10 Observations

What did we do before the advent of cell phones, blogs, instant messengers, and social networking sites?

People did things like make the movie 10.

Now, depending on how you feel about that film, you may feel that cell phones, et al, are the best things ever. I happen to really love the film, as I think it is the best example of the comedic brilliance-nay GENIUS- of Sir Dudley Moore. For that reason, I can appreciate a time when we didn't have what we probably now look at as basic necessities for work and play. How DID we ever survive back then!?

A movie like 10 couldn't have been possible if cell phones and Facebook existed in 1979. All the missed calls, busy signals, one person hanging up while the other is picking up, constant ringing, and the worry over not being able to get in touch are now a thing of the past in this world of instant communication between the masses and you. The story line wouldn't make sense in this modern world. People who don't remember the days before we had the ability to update everyone on our comings and goings in 140 characters or less, probably wouldn't find this movie funny if they saw it for the first time in 2009 instead of '79, or even '89.

Now that I think about it, there is still worry over not being able to get in touch with someone. Maybe that worry is actually worse now, since if you can't get in touch with someone within minutes, something is obviously wrong.

Do we think things are better now? Has our ability to keep in touch every second of the day, from any location in the world, made things better? Or, have we lost some of the simplicity that existed when writing love letters gave people something to look forward to in the mail? I'm not talking on some grand, existential level here. Certainly many things are improved by advancements in technology. We clearly survived without these things, though. And many others.

So I'm very happy that the beach running scene exists. Not because I'm hot for Bo Derek, but because of the many other funny things that not having a cell phone made possible.

WIHP: Airborne Edition

A cracking example of Why I Hate People on the flight from Boston to Heathrow today.

I was settling in to a relatively empty flight, and just starting to enjoy having a row of 4 to myself. Then, like mold that grows slowly behind the walls and creeps up on you, making you realize after it's too late that you have a life-threatening infestation, I started to hear her. More accurately, her grating tone started to work it's way into my ears.

She was kneeling on her seat, leaning over the seatback talking to the person behind her. They were four and three rows in front of me, respectively, and on the opposite side of the plane. I was desperately trying to focus on my book. After I'd read the same sentence 3 times without absorbing it, I realized that what I had retained was information about her that I didn't care to hear. There were words like 'human rights lawyer' (a noble profession, to be sure. Not sure it's what she does, though), 'Oxford', 'Cambridge', and 'fellowship'. Since she was flying from Boston, I'm surprised I didn't hear 'Harvard' somewhere in the mix. I got the impression that she wanted everyone else to hear her drop the names of places of significance.

The captain came over the p.a. to deliver his greeting, which is the only part of the pre-flight dronings that I care to hear. Her loudspeak made it impossible to hear what the captain was saying, which only heightened my annoyance. The only thing that would have made it worse was if she'd been talking on a phone about running into Derek Jeter.

When the time came for us to take our seats-an announcement that I miraculously WAS able to hear-I thought this would mark the end of my audio agony. Oh how wrong I was! She continued talking over the top of the seat, and once we reached the magic, tone-signaled altitude, she was out of her seat like a shot and back at it.

To add insult to injury, the two seats next to her, AND next to the man she was talking at, were empty. She could have spared us all and sat down next to him and had a nice, quiet conversation. Instead, everyone in rows 44 and back can now recite to you her comings and goings, and those of her children, including 'the little one', to whom she referred more times than I can count.

I had followed a woman down the jetway who was wearing black pants with crusty white lines around her pant legs that resembled an EKG of someone with an irregular heartbeat. I saw this same woman again in baggage claim, because the capillary action of salt mixed with melted snow on city sidewalks is pretty unmistakable, particularly after a heavy snow fall. I realized that the woman with the salty pants was the same woman who was the source of my ire.

The only solace I can take from this is that she was returning home, and the odds of me having the same experience on the way back are slim to nil. I hope.

On Being An Intermediate

The thing I thought about on the chairlift was the concept of 'intermediate'. It occurred to me, while I was looking at the blue run pass by underneath, that the term 'intermediate' applies to me across pretty much every recreational endeavor I do. I've described myself as 'intermediate with expert tendencies' in the past, and I thought that this sort of summed up the whole idea of what being an intermediate is. You have moved past being a beginner, and you are working your way towards being an expert.

You are in the middle. Middlin'. Average. Straddling the fence. Equidistant. Mezzo. Moyen. There are moments of absolute fluidity, when you and the bike/board feel as one, and you move into that trance-like state in which things just happen on their own with no intervention from you. Then, on the very next section of trail, or run on the piste, you feel out of balance and have no flow or finesse. You get to the bottom and wonder what the hell just happened, and ask yourself why you can't repeat the previous feeling constantly. Why is there no consistency? Oh that's right, it's because you are an intermediate.

Being in the middle has varying degrees, though. You can be closer to the beginning of the middle, or more towards the end. I think I display less beginner and more expert, so I'll call myself someone who is departing the middle and moving towards the more advanced.

The problem is, I've been stuck exiting the middle for a Very. Long. Time. So long, in fact, that I should have progressed to being a full-on expert a while ago, and at this point I should be a bit embarrassed that I'm not any better than I am. This applies to riding and snowboarding, but if I thought about it for a while, I'm sure I can come up with some other metaphor that this analogy also applies to.

I have a huge fear factor. This is what holds me back from the necessary push that I need to get better. The thought of getting hurt, and thus being unable to ride again for 6-8 weeks, is more agonizing than being conservative and sticking to what I know. I suppose I've learned how to really enjoy the lack of extremeness that I've achieved. I see other people doing things I wish I could do, and I think how amazing it would be, yet I can't bring myself to try. I still have fun, but that fun is almost always laced with the hidden desire to be better, and perhaps have what my subconscious feels would be 'betterer, more funerer fun'.

Oh well. The world needs it's intermediates to keep the balance between the staggeringly graceful, and the agonizingly clumsy. I can accept that, and I'll keep looking for those moments when I feel more like an expert, and I'll keep asking myself how I can make that happen more often than not. In the meantime, I'll have a fantastic time doing whatever it is that is better than riding the couch.

At least I'm an expert at that.

All Are Equal

I had a whole different post in mind to write today. I was sitting on the chairlift when the idea came to me. I was excited about the notion of typing the post up, not because it was some profound observation, but because I felt like I sort of learned a little bit more about myself.

Then, I got home and saw the inauguration of President Obama. I left the TV on for Frazier while I was out boarding. It had been on ABC this morning, since I knew they were planning on having a lot of coverage, which meant there would be a lot of talking going on. I think having the TV on soothes my dog a bit while I'm away. Maybe not.

Anyhoo...I got back just in time for the swearing in. Anyone who knows me probably understands that I don't consider myself to be all that patriotic. It's been a tough 8 years for this country, and although we are taught that we are to respect the office of the President, even if we don't respect the man in it, I have to say that the actions of the most recent occupant have made me lose faith in our government as a whole.

Like most people who are happy about the election outcome, I was looking forward to today. Out with the old, in with the new. As I watched, I started to get that same feeling of hope that others have had about our new leader. So, as I continued to watch, I found myself sort of compelled to write a post about this instead.

So, for the first time in nearly a decade, I feel a little bit patriotic. Maybe it will be cool to be an American again in the near future. I'm hopeful.

Resolutions

This whole concept of making New Year resolutions has, over the years, become irksome. Making decisions that benefit yourself and others is something that should be done on a regular basis, not just once a year. How many people live up to their resolutions anyway? And when they don't, how often do they feel down on themselves? So, I've given up on the idea of a resolution at the beginning of the year, and instead, decided to carry on making good choices all the time, and conducting myself in such a way that I at least give the appearance of being a nice person.

Travel-ocity

Once again I find myself being slack with my updates. Sorry...again.

Anyhoo...I essentially wrapped up my work travel just before Thanksgiving, and then my non-work travel started. First, there was the Thanksgiving excursion down to Mom and Dad's. Then, I jetted off to the UK to spend my birthday in the country I was not born into, not in this life anyway. Now I'm back at Mom and Dad's only to head off to Costa Rica tomorrow to spend my New Year holiday in a country I've never been to before.

I'm excited.

Everyone I've ever known who has traveled to Costa Rica raves about it. I was invited to join my very good friends and colleagues Ross and Tori, along with their significant others, and Foxy Nick. Others were invited but have found reasons why they couldn't make it. Matt wins the 'I have to travel the farthest' award by making the long journey from the YouKay. It's going to be a great group.

I've never gone anyplace warm in the winter. I've never felt the need to. I love winter, generally, and have found snowboarding and snowshoeing good ways to stay active during the long winter months. This is going to be a switch. The temperatures are due to range between 70-75F (20-23C). Shorts and t-shirts in January! I guess I'll learn how the Floridians feel.

So, since I probably won't be posting again for a while, let me take the opportunity now to wish everyone happiness and prosperity in the New Year! See you in ought nine.

Protect your eyes.

I just got back from a fantastic trip down to North Carolina. It was work related, but it hardly seems fair to call it work. I was down there in conjunction with Trek Travel on their 4 day demo trip. There was actually a great deal of work involved. Part of that was due to the rides I had to lead. I got to ride trails in Pisgah National Forest, and Dupont Forest. Both absolutely amazing places to ride. The colors on the trees were astounding.



My roommate Darren went with me. I'm pretty sure he had a good time. Now, Darren is a guy's guy. He's popular with the ladies, has a lot of diverse interests that require lots of toys (mountain biking, dirt biking, etc), and he's an all around good guy. The only issue I openly have with Darren is his use of the word 'bitches'. It became my mission during our trip to try and encourage him to use another, less demeaning word...You know, like 'broads', or something. To try and encourage him to stop, I tried many tactics. A short, yet stern 'HEY!', a more pleading 'Seriously...please.', and sometimes brute force with a punch to the arm.

I thought I was making real progress. That is until we arrived at the home of my beloved parents on the way back north. This part of the story is important to remember for a bit later on. Keep reading...

A quick sidebar: anyone who knows my folks will understand where I owe the credit for my sarcastic wit. My father has a particularly biting sarcasm, and since his stroke it seems to be the one thing that has become more accute. I'm not sure he has much internal censorship. :~)

My family is very boisterous, and Thursday night dinners are shared with my brother and his family. This has become a mini-tradition since my brother was hit by a drunk driver two summers ago. A family meal is nothing short of a workout. There is copious laughter. I mean real, solid belly laughing. The kind that makes your face hurt.

Darren and I arrived at mom and dad's on one such Thursday night. Just after we finished our meal, I was holding my dad's hand when I noticed that his nails were getting long. His stroke has meant that his left hand doesn't really work, so he can't cut the nails on his right hand by himself.

This was the conversation that took place:

Me: Dad your nails are getting a bit long. They need to be trimmed.

Dad: No, they're ok.

Me: Not really dad. Why don't we trim them?

Dad: I keep them that long in case I have to scratch some bitch's eye out.

*Hysterical laughter from the table ensues. I think Darren was laughing harder than anyone.*

Me: You have no idea what you've just done, dad.

Darren: BWAH AHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!

My father used to be a minister.