Many of you have known me long enough to know what I think of Karl Marx. While I'm not as much of a proponant of his ideas as I once was, I have definitely become a member of the proletariat: the workers party. I own nothing but my labor, some climbing gear, $3000 worth of music gear, and a beat-up pickup truck. The only way to continue living as I do is to sell the labor that I have. So I mop floors, wash windows, sweeps, scrape gum from the floors and duct tape from the walls. At least I get to listen to sermons while I do it.
It does, however, feel FANTASTIC to be working again. It will take awhile to figure out how much food I have to eat to fuel my lifestyle, because a few cups of pork stirfry, an apple, pop tarts, and maybe a sandwich for dinner just aren't cutting 8 hours of work in additon to afternoons spent climbing. I'm chillin' out today, but I am trying to keep busy.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
GRADUATION!?
So just the other day, I was a student at Clark College, sitting through the wrong English 101 class on my first day as a college kid. As I apologized profusely I stumbled out of class, probably tripping over everyone's bags on my exit from Hannah Hall 103, as I asked myself what I was going to do now. Luckily I found the appropriate classroom, which I discovered as Larry Blakely told me that I had found a chemistry classroom. The look on my face must have been classic, because everyone laughed at me as Mr. Blakely let me feel awkward for a second before telling me I was in the right place. I found my seat and sunk into my chair. So this is college, I thought.
The next day, I threw my few possessions into my Ridgeway Gamma 921, my dorm room at Western Washington University. As I attempted to get acquainted with my new roommate, I hoped not everyone felt nearly as awkwawrd as I did. I was a sophomore surrounded by freshman, a history major surrounded by art majors, a musician surrounded by graphic designers. All of a sudden, I was a "good" Christian guy stuck in a sea of people talking about sex, drugs, and alcohol, and grew immune to the huge pile of Busch and PBR cans that appeared in the recycle bin on Sunday morning as I deposited the bottles left over from my weekly ration of Henry Weinhardt's Root Beer. As I walked onto north campus for the first time, not knowing a soul, trying to find Old Main 480 at 8 AM on a Tuesday morning, coffee in hand I looked around and tried to envision what I was getting myself into. So this is university, I thought.
365 days later, I started my job as a resident advisor in addition to, as Residents Life will tell you (falsely,) being a "student first." Fresh off a summer spent rafting in Idaho, a was thrust back into an environment similar to that of my first day. Unable to handle the stress of the job, I quickly discovered it wasn't for me, resigned, and relocated to an apartment on the southern edge of campus. I had given up my security in housing during a time that jobs were near impossible to find, and baerly being able to scrape up rent for the next month became the norm. After my first meeting with my new landlord, I walked back to my room with less money than I had coming out. Junk, so this is life, I thought.
I just finished my application to graduate in fall 2009. Hitting "print" was like a punch in the sternum. I'm almost done. Out on my own. Kind of.
I wonder what'll happen "tomorrow." I'm sure it'll be entertaining.
The next day, I threw my few possessions into my Ridgeway Gamma 921, my dorm room at Western Washington University. As I attempted to get acquainted with my new roommate, I hoped not everyone felt nearly as awkwawrd as I did. I was a sophomore surrounded by freshman, a history major surrounded by art majors, a musician surrounded by graphic designers. All of a sudden, I was a "good" Christian guy stuck in a sea of people talking about sex, drugs, and alcohol, and grew immune to the huge pile of Busch and PBR cans that appeared in the recycle bin on Sunday morning as I deposited the bottles left over from my weekly ration of Henry Weinhardt's Root Beer. As I walked onto north campus for the first time, not knowing a soul, trying to find Old Main 480 at 8 AM on a Tuesday morning, coffee in hand I looked around and tried to envision what I was getting myself into. So this is university, I thought.
365 days later, I started my job as a resident advisor in addition to, as Residents Life will tell you (falsely,) being a "student first." Fresh off a summer spent rafting in Idaho, a was thrust back into an environment similar to that of my first day. Unable to handle the stress of the job, I quickly discovered it wasn't for me, resigned, and relocated to an apartment on the southern edge of campus. I had given up my security in housing during a time that jobs were near impossible to find, and baerly being able to scrape up rent for the next month became the norm. After my first meeting with my new landlord, I walked back to my room with less money than I had coming out. Junk, so this is life, I thought.
I just finished my application to graduate in fall 2009. Hitting "print" was like a punch in the sternum. I'm almost done. Out on my own. Kind of.
I wonder what'll happen "tomorrow." I'm sure it'll be entertaining.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Shoot. What is Today? Thursday?
The sun is shining here in Bellingham. The little clock on the bottom right hand corner of the screen says that I have 40 minutes until I need to be across campus, sitting, listening to presentations about democracy promotion in various countries. I haven't written for awhile, so I figured I'd give a quick update.
I just finished Revelation today. Which is cool, because I started in Genesis at the beginning of August. Done in 9 months, if my math is correct. That's pretty cool. The plan now is to spend a week in Hebrews, which is hands down my favorite NT book.
I love when people talk on the phone in the library. Loudly. It's my favorite.
Climbing isn't happening as often as I would like it to. In between being tired of all the local spots, it's hard to find climbing buddies, and my left arm is feeling kinda funny, which perhaps has something to do with the awkward bump on my left arm. I'm climbing with my finger taped up, which helps give support to the tendon, but to blow a tendon now would be the worst thing I could do. ANYWAY. I'm going to the doctor today to see what's up. I know. Shocker.
I would love to keep going, but there's people wandering around the library looking for computers, even if it's just to check their Facebook. SO I should go. I'll try to write more later. We'll see how that goes.
I just finished Revelation today. Which is cool, because I started in Genesis at the beginning of August. Done in 9 months, if my math is correct. That's pretty cool. The plan now is to spend a week in Hebrews, which is hands down my favorite NT book.
I love when people talk on the phone in the library. Loudly. It's my favorite.
Climbing isn't happening as often as I would like it to. In between being tired of all the local spots, it's hard to find climbing buddies, and my left arm is feeling kinda funny, which perhaps has something to do with the awkward bump on my left arm. I'm climbing with my finger taped up, which helps give support to the tendon, but to blow a tendon now would be the worst thing I could do. ANYWAY. I'm going to the doctor today to see what's up. I know. Shocker.
I would love to keep going, but there's people wandering around the library looking for computers, even if it's just to check their Facebook. SO I should go. I'll try to write more later. We'll see how that goes.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
So This Is What I Do
I'm at it again: writing papers based on almost entirely primary source evidence. It's so much more fun and interesting than looking through secondary source material (stuff that was written about other stuff, to over-simplify it) writing the page number, and giving credit to the person that does it.
So, because it's more fun, I sit in front of a light-emitting screen and sift through newspapers on a microfilm machine. This is fantastic in small doses. However, I'm going on hour number four of it, and my search has turned up surprisingly little evidence. The objective? To analyze newpaper advertisements searching for ways in which women during the early-mid 1940's were encouraged to operate under war industrialization, rationing, and general traditional gender role flip-flopping. While good evidence has been hard to come by, I keep seeing ads directed at women saying that something is "so easy to wear," typically in reference to wool something- or- other.
QUESTION: Don't ya just put something on? The ability to wear something is not the issue (unless we're talking about the armor of God: that stuff'll just fall off if we're not careful.) Rather, it seems to me that whether or not you can do ANYTHING in it is the question. What the heck is "garbandine?" Terms like "bodice" just confuse me.
As you partake in my boredom while August issues of the New York Times scroll unfruitfully before my eyes, think about this...
What if humans were actually called slugs? what if we renamed the two species right now, because those are the species names that were actually intended in our creation? Would they If you were a human, how would it feel to get salted by a slug?
This is just a taste of the micro film room at WWU. Where the university setting turns otherwise intelligent slugs into mere humans in the process of being salted.
Life is good, by the way. Confusing, busy, but entertaining. Thank goodness it's almost summer.
So, because it's more fun, I sit in front of a light-emitting screen and sift through newspapers on a microfilm machine. This is fantastic in small doses. However, I'm going on hour number four of it, and my search has turned up surprisingly little evidence. The objective? To analyze newpaper advertisements searching for ways in which women during the early-mid 1940's were encouraged to operate under war industrialization, rationing, and general traditional gender role flip-flopping. While good evidence has been hard to come by, I keep seeing ads directed at women saying that something is "so easy to wear," typically in reference to wool something- or- other.
QUESTION: Don't ya just put something on? The ability to wear something is not the issue (unless we're talking about the armor of God: that stuff'll just fall off if we're not careful.) Rather, it seems to me that whether or not you can do ANYTHING in it is the question. What the heck is "garbandine?" Terms like "bodice" just confuse me.
As you partake in my boredom while August issues of the New York Times scroll unfruitfully before my eyes, think about this...
What if humans were actually called slugs? what if we renamed the two species right now, because those are the species names that were actually intended in our creation? Would they If you were a human, how would it feel to get salted by a slug?
This is just a taste of the micro film room at WWU. Where the university setting turns otherwise intelligent slugs into mere humans in the process of being salted.
Life is good, by the way. Confusing, busy, but entertaining. Thank goodness it's almost summer.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
My Day Started Earlier Than Expected
After a later-than-intended evening, I went to bed about two hours past my new bed-time (right around 10:30 PM.) I awoke with a start at about 4:50 AM soaked with sweat from too many sheets, then became even more awake when my roommate returning home at about 5 AM. About five minutes later, I received a strange phone call from a friend. At first I ignored it, but felt uneasy about it. A quick return phone call revealed that my friend was in the hospital and needed a ride home.
Well. Now I'm up.
I have a paper to write today, and I'm about halfway through it. Then I remembered something a fellow musician and worship team member had told me about...a 300W Genz-Benz bass amp that weighed less than 3 lbs. I took a break to investigate and then realized that there was a reason I hadn't looked at gear in a while. I tend to want it. The fact that my acoustic guitar is slowly breaking, the crack in the bridge slowly expanding doesn't make it any easier.
I used to use a lot of gear. Those who have witnessed me on Glenwood's worship team can attest to this. Options are good. Bigger is better.
False. As I enter a stage in my life where frequent relocation is all but imminant, less really is more. My bass amp is shoved under a desk because it's the only place it'll fit. My computer's broken, and thusly my system for playing amp-less is gone. At church, I now plug directly into a direct input box, something I HATED doing at Glenwood. In my closet in Vancouver, I have tubs and drawers full of cables, pedals, strings, tubes, and assorted guitar parts. Oh, to have all that money back. Yet the thought of off-ing a guitar scares me, because I love them and the sounds they make. I really have scared down too. But to think that I could go even more bare bones and be ok with it makes me better able to part with all the stuff I don't use at all.
Anyway.
Back to work.
Well. Now I'm up.
I have a paper to write today, and I'm about halfway through it. Then I remembered something a fellow musician and worship team member had told me about...a 300W Genz-Benz bass amp that weighed less than 3 lbs. I took a break to investigate and then realized that there was a reason I hadn't looked at gear in a while. I tend to want it. The fact that my acoustic guitar is slowly breaking, the crack in the bridge slowly expanding doesn't make it any easier.
I used to use a lot of gear. Those who have witnessed me on Glenwood's worship team can attest to this. Options are good. Bigger is better.
False. As I enter a stage in my life where frequent relocation is all but imminant, less really is more. My bass amp is shoved under a desk because it's the only place it'll fit. My computer's broken, and thusly my system for playing amp-less is gone. At church, I now plug directly into a direct input box, something I HATED doing at Glenwood. In my closet in Vancouver, I have tubs and drawers full of cables, pedals, strings, tubes, and assorted guitar parts. Oh, to have all that money back. Yet the thought of off-ing a guitar scares me, because I love them and the sounds they make. I really have scared down too. But to think that I could go even more bare bones and be ok with it makes me better able to part with all the stuff I don't use at all.
Anyway.
Back to work.
Monday, March 30, 2009
WOW. It's Actually Happening.
I've spent the last few months of my life living in the cave that is Wilson 2w, the microfilm room in Western Washington University's library. Full of primary source documents and the means to access them, it lacks a reliable internet connection and any computers that can be used to figure out what's going on outside of my little history bubble. A shortage of time forced me to forgo my daily edition of the New York Times. All this to say, I have no idea what's going on in this world. As I get back in the loop, I grow increasingly more frustrated with the times of the day.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/31/business/31auto.html?_r=1&hp
This article really got me fired up. For years, we've mostly clung to the capitalist market. Competition is good. It keeps prices somewhat low, and keeps the manufacturers responsible for the quality of goods. When a company can no longer remain competitive, it dies off, and makes room for others to enter the market. However, if this last step fails to occur, the system is shaken up and no longer ceases to function as it should.
However, this last step is precisely what is NOT being allowed to happen. The Obama administration is continuing to prop up dying businesses. That's not what fired me up about this article though. The source of this proverbial "riled-up-ness" is this: Obama is quoted as saying that leadership from Washington is what caused the current failure of the American auto industry.
Here's the deal: The American auto industry shouldn't need the leadership of the American government. What it does need is the ability to DIE. I love my Chevy to death, and I really hope that the Feds will allow me to continue driving it in spite of it's emissions problems, but I would rather see GM die than give it more money so that the CEO can keep their summer home. People buy more foreign cars anyway. Cause' they're better.
I'll try to keep more on top of this thing this quarter, as I document the downfall of the American economy. Clinch your buttocks folks: we're going socialist.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/31/business/31auto.html?_r=1&hp
This article really got me fired up. For years, we've mostly clung to the capitalist market. Competition is good. It keeps prices somewhat low, and keeps the manufacturers responsible for the quality of goods. When a company can no longer remain competitive, it dies off, and makes room for others to enter the market. However, if this last step fails to occur, the system is shaken up and no longer ceases to function as it should.
However, this last step is precisely what is NOT being allowed to happen. The Obama administration is continuing to prop up dying businesses. That's not what fired me up about this article though. The source of this proverbial "riled-up-ness" is this: Obama is quoted as saying that leadership from Washington is what caused the current failure of the American auto industry.
Here's the deal: The American auto industry shouldn't need the leadership of the American government. What it does need is the ability to DIE. I love my Chevy to death, and I really hope that the Feds will allow me to continue driving it in spite of it's emissions problems, but I would rather see GM die than give it more money so that the CEO can keep their summer home. People buy more foreign cars anyway. Cause' they're better.
I'll try to keep more on top of this thing this quarter, as I document the downfall of the American economy. Clinch your buttocks folks: we're going socialist.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
It's Almost Over
It's Dead Week. Thursday thereof, to be exact. 12:57 PM to be precise.
I am taking a break from final revisions on my History 499 paper. It's the capstone of the history program, so I had to take it, and by the time I was done I have almost 19 pages of double spaced text. That's not including the two that I decided were crap and deleted. At least it didn't come down to a frantic rush for more evidence and information.
I have knots all through by back and neck, including a weird spot in my upper arm that I THINK is a knot, but I'm "knot" sure. HAHA. My hands hurt from the routes I've been trying at the gym to get in shape for our prospective trip to Smith Rock. I'm feeling stronger than I ever have, which is awesome. My fingers are also starting to need the support of climbing tape. It's moments like this one that I remember that I'll feel the abuse I'm giving myself when I'm older.
I've been fairly productive the last few days. I finally cleaned the mold off of our bathroom ceiling, bleaching spots on my sweatshirt in the process. I'm learning new ways to cook Ramen due to my recent fascination with Thai food. I actually bought chicken at the store last night in preparation for Finals Week! Wow. Moving on up. I've been eating a lot of oranges and apples, I now own milk and butter, and I'm starting to hardboil eggs again. I'm constantly hungry these days, and I kinda wish I wasn't; life'd be cheaper.
Yesterday, I found out that I got an 89 on a test that I was sure I'd bombed. It was an amazingly pleasant surprise.
I have just decided that my paper is good enough. Which means I'm going bouldering. That's climbing without a rope and only about 6 ft off the ground. It's hard and painful, but not particularly scary.
Climbing tape is my friend.
I am taking a break from final revisions on my History 499 paper. It's the capstone of the history program, so I had to take it, and by the time I was done I have almost 19 pages of double spaced text. That's not including the two that I decided were crap and deleted. At least it didn't come down to a frantic rush for more evidence and information.
I have knots all through by back and neck, including a weird spot in my upper arm that I THINK is a knot, but I'm "knot" sure. HAHA. My hands hurt from the routes I've been trying at the gym to get in shape for our prospective trip to Smith Rock. I'm feeling stronger than I ever have, which is awesome. My fingers are also starting to need the support of climbing tape. It's moments like this one that I remember that I'll feel the abuse I'm giving myself when I'm older.
I've been fairly productive the last few days. I finally cleaned the mold off of our bathroom ceiling, bleaching spots on my sweatshirt in the process. I'm learning new ways to cook Ramen due to my recent fascination with Thai food. I actually bought chicken at the store last night in preparation for Finals Week! Wow. Moving on up. I've been eating a lot of oranges and apples, I now own milk and butter, and I'm starting to hardboil eggs again. I'm constantly hungry these days, and I kinda wish I wasn't; life'd be cheaper.
Yesterday, I found out that I got an 89 on a test that I was sure I'd bombed. It was an amazingly pleasant surprise.
I have just decided that my paper is good enough. Which means I'm going bouldering. That's climbing without a rope and only about 6 ft off the ground. It's hard and painful, but not particularly scary.
Climbing tape is my friend.
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