Octubre [edited: Mamihlapinatapai]

Soft grey clouds stretch to the horizon:
svelte, occasionally undulating, blanketing.
You walk in their perpetual shade; at each moment,
a million droplets threaten to obscure your frame.

A chill wind strikes at your sweatshirt, whipping it about;
it seeps in, toying with you, sapping heat for no purpose.
Still, I wish to walk with you, to shuffle through the dampness;
leaves clinging to our shoes, listening to the wind in the trees.

I watch as images flow from your pen;
they're trapped in my mind: beautiful, evocative.
Sadly I trundle away, my head quickly turns,
wishing that this could be, yet too reticent, coy to ask.

Odd milestone

Today, Google Analytics tells me that search traffic (via Google and Yahoo) to this page has eclipsed the 50% mark in terms of relative sources. I've been getting a lot of hits from terms like "tennis etiquette" and "peter singer famine affluence morality", even "60 ton angel" (Porcupine Tree reference). Which is weird because those are only three posts that have those terms. I'm sure that they didn't find whatever they were looking for (I know that for a fact because the average time on the site was 00:00:00, and there were 100% bounce rates across the board! :]).

I also think its weird (mostly cool) that I get occasional international traffic: Brazil (spam bots), South Korea, U.K., Norway, Japan, Vietnam and Ecuador. There's someone in Belgium who visited, and even comes back occasionally (Amazingly! I mean, I'm barely relevant to my friends, much less a Belgian. Nonetheless, thank you for reading).

I guess because I intended this initially as a place for me to be introspective and occasionally sappy (then as a place where I can write things that Alex will read), it's weird to me that others read it, albeit mostly unintentionally. But I certainly don't mind.

Orbiting the Room

This evening was host to a boisterous jaunt with some buds. We went to see Mutemath at the Orbit Room. The opener was a local band called: Something, something, way too loud and flappy bass. They were ok, but the bass was way too loud and flappy. As Tall As Giants followed, and though their singer was back home having surgery, they played some wicked instrumental tunes with fantastic energy. The bassist was electrifying; a very exciting human being.

Mutemath followed and played some songs from their album Armistice. They really brought a good mood and got people up on their feet. Roy went on to dominate the cello which really made my night. Both of my favorite songs from their first record were played: "Typical" and "Break the Same". This was the first time seeing them in concert, and I was very impressed. I probably wouldn't mind seeing them again.

Arguably though, the concert had three best parts all of which took place during the encore/reset portion of the show. First, was the man in the balcony who whipped off his shirt and made out with a girl who was up there (strange), then, the drummer Darren put his bass drum on top of people in the crowd, and stood on top of it for a bit, then leaped off in order to crowdsurf. And if that weren't enough, a man in a bear suit, followed by Goldilocks walked in front of me on their way to leave. An actual bear suit... i.e. he probably killed a bear, skinned it and made it into a suit that he could wear. He wasn't dissing @JohnCMayer though.

Walden Excerpt

"I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if if were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion."
--H.D. Thoreau

Beauty

...is in the differences. This was never real to me growing up. Sure, my little sister is Chinese, and we spent time at multicultural festivals, but there was never any real interaction there. My experiences were of someone who saw from afar, different people, but did not comprehend. This became especially obvious to me (and I learned that I am a sad confused little boy) at a recent visit to Meijer. The particular Meijer store I went to is often referred to as "ghetto" Meijer, and I had never been there before.

Let's be clear, this was no grand revelation, which is what makes it particularly pitiful. Apparently during any interaction that I've had with Africans or Hispanics or Asians, or any other race, I have been in the majority. At Meijer last week I was in the minority. This certainly wasn't the first time that I've been in the minority as a Caucasian, however it was probably the first time it was salient to me. How sad is it, that as a 20 year old college student, I finally became aware of such a thing. The worst part, the part that makes me feel utterly juvenile is that I was very uneasy. Pathetically uneasy. I felt like a racist pig, in my feelings of unease. There was no reason to feel ill at ease, yet there I was, dodging eye contact like one of those racist fathers depicted in movies about the south before/during the Civil Rights movement. These feeling hurt me; hurt that I felt like I had to act that way.

It seemed that for all of my welcoming intentions, my reaction went around my brain's back. My visceral reaction brought me to the sad and obvious realization that racism is not over. Academically, I believe in the beauty of difference, in the celebration of difference, and in the realization that for all of our outward differences, we are the same. We are a tapestry, beautiful in scope, that is made of the same thread. The strands are of course individually beautiful, however in combination they set each other off. African thread looks different than Caucasian thread, looks different than Hispanic thread, looks different than Asian thread, BUT IS THREAD!

I realize I've said nothing new in this post. It is intended to draw to the forefront of my mind something that needs to change in me. It is intended to show me that I have to rectify my instinctive reaction with that which I believe in my heart.

Diversity is pulchritudinous. I want to feel that in addition to knowing it.

I desperately need you

Drops of light, they glide over the sphere we call home,
like water on a snow globe, lit by the brightest day, during the darkest night.
Peering into our world in short bursts,
obedient to time and space, they wait for us each year.

In our appreciation we spurn their advances, for what can we do,
but allow them to render themselves vapor?
Glorious and vibrant they streak across the sky in a most violent and beautiful death,
they think us rude, but we just stand and stare.

Temprano en enero hay ésos azules y rápidos de Bootes,
pero en un instante no son no más.
Los mejores vienen durante agosto, se llaman Perseids, y son tan hermosos,
ésos que cepillan el pelo oscuro, suave y fluyendo que es el cielo del noche.

Necesito practicar más a menudo (mi español se está volando)

This is just to say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
-- William Carlos Williams

Evicted

I have indirectly told
the police
that you are
in violation

though you
were rather quiet
and bothering
no one

Forgive us
we don't understand
that you
aren't housing prostitutes.
-- Calvin College

Like an introvert

This weekend couldn't have been more spectacular. I got to spend Friday night with some good friends watching the beautifully done Ghostbuster films...for the first time: "Listen...do you smell something?"

Saturday morning brought a couple of sets of tennis that were far better than last week for the both of us. We might have looked somewhat competent this week. Night ushered in Thermo homework while watching Fight Club, a fantastic combination if ever there was one.

And now Sunday I got to go to church with my roommate from last year at my school church home, followed by lunch at Grandma and Grandpa's house.

Quiet sure, but that's how I like them. Our house finally wasn't host to a party which meant no tripping over who knows what on Saturday morning. AMEN!

...I drew my overshirt.

Curses on fire-alarms

I've been known to rant in the past about the fire alarms in Kalsbeek-Huizenga, the dorm I lived in during the last two years. The new addition to the dorm apparently wreaked some havoc with the electrical systems, and additionally people find it funny to pull the things at 3 in the morning. Well fine, I can deal with that, very explainable: wiring and college kid antics. I absolutely enjoyed my time there, and kind of expected to be free of that in our new house. Until I realized the guys who I live with and I are cursed. Last night, inexplicably, our fire alarm went off three times in 20 minute spurts for a duration of about 3 seconds each time. This was just enough to wake us up sufficiently. Our fire alarms are of the kind that yell, "fire!" in addition to beeping, so that was kind of annoying. By the third time, one of us had a bat, and was hell-bent on hurting anyone who wasn't us in the house. Of course no one could be found, so we've just chalked it up to a curse. If there are no unexplained alarms in KH this year, we'll know it was us. We'll also probably defecate in our respective pantses.

Boot to the head

I managed to incur a strange injury while running the other day. My roommate Mark and I started running together Tuesdays and Thursdays for 3 miles. Not a ton, but with the idea of staying in shape. Our route takes us down Lake Drive, which has no sidewalk and is particularly busy, so we run along the side on the grass and among trees. Some of these trees/bushes hang particularly low on the side, which isn't a too much of a problem. Anyway, I kind of bumped one of these low-hanging pieces of foliage and didn't think much of it. Well, later as we were jogging past the dorms, I had gotten particularly sweaty, so I went to enthusiastically rub my face on the shoulder part of my shirt. Sweat in the eyes is certainly no fun. So I plunged my face into my shirt, and instead of becoming dry, my face and eyes were penetrated by a nest of burrs that was stuck to my shoulder. Clearly not a horrible injury, but the sweat filling the cut sure made it smart.

In other news, as I was composing this, I got a twitter update from Don Miller about the manuscripts they are hiding around the nation to promote his new book. One was in Grand Rapids, on Wealthy St.: Yesterdog! In mid post, I left with a housemate to scurry over there. It turns out that someone had gone in 5 minutes before we got there. Quite a bummer. Oh well, now I can finish this post.

Momentous Occasion

Moments ago I created my first program using the C++ language. The program is so complex that I'm going to have trouble explaining it to the plebs. Those who know a bit about C++ will understand how momentous this program is. I'll throw a bone to the rest of you that can't appreciate upfront the wizardry involved: It cures cancer while creating excess food, and distributes the food simultaneously to those who need it most (also, the food is delicious).

I know, I can tell that you're all impressed. You wish you had thought of it first. Sorry folks, history favors the dutch kid from West Michigan with no skillz. There's nothing to be done about it.

As an aside, I've had no luck displaying the code with correct formatting using the blogger, the small ineffectual .bmp will have to suffice.

To a new year

Huzzah and such, for a nascent semester is upon us. This year is notable personally because it is the year when I end my reliance on the cooking of others. I will be attempting to cobble together food-looking stuffs for my own consumption. You can point to this post in the future if I: a) Die of starvation or b) Am found auto-poisoned to death. It was probably my fault. My mob ties had nothing to do with it.

Fall 2009 brings a new roommate in Mark. Nate and I live in different rooms for the first time in two years, so that's kind of weird as well. We finally got our things moved in and settled now, so I can relax a bit before the academic rigor begins. The good news: Mark's already playing vinyls as I write this. The neutral news: he has enough wines and whiskeys to float several ships. The bad news: none yet, unless his calm, small exterior hides an abusive step-father.

[Removed: boring details about how hard I think this year will be academically.]

I think it's also worth noting that I will be traveling to and from school via bicycle this year. Hopefully it will only be raining on weekends.

Tennis Etiquette

I just came back from watching a high school tennis match that my brother Jeff played in. The problem is, I cannot imagine a worse display of etiquette, tennis or otherwise, from the opposing parents and coaches. Usually I have to get after my mum and dad for things like this, but today they did fine.

The main "ridiculosity" I'll call it was the opposing coach. Each time she chose to cheer for her player came after an unforced error from my brother. Now, it would be one thing if she had applauded winners from her own player, that's understandable. But no, she did not. Often, when Jeff would hit it into the net, I would hear clapping and some variation of, "Good job, way to go Vlad!" I can maybe see a parent doing something like that, oblivious or unknowingly, but a coach? I almost had to leave the courts to stop from going over to her and backhand slapping her. Coaches should know better than to cheer unforced errors from opposing teams. The worst part is, when her player hit winners I heard no clapping or cheering. And it that weren't enough, the parents were insufferable as well.

The parents of Vlad seemed to think that we were there to cheer for their son, and that he was the most fantastic thing. I heard the mother say to my mother, "He really needs a win." Oh really? Well guess what, we could give a crap lady. We want Jeff to win! Then of course, they would make the inane noises when balls were close, question obvious balls and all other manner of inane-ry. But in addition to all of the small faux pas that are largely excusable, the mother of the opposing player had the nerve to say one simple sentence that I did not believe I would ever hear in high school tennis. She said, near the end of the match, "All right now Vlad, finish him." FINISH HIM? EXCUSE ME?!? Ma'am did you just say finish him? What is this, a game of high school tennis or are they playing Mortal Combat? I still can't believe the gall of that woman. That had to be the most rude and inconsiderate remark I have ever heard from a parent. She's lucky I have some level of restraint, or she would gotten a dressing down right then and there from me, maybe a punch in the ovaries to boot.

Anyway, I had to say that to some audience just to get it out of my system. Be it Alex, who is probably my sole reader (btw thanks!), or the 13 Brazilian spam bots. Actually, that's not fair, I have a sporadic international readership, no inkling as to why though.

Oh, and Jeff lost his match, it was close. The tennis was great though, really good playing by both sides.

... ... ...Abraham Lincoln

Haven't been able to run in over a week due to a silly hip flexor strain I sustained during softball. From slowpitch softball of all things, not soccer, not from running, from making a stretch from first for a force-out. How silly. I suppose it didn't help that I tried to play soccer and re-injured it, then re-injured it again when trying to run on Thursday. Needless to say, I'm not a fan and I would certainly not recommend that anyone get one. It may look appealing at first, especially since it's fun to say flexor, but you don't want to open up that can of worms. Now a can of beans is a much better thing to open. Or peaches. I would recommend opening some of my Grandma Split's baked beans. She doesn't mix in any hip flexor strains to her recipe. However she does mix in pineapple I think, which is far better, and some bacon, which is best. Even better than bears, beets and Battlestar Galactica. Things that are also better than Battlestar Galactica and beets, IMHO, include Stargate SG-1, flannel sheets, wall-sized Periodic Tables, "Jordan, Jesse Go", potatoes and Spanish-English pocket dictionaries. Translating the Periodic Table from English to Spanish, using the pocket dictionary, is the second best thing, followed by rainy summer sundays. There are few other good things worth mentioning.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that I'd really like my hip flexor to be back to normal so I can start running/playing tennis again.

SG-1 completed

Well, tonight I finished watching Stargate SG-1, seasons 1-10 in order. Nate and I started it during school and this evening I finally completed season 10 and the Behind the Mythology episode. The only things left then are the Ark of Truth and Continuum movies. Now none of this is particularly interesting in itself of course. I just think it's kind of strange how attached people can get to a television series. (I know I'm not alone out here. On an unrelated note, the same thing happened with Scrubs.) With absolutely no basis in reality, the characters still grow on you to a somewhat ridiculous extent. I think at this point, if I saw Michael Shanks on the street, I would walk up and expect him to know me. I guess my point is that visual media in the form of a lengthy series is powerful and a poignant form of storytelling. Drawing the line between life and production is harder than we might expect. This is also me sulking because they had to cancel the series when they did (I really missed Colonel O'Neill in those last couple of seasons).

Side note: I expected Michael Shanks to be brilliant because Daniel Jackson is brilliant, but in the "Behind the Mythology" segment none of the things he said made sense nor contributed meaningfully to the topic being discussed. It seemed like he was just saying things as a kind of filler. If I find out that Amanda Tapping can't tell a wormhole from a black hole, there will be hell to pay.

To Atlantis!!

On second thought, I should have titled this: "Look at how big of a nerd Steve is and laugh at him please."

Ready...set...relax.

Well, my summer research fellowship is finished. I'll probably update soon with a general overview of what went down. Most likely for posterity, maybe for the 1000's upon 1000's of people that read this.

I have two weeks now to do next to nothing. Today was a great start. Brian gave me an amp and speakers that they had no use for anymore, so I've been working on getting it set up with another set of speakers we have, and my record player/ipod/computer. Got a great start today with a trip to Radioshack and picked up "the Unforgettable Fire" from the Corner Record Shop. Tomorrow will hopefully be devoted to getting it all online and set up in Jeff's room (he'll be taking care of it while I'm gone at school). So that's fun.

The best part of today though was softball tournaments tonight. It was by far my best night of the season. During our first game, I had a two singles, a double and an unassisted double play. I bring this up not to be a boring snooze-brag, but to point out how uncharacteristic and statistically impossible such a performance is for me. We did win the first game handily, but the second game was a disaster. We were mercied by our other church team, I re-injured myself and didn't make it to base. This was punctuated by my last out where I watched as the ball dropped in as strike with no swing from me. Awesome. I guess all good things must come to an end. It was still a very enjoyable season and I think I'll remember this game for a while.

Finally, tomorrow morning our Japanese student Moe (Moy-ay) will be leaving. She is part of a Jr. and Sr. High handbell choir from Japan that toured the Midwest this summer. They were in Hudsonville since last Tuesday and put on phenomenal performances. Moe is a small girl but she plays the biggest bells they have. She throws around these massive bells so quickly and with such precision (most songs were from memory), it's reallllllly amazing. I'm convinced she has the arms of an NFL linebacker. Anyway, we will all be sad to see her go.

Well, that's all I have for now. It had been a while though and it feels oh so good to write things even if they are quite trivial and esoteric. Domo arigato.

Wheeeeee!

This summer has proven to be a fulfilling one thus far. I've taken up running/jogging and have been reading like I used to before college made it a chore. The work is also more stimulating than any work I have done before. Progress is measured in the creation/reading of papers and establishment of new procedures rather than square feet of carpet cleaned or classrooms restored. I think that working with a computer during the day has given me a new love of things that don't revolve around transistors or pixels. Truly this has been a learning summer, perhaps this will continue, or more likely, I will run into an unforeseen and painful roadblock that shakes my very core. Anyhow, I have enjoyed the months which have transpired and hope to wring some last productivity and progress from the remainder. ¡Vive el verano!

Also, we went to Michigan's Adventure today. Even though it rained, a good time was had by all.

Also also, never trust the driver of a white Saturn Ion (He is most likely a poor driver who thinks that the lane going around a busy entrance is for him to enter, in order to let people that don't want to turn, use the turn lane to pass him. Though I prefer not to pass judgment, it should be noted that such a man is an idiot, and his car naturally stinks of ignorance.).

Also also also, I apologize to responsible drivers of white Saturn Ions. You should give one of your own a talking to. Teach him how to not be terrible at driving. ¡Ay chico! Soy serio.

nox noctis divum

The firmament, revealing and ancient, stretches boundless.
Each pinprick of light revealing a sight millions of years past.
A quick glance above yields more history than a thousand museums.
Fresh light from the moon absconds photons of antiquity, bathes humanity in purity.

Light predating Alexander and Gilgamesh presents itself faithfully.
An ocular masterpiece, deep and dark, it delightfully suits the retina.
Planets, swiftly tilting in the continuum of spacetime, pay visits, the omens of old.
I want to dance among the stars, to sing their song, to listen to the sounds of the world.

Illinois mayor and other minutiae

I was listening to the Free Beer and Hot Wings Show today when they were interviewing the mayor in Illinois (Robert Butler) who wants the Guantanamo Bay detainees to come to the penitentiary in his town of Marion. At some point during the interview, Butler differented between the inmates already there, and the terrorists by referring to, "Our good American prisoners." That sounded kind of ridiculous to me, considering that the men and women in that prison are rapists, murderers and thieves, but not so bad as to be terrorists. So I sent a quick e-mail to the guys, telling them that it had been my favorite line of the interview. A minute later they read my note and name on the air! Made my day. Inconsequential yes, but wow that felt good.

Oh, and thanks to my good friend Alex I finally started listening to You Look Nice Today for the first time today. Those guys are excellent, hilarious and right up my aisle humortaceously (not a word).

In other news, I'm making good progress with research and will hopefully...finally be in the lab next week tearing hexoses and pentoses from woody mass.

You can not be serious...

Tonight played host to some of the poorest tennis of my life. Three sets of lameness and failsauce, punctuated by a few bright winners (though incidentally, I might have fixed my foot fault tendency and gained a better first serve). Which is funny because last night playing with Quack felt like some of the best tennis I'd played in a long time.

I think if Coach had been there tonight, from double faults alone he would have made me sprint 11 miles then do hurdles, after convincing me to shoot myself in both heels with several arrows. It would have been completely deserved too.

I suppose failure is inevitable though, that's why it sucks. And it likes to sneak up on you and kick you where it hurts most. It is a nice reminder of humanity however (and by nice I mean incredibly unfortunate), and serves to knock us off of our high equinaceous beings (note: equinaceous is not a word, but it can be used in combination with "attila" to get one result from a google search).

But I digress...even failing at something as silly as a friendly game of tennis doesn't feel good for anyone, but we deal with it. Humans are resilient like that. Also, it makes for a good angry run; maybe not 11 miles though. I stuck with my normal 3, but immediately following three sets even that was a challenge.

Ahhh...writing feels good. Even when it's read by none and serves as a memento mori.