Yearly Archives: 2005

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I’m currently sitting in front of Collis (becoming a broken record on that one, I suppose), wondering whether or not I want to go spend $250+ on going to a convention in Connecticut. I’ve heard good things about it, and I know several people who are going. Given that likely what I’d be doing instead is more of the same, I’m not sure why I should be hesitating. I suppose I’m just trying to figure out if I really have the gumption to go be surrounded by hundreds of people for three days. Some days I’m fine with the idea, other days… not so much. That many people wears me the fuck out.

I’ve already packed my bags and have left the house, and an idea that has been running around in my head is foregoing the convention and just holing up somewhere instead. We’ll see… I’ll let you know what I ended up doing when the weekend is over.

Faux Intellectualism

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We signed contracts yesterday, agreements to sell our house. It’s kind of weird, but hasn’t really impacted me as much as those around me expected it to. I’ve already said my goodbyes to the house, so this simply is what it is: another nail in the coffin of our marriage, but really, the lid was already secured well before now. Instead, I’m just trying to look to the future, what to do with my share of the proceeds from the sale of the house — my current idea involves buying some land in northern Vermont. I’ve found some acreage within my price range, just need to get it perk tested to see if it’s a worthwhile purchase (I’d hate to dump money into a property and then not be able to do anything with it). What I do after that is entirely up in the air. My first priority is to finish my final semester and get my degree. Beyond that, I have some ideas, but nothing I’m willing to commit to. As to why I’m not willing to commit, it’s a lot of reasons, often contradicting each other. As much as I want to move on and “feel” ready to, I still end up catching myself say “my wife Mickey” and realize that I’m probably not. I’m frustrated and tired of being in limbo, but when it comes time to do, my mind fades into bleary dissonance. I guess it all comes down to wanting to believe that I’m functional, and then discovering that I’m still not.

The title of this post is “faux intellectualism,” and there’s a reason. It’s how I feel sometimes, when I sit and write. Sometimes I feel like I’m being an elitist or getting in the way of communication for the sake of a false sense of eloquence. This is something I do out of habit: my own favorite posts are those where I feel like there is a strong voice in the writing, which is sort of antithetical to the notion of literary or intellectual snobbery. It’s something I resort to when I’m tired, feeling tapped, trapped, apathetic, and pathetic. Which is definitely how I feel right now. I’m very frustrated with my life, my attention being stretched in many directions, none of which where I want to. Here’s what I want right now: I want to be myself, at my own pace, working at my own schedule, living at my own schedule, balancing friends and studies. I want to have the option to be around people and the option to NOT. If I’m going to be thrust back into the role of being single, I’d like to actually have the benefits that come with it, you know?

Uri’s been in town for the past 10 days… he flies out bright and early tomorrow morning. It’s been great having him here, even if for unfortunate circumstances. I’m sure he’s looking forward to getting home and sleeping in a real bed — he’s been crashing on an air mattress and sharing a room with me. We’ve spent nearly every evening out in Hanover, talking to people at Collis, which has been fantastic. The general group has been Uri, Mike, Jasmine, and myself, with Eli and JJ both also making regular appearances. This evening, we had quite the passle of people: Adam H, Ann, Eli, Pia, Tegan, Adam P, Matt, JJ, Jasmine, Mike, Uri, and myself… we completely filled two tables in front of Collis, and made use of a power strip Eli has begun bringing with him to power everyone’s laptops. We also tossed around the idea of getting together a laptop lan party out here in August when Uri rolls back into town.

There’s a lot that I need to think about, a lot of feelings to sort out, and many decisions to be made. I’m left wondering when this will happen… I hope soon. I am scattered to the winds, and now it’s time to re-collect myself. I had a conversation with Jasmine this evening about what makes me happy, and the results of that conversation leave me wanting to get back to it.

Howl’s Moving Castle

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Just saw Howl’s Moving Castle with Jasmine. It’s the new Miyazaki film, and is fantastic as usual. The premise is pretty simple, a young girl being transformed into an old woman. She then is taken in by a giant magical moving castle, and goes on a journey of self discovery, companionship, and love. Visually, it’s stunning, with interesting interaction and interplay between the characters, and a goofy, elaborate fantasy setting mixing steam power and powerful magic.

Definitely worth seeing. It is warm and uplifting, without beating you over the head with sap. Check it out while it’s still in theaters.

Winter Exposes the Nest, and I’m Gone

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We buried my grandparents yesterday. The clouds sat low in the sky and muted the world, leaving just a rustle of wind through the grass in the cemetary. A few words were spoken, and each of us were given the opportunity to place a handful of earth in the grave. There were hugs all around, and then we went down to the church, where services were held. Several family members got up to speak, though I’d chosen not to. At the time, however, I was strongly tempted to. There was a lot of talk about all the community work my grandmother did, and being such an upstanding member of the community, which is absolutely true — she did a lot. My memory of my grandmother, however, is far more simple and personal: climbing into bed in one of the really high beds she had in Lyme, and her coming in with her hair down, and reading to us before we went to sleep. For all the big things she did, that’s the memory that’s been running through my head for the past few days.

After the services, my brother, my cousin Philip, and myself climbed up the bell tower and rang the bell, once for each year of her life (comes out to 30 each plus one or two by the person who let us up there, whose name is currently escaping me). After it all, we went to Dowd’s Country Inn, which is Gammy’s old house, and had a reception and dinner together. It was a good conclusion to the day, and really made it feel more like a celebration of Dick and Mary’s lives than a mourning of their deaths.

After getting home from dinner, I went out to Hanover, and spent some time with my friend Jasmine. I’ve only known her for a week, and I already think she’s absolutely fantastic. She is both forthright and honest, yet compassionate and caring, and simply great to be around, whether for a quick hug or to spend the day with. I’m really looking forward to spending more time with her. I’ll leave it at that, for now.

I’m thinking pretty heavily lately about the lack of deeper thinking I’ve been doing. The notion of spirituality and emotions and mysticism and energy, these things I’ve been touching peripherally but not actually delving into on a personal or deeper level. To some extent, it feels like these topics are knocking on my door, waiting for me to let them in. Maybe it’s time I did.

Accordian Music

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I’m sitting in Hanover again, with Uri and Mike this time. Uri flew east yesterday for our grandparents’ funeral, so he’s around for the next ten days. He brought his laptop this time, so we’re both getting some writing done, sitting at Collis. On Uri’s computer, iTunes is playing Below the Salt, a band we saw out in Seattle. It’s interesting stuff, a strange combination of jazz and hillbilly; laid back with a simple groove, a mishmash of upright bass, accordian, and musical saw. Totally worth looking into, assuming you can find it.

I’ve discovered that lately I have a strong aversion to hanging out with groups of people. More than two or three people and I simply lose interest in the situation, and want to go elsewhere. It’s like the more people around, the more I become exponentially more anti-social. I’m just more interested in actual dialogue right now, which is more likely in a one on one situation than it is in a group dynamic. I want to talk to people about what they are passionate about, what they care about, what they think about. I simply can’t bring myself to care about the inane little bullshit like what Buffy was wearing at the Yacht Club last week or how drunk you got last night. If you can’t make it to relate to your enlightenment, why are you talking about it? What does it bring to the table that makes it unique from the thousands of other stories exactly like it? We don’t like “reruns” in our entertainment, why should we have to accept it in our conversation?

Over the weekend, I spent some time with Mariah, leading up to her departure for Option. That was fantastic — she and I talked a lot about what was going on, and just in general had a really great time together. That lead really well into Sunday, when Mike and I were hanging out in Hanover, and randomly started talking to someone walking by. It turns out that her name is Jasmine, and she’s a graduate student at Dartmouth, studying organic electrochemistry. Let me just say that I think she’s awesome. I’m very glad to have met her, and look forward to spending more time with her in the not too distant future. She lives life passionately and genuinely, and it’s a breath of fresh air that I really value.

The house in theory is going on the market today. Mickey has been stressed about it, and I feel kind of bad about not being around to help with preparations, to spread the stress across an extra set of shoulders so to speak, but there is really very little I can do from here beyond lending an ear. I hope she knows that she is welcome to call and vent any time she needs to. I don’t really have anything else I can offer.

Thursday, UPS is finally sending an inspector to check out the monitors that were damaged in the move. For the record, from the date they called to confirm that I needed an on-site inspection (“Someone will call you in the next 24 hours to set up an appointment”), it was fully a week and a half until they called to set up an appointment, which was nearly a full week after that. I am very frustrated with this process, and if they try to dick me around on recompense over my damaged, insured items, I have absolutely no qualms filing a complaint with the BBB. I’m sincerely hoping that it won’t come to that, though.

Phonetime

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After three years, my cell phone has died. I’ve replaced the antenna twice, the antenna cradle once, and the battery once, eking it as long as I could, through a hell of a lot of abuse (I don’t drop my phone, but I wouldn’t say I keep it pristine, either). It’s finally time to get a new one. I’m currently eyeing the Motorola 710. If I could wait another few months, Motorola will be releasing a CDMA capable RAZR V3 towards the end of 2005. Alas, not; the crackling and popping and occasional “echo” laden call, and the gravelly audio randomly that doesn’t go away until it restarts… this, I was able to deal with. But now it can’t even access digital signal anymore. It’s time. Requiescat in pace.

Rather than make a new post when I actually get the new phone, I’ll just update this post.

[UPDATE 7/2/2005:

I went with the Motorola v710, and have been very happy with it thus far. The reception is markedly better than my previous phone, and is giving me signal where I’ve previously had none. I’m annoyed to discover that Verizon crippled the bluetooth functionality, which means if I want a custom ringtone or to offload any pictures or videos(!) I take, I’ll have to use their system($). I’m going to explore non-warranty-voiding hackery to see what I can do to alleviate the situation (I already know of one way, involving a custom firmware update). I’ve already done the necessary modification to iSync to allow me to sync my contacts, and I’ve also played around with the bluetooth headset I picked up along with it. SLICK stuff, I’ve got it playing nicely with both my cellphone AND my desktop, which will tide me over for voice chat until I get up enough gumption to pick up an iSight.

If you are wondering if I have your current contact information, EMAIL or IM ME. Especially for those of you who aren’t local, I’d hate to be passing through your area and then discover I don’t have an up to date phone number or email to contact you with. ]

Stacking Saucers 1

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It’s currently 75 degrees and raining large, heavy droplets here in Hanover. I’ve spent a fair amount of time the past few days hanging out here, doing a lot of thinking, and a fair bit of talking along with it. It may not all be coagulated enough to put down in written form, but I’m going to give it a shot, because it’s an important subject. Of course, the subject itself is somewhat amorphous, multifaceted, and subject to interpretation. You could call it living an authentic or genuine life, but I prefer calling it living a passionate life.

As some are aware, I define being a geek as being genuinely interested and engaged by a subject. Theater Geeks, Movie Geeks, Anime Geeks, Book Geeks, these are all valid descriptions, but likewise there are Sports Geeks, Fashion Geeks, Social Geeks (not an oxymoron!), and these are just as valid, though we generally give them other names, like “jock”, “fashion maven”, and “socialite”. It all comes down to the same thing, however: being passionate about a subject and having it interest you so much that you learn all you can about it. It becomes a part of your life. You grok your passion.

Everyone has something that they are passionate about. It can vary wildly, and can even be unexpected to those around you. I’ve met people who are fascinated by the process of sewage treatment and water purification in the same way that I might talk about games. You never know what people are passionate about, and that act of wondering is a way that we can connect with others. A case in point; yesterday, I got to rambling about this topic in front of Collis, and randomly asked the girls at a table nearby what they were passionate about. Once they decided I wasn’t a nut-job (or at least a harmless one), the results were quite fascinating. These were people I’d never spoken with before, and yet when asked to talk about their passions, their eyes lit up and the conversation became animated. That passion for a subject is infectious, it becomes interesting to those around you whether they themselves share that passion or not. This is the power of passion.

That’s all pretty straightforward. Where I get all ranty and foaming at the mouth is the question of what we do with those passions. How many people are we surrounded by who are enthralled by a subject or topic or medium, but is never willing to take the step outside the safety net to actually pursue that as a profession? We go to college because that’s what we’re supposed to do. We get jobs that we hate because that’s what we’re supposed to do. Our passions are naysayed as too difficult, unattainable, unlivable, not just by those around us, but by ourselves, because we’re so afraid of stretching ourselves outside of complacency. For the most of us, the annoyance of living in the box is outweighed by the pain and fear of breaking out, and being who we want to be. If you have a passion for writing, be a writer. Write every damn day. Read other writing, read about writing, write stories, your thoughts, how your day went, that dream you had, a story, a poem, write about writing, write about reading. Live it, breathe it, embrace your passion, and it will embrace you. If you’re worried about it not being good enough or that it’s hard, or that there isn’t enough time in the day or that you want to watch your favorite television show or you want to go to that party, then ask yourself why you’re worried, and DO something about it. Afraid of the quality? WRITE MORE. Want to watch that show? Write about it, make it a project. It’s not just writing, either, it’s ANY passion. If you want to make art, bleed ink and paint. Don’t relegate it to a wistful sigh and a hobby, MAKE ART. If you aren’t pursuing your passions, then you deserve any unhappiness you receive.

If you think that’s unfair, then I have to ask what you’re so afraid of that you would deny your passion, your potential for the delusion of safety. That’s not contentment, and it’s certainly not happiness; it’s complacency. It is one thing to let that which does not matter slide. This is not such a case, however. It matters. It’s your passion, it’s your interest, it’s a part of your LIFE, and to deny it, to relegate it to the sidelines is denying a part of yourself. I do not see how that could be driven by anything but fear, or some form of self-destruction. Complacency is the antithesis of passion. Care to see what complacency and fear do? Here’s a social experiment for you to do: sit on a bench on a street and look at people. Look them in the eye, and see the reactions. It doesn’t matter if you’re well dressed or in rags, angry looking or with a smile on your face, nine times out of ten, the other individual will look away. Some can be explained away by conversations or other distractions, but that sort of ratio is simply too large to argue away. (For the record, out of roughly 100 people I tried this with last night, only 3 actually acknowledged the eye contact, all others looked away. Your mileage may vary.)

What drives that sort of behavior, that shrinking away from the possibility of contact or acknowledgment? My belief is that we shrink away from contact because we are afraid of having our world view shaken, of being stretched beyond the bounds of whatever box we’ve chosen for ourselves. To communicate with others inherently holds the potential of being challenged, and that scares people. We mitigate this as much as we can by surrounding ourselves with the like-minded, in classes, conferences, workplaces, social gatherings. How often do we just stop and ask someone on the street how they’re doing, what they’re interested in? Why not? Are we afraid that we might be judged? Why does it matter if we are? It’s just someone on the street, there is no illusory status lost from a conversation not panning out. It is, at worst, a missed chance at enrichment and engagement. You have not LOST anything. Those who talk to strangers live the fullest lives.

Grandparentless

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As mentioned in an earlier post, my grandmother passed away on June 17th, 2005. It seems that my grandfather held on for another week, then passed away in his sleep during the night between June 22nd and June 23rd, 2005. While abrupt and unfortunate, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, and it’s a blessing that both were able to go peacefully. I feel privileged to have known them, and will miss them both.

Memorial services will be held on or around July 8th in Lyme, NH.

Daylit Moon

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The weather has finally begun to warm back up from the past week of rain and lower temperatures. The wind is calm, and the sun is setting here in Hanover, and I can see the warm evening light illuminating the building across the street from here. Above that building, the moon sits against a bright blue sky, one edge fading out — not yet full, but nearly so. The streets are busy with cars, alumni departing after reunion weekend, and the sidewalks have quieted into their summer slumber, the occasional sleepy stroller meandering from one destination to the next without the purpose and quickstep of the mid-semester streets.

I like it at this time of day, this time of year. It’s quiet and calm and drenched with life all around, muting what little traffic there is. I can hear the birds quieting for the night, singing goodnight to each other in the trees. The Green is emerald, verdant from the recent rains, crossed by sandy pebbled paths creating a patchwork of shapes and contrasts for the eye in the dwindling light.

Does this truly need any context to be placed? Is this not worthwhile on its own, sans personal reflection? Not all moments must be marred by the memories of times past. It need not be spoken to be made apparent. Nor, sometimes, should it.

My Grandmother

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Mary Sharples Bowden Olmsted, my grandmother, passed away today. I’ll update more when I have information on where to send condolences and well wishes.

[Update 6/19/2005: The memorial service will be at the church in Lyme on July 8th. There is an organization that will be accepting donations in lieu of flowers, but I’m waiting to get that information.]

[Update 6/28/2005: Donations in lieu of flowers on behalf of Mary Bowden Olmsted should be sent to:
The Utility Club
PO Box 323
Lyme, NH 03768 ]