The Stone in the River

Thrilling Adventure!

2012-05-23T21:12:00.000-07:00

Hi there,

While we were mini-golfing in Kauai this February my mom wanted to get a picture of my wife and I, but rather than just smiling like an idiot with a child's club in my paw I got my wife to help me out and we tried to imitate one of those campy 1940s or 1930s adventure-type movie posters, with the brave and stalwart man leading a timid and fearful damsel through the jungle.

Here's the picture (that's sugar cane behind us!):

Claustrophobic Anyone?

2012-05-21T19:00:00.000-07:00

Howdy,

Remember when I talked about the confidence course we went through for the fire academy? Well just watching this video made me freak out a little. This obstacle is definitely the worst I've seen!

Fire Learnin'

2012-05-19T20:47:00.000-07:00

Howdy,

Apart from a couple of other more serious things, my mind has been totally occupied with getting back in shape and getting back into the fire service. I'm still in touch with the guys going to fire academy, and they're still out training for graduation on June 7th. I have to drive past my former station to get into town, and every weekend I see their cars parked there and it just kills me that I'm not with them.
Making up my mind to get back into the fire service is easy (provided my back does in fact get better), but the hard part is deciding how to get back into it. Considering how difficult it was to try and work full-time and go to fire academy, I think I might cash out my stock next summer and go get a two-year Fire Protection Technology degree from a community college 30-minutes away. I never finished college when I was younger because there was nothing that I wanted to do that I needed a degree for, but I'm feeling that my time is coming and this may be what I've been waiting for. Crazy right? Who knows, maybe next there'll be a politician who will motivate me to actually register to vote (seriously doubt it)!

Here's a little video of clips from the fire program I was talking about. Looks pretty cool!

Tempted to Good and Evil

2012-05-18T21:53:00.002-07:00

With the disclaimer that I haven't heavily invested myself into St. Augustine, Martin Luther or John Calvin (yet), or become an expert by any means in the concept of the Elect and whatnot, I would like to write out a series of questions that I have concerning free will and the depravity of Man.

I believe it can safely be said that we have been given free will to choose whether or not to follow God and his teachings. Starting with the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, we have always been able to make our own choices for good or evil. This concept could be a lengthy post on its own, but I'm not arguing it now.
So now, assuming that God doesn't force someone against their will to do the right thing, will he instead urge them to do the right thing? When we have the temptation to commit a sin, we are very strongly compelled to make that choice, but ultimately it will always be our own personal choice and responsibility to sin, despite the level of coercion we face. And some sin is much more pulling than others.
We are told that God doesn't tempt us to sin, but will he 'tempt' us to good? Will we feel a strong urge to do the right thing when we need to? And if God doesn't 'tempt' or urge us to do good, then does that mean we actually are capable of good of our own free will?
Some thinkers and theologians have argued that Man is totally depraved and incapable of good without the prompting or intervention of God. But if that's so, how is choosing good free will? How can we choose to be good if we are incapable of it on our own? Is this the 'tempting' that I mentioned above? We are given the inclination to act good, but the ultimate choice is ours?
Additionally, some have postulated that it's to God's glory that he chooses to urge us to make good choices. But how can it be to his glory if he compels us beyond our own nature to act according to his purposes? I think I may have just answered my own question though.

If I had a friend who went astray and began making some very bad decisions, and I decided to pray for that friend as I have been taught, am I only able to pray that they will be 'urged' to make good choices again? If God isn't going to force them to make good decisions, then what's the good of praying? My own conscience? Shall I say, "please urge them to make a good decision?" I could really only pray that they would realize their mistakes and receive the wisdom and prompting to start making good choices again. But then my prayers could only ever be vaguely answered because I don't know for sure whether that person is capable of good on their own. Maybe they just decided to start acting smart again. What good is prayer if it's best result will still only allow a decision by the party currently making bad decisions?

That was about a thousand questions, and probably not interesting to many. This is one of those subjects, like time travel or the chicken and egg riddle, that really just sucks you deeper the more you think about it. This is why I watch Spongebob.

Take Care!

The Glorious or The Profound

2012-05-14T20:53:00.001-07:00

Howdy,

With my back injury I've been given an interesting, if forced, vacation from all the busy-ness that was my life for the last few months. Whereas before I was busy with fire academy, Muay Thai, and work from 5:00am until 11:00pm nearly every day, now I only have the option to work and then go home to think, or to go wander around town and think before going home to think some more. The only thing I have scheduled is my chiropractor, which is down from three days a week to one (I'm improving!!). I'm now four weeks through my 16-week recovery program.
Truly, wandering has been interesting and rewarding. I've struck up conversations with total strangers that have lasted over an hour and were as intimate as if we were best friends, I've read and realized some very strange ideas that I've never thought of before, and I've found a deep peace in living free and thoughtfully. Much material to write about!

There's a friend at work with whom I've been speaking about some serious issues for the last few months. He's been working for the company for 14 years, and in that time has counseled and listened to many of us in distress during those years. Whenever anyone has had a problem or faced difficulty and lack of direction in life he's been there and made time for us no matter how busy he is.
When I first applied for the fire service he would check up on me and ask how the progress was going. When my "hip was touched" and I had to take a breath to deal with some things he was there for me to cry to and confide in. It really would have been a lot more difficult to get through my current circumstances without him.

What struck me about all of this was not that he was a good person to talk to, or an awesome fella, but the fact that somebody who has a humble job in a humble company could have such a profound impact on the lives of the people he works with and oversees. When people leave our department they always say thanks to my friend for the "enormous impact" that he's made in their lives. And he's made an enormous impact in my life. But he's never going to be in the paper for his efforts or his influence. People will carry his friendship and advice with them for the rest of their lives, but he will never have a monument or civic achievement award given him.
With the fire department, the job is to go save a life and deliver the injured person to proper medical facilities. It's truly an honorable profession and one that I'm painfully waiting to get back into. But, it's not a profound job. The people affected may have had their life saved, or been transported with a serious but non life-threatening injury, but the person's being will remain mostly unchanged by the responders themselves. The job of a first responder is glorious. It garners the admiration and acclaim of society, and rightly so, but the effect they have is almost certainly limited to the physical. The victim's life is forever changed by the event, but their character is most likely unchanged by the firefighters and medics.

This then is the difference between the profound and the glorious. Every one of us can influence another person in a positive way, in a profound way, and never receive an earthly reward or honor. But the effect that we make can be deeper, more meaningful, more permanent (arguably) than if we stitched them up on the side of the road and drove them to the hospital. Without ever getting a key to the city we can create changes in people's lives that will live longer than ourselves. It's important to remember, and I believe I touched on this with "That Which Moth Destroys," that we came into this world with nothing, and we will take nothing with us. The only true legacy that we can leave behind is the impact we had on people, the relationships that we created and whether they were good or bad.
I for one would love to return to the fire service so that I can help in the physical realm as well, but there's not a person who can't choose to make a positive difference in all the lives they touch.

Take Care!

Another One Bites The Dust

2012-05-09T20:39:00.000-07:00

Hi there,

There is a growing a number of guitarists and guitarists/lutists who have become enthralled by the uke during it's recent popularity boom. They already have a skilled and delicate touch for the strings and they are arranging some beautiful classical and baroque pieces for the instrument. Here's one of many great videos by just such a gentleman, Valery Sauvage:

Inheritance

2012-05-07T19:37:00.002-07:00

A few weeks ago I was down visiting my folks in the neighborhood in which I grew up. They live 15 minutes outside of town in a heavily-wooded area with mostly older neighbors. As I was standing in the yard admiring my parents' garden a little boy scurried out of the house across the street. I remember when his parents moved into that house, and I remember when his mom brought him home from the hospital. Now he must be around eleven or twelve, maybe a little younger.
He didn't notice me, but he ran out into the middle of the street with a cape, a wooden sword and toy bow and quiver of arrows and began doing battle with unseen forces. He fired his little plastic arrow at an imaginary orc and then drew 'steel' and closed with the mortally wounded enemy. I fierce fight was going on, but he was a hero and well up to it.

What was odd for me seeing this boy was the thought that 15-17 years ago I was him. I had the wooden sword; I had the homemade bow and cloak; this was my street, and there were no orcs allowed! This boy, while I remember him being the baby across the street, doesn't know me at all, and yet he roams and owns the same territory, with the same trees, the same houses and some of the same people that I experienced at his age. But this is now his time, and mine has passed. Myrtle street once belonged to me and was my stomping ground, and now it belongs to this boy and it is his stomping ground.
It's strange to think that we will each have memories of running up and down that hill, the way the sun cuts through the trees to create that strange light, the smell of the asphalt and that weird plant that always breaks wooden swords. The difference will be that we each experienced those things over a decade apart. He has inherited my March. I wonder if he'll find any of those arrows I lost.

Take Care!

Dirty Jack

2012-05-01T21:40:00.001-07:00

Howdy,

Not sure if I'd call myself a White Stripes fan necessarily, but I do think that they were a great band that had an awesome raw energy and definitely embraced the purposeful use of imperfection in their music. In my opinion Jack White is one of the most exciting guitarists out there and plays with more plums than most.

I just had to share this video of them on my blog. They kick it off with 'Blue Orchid,' but then switch to an old Captain Beefheart tune and really tear it. I've watched this video about a zillion times.

Hope you enjoy it!

People See Zombies

2012-04-29T22:37:00.003-07:00

A thought occurred to me the other day. I was home alone eating pizza and watching "The Walking Dead" and I wondered why zombies were so big right now. (I had to stop eating a couple of times when the undead caught someone--gross.)

Supernatural themes have always been popular and some will say that zombies are just the next thing after vampires. Some blogs I've visited have even speculated what the next big trend will be (like mermaids). I won't guess, but I'm hoping that it's going to be vampiric Ewoks (Count Vlad Wicket).
Zombies are fun though. World War Z was great and will hopefully be a good movie; 28 Days later, Shaun of the Dead, Larry King Live, and The Walking Dead are all great zombie flicks. The Zombie Survival book series is funny, everyone you meet is joking about the upcoming zombie apocalypse, and I personally am deciding which one of my friends I'll shoot in the leg to slow the zombies down whilst I escape.

The thought that occurred to me though, is that maybe the reason people love zombies so much is because that's how we view the rest of society on a subconscious level. We see the rest of the world as unthinking, lumbering masses of decay bent on destroying our identity, getting in our way, consuming us, and making us one of them. Grey masses constantly coming after us and getting between us and survival and individuality. We see other people as zombies, and so zombie entertainment is a manifestation and outlet for those feelings.
It's always us or them, what I want or what I can get and who stands between me and it. Too much traffic and too many people bumping into me in the street. Too long lines at the store, too many people at the restaurant I want to go to, the museum I'm visiting or at my campground. People, people, people everywhere. They turn into faceless hordes trying to destroy our peace and pursuit of happiness.
I don't really feel this way myself. I'm not as bothered by people as I used to be, but I wonder if this is the underlying reason for the popularity of zombies. Maybe it's as simple as they're just fun.

Vampires offer another interesting examination. Unlike zombies, we don't fear vampires, but are interested in them because they are who we want to be. Strong, immortal, wise, feared, powerful, released from the authority of Man and God; they have all the attributes that the average person wants.
I'm not really drawn to vampires. Too goth. And they're not funny; everything has to have some level humor if it wants to be my friend.

Well, that's my thought for the day.

Take Care!

Good-bye Rafale!

2012-04-28T21:18:00.001-07:00

Hi there,

On our Blogger overview pages we have the option of seeing which posts are being viewed the most. An interesting feature, but it's been a little annoying to me that one of my most viewed posts was a little tribute to one of my favorite fighter jets, the French Rafale.

I had put a video up of the Rafale flying around and looking awesome, and as a little joke I titled the post, "Jet Porn." Well, apparently there's a lot of people looking for jet porn out there on the web, and they kept winding up at Stone in the River. I don't want perverts perusing through my posts, so I finally had to delete that post.
It's a little disappointing that after all the effort, openness and introspection I use to put up a post, my most popular one was being viewed just because people were searching for the word porn. Or maybe this is just a sign that I should include that word in all of my post titles.

Take Care!

Beautiful In Imperfection

2012-04-26T17:52:00.002-07:00

Beautiful, fallible Man. A creature allowed to fail. Prone to fail. Doomed to fail. Beloved in imperfection, we still strive to do what is right.

Something that bothers me about many music albums now being released is a lack of the human feeling. Without going into too much detail for the non-musical, most bands today record their songs into a computer, and then an engineer uses software to splice good parts together and eliminate all mistakes. Sometimes bandmates aren't even in the same physical location when they record their parts. The production team just takes everything and mixes it together to create something deemed as digitally perfect as possible. So an album comes out that sounds "perfect," but something is dead and missing.
Listening to old albums by the Stones, Zep and others, I'm struck by the fact that some of my favorite parts are the little "imperfections" that are made by the musicians. A drummer drops his sticks at the end of the song, a note is missed in a solo, the guitar amp is causing the snare to vibrate and it's picked up on the mics. In the 1960's a lot of bands didn't even have standard 440hz tuners and would often tune to an old organ or something and then to each other. These old albums had character and that's something missing today; not just in music, but in art, in people, in our very standards by which we pass our judgements. People want perfection, but what they find is sterility and emptiness.

Stereotypes exist, and that's a fact. But the second half of that statement is that stereotypes exist because people try to present themselves in a way that identifies them with certain groups. That's why it's so easy to guess many things about a person's interests by judging their cover. For whatever reasons, a person will choose a social group which appeals to them, and then accessorize themselves with the tools necessary to belong to said group. If you know enough about the traits of a number of groups you can accurately make some predictions about its members. But it doesn't end there.
The problem with stereotypes isn't that we're judging a book by its cover, but that we're not reading the book. If the cover says, The Shining, by Steven King, we know where to find it in a bookstore and what other books will be around it. The cover is made as an advertisement to identify the type of book. It was created to allow us to judge and discern. But until we open the book and look inside we don't know what is actually between the covers. (Don't read too far into the book analogy and say, "well, the publisher wouldn't have made such a mistake, blah, blah, blah.)

People that I've run across in the past have often belonged to social groups whose stereotypes offend my senses (White guys who dress like black rappers for one!) But upon learning about them personally, and seeing their weaknesses and vulnerabilities, their common struggles and desire to fit in, their individual selves that they try to keep hidden with a mask of social perfection, I have compassion for them and love them as fellow human beings. Broken, fallible people trying to get by as I am. And in return for kindness and acceptance, they deliver trust, respect, loyalty and love. Everyone came from the same place, is going to the same place, has been hurt, has been glad and seeks acceptance in spite of their imperfections.

I've seen many times in my life occasions where two people found each other, saw the superficial signs of perfection they sought, got married, and then broke up when their true natures were learned and they refused to accept the weaknesses and shortcomings of the other. It's tragic.
We can never achieve perfection in this life, and when we set expectations for others that they cannot possibly meet, we only start the timer for the inevitable disappointment and disillusionment that will come.

Learn to love the imperfect, for we are all imperfect. Observe how familiar a road becomes when you learn its potholes, how much your house is home because that third stair creaks when you step on it, or how you know the familiar lines on the face of your loved one and the wear marks on your guitar. Imperfections that define and endear. How much will you miss a spouse's snoring which once annoyed you so greatly? How much will you long for the days when your children were loud and drew on the walls? Or the puppy that would never listen, but would fall asleep in utter contentment in your lap?

Think about something you love, and then think about how much you love it because of its idiosyncrasies, not its "perfection."

Take Care!

The Human Shoe

2012-04-22T11:12:00.000-07:00

Oftentimes as we go through life and try to work and live and be productive we get discouraged and set back. Life is like that sometimes. We're broken people trying to do our best in an imperfect world. There's great hope and great joy for all of us and that's what's keeping us alive, but that hope is juxtaposed with great pain and disappointment.
What is more of a blessing than family? Or a sunny day? The simplest things like a puppy or your favorite food? With these we must also face the realities of cold and hurt, broken hearts and poverty. All things come in cycles, both the good and the bad. Sometimes all of the bad happens at once, and sometimes things are so good you can't believe it's not butter.

Life can treat us like shoes. We're used and worn and walked on; they want to buy us cheap and not maintain us; they want us to be all things for all purposes, but don't want to think about what we were designed for; they wear us down until we're ripped and our souls/soles have holes (sorry about that last one), and then we're thrown away.
Should we be discouraged by this? How can we not be? We're human and when cut we'll bleed. But our hope for the better, our trust in the future and the appreciation of all that's beautiful and wonderful gets us back on our feet again. The feeling that comes from doing something nice for somebody, the feeling that comes from somebody doing something nice for us, that's what it's all about.

I can't speak for everyone, but I get no greater senses of purpose, accomplishment, self-respect and worth than when I am able to serve someone. Einstein said that only a life lived for others is worth living. The Bible says to love one another as we have been loved. I've tried to live by these words and in remembering them I am able to strongly ford the waters of the Great River. When darkness comes into our lives, when we get used and worn and walked on, nothing sustains like having worth and having a purpose; to know that no matter what happened to you, you did right thing, made the right choice and persevered. That you ran the good race, and when you're on your deathbed you'll know that you were as blameless as possible for an fallible being.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. This doesn't mean doing unto others with the expectation that they will do likewise unto you, but that you will do unto others like you would want to be treated, and as you know is right. Make a positive difference in all the lives you touch.

Take Care!

Course It's A Good Idea!

2012-04-19T20:41:00.000-07:00

Everybody in the world has seen Monty Python's Holy Grail and heard Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. And when I say everybody, yes I mean even a blind and deaf child with no electricity from the Australian Outback.

Having said that, I do feel the need to comment on the profundity of the scene in Grail where King Arthur meets God. Just one line strikes me especially; the line where Arthur tells God, "Good idea, oh Lord!" and God says, "Course it's a good idea!" As in, yeah, God thought of it, so it's a good idea. Why even question it?

Especially in "The Life of Brian" Monty Python has a way of portraying some brilliant and introspective concepts in the most absurd ways possible ("and that's Capricorn, is it?". It's fun to see things satirized so well by the "Beatles of comedy."

I'm very exhausted in every way and I can't even think well, so I'll just put up the aforementioned clip and allow you to muse with me.

NOM! NOM! NOM!

2012-04-17T19:09:00.000-07:00

Cannibalism's an issue; let's talk about it.

Would I eat a person? Tough question. So many moral and health and survival issues to think about and consider. I guess, upon deep consideration and reflection, the only way I would eat another human being is if I was a little hungry and I knew I could get away with it.
If it was 2:45am, and I was hungry and in a strange city, and I had to choose between McDonald's and the contents of a Prius with an Obama sticker on the back, you bet I'm reaching for the tire iron. Why on earth would I want to eat all that cellulose and pink slime when there's some organic, co-op fed, free-range hippie to grill? That's choice meat, amigo! Just knock on the glass and tell them you dropped your keys under your car and could they help you look for them, and then WHAM! WHAM!
Don't think I'm a monster, folks. I'm hypoglycemic. If I don't eat I get cranky! And if that means I has to put a couple vegan-filets on the George Foreman, then so be it. No one wants to be around a Grumpy Goose.
I brought up a specific example of, let's say, prey, because eating a regular person would be gross. I'm picky enough about getting organic beef, do you think I want to eat the average American who just sits on his fat ass and hoovers frozen TGI Friday's buffalo wings while watching "Idol?" You think I'm crazy?
Nope! It has to be a quinoa-fed herbivore, and they love hybrids. Think of a car like the plumage of a game bird. I'm not going to eat a dumpster-fed crow, but a wild pheasant is pretty tasty. In the same way I'll stay away from Fords and go for Subarus.

Take Care! (and eat well...)

The Seeker

2012-04-11T22:16:00.001-07:00

Howdy,

Tomorrow morning I get to have the opportunity to head to the wilderness of the Olympic Peninsula for four days of contemplation and reflection. After being so busy for so long, and putting in 18 hour days of work, life and fire academy I'll be glad to get some mental and physical recuperation and perhaps get some inspiration from Nature.

On a lighter note, I was studying the other day and the thought occurred to me (don't know why) that Bend, Oregon is not only the name of a city and state, but also when spoken is the same as what you hear the second day in an Alabama prison.

I'll let you all know the secrets of the Earth on Monday.

Take Care!

Proof That God Exists

2012-04-09T21:44:00.001-07:00

...Or at least that He has a sense of humor.

I was walking alone around a lake two weeks ago, heavy in thought and with a furrowed brow. My walk began with the intent to find answers in Nature to the questions that weighted heavily on my heart. Only 5 minutes in, however, I stumbled upon this ridiculous-looking piece of "wood" sticking out of a tree, and any attempt at seriousness vanished. I literally spread my arms, looked up at the sky and said, "Oh come on!"

There I was, trying to be serious and contemplative, and I basically tripped over something that looked like Treebeard was about to assault me. I of course took a picture and showed it to all of my 'tarded friends who are as immature as me.

I suppose my immaturity doesn't stop there, because now I'm putting it up on my blog.

Take Care!

Search & Rescue (I need it too!)

2012-04-08T13:02:00.002-07:00

Howdy,

I used to run competitively. I was good (4:39 mile, 15:52 5k, y'all!), but never a state-placer or anything. Distance running is entirely a matter of mental endurance and discipline. It's the discipline that makes you get up and go running when you don't have to or want to; it's the discipline that makes you say no to donuts and keep running when your entire body is in massive amounts of pain, and you can stop whenever you want. It is perseverance.
The absolute killer of distance runners isn't injury or sickness, it's letting your mind focus on the question, "why am I doing this?". Once that question enters your head, you're done. It means that you've lost the passion and commitment to your discipline and allowed yourself to think of other things you'd rather be doing. If you really were committed to your discipline, you wouldn't even have to ask why you were doing it. Once that though gets in your head, someone will beat you.

I don't run competitively anymore, but I still have things that I do which demand discipline and mental endurance. Writing was one, when I had the time for it. Muay Thai martial arts is one, my job is one, music study is one, and the volunteer fire service is one. With all of these things, I have to maintain commitment and mental endurance if I want to be successful. If I want to be successful.
Lately, I've been struggling with some of these things. My job is good to me, but it's not fulfilling, and I've recently been exposed to several people who have inspired me by quitting their jobs to pursue music, photography and art. All of them said, "I may wind up broke, but at least I'll be happy." I always, and still want to be a writer, but I always felt the compunction to have an established "main job" in case it never worked out. And now, in the pursuit of the elusive "main job" I'm neither reading, nor writing. Seems a bit backwards to me, since I have no children to take care of, and potentially only myself to look after. I'm 28, and while not too old, I'm not too young either and the world is calling to me to discover it.
I had to take a break from Muay Thai to focus on the fire academy, but I had also started to ask "why am I doing this?" about that as well. My wife took a break because she was too busy, and I never wanted to fight competitively, so it became me going just to get another new belt every three months and to impress people. Not good reasons for 4 hours per week and $120 per month.

This weekend for the fire academy we had 10 hours of search and rescue practical training at an abandoned meat-packing factory in Ferndale. Without trying to be flippant, this place looked like Cowschwitz. When we could see it, that is. Again we were blind-folded and divided into teams of three and told to search rooms and hallways for victims. It was valuable training, but that previous week I had let that question slip into my head: "Why am I doing this?"
I'm starting to feel like a bit of a loser and a quitter by how many times I've asked that question in my life. Oftentimes, it was obvious that the path I was taking was not for me, but sometimes I feel like I just cave when the going gets tough. I'd like to think that once I find the right path I'll pursue it to the end.
It's different with the fire service though. It's not that I dislike it or don't think it's worthy of my time, but 1) the reasons that I began it have changed, and 2) my old back injury from January 2011 has returned to make me choose between my physical health and well-being, and "toughing it out" so I can graduate and be a firefighter.

The firefighters are good people who want to make a positive difference in the word. I want to make a positive difference in the world too, and it seemed like a good match. But even if it's only volunteer, or if I get hired an every third day shift, the fire service is still full time. This isn't so bad, and it's actually fulfilling to commit yourself to something noble, but I really was looking to the fire service as a "main job" that I could do while I wrote. This just made me think, not ask the question. I'd be more than happy to dedicate myself to life-saving at the expense of writing.
Personal issues I can't discuss yet have come up which made me reevaluate my decision for the fire service too. I'm being given the option to choose a path solely for myself, with no responsibility for others, and it makes me really reconsider my entire life. If it was just me, with all the money I have in stock at my company, would I stay in Bellingham and pursue the fire service, or would I cash out, travel the world for two years and then work at my own bookstore, modest but happy for the rest of my life? A peaceful, contemplative life interspersed with the occasional adventure is what I want, and I've found that my current social situation of working too much for somebody else in another city with no family isn't giving me that.

I moved to Bellingham from a job painting boats because I thought I had more to offer the world. But what does the world have to offer me? I never settled in to the city life, even if it is a small city. Since I've been up here I've had all manner of emotional and physical injuries, and while I appreciate the experiences, I've been fantasizing about the quiet life I left behind, where I could walk from work to the brewery and then walk home, and the natural beauty of the area was truly inspiring.
Of course I am aware of the "we were better off in Egypt" syndrome. I have it all the time. But maybe I am ready to return home to the city by the bay and live peacefully and quietly, or at least to find something equivalent where I'm at.
The fire academy isn't too long, and I didn't sign anything that said I had to keep at it when I graduated, I am a volunteer after all. The big deal for me is my back. After 10 hours of crab-walking with 50lbs. of gear on yesterday, my already increasingly painful back is now so sore and stiff that I can barely turn to fasten my seatbelt, and even sitting down to write this incredibly lengthy post is painful. I wonder how I can be an effective life-saver if I'm already crippled in academy before the truly physical part of hose handling begins. Our training chief told us two weeks ago that he expects 90% of us to suffer severe back injuries in our careers. I thought, "Oh great! I already have a severe back injury!" I'm willing to tough it out, the pain itself is something I've been living with for 14 months, but I wonder if I really should destroy my body so early.

We always question our decisions at one point or the other I suppose. It would really be nice to have someone just tell us what to do, but that rarely happens. It's up to us. Right now I'm just trying to piece things together and do what I need to. We'll see what my back feels like tomorrow.

Take Care!

Firefighter Confidence

2012-04-05T23:39:00.000-07:00

Hi there,

My knees are still aching from last Saturday. I'm into week three of volunteer firefighter academy and last weekend was SCBA confidence, equipment maintenance, a little search and a whole lot of throwing gear in the rain.

It's Washington. It rains all the time. But especially last Saturday. We spent almost the whole day outside in the parking lot behind the training station practicing putting our gear on and off (doffing and donning), and my Company Officer (CO) had us doing burpees and then running in full gear until we ran out of air. Once our low-air bells barely had enough air to ring he had us lie down in the grass and practice controlled breathing until there was no more air left in the tank.
It's strange how quickly my brain started to flicker a little bit of panic when it realized there was zero air getting in my longs when I tried to breathe. Mind you, this was when I was panting heavily after burpees and running too. But our training officers wanted us to know how to control our breathing and what it felt like to run out of air. A firefighter cannot take off that mask in a structure fire. Even if the toxic smoke doesn't kill you (which it can in 2 seconds depending on what's burning), if you take your mask off in 500+ degrees your soft, watery lungs will fry and you'll asphyxiate from pulmonary edema. So get used to the mask staying on at all times!

The day was challenging physically, but not beyond the abilities of a decently in shape person. The hard part for me was the confidence course. I later learned that the whole object was not to teach us anything in particular, but to freak us out and frustrate us.
There were two shipping containers parallel to each other and about 15-20ft apart, but connected by a covered, wooden tunnel that looked like an attic. Inside, the containers were filled with stairs, ladders, tunnels, mazes and other obstacles and other junk. We were divided into teams of three, had our hoods pulled over our masks so we were totally blind, and told to get in and make our way through the course; in one container, out the other.
It was very difficult mentally, and I'm not a claustrophobic person by nature. We were told to stick together, but there were 23 people divided into small teams, and all of them were in the two containers, all of them were banging on the walls and floors yelling for each other, and we were constantly jammed into the tunnels, unable to pass each other. The instructors were pounding on the walls, closing doors, and running chainsaws to add to the noise.
It was tight too. There was a part where I was flat on my belly from chest to toes crawling blind through a space and my tank was banging on the ceiling above me. At one point we came to a ladder, and my two squadmates went up first. I climbed last, but went one rung too high and couldn't find the floor again. I could hear them calling for me, but they couldn't hear me yelling that I couldn't find the floor, and we obviously couldn't see each other.
Finally I found the floor, but it was full of people grabbing each other, saying, "Who is this?" Someone (probably an instructor) finally grabbed my shoulders and threw me down the right passage to reunite with my team. By this time our low air bells were ringing, so we didn't have long to find an exit; we just had no idea where it was.

Once we were out I thought I was finished. I had become so frustrated at not being able to find my team, together with the claustrophobia, that I was ready to call it quits. So when a couple hours later we were told to do it again I almost said I couldn't. But what's the Nike slogan? "Just do it." And that's what I did. This time I was the team leader, and I made sure that we stuck to a left-hand wall search, that we were staying within verbal contact range, and that we were controlling our breathing as best we could. And it was all fine.
In a confidence course you are expected to go beyond what's comfortable. You are expected to push past your boundaries and establish new ones. Firefighters have to deal with life and death and we're going to have to keep our heads when nothing is going our way.

This Saturday we're spending ten hours straight in search & rescue at an old meat-packing plant. I hope I can push past the inner wimp and be what I need to be.

Here's a little video of a trainee throwing his SCBA. We do this a lot!

Brudda Iz

2012-04-01T11:04:00.000-07:00

Howdy,

Back in February my family and I spent a week in Hanalei, Kauai, Hawaii. Of course I played a crap-load of ukulele while I was there, and, true story, I brought a woman to tears in a music store where I was playing a little bamboo soprano uke. She gave me a hug and a kiss and said my playing made her miss her son, who was a classical guitarist in New Zealand. I think that's what she said, I was pretty crunked on my margarita. (I hadn't been drinking in over a month, and decided to start with a waay too strong mixed drink.) It was a lot of fun over there, and I could really go on for hours about it, but I wanted to talk about the aloha spirit I left with.

It's funny that after 10-odd years of intense guitar obsession, that I wind up in a ukulele group, but I've already shown some videos of Jake Shimabukuro and Rob Mackillop, as well as posted about the enormous awesome-ness of my Kamaka HF-3 uke. Even last year I was unaware of how much fun the uke could be. I was listening to tons of blues and drilling scales and theory into my brain (and beginning to hate it), and now in my "band" we play Jimmy Buffet, John Prine and Israel Kamakawiwo'ole songs. I've even sold another guitar, so now I'm down to two acoustics and my Kamaka.

The thing is, you can't pick up an uke and not smile. It's like a dog: it's always happy to see you no matter how much of a tool you've been that day. And when you decide to play one, you've already decided not to take yourself too seriously, so you're able to relax and enjoy the moment. Plus, someone can play songs after 5-minutes of first picking one up and you can still play one after three sangrias.

This little feeling of well-being that comes from the uke is aloha spirit. It's crystal-clear blue waters, white sand and shaka signs. It's Kona Brewery, Kauai chickens and surfing (I still have board rash marks). It's what you get in the islands and what you need to take home with you. The uke is like a seashell that when held up to the ear gives the sound of its home, the ocean. When you play it, it remembers its home and gives off aloha spirit.

There was one large fellow with a large heart who did more than anyone in the last 20 years to bring back the ukulele and the aloha spirit, and that was Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, or Brudda Iz. Jake Shimabukuro showed me that the uke was more than just a tourist toy, but it was Brudda Iz that showed me the aloha spirit of the uke. He brought the uke and Hawaiian traditional music to the center stage after he got famous for his rendition of "Somewhere over the Rainbow," which is still one of the top-searched songs for uke chords.

I highly suggest seeking out his music if you haven't already. I recently discovered this beautiful song of his, which has been one of my favorites for the last few weeks.

Enjoy!

Lazarus

2012-03-28T10:52:00.000-07:00

My blog, back from the dead. But am I?

I deleted this muthah 3 months ago and I don't know why I decided to bring it back. Maybe because I need an outlet. I miss writing. Writing has always been my soul's release, but I haven't been able to do it in a while. And I haven't been able to read in a while. I miss my literary addictions. My true escapes and sanctuaries. My life has gone tits up recently and I need an outlet.
What's happened in three months? Way too much. Not a single book finished though. I've desperately wanted to read recreationally again, but I am way too busy for realz. I don't mean that I'm too busy because I don't make the time and I end up playing video games or watching TV. I mean that I am literally too busy for recreational reading.

In February I was accepted as a volunteer firefighter for one of the districts in my area. I had an oral board interview (terrifying), a written test (sprung on me, and when was the last time I did math?), physical examination (cough), Hep B vaccination (gross), air mask fit-test (claustrophobic, anyone?), and a Physical Assessment Test (unusual). Passed them all and began fire academy in March.
Every Tuesday ad Thursday night from 1900-2200 I have class, and every Saturday and Sunday (8-10 hours each day) I have what they call practical instruction, which is putting on your protective clothing and air tanks and running around playing fireman. On top of this they assigned me several big-ass instructional books to read. A lot of reading. For example, I have 100 pages of HAZMAT identification to read today, and everyday has been close to this. It's a bit overwhelming to go from coming home form work and reading, writing and playing ukulele to being a firefighter recruit 100% in terms of time and mental focus. I've even had to slow down on Muay Thai (gasp!).

All of this is definitely do-able, and I'm actually really enjoying it, but there are several major personal issues that have come up simultaneously which are throwing some painful wrenches into my machinery. But if I can dodge a wrench I can dodge a ball, right? The only thing to do is keep on keepin' on and do the right thing. I'm proud of what I've accomplished so far, and every day further affirms my belief that I made the right choice pursuing a career as a firefighter/EMT.

I hope that I can find the time to get back at my blog. I still owe myself the Seven Pillars of Wisdom. Stone in the River has become such a horcrux that I think I'll always come back to it, but I also have some ideas for some more genre-specific blogs I want to do. Anyway, I hope to get out and visit some of your blogs again!

Take Care!

Glass Harp

2012-01-11T18:13:00.000-08:00

Howdy,

A little while ago I put up a video of one of my favorite guitarists, Phil Keaggy, playing some sweet, soft acoustic stuff from around 1990. I mentioned that he is one of the best guitarists I've ever heard so I thought I should put up another video that shows the other side of his talent: his amazing electric playing.

There's a legend floating around that somebody asked Jimi Hendrix what it felt like being the greatest guitar player in the world and Jimi said, "I don't know, ask Phil Keaggy." I'm not sure if I believe this story, but whether or no it's true Phil Keaggy was one of the world's top guitarists when he made this video with his band at the time, Glass Harp.

It amazes me that he was playing like this at a time when sexy-but-sloppy guys like Jimmy Page were sitting on top of the guitar world.

Enjoy!

The Reason

2012-01-07T16:34:00.000-08:00

My sister sent this image to me a while ago. I think it's a fairly accurate explanation about my psyche.

Coolest Thing You Ever F---ing Saw

2012-01-06T18:49:00.000-08:00

Yes. That's Freddie Mercury of Queen riding Darth Vader of Star Wars fame.

Sometimes I Feel...

2012-01-06T18:44:00.000-08:00

This picture made me laugh out loud whilst by myself, and was very appropriate for my feelings at the end of the week.

Remember the Sabbath

2012-01-06T18:01:00.000-08:00

Howdy,

A dirty secret of mine is that I am a closet metalhead. I generally don't listen to it too much of it, since it kind of puts me in a peculiar mood, but there are a few bands that I keep handy to blast my eardrums when I get the itch.
Most of these bands are classic metal like Iron Maiden, Rainbow, Dio, or Deep Purple, but there are a few modern bands like Mastodon that I listen to as well. I also thoroughly enjoy my Melvins station on Pandora, which plays Bleach-era Nirvana, The Jesus Lizard, Fugazi, Melvins, Murder City Devils, etc.
One band in particular has always been able to satisfy any craving for heaviness that I've needed, and that band is the mother of all metal: Black Sabbath.

One reason that this band is so impressive was that they were coming out with such a heavy, sludgy sound so early in the hard rock/metal game. For example, they released their third album only 4 months after the Beatles broke up.
Part of this signature sound of theirs was due to guitarist Tony Iommi slicing off the tips of his fretting hand on the day he was going to quit his sheet metal job to pursue music. Inspired to continue playing the guitar by Django Reinhardt's similar disability, Tony made little rubber tips for his fingers, drop-tuned his guitar to make playing easier, and switched to ultra light-guage strings to make it easier to play. He also had the pickups on his stratocaster go out when Black Sabbath went in to record their first album so he was obliged to switch to his backup Gibson SG. Slackened, down-tuned strings added to a Gibson means sonics heavier than a neutron star.

I could really go on about them, but I'll let Wikipedia do that for me; so please enjoy the video that I've found of a great tune off of the aforementioned third album, Master of Reality. This little number is called 'Children of the Grave.' Enjoy!