Dunce tripe.
August 29th, 2011
Tarnished tarmac, wind beneath the floorboards, and irreverent eccentrics dancing in the shadows like the campfire moonlight. Across the lake, I make out a pair of eyes; we make out in paradise.
Negligent barbers clip away, snip snip snip, and my head is barren with a shoulder-length phantom style.
“You look radiant tonight,” I said.
I flex and huff and make quite the commotion while you fixate on something off in the distance. It’s some kind of peace and tranquility, and I notice it once we walk there together. I didn’t mean to be so dense.
Pointing Fingers
August 6th, 2011
I really dislike talking about politics. Everyone seems to think they know the solution to fixing the myriad problems the U.S. is dealing with right now, and few people are shy about sharing what they think. I don’t consider myself a news source, so anyone who might be reading this should already know that Standard & Poor’s downgraded the U.S.’s credit rating, and perhaps you’re aware that <"http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/07/business/global/china-a-big-creditor-says-us-has-only-itself-to-blame.html?hp">China is telling the U.S. that it must cure it’s “addiction to debt.”
Perhaps I’m fired up because I read the comments sections in these and various other articles. People are livid, but not uniformly. It’s 2011, and we’re still throwing barbs back and forth, calling each other names, and pretending that we really know what’s right for the country. Worse still, we think that anyone whose ideas run contrary to ours are wrong. It’s like a nation of people who all think they’re good drivers, when in fact, very few abide by all of the rules of the road (present company included).
The fact is, I’m worried. We’re in the middle of a great power shift, and in the coming years, our country will no longer be the ones holding the keys to the house. And, instead of working together to build a new home for ourselves, we’re fighting over who gets to keep the scraps from the old place. We’re dealing with an unwillingness for anyone to make sacrifices: raising taxes is out of the question, and nobody can agree on what spending is unnecessary and could be cut or reduced.
I have my opinions, sure, but I won’t pretend that I know the solution. What I do know is that we cannot continue to operate the way we have been and expect our problems to go away. Instead, it will extrapolate exponentially the longer that we continue to argue instead of setting aside our differences and finding a solution that’s workable for everyone. People are going to have to do without (or have fewer of) the things they are used to if we’re going to come out on top. The only way to get through a difficult time is to make sacrifices, and as a country, it’s something we’ll have to do together.
The only question then is whether we can put away our egos and get this thing under control.
No boundaries.
July 27th, 2011
I am elusive.
My clothes are skin-tight.
My head is shaved.
I bathe in butter and grease.
My limbs are detachable.
My body is a jetpack.
I am light.
I am air.
I am limitless.
A Snapshot of Life Lived at 185 m.p.h.
July 6th, 2011
June was a whirlwind of activity. I drove to Cincinnati to see the first of my cousins get married, and spent time with more cousins who I hadn’t seen since they were children. I recorded 9 songs in a house in St. Paul with my new bandmates. I adjusted to my new St. Paul apartment, and helped show my girlfriend’s parents around the new neighborhood. I aced all of the assignments in my Web Fundamentals class, and decided to pursue an AS degree in Computer Programming, with the goal of transferring to a 4-year program. I threw a housewarming party, and was warmed by the spirit of friendship.
It’s weird being back, and not having time to blink has helped ease the transition. I miss my friends in our old neighborhood, but I’ve seen them (almost) as much as I ever have. This past Sunday, we spent the day with Josh, Karin, and Max, which included canoeing on Lake Calhoun, a viewing of Troll Hunter (the must-see movie of the summer!), too much pizza at Red’s Savoy (somehow I assume a group of skinny people can eat as much as me), and a too-the-completion game of Puerto Rico at our place.
It never struck me until then, but man, I love July. July is the most care-free month of the year, and I’m glad that it’s here to welcome me back to this rugged lifestyle of liquor stores closing at 8 p.m. and road construction tearing up the best non-freeway thoroughfare to Minneapolis.
It’s good to be home.
An Open Letter to Mathematics
June 15th, 2011
Dear Algebra,
It’s been a long time, friend. Last time we interacted, I was a snot-nosed teenager who thought he knew everything. You threatened to prove me wrong, but I quickly overcame your arrogance and emerged victorious. I refused to succumb to your pitfalls, though you left many others in your wake.
Over fifteen years have passed since then. Today, I discovered that I needed to pass a mathematics exam in order to be enrolled in my degree program of choice. I knew you’d be there.
The administrator in the testing office logged me onto the computer. I clicked through the sample questions, and before long I was immersed in a series of questions about arithmetic – addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, and fractions – but you were nowhere to be seen. Seventeen questions were requested of me, and seventeen questions I answered.
And then you emerged.
I recognized you immediately, what with your countless variables mingling shameless with numbers. I wasn’t struck by your appearance, but rather, how much you’ve changed. I’m not sure if it was your personality, or your appearance, or maybe you’re running with a different crew these days. What was once a shadow of a subject now stood before me an unfamiliar being. You were a crust of your former self, and I was blindsided.
During our time together, there were moments where you made me smile. Like most old friends, there is a place for reminiscing and thinking on the good times, and we must have spent a good 10 minutes together looking back. It was fantastic.
But, beyond that, I see that we’ve grown apart. After our time was up, the faculty member grabbed a piece of paper out of the printer, handed it to me, and reaffirmed what I already knew to be true:
I don’t know you anymore. Still, thank you for not getting in my way.
Until next time,
jmw