In the cutting cold, skate slowly. Now think about him, skate harder, weave between people, stop hard, turn the other way, skate a small circle and feel your inside skate slip out from under you as you fall and slide recklessly into the boards. Think about why you lost control of that outside edge. Don't try to understand it. Feel the ice soak into your pants and the dull throb in your hip. Get up methodically. Stand and stare up at the snow that appears from the darkness, illuminated by the lights, landing softly in your eye. The flakes melt in your eyes and trickle out the corners, but don't worry, because those aren't your tears. Leave the rink, go home, lay down, but not on your right hip. Rub your eye and feel it warm and damp around the edges. Go to sleep, hurting.
- J. Mignone, How to Have a Hockey Player
- J. Mignone, How to Have a Hockey Player
"Why are you so far away?" she said
"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you
That I'm in love with you"
You
Soft and only
You
Lost and lonely
You
Strange as angels
Dancing in the deepest oceans
Twisting in the water
You're just like a dream
- The Cure, Just Like Heaven
"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you
That I'm in love with you"
You
Soft and only
You
Lost and lonely
You
Strange as angels
Dancing in the deepest oceans
Twisting in the water
You're just like a dream
- The Cure, Just Like Heaven
So one minute you're geeking out around campus with an iPaq, collecting wireless network connectivity percentages and GPS data, and the next minute you're asked to do a photo shoot in front of the CFA building for the MBA Viewbook. My masters project partner in crime and I were wandering around with an iPaq when two women with a big camera asked us to pose in front of CFA with a laptop and a folder full of paper and "pretend we were laughing and talking to each other." Needless to say, we didn't have to pretend either, and the iPaq even made it into the shoot.
We never mentioned that 1) we don't look like MBA students, 2) MBA students don't hang out in front of the College of Fine Arts, only smoking undergraduates dressed all in black do that, and 3) MBA students don't use Macintosh laptops. And if you are wondering what makes me the premier expert in MBA student behavior and academic rituals, I refer you to Superstar, who is even more learned than me in that particular area.
I'm sure in fifteen years we'll regret posing for that shoot, when they're still handing out the same worn out brochures to the MBA class of 2020, with photos of us dressed in frumpy "I only got up this morning to collect project data" outfits on, staring at each other affectedly while holding cheesy business props. I can't wait to see it.
We never mentioned that 1) we don't look like MBA students, 2) MBA students don't hang out in front of the College of Fine Arts, only smoking undergraduates dressed all in black do that, and 3) MBA students don't use Macintosh laptops. And if you are wondering what makes me the premier expert in MBA student behavior and academic rituals, I refer you to Superstar, who is even more learned than me in that particular area.
I'm sure in fifteen years we'll regret posing for that shoot, when they're still handing out the same worn out brochures to the MBA class of 2020, with photos of us dressed in frumpy "I only got up this morning to collect project data" outfits on, staring at each other affectedly while holding cheesy business props. I can't wait to see it.
Whoever is out there, thank you for protecting my mom.
I understand that empathy requires an element of personal experience in order to work. When nothing bad ever happens to you, or when your bubble of bliss is so thick that it would take a power drill to put a hole in it, it makes it difficult to empathize with people who seem, in your mind, overly pessimistic. There is not a whole lot people can say to make me feel better, but there is a whole lot they can say to make me feel worse. There is a time and a place for comedy, heck, I use it all the time myself, even under dire circumstances. I know you didn't mean to blow me off. But that's how it came across. Huge things have gone awry, all at once -- it's like driving your car cross country only to have a rock cause a huge crack in the windshield, then the car overheats, then as you pull over the tire goes flat and you accidentally drive into a ditch and the car gets stuck. To make matters worse, you've lost your map but you know you've gone at least a thousand miles in the wrong direction at this point. You went this way because you thought it would be shorter but it turns out the shortcut never actually connects to the original road. You try to call for help but your cell phone has no reception, and then it starts to rain. You attempt to roll your driver side window up but it's stuck.
I wouldn't know if I was crying or if it was raining on me these days. Does it make a difference? In the end I'm still cold. You're the only one who knows about my darkest clouds. I held on to the hope that you'd help me out of the rain, but you just stood at the window and looked out at me, and cracked a joke. I wanted to run from your window in the gloom, to run until I was too cold to move.
I wouldn't know if I was crying or if it was raining on me these days. Does it make a difference? In the end I'm still cold. You're the only one who knows about my darkest clouds. I held on to the hope that you'd help me out of the rain, but you just stood at the window and looked out at me, and cracked a joke. I wanted to run from your window in the gloom, to run until I was too cold to move.
I acknowledge that you are trying harder. Don't think that I don't notice.
Daisies in the sun outlined against the cool brick. Why do beautiful things make me sneeze? I watched you tie your shoes ruthlessly. I was 2600 miles away and two years back, riding Bandit to the top of Windy Hill. He and I saw the trail curve steeply upwards as we turned the corner. He lifted his head and started to climb, vigorously, but at a walk. His left ear flicked back, waiting for the slightest "ok." I barely brushed him with my spur and reached forward to grab his mane. He was off. He powered up the hill, accelerating where it grew steeper, dodging rocks and crevices in the landscape; he knew the trail as well as I did. At the top of the turn the path leveled out and I sat up and touched his mouth with my little finger. He broke to a trot and we rode through the whispering soft grasses halfway up the mountainside. I dismounted and he turned to me, frothy with nostrils flared. We stood for a while looking out over the valley, the bridges and the bay sitting in the vague dusk that had fallen over the city. His breathing calmed and he dropped his head to pick through the light green grasses that blanketed the hillside and brought it to life. I leaned into his shoulder and lifted his foot to look at his shoe. I brushed out some clods of dirt in his sole and saw that his shoe was slightly turned on his hoof. I put it back down and slid my hand over his neck and shoulder, shimmering and wet with sweat but cool in the breeze. His rump, however, was dry and dusty and his coat smelled like summer. We were alone.
I was there until you picked up your bookbag. "What's wrong?" you said. "Nothing, just thinking." "Oh, you looked sad." Maybe I was. But if I was, it wasn't for things past but rather, uneasiness about the present, the future, fear of loss and incertitude. Standing with Bandit on Windy Hill only existed in a past reality because I made very hard-edged decisions, decisions that I never regretted but that perhaps closed off other opportunities. To move forward I must leave things behind; but first I must try to get over the feeling that leaving something behind means I value it less. Because I know it doesn't.
I was there until you picked up your bookbag. "What's wrong?" you said. "Nothing, just thinking." "Oh, you looked sad." Maybe I was. But if I was, it wasn't for things past but rather, uneasiness about the present, the future, fear of loss and incertitude. Standing with Bandit on Windy Hill only existed in a past reality because I made very hard-edged decisions, decisions that I never regretted but that perhaps closed off other opportunities. To move forward I must leave things behind; but first I must try to get over the feeling that leaving something behind means I value it less. Because I know it doesn't.
Alice looked round her in great surprise. "Why, I do believe we've been under this tree the whole time! Everything's just as it was!"
"Of course it is," said the Queen, "what would you have it?"
"Well, in OUR country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else -- if you ran very fast for a long time, as we've been doing."
"A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, HERE, you see, it takes all the running YOU can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"
- Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass
"Of course it is," said the Queen, "what would you have it?"
"Well, in OUR country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else -- if you ran very fast for a long time, as we've been doing."
"A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, HERE, you see, it takes all the running YOU can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"
- Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass
Sometimes life tests us to see if we laugh, cry, scream, sue, bat our eyelashes or flip it off. Sometimes I just go tharn. (Read Watership Down to understand this phenomenon.) It's like the time I found myself a third of the way down an icy blue run -- except I wasn't skiing, I was sitting on my side with the edge of my skis firmly planted in the snow, watching as various people dipped down the slope past me. My friends were long gone at this point, and while I knew I didn't want to go down the hill, I wasn't sure if I could go up the hill or even sideways across it. So I just sat there for a good ten minutes, hoping for some giant bird to swoop out of the sky and carry me to safety. Even the ski patrol in a snowmobile would have been acceptable at that point. But no such luck. I ultimately ended up removing my skis and clamboring back up the slope myself with skis and poles in both hands. I then went down the the much longer (and much easier) run on the other side of the hill. It must have taken me more than half an hour to get back to the lodge. I was furious with myself. But why? I guess I could have made a better decision, to not go down that run in the first place. Once I was already partway down, I could have tried to get to the bottom slowly. Perhaps getting to the bottom would have helped me overcome that fear of steep hills. Of course, there is always the potential that I could have rebusted my knee. I didn't regret my decision but it still bugged me.
It seems next to impossible to weigh the risks involved in making life changing decisions. One can make a list, (a spreadsheet, even, Superstar!) but there are so many unknowns and variables along the way that can turn even a well-planned life upside down. I usually try to make the best decision with the information I have; I've just never had so little information before. I have a friend who used to be able to find all kinds of secret messages hidden throughout the city -- on building bricks, on bridges, spraypainted on sewer covers. Whether he discovered any of life's secrets in those messages I'm not sure, but I could use a sign, any sign, right about now.
It seems next to impossible to weigh the risks involved in making life changing decisions. One can make a list, (a spreadsheet, even, Superstar!) but there are so many unknowns and variables along the way that can turn even a well-planned life upside down. I usually try to make the best decision with the information I have; I've just never had so little information before. I have a friend who used to be able to find all kinds of secret messages hidden throughout the city -- on building bricks, on bridges, spraypainted on sewer covers. Whether he discovered any of life's secrets in those messages I'm not sure, but I could use a sign, any sign, right about now.
Whoever thought that trying to pick one foot up and put it over the other while moving in a backwards fashion could be so difficult? I thought that after nearly 6 months of skating, I should be able to do this by now. Why are plateaus so hard to overcome? When I'm climbing a long flight of stairs, I typically don't mind that flat part in the middle that goes straight for a while before the stairs begin again. It's a nice break just when you're starting to get tired of ascending. Perhaps more flights of stairs with that flat part in the middle should be decorated with benches and flowers and fountains and visitors' guides to encourage us to dawdle for a bit. Doherty Hall could use this. I get so engrossed in climbing and reaching the top I often forget I'm supposed to be having fun on the way up. Maybe I should just be happy that I can hockey stop on both sides now. By the way, we went to Ko Sports on the way to clinic tonight to get our skates sharpened, and they just couldn't stop trying to sell Bizzy a Montreal jersey. I think that's hilarious.
Thank you Superstar for sharing your heart and the strawberry mousse.
Thank you Superstar for sharing your heart and the strawberry mousse.
I wish I could just shutup and leave a good thing alone.
Slowly you kill me yet still I adore you.
The worst is when you begin to doubt your own heart.
A couple new sets of photos are up on the images page. Friday was Independence Day. I have to say that Pittsburghers are fireworks connoisseurs. Out in California they shoot off one rocket every five minutes, I suppose so you have time to discuss and analyze the fireworks with your friends before the next one goes off. This is how they make ten fireworks last half an hour. Out here in Pittsburgh, you'll probably see hundreds of fireworks in the course of 30 minutes, all choreographed to go off in patterns and color-coordinated displays. Last week they even shot fireworks off the top of PPG Place, between the spires. The photos don't do the fireworks justice, but check 'em out anyway. I've never seen so many people turn out to see fireworks. There was a mass migration of people to Point Park from downtown, and when we got there people lined the banks of the Allegheny and the Mon, while boats covered every visible inch of water on the Allegheny. We squeezed to the tip of the Point, directly in front of the huge fountain. The fireworks were fired from at least three different barges floating on the Ohio river, all synched to create a show that illuminated the three rivers and Pittsburgh's usual cloud cover.
Saturday I went to my first ever baseball game. The Pittsburgh Pirates were playing the Houston Astros, and I finally got to see the inside of PNC Park from a private box suite high above the field. So when did I become a sports snob? I don't know, seats anywhere would have been fine with me but this was just sweet. Free food, great view, and then the dessert cart comes! (See the images page for a glimpse.) Thankfully I had my personal sports buff sitting next to me to explain the scoreboard and what was going on, although it still took me at least halfway through the first inning before I figured out that the Pirates were wearing white. Disappointingly, the "Mullet Cam" I had heard so much about had been discontinued due to complaints from the people being filmed! This begs the question, "Instead of complaining to the baseball stadium that everyone is laughing at your haircut, do you think perhaps you should just get a new haircut?" There are some things about Pittsburgh that are completely inexplicable. Like the people dressed up in Perogie costumes who run around the field while the groundskeepers are out. They really like their fireworks out here, and their perogies, and their Pirates. Oh, and the Pirates won, too.
Happy 4th! The archives are now working.
Tuesday was: zipping and plummeting, spinning and flipping, powdered sugar and greasy dough, rollercoasters in the dark, sunburns and waterfalls, rickety rides, soaked socks, skeletons behind shutters, unspeakable things in a runaway log, chainsaw artistry, and lots of old school fun. Yay Kennywood!
The pics are up on the images page. Per his request, the pics also portray with lifelike clarity "some dork I am seeing."
Tuesday was: zipping and plummeting, spinning and flipping, powdered sugar and greasy dough, rollercoasters in the dark, sunburns and waterfalls, rickety rides, soaked socks, skeletons behind shutters, unspeakable things in a runaway log, chainsaw artistry, and lots of old school fun. Yay Kennywood!
The pics are up on the images page. Per his request, the pics also portray with lifelike clarity "some dork I am seeing."
