and threw the baja jacket over it all. i picked up kadi and we went to starbucks to get perked up.

big white waves were being tossed out from the lake by a stiff wind which probably came from the north pole. overnight someone stuck a bunch of clouds to the sky, which was clear the night before. but in the end, it wasn't the clouds that hindered our view, but a sand dune. the sun rises due east only on the equinoxes. the time between the spring and fall the sun rises north of due east; between fall and spring it rises south. well the fall equinox was two weeks ago. because of that, it rose just south of due east, and just south of the lake, behind a few dunes.

but all was not lost. the sun still did end up rising, which is something that can always be chalked up in the win column, and though we could not see the sun itself, it was busy bouncing around in the clouds above which led to some pretty cool sights in themselves:

driving.

2009-10-02T10:42:00.000-07:00

today i drove for more than 100 miles in complete silence.

while this might seem like the most boring thing i've done yet (there is a time crunch today, so that's my official excuse), it probably is the most unusual thing i've done, statistically speaking. spending more than two hours in the car without radio, cds, or cell phone is something not often done.

i started thinking about the usual things one would think about; "if we're jamming to music usually, what does that do to our attention on the road?", "music always seems to be playing second fiddle to some other activity...", yada, yada, yada.

but by the time i hit woodfield i was already bored with thinking that.

after that i just thought about random things without being distracted by listening to sweet music or radio coverage of chicago not getting the olympics. nothing worth reporting here, but it was really nice to deliberately daydream.

google has a rule that all of its employees must spend 20% of their time at work pursuing personal projects. this doesn't mean checking email, working out, or cleaning their desk. it means spending time thinking and being creative. they're doing pretty well for themselves.

beethoven was famous for being inspired, walking through the woods looking at the trees and birds. kant was known for walking about town looking at church steeples. we're a driving culture now, so imagine if we all used time in the car to do the same thing.

i never thought i would be saying this, but try turning off the music.

hail to the chief.

2009-10-01T17:59:00.000-07:00

today i memorized all the u.s. presidents in chronological order.

while i had a fine education growing up, learning multiplication tables, u.s. capitals, and luther's small catechism, i never had to learn the list of presidents. well tonight that all changed.

whitehouse.gov has a nice, clean page devoted to the former commander-in-chiefs. a brief sketch of each man is given, and whenever i could not visualize someone or remember things they did i broke the list down into groups, mostly groups of four.

and now, some highlights before the big show...

-the award for most outlandish name goes to: millard fillmore. this makes me laugh every time.

-the award for hippest name: zachary taylor. though he was named long ago in 1849, he still sounds like the cool kid in the prototypical 5th grade class. this might be due to the fact that those names are the real names of tim and jill taylor's two cool kids, brad and randy, from the great 90's sitcom, home improvement.

other strange facts about names and initials:

-four presidents had initials consisting of the same letter. oddly enough, three were nearly elected consecutively: 28) woodrow wilson 30) calvin coolidge 31) herbert hoover. ronald reagan (40) rounds out the foursome.

-while it comes at no surprise that no president yet has had an initial of Q (i don't count middle names: not every president officially used their middle name/initial), X, or Y, it might amaze you to find out that out of the 240 year old pool of 43 names, not a single S initial can be found. the other powerless letter is I.

-there have been two adams, two harrisons, two johnsons, and two bushes so, not forgetting cleveland's return to the oval office, there have been thirty-nine different last names occupying the west wing. i wonder we'll have the next obama.

-try saying ulysses s. grant without the s, fdr without the d, or john f kennedy without the f. weird, huh?

-the most popular first initial is j(7) followed by w(6). the most popular last name is h(5) followed by a three-way tie between c, j, and t, all with 4.

-obama has chosen to use his middle initial in his official name, the fourth president in a row to do so. the last (and only) time this occured was with franklin d. roosevelt-harry s. truman-dwight d. eisenhower-john f. kennedy; quite the formidable foursomes. aside from those two blocks, using a middle initial is very rare. only two other presidents did so (grant, hayes).

-presidential names with:
2 syllables: 3
3 syllables: 8
4 syllables: 22
5 syllables: 8
6 syllables: 3

-for most of the 20th century, the president had a 4 syllable name (12 out of 16 presidents, taft-clinton).

the proof of my accomplishment can be watched below.

i am going to petition to make josiah bartlett an honorary president.

the motherland.

2009-09-30T13:07:00.000-07:00

today i went to the elgin area historical society museum.

after a quick lunch i leisurely rode my (dad's) bike through the early autumn weather to the museum, a few miles away. the museum is housed in the stately "old main" which was constructed in 1856 to house a private school.

old main

a lovely old lady wearing a light purple sweater and matching light purple glasses gave me a warm welcome as she took three dollars from me. she gave me a tour of a few rooms, let me look alone, gave me a tour of other rooms, let me look alone, and then gave me another tour. this was a good plan as it is exhausting to be the only listener in a room.

things i found interesting:

the giffords

here are portraits of the Giffords--Elgin's illustrious founders. they were painted by american artist sheldon peck, whose paintings can go for six-figure sums in auctions today. during the winter months peck would paint many generic torsos, leaving the upper 1/3 of the canvas blank. during the summer months he would travel from homestead to homestead offering his services to the frontierfolk. you would simply pick out your favorite looking torso from the pile and sheldon would paint your head: the 1830's version of "sucking it in."

the giffords were brought from new york to the outskirts of american civilization in 1832 by a group of soldiers led by a young winfield scott. winfield scott would later become the youngest man ever to hold the post of general, the longest serving general in american history (serving in five wars), the longest serving commander of the army in american history, and one of few people in political history to beat out an incumbent president for a party nomination (the whig party: sweet!).

winfield scott

james gifford selected this particular plot of land was selected because of its proximity to the fox river and also because it lay on a line in between the port of fort dearborne (chicago) and the valuable lead mines of galena, illinois, 200 miles away. he knew a railroad would soon connect the two. gifford subdivided his property and began attracting other settlers, offering incentives such as a free plot to any preacher willing to build a church and start a congregation (there are nearly 100 churches in elgin today). gifford named his new town "elgin," the title of his favorite hymn tune. within 20 years elgin was blossoming, home to more than 2,500 people. gifford invited his friend mr. kimball of new hampshire to settle the eastern side of the fox.

elgin, looking west (1855)

for the next 100 years elgin had a unique yet typical rise to large town/small city status. all you really need to know is that it rode the coattails of two major industries. first, it was the butter capital of the u.s.; even the national price-per-pound was set by the elgin board of trade. the next big business was, of course, the elgin watch company, which propelled elgin to its highest peak and just as swiftly vanished and left elgin in ruins, thanks to plastic, batteries, and the good people at casio.

the massive watch-making complex; advertisement, early 1900s

everything was not lost, however. elgin still made great street sweepers and toasters (the source of the infamous "toastmaster drive).

toasters and street sweeper, respectively

i learned the most interesting thing at the end of my stay. trygve rovelstad, a local sculptor, was the man who designed both the bronze star medal and the combat infantryman badge. years after WWII ended, the british people, under churchill, wanted to create a permanent memorial to honor the american lives lost in the war effort. eisenhower sent rovelstad over to assist. the memorial, which lies in st. paul's cathedral in london, includes a stained glass window with the seal of the 48 states, as well as a large red book which rovelstand made. in the book are the names of every single american fatality of the war, written in gold inked calligraphy. this massive book lies open and each day a single page is turned.

me and big head; bronze star; infantryman badge

american memorial, st. pauls. (see book, lower left)

and now elgin has a casino. whatsup.

a missing bear, a world record, party gifts, and 300,000,000 people

2009-09-29T17:44:00.000-07:00

today i watched a guinness world record being broken.

i have been carrying a negative six dollar balance at our local library for the last month and was checking my account online to make sure it hadn't gone up. while navigating to that corner of the web i stumbled on a news blurb about a census informational meeting being held at the library today. to kick off the census 2010 season, the mayor along with special guest calvin thomas of '85 chicago bears fame were going to explain the importance of the census before unveiling what is going on record as the world's largest ever legal document: a massive census form.

in an effort to improve its lackluster turnouts in censuses past, elgin is one of 3 cities participating in an experimental trial of "census 2010, larger than life!," an ongoing study which seeks to confirm if there is, in fact, a relationship between mailing citizens yacht-sized census forms (seen above) and the return rate of said forms. researchers claim that recipients of the ridiculous form are 20-30 percent less likely to forget to fill it out, saying "the average american home will need to designate up to 40% of livable space to store the form, resulting in a very high probability that they will see it every day." skeptics, as skeptical as always, concede that citizens will indeed not forget about the census but still doubt this will have any impact on the return rate, largely because the technology needed to make novelty-sized envelopes is still in the laboratories. right or wrong, experts still say full implementation of this idea would be decades away anyway because there are not currently enough forests in the known world to supply the project.

i sat down in the community room. there were probably 200 seats there and less than 50 were being used. a large lady sat right next to me. then an old man, who proudly introduced himself as dave, the assistant to the man who was in charge of pr for our area. he made awkward small talk (reciting the title of the book i was holding, to which i replied, "yeah?," to which he responded, "that's the book you're holding") before gushing about how he thinks census 2010 is going to bring the city together. he was probably 80 years old. he then brought me a bag stuffed with census 2010 paraphernalia:

my government-issued window decal helps me get psyched about census 2010!

after state representative keith farnham shook a few hands (including mine) and spouted some "how 'ya doin'?"s and "real glad to be here"s the show began, despite calvin's very ironic no-show to the census rally.

my new friend, keith

mayor schock spoke for 10 minutes, explaining how the census helps guide businesses, governments, schools, and money. he also noted that only 72% of elgin's population was counted in 2000 and if we have a similar rate this year we will stand to lose $350,000,000 over the next ten years. three speakers followed him. each said exactly the same thing.

what do you get when you cross professor xavier with james carville? the mayor of elgin, of course.

midway through the event a torrent of loose change came charging out of my thigh-pocket and messed up the speaker as each quarter, nickel, and dime found every metal bar that held up my chair and the chairs next to me. i was upset, not because i interrupted, but because i made certain (or so i thought) that this would not happen. before going to the library i raided my loose change jar, collecting $3.17 for a hot apple cider from the library's cafe. disappointed they weren't offering it, i sat down in a chair by the cafe to read my book without any drink at all. as i sat down a few coins spilled out. to make sure this didn't happen again i put them in a pocket on the outer thigh which i assume is meant for a cell phone. whether that is its intended use or not, it does have a zipper; a device i thought would surely prevent any future catastrophes. well, that pocket actually has an inch-long opening at the bottom, an opening which spills into the zipperless pocket behind it, giving all change therein free-reign to wrek havoc. now you see why i'm angry.

the audience, which consisted of 4 reporters, 30 people who were born in the 1930s, and me, went outside to unroll the big legal document. friendly neighborhood firefighters were on hand with a big hook-and-ladder truck, from which they took a few aerial photographs.

firemen were on hand on this cloudy, windy day in case the world's largest legal document (which also holds the distinction of being the world's largest fire hazard) was hit by an errant cigarette butt or lightening. local officials also feared acts of sabotage from neighboring lake in the hills, where local officials are reportedly still steaming because their own town's recent record-breaking event -- long distance melon launching ( http://www.suburbanchicagonews.com/couriernews/news/dundee/1756056,3_1_EL06_05SUNSET_S1-090906.article) -- went largely unnoticed by the press. Mayor Julie Papalle's office released a statement saying, "melon launching is just as respectable a record as making enormous paper is and should be treated as such."

here ends my tale. make sure you fill out and return your census form this year. it actually is important.

calvin thomas, who showed up after the event had finished and was mobbed by angry census aficionados, was overheard screaming, "i ain't here to start no trouble!"

a very idle activity

2009-09-28T20:45:00.000-07:00

tonight i am going to sleep outside. i am going to lay out my sleeping bag on the back patio, crawl in, and fall asleep watching whichever stars the amalgamated glow from the lights of the greater chicago metropolitan area deems appropriate for me to look at.

while sleeping outside was normal (which is highly usual) for me this summer in idaho, sleeping outside in elgin is unusual for me. i hope the nearby tollway, late night/early morning neighborhood traffic, occasional siren, or stray cats and dogs do not wage war on my slumber. i also hope the mist/drizzle mix that is falling right now stops in the next few minutes. the gusty, 30mph wind that has been harassing leaves and streetside trash all day might prove to be a hindrance as well, not to mention the neighborhood crooks and vandals that might be on the prowl.

when you sleep without anything separating you from the sky, your soul readjusts its boundaries from being confining, staying in the spaces and places it usually inhabits, to being limitless and you find yourself feeling like you can do anything and go anywhere when you wake up. so that should make for a good tomorrow, regardless of lights, rain, noises, and wind. well......maybe.

you also dream 100% more when you sleep outside.

the second amendment

2009-09-27T21:45:00.000-07:00

today i held a handgun. and a shotgun. and wore a bulletproof vest.

i don't even like guns. my former roommate is now in the police academy, and because i don't see myself ever owning any of the aforementioned weapons or body armor, i thought i would at least see what all the fuss was about now while i had the chance.

the first thing i thought of when i picked up the handgun--a glock 22--was how terrifyingly simple, small, and lightweight it was. i first saw it on the table, in pieces. three pieces comprise the glock: the handle/base part, the top part that slides on (the part you see people pull back in the movies), and a spring/rod that goes inside of the top part. these things seem so simple, a first grader could easily master it. they are so small it seems you could hide it anywhere. frightening.

the second amendment, which protects every citizen's right to bear arms, stands out from the other provisions in the bill of rights. it is the only provision in the bill of rights that cites our rights of something physical. the third and fourth both refer to houses, but in each case the subject is not the house, but something intangible: protection from quartering troops and protection from unreasonable search and seizure, respectively. in the eyes of the founding fathers, the only physical thing in the universe we are all entitled to owning are weapons.

it is understood that the reason behind writing this amendment was to distribute power by giving people the power to check the police/military from having a monopoly on force: there isn't some intrinsic good which stems from owning a pistol like there is in the right to free speech. however, the effectiveness of this idea wore off about, oh, about 100 years ago when military weaponry became exponentially superior to civilian weaponry. weapons in the arsenal of today's military could blow civilians out of the water 1,000 times over, yet nobody really thinks it would be a good idea to try to give the citizens of this country the ability to check that. ensuring power is balanced is something i support, but this amendment can't even pretend to be able to do that anymore, so i don't accept that as a functional argument for gun rights. transparency in government is what we currently rely on to check and balance the military.

according to the brady campaign, an independent organization which supports tough gun laws, every day in the united states 276 people are killed with a gun or treated for a gun related injury in the emergency room. that translates into over 100,000 people each year. maybe we should require people to wear bulletproof vests, just like we've mandated seat belts.

during times of war (or threats of war) we are often and easily stripped of many of our privacy rights in the name of securing our safety. yet this amendment (the most antiquated and least important of them all, in my opinion) manages to hold its ground much better, despite the very large number of casualties that are coming from the wars being fought in our neighborhoods.

"guns don't kill people, people do" ?
"guns don't kill people, bullets do" ?
"every day in the united states 276 people are killed with a gun or treated for a gun related injury in the emergency room."

where there's smoke, there's usually a fire.

americana

2009-09-26T21:14:00.000-07:00

today i went tailgating. i haven't gone tailgating since my freshman year of high school nearly a decade ago. i packed up and left for comiskey, stopping first at water tower place in downtown chicago to pick up kati. i am certain that if i drove in chicago every day, i would not make it more than a week without killing somebody else or being killed myself. also, car companies should coordinate the pitches of the horns in the cars they make. if a key was settled on and manufacturers stuck to using open 4ths and 5ths, when 100 horns went off at once it would sound really nice instead of really awful. it would be just as attention getting.

tailgating might be the quintessential american activity, perhaps even more than any of the american sports which follow. the fourth of july comes close, but national independence is something people everywhere celebrate. grilling food while sitting in a huge, pricey parking lot is something no other country could have come up with or reproduce with any accuracy.

we ate cheeseburgers while watching 5 guys next to us perform another american classic--shotgunning a beer. our neighbors to our immediate left were a middle-aged couple from the suburbs. the lady started asking questions about the grill i was using: model, price, time it takes to heat up, time it takes to cool down etc. soon the husband joined in. they left wanting a new grill and two minutes after they left they came back, apparently wanting to strike up a friendship by offering us the chance to play bags (known as cornhole to some) with them.

after a few minutes of smalltalk it was discovered that the older woman's cousin happens to be a senior at valpo, a senior who also is in my fraternity. this led to excited phone calls on her part.

great success. if you take advantage of strange opportunities like playing cornhole with 50-year old people, only good can come from it.

fish, part II

2009-09-25T17:43:00.000-07:00

today i worked at a fish fry. my friend works at a deli/catering business and one friday each month he goes to a local elk lodge to fry up some perch, haddock, and french fries. i joined him this time as his understudy.

i went to the deli to help load his car. less than five seconds after walking in the door a man, noticing my t-shirt, said "I played football at Valpo 15 years ago!" we loaded up the fish, the fryer, salad, and a few other boxes before leaving. the last time my friend, charles, worked at this fish fry, the fish spilled all over his backseat en route. his car still smells like fish.

we arrived and unloaded by the backdoor of the elks lodge. charles described the elks lodge as a country club for people without country club money. it was essentially a drinking club for old people, husbands with their drinks at the bar and wives with their wine at the tables. my job was to batter the fish, which had been cut just before we left. once done we started frying. charles shared stories. he told me about being part of a soccer riot in germany, and about how 'the swede', a foreign exchange student at our high school had quit the swedish special forces after 3 years of service. the violence had become too much for him, the last straw being when he killed somebody with a knife. each time i went in to check on the food, the old people were being old. the first time they were all trying to figure out what kind of fish they were eating. the second time they were all watching wheel of fortune. i am still trying to figure out what elk have to do with what these people are doing.

i now know that i like haddock better than perch.

from the chorus down to the hook.

2009-09-24T09:34:00.001-07:00

today i tried my hand at songwriting the old-fashioned way: a guitar, a pencil, and a sheet of plain white paper. i know this isn't quirky, strange, or unusual (the percentage of people who have tried writing a song with a guitar is probably higher than the percentage of people who have voted), nevertheless, i have never tried this.

yesterday i asked my mom to bring her guitar home from her classroom. i have attempted to learn guitar at least 5 or 6 times in my life, quitting each time after a week or two of toying with it because i am impatient. when i first opened the case this time my goal wasn't to write a song, or even learn more about guitar playing, but to figure out just one song. kristian matsson, who performs under the stage name "the tallest man on earth," has a song called "honey won't you let me in" that i desperately wanted to learn. my limited knowledge keeps from actually knowing what i'm doing on the guitar: i'm either making a chord from a chord chart without actually knowing what's happening, or i mess around with the fingers and make something happen without any idea of what i've done. that said, i couldn't just translate what this guy was doing from my ears to my fingers. i needed some chords. the internet, usually chock-full of chords for even the most obscure songs didn't have a single word on this, or any other songs by this artist. i ended up finding a video on you tube of him performing this song live.

i did my best to imitate what he was doing, but there were only a few frames which showed his left hand and of these, the back of his palm was usually covering up his fingers. i did read through the comments attached to the video to found that he tunes his guitar a different way than usual (three strings are lowered one whole step) and he also uses a capo on the 5th fret. i did both these things, but nothing i played sounded like what i wanted. i was just digging around for something that sounded like him. while i never figured out the things he was doing, i did find some cool chords in the process which inspired today's (un)usual activity.

the long standing debate in songwriting is; which comes first, the words or the music? i don't know the answer, but in this case the music, or at least the basic ideas for it, came first. from there i was left wondering what to write. i didn't have any emotions to spill at that time, so i decided to do some experimental writing. in honor of 'the tallest man on earth', who comes from a tradition made famous by bob dylan, i decided not to write with a purpose or to make a point. if you read the lyrics of these artists you will often be left scratching your head if you try to find a reason they wrote something. it just seems like a jumble of words. but something about it sounds right. they do two things. first, each line is usually full of images. very nice images, in fact. you can "see" each one. strung together it is jibberish, but nice looking jibberish for sure. also, the vowels in the words are chosen, in part, because of the way they allign to create endless internal rhymes and to give the verses an overall shape and a consistent, smooth flow.

so i tried this. i tried to write the first thing that came to mind, without questioning; one line at a time. it really doesn't mean anything. it just tries to present images. i am now going to go bandage my fingertips.

casting a line.

2009-09-23T11:19:00.000-07:00

Today I went fishing. The sky was ideal: overcast. There was a smattering of yellow leaves. The air was cool and breezy. I could not have asked for a better day.

There is something infinite about fishing. As you stand along the bank of a river, lake, or pond, there is something not far from spiritual happening. And I'm not even an avid fisherman. In fact, of the two or three times I have gone fishing before this morning, none of them occurred past 1996. Fishing makes you feel very human. Everybody fishes. People have been fishing before the wheel was invented, and it hasn't changed much since then, especially on the small-scale level. Waiting for a bite connects you to all of those people and all of those times in a way little else can.

I've gone golfing both more frequently and more recently than I've gone fishing, and it can be fun, especially when played in good company or when accompanied by good beer, but other than being the source for countless retirement jokes they are very different, though they often are pursued for similar reasons.

I wonder why--and I'm generalizing a lot here--significantly more men than women fish.

My cousin Rob was my guide for the day, and we fished the entire time without using bait; something I felt strange about doing at first, but he assured me that it's the best, or at least the most honorable way to fish.

I did not catch a single fish. But, as I learned today; it's called fishing -not catching.

piece of cake

2009-09-22T19:37:00.000-07:00

today i made a cake. while i do have substantial experience in the kitchen, all of it has all been centered on grilling steaks, bbq chicken, ribs, etc. i chose to make a chocolate cherry cake out of many choices i saw after flipping through the first cookbook i pulled from my mom's recipe shelf.

i get messy when i cook, and this project was no different. there were multiple times when i would quickly wipe chocolate, maraschino cherry syrup, or other cake-related spillables off of the floor before anybody saw. the countertops, on the other hand, were nice and messy and i wasn't afraid to show it.

making the cake wasn't all that fun. following directions from a cookbook is especially mundane. the only thing that makes it interesting is to read the recipe to yourself in a julia childs accent.

i wanted to make a layered cake. my mom said not to split up the batter into two separate cakes if the recipe said it was intended for an 8x8 pan. it was intended for an 8x8 pan. i made two separate cakes. while they were baking i drew plans for elaborate towers, spirals, or monuments to build with my cakes. when i took the cakes out i realized none of those ideas would come to pass: the cake very thin. they weren't lying about the 8x8 thing. i decided to cut each round cake into sixths, and then stack the pieces on top of each other with frosting in between each layer (which i dyed blue, for fun) to make it seem like i made a 12-tier cake and there was only one piece left. well, after the sixth layer, that idea started falling apart.

so i completed a work that looked like what it was: a mound of cake covered in frosting:

when i was done making it, i had a piece of pie. i'm not too crazy about cake.

choice.

2009-09-21T17:16:00.000-07:00

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

I've never even read the book. But, like most people, I am so familiar with the opening lines to Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities that I might be able to fool myself into believing for a second that I have. And while the significance, implications, and value of this phrase surely continue to expand as one moves through its pages, to me the phrase is able to stand alone, holding in its meager seven different words enough substance to fill libraries.

I've been without a job for over one month now. People often try to help by telling me in different that I'm not the only one but to no avail. I know there are millions of other people in my scenario. But hearing stories of how other people cannot find work does not in any way vindicate my feelings of frustrations: The "others are in the same boat as you are" theory is not comforting when you feel as if the boat you share is sinking, lost, or both. I know I am as green as they come in the workforce, having just graduated college in May. So I remain confused as to why people attempt to - I don't know - console me by telling me tales of people who have been laid off, though they are both experienced and good at what they do: First off, learning of other people's hardships does not uplift, and second, this news only informs me that these people will be farther up in queue when the market does open up. I know I don't have any dependents, major debts (other than hefty college loans), and have been fortunate to have a network of family and friends who are doing what they can to keep me housed, fed, and happy. So hearing of hungry, homeless families does not make it better: stories of hungry kids are sad.

I know I do have many positive things in my life, yet I still get discouraged.

I also often hear the phrases "look on the bright side," "stay/be positive," and "keep your head up." These are tragically passive. Assuming they are most often offered to people who are experiencing things dark, negative, or other things warranting a "head down" posture, the advice is well-intentioned yet ineffective. It does not call for action, movement, or decision. Isolating the verbs from each phrase proves this is so; look, stay, be, keep. These are all verbs one step short of complete resignation, surrender, and despair. Times are tough? Well, just stay. And be. Maybe move your head a little to the right, towards the sun. But don't move.

It looks--and often feels--like being in a toilet bowl, and I mean that quite literally. Whichever angle you try to position yourself, whichever way you stand, the feelings of being flushed, sunk, and spinning out-of-control are the seemingly inevitable ends to whatever means you try using to climb out. Frustration, anger, hopelessness, boredom and an occasional sense of adrenaline-laced drive all emerge from my situation. Often, these emotions lead to questions: questions of doubt-I don't measure up, am incapable, am unskilled; questions of regret-I should have done things differently in college, I should have seen this coming, I should have had a better plan; questions of forfeiting-which goals, dreams, or ambitions do I have to let go of in order to move out of this quagmire. The result is that the immediate and direct consequences of joblessness are exacerbated by a loss in self-confidence and a gloomier outlook on life.

Back to Dickens. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. A few things strike me about this sentence. First, the time Dickens was referring to was both the best and the worst at the same time. It may seem that I am trying to convince you to believe that water is wet, but I assure you, it is more peculiar than you might think. Knowing the title of the book, one may be invited to think that the first clause refers to the first city, the second referring to a second, less auspicious place. But (and I remind you that this "but" comes with the disclaimer that I know nothing about the rest of the story), I do not think Dickens is making any distinction between anything. He does not make a break between the "it." He is not placing "best" with "it" A and "worst" with "it" B. In other words, it should not be read "It was the best of times for some (or some place), while it was the worst of times for others (or another place)," but instead "It was both and simultaneously the best and the worst of times," the "it" referring to a time, inclusive to everything and everyone living in it.

Can one time be both the best and the worst? This description is not just composed of opposing adjectives, it is composed of opposite extremes: It was not a good time and a bad time, it was the best time and the worst time. And it was both things at once.

"This meal is the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. It also is disgusting and makes me want to vomit." "I think my wife looks beautiful. I also think she looks wretched." "Having a baby is a wonderful feeling. It also sucks." Holding conflicting reports, opinions, and descriptions of the same thing is something that, ironically, we are able to do and able not to do. Can a meal taste good and bad? Can having a baby be joyful and painful? Many are able to co-exist. Many are not able to.

The second thing about Dickens' sentence is that it refers to a bygone time. It was both. When we look at our situations in the present, we may have multiple strains of feeling and thought, but usually distill the moment into a smaller box of possibility. We interpret our situation to be a certain identifiable, quantifiable kind of situation. We label it as such, and we explore options within that box. Socio-cultural norms reinforce that notion, prescribing a subset of acceptable actions, given a certain set of circumstances, say for example, a funeral, or a party (While most people would be quick to say that a funeral is much more restrictive/rule-laden than a party, that is not true. Nearly all of our situations have unwritten rules. One wouldn't think to wear funeral attire to a party, remain in a somber mood, be quiet, etc.). However the Dickens quote shows us that, in reality, time/existence always has the possibility to be either the best of times or the worst of times, only this recognition is usually delayed until after the moment or situation has long since passed and we look back in retrospect. But the potential is always equal for both, visible or not. This is most clearly demonstrated at nearly every holiday dinner table in which tales of hard times and bad decisions are laughed about and are seen for what they truly are, outside the ephemeral passions of the moment and the good times of yore are sometimes seen in hindsight as more precarious and fraught with potential harm than when originally lived out with laughter (that time you were 14 and were shooting fireworks from your hand into the neighboring cornfield). In retrospect we always are able to see more clearly what things truly were: both the best and the worst. That would seem to mean that even though we couldn't see it at the time, the potential for both always were there. We simply chose to live our circumstances in a particular way; usually in accordance with a pattern of behavior which we--or others--have followed in similar circumstances before.

We will continue to uncover the hidden truths about the present when we look back at them down the line, and while the true scope and detail of what is actually going is most likely not known now, and despite the fact that we often cannot see where the road is taking us per se, we can and should hold in full faith the fact that the best of times is as equally powerfully present as the worst of times, though our perception and human nature may tell us otherwise. But we must not merely look at it, yearn for it, lift our eyes towards it, or try to "be" it. We must approach it with our feet. We must choose it.

So right now the situation is that there are people without jobs (or tens millions of people), me being one of them. We ascribe this time to be more towards the "worst of times" end of the continuum. We perceive it, though we may not pinpoint its location, to be at a specific point. And, with that as our quantifier we explore our prescribed arsenal: stay positive, stick together, save, enjoy the small things, keep trying, etc. While all these things are certainly valuable, they still are all made on the premise that these times are somewhere on the "worst of times" half of the continuum. I wish to reject that premise. Years later we will look back and realize that, like any other time in history, it had the potential to be the best and the worst. Our current unfortunate circumstances combined with our human nature are to us what leading questions are to people in the witness stand. They try to suggest that our circumstances define our time, and that we use that assessment as a baseline for everything else. But, in reality, only the individual--not our circumstances--defines our time. In retrospect we will be able to see the potential. But it is now that we can choose it. We must.

Please do not take what I have said to be a reactionary turn away from from something less-preferred, a wishful ignorance of reality, or an over-simplified, sweetened view of the way things really are. Everything is not wonderful. I never claimed it was the best of times (Though the title is named that ... that was just because blogger.com would not let me put both halves of the quote). I accept the reality of my situation. The truth of unemployment and all of its side-effects do not go away. But we can choose to place the fact of unemployment in any context we want. The potential is always there. It was the worst of times and I was unemployed. It was the best of times and I was unemployed.

I do not want to be afraid of losing these prime years of my life to the doldrums of being jobless and poor any longer. The unemployment will pass, but so will these days and weeks of my life. They must not be squandered. So, I will choose to use the asset I am lavishly rich in -time- to its fullest advantage and pack the next unknown amount of weeks with crazy stories and experiences, new skills, friends, wisdom, and whatever else might come my way. I hope to, every day, make one decision that places me on the side of the line where years later I can look back and say, "that time could have been good and it could have been bad, just like any other time.....and boy was it good." I want to meet people, go places, try new things.

My Unemployment Challenge is to make one choice, one decision a day.

The idea for this came from a decision I made today: The decision to train for and compete in a marathon in June (probably one of the bigger choices I'll be making), after a challenge put forth to my by my Aunt. Right now my "Challenge" seems just as doable as the marathon does. And they both will remain doable, though both will surely get harder. But the "doable" will never change. That leaves me only with the choice. A choice to be made daily. It could go either way. It always can go either way.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way."