For Those About To Rock

I’m not the kind of person who usually puts myself at the center of attention.  My introverted tendencies make me more inclined to find a quiet spot with a good book.  When I do go out, I’m more comfortable in small groups with people I know well instead of interacting with large groups of acquaintances.  However, when someone suggests karaoke night, I’m the first jump on board.  

Saturday night, Samantha and I met a bunch of people at Loosey’s, a bar downtown, to sing a few songs.  By the time we got there, the place was already packed.  We each grabbed a beer and met our friends at a table in the back.  I took a few drinks from my pint glass of liquid courage before handing the DJ my song requests.  The thing about karaoke is that song choice is critical.  Now is not the time to sing some weepy Savage Garden slow jam to your girlfriend.  You bore me with that shit.  Get out there with a kick ass song, and I don’t care if you sound like Frank Sinatra or William Hung.  If you really bring it, I’m going to cheer like hell for you. 

It seemed like forever, but my turn finally came.  I stepped onto the stage, microphone in hand.  Nervousness and excitement raged against each other.  The screen in front of me noted the instrumental intro, and I waited for my cue.  At the precise moment I spoke slyly into the mic, “Once upon a time, not so long ago…” What followed was probably my best-ever rendition of Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer.  My hand holding the mic was slightly shaky, but I don’t think anyone noticed.  The crowd, larger than I had ever sang in front of before, cheered.  The song faded out and I climbed off stage, strangers high-fiving me as I walked back to our table.   I was on the biggest karaoke high of my life.  The feeling returned as I sang Basket Case by Green Day, which brought half a dozen people to their feet dancing near the stage.

I’m never going to be a contestant on American Idol, nor do I have any ambition to be one really.  But I am a pretty damn good singer.  Few things have made me feel as good about myself as singing does.  I miss being part of a top-notch choir, and hopefully I’ll be somewhere long enough that I can join one again soon.  And once, just once, I want to say that I sang with a band.  I think that would be the adrenaline high of a lifetime for me.  But for now, I’ll keep bringing down the house, one karaoke night at a time.

Hot Damn! I Burned A Forest.

Today was an awesome day.  The sun was shining, the weather was mild, and I had my first experience starting a forest on fire.  I know, I know... Smokey Bear said that only I can Prevent forest fires.  But guess what, kids.  Smokey was a little overzealous in his fire-prevention campaign.  Forests are adapted to fire.  It returns nutrients to the soil, clears undesired species, and prevents and even larger fuel load from accumulating.  The lab where I now work studies these adaptations, and I'm sitting in on my boss's Fire Behavior class.

Today was our first burn at Austin Cary Memorial Forest, a teaching forest near Gainesville.  The fire started with a test spot near the corner and a go-ahead to ignite the perimeter.  I watched the flames slowly char the grasses near the road and smolder inward.  I expected something much more spectacular, but this plot is burned annually and I figured there weren't as many fuels.  Working around the corner along the south border we started a flanking fire running parallel with the wind.  Still, the plot burned slowly.  Then, the wind shifted direction and the fire roared towards the center of the block.    The flames intensified, gallberry shrubs crackled as they burned, and even the papery bark of a few longleaf pines glowed a bright orange.  Standing forty feet away, I could feel the heat radiating from the head fire.

For a closeted pyro like me, It was an exciting day.  I even got a turn with the drip torch to ignite the head fire.  Needless to say, I came home smelling like a chimney. I hope I didn't offend anyone sitting near me at the PEERs meeting! (But that's another story for another day.) Below are a few pictures from the burn.

We have ignition!

Creeping towards the palmettos 

Head fire flares just as the wind shifts 

Flames swirl around the base of a Longleaf pine

The burn progresses along the fire break

Self-Evident, But Not Self-Executing

By chance, I caught President Obama's second inauguration today. I had the day off work and happened to turn on the TV at the right time to the right channel.  Regardless of who you voted for, I think it's hard to deny that this is an important day for our country.  The president's speech, as I would have expected, was eloquent and hopeful.  One part in particular caught my attention.  He started by quoting the most recognizable passage of the Declaration of Independence, "We hold these truths to be self-evident...that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Then he expressed the relationship of these words to our present realities and continued, "History tell us that while these truths may be self-evident, they've never been self-executing."  Those words rolled over and over in my head.

In many ways I think our country is in a quarter-life crisis of it's own.  Compared to other civilizations in Europe and Asia, the United States is still a young nation.  We might be the poster child of Freedom and Democracy, but we're still learning about these things too.  And we have room for growth.  Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  There's a key word in that phrase: Pursuit.  Our desires aren't givens; we have to find a way to successfully ensure them.  This is a reality for both the nation and the individual.  I've learned where my interests lie, and I'm beginning to form a vision for my career.  The hardest part now is the execution.  How do I bridge that gap?   Because it certainly isn't going to fall in front of me.

Outside of the inaugural address, the most moving part of the day happened at the very end.  As President Obama exited the ceremony, he paused to take one last look at the crowd.  Here's a man who makes the toughest decisions in the country, and arguably the world.  This is probably the last time he will see his supporters amassed in such a large number.  

Sometimes I feel alone in my pursuit and that the odds are against me.  However, I know there are always people to whom I can turn for strength no matter what happens.  Whether you're the President of the United States of America or a wandering twenty-something, I think that can be the most important thing to remember.

Never Too Old For LEGOs

Might as well just say it; LEGOs are fucking awesome.  They always have been and always will be.  Growing up, I'm pretty sure my brother and I had the largest collection out of any of our friends, amassing new sets every birthday and Christmas.  After a long hiatus, my mom decided to give both of us small sets in our stockings this year for funsies.  Mine is a little girl driving a little car.  Mom said it made her think of the Jeep I rented for my solo adventure in Puerto Rico.  Finding the little set reminded me of so many Christmases from years ago and made me smile.

Tonight, I finally tore that bad boy open to assemble it.  Now that I think about it, I'm disappointed in myself for not doing it Christmas morning!  What was I thinking?!  I guess the adult in me was distracted by my new big kid toy, my own GPS, and the LEGOs got brushed into a pile of things to bring back to Florida. But I found them today after cleaning my room and decided I had waited long enough.

I nestled into the living room chair and tore open the package with anticipation.  When I dumped the contents onto the ottoman, 32 tiny plastic pieces clinked together creating an unmistakable sound.  The instructions were folded into a little square, and I opened it like it was an eight-step treasure map.  My eyes widened as I dug through the pile to find the right pieces. A familiar feeling of delight washed over me.  I built the frame on the chassis, attached the windshield and grill, and snapped all four wheels into place with a satisfying "click" then took a moment to admire my creation.  And of course the test drive down the arm of the chair was wildly successful.

For the rest of the night, I idly rolled the car from place to place. I'd walk to another room still holding it and drive it across the wall.  It became almost subconscious and soothing.  There are some things that I will never feel to old to enjoy.

Notes Between Secret Neighbors

I have lived in Gainesville for more than two months now and still haven't met any of my neighbors.  Yesterday I had a strange interaction with one of them though.  After publishing my first post the other night, I didn't fall asleep until about 7 AM.  I almost just got up then and made breakfast, but I decided that trying to get even a few hours asleep would be better than none. But around 9:15, I could hear the bass of my neighbor's music loudly and clearly through my wall.  Angered, I heavily pounded my fist twice against the wall behind my head.  Without hesitation, the music softened.  Then I contemplated the situation.

I had just lost my temper with someone that I have never met.  A faceless person behind the wall.  Yes, it was inconsiderate to play music so loudly in the morning.  But its not like it was a reoccurring offense.  In fact, today was the first morning that I had been awakened by someone other than my roommate.  Samantha wakes me up on a daily basis. I hear her feet across the kitchen floor, the whistling tea kettle, and the squeak of the door when she leaves for work.  But its all easily forgiven.  She's my friend, and I know its just her morning routine.  I always fall back asleep when she leaves anyway.  Yet I was so easily angered by my anonymous neighbor for his one-time judgement lapse.

I didn't stay in bed very long after the music incident anyway.  A landscape crew soon started trimming the trees on both sides of my apartment with what sounded like the world's biggest fucking chainsaw.  As I got ready for work, something prompted me to write my neighbor a note.  Not a nasty note, but just a few words to acknowledge our interaction.  And I guess part of me wanted to make sure he didn't think I was a bitch for banging on his wall.  I drew him a picture too as icing on the cake because, seriously, who would be mad at this hedgehog?

Later that night, I found a friendly reply taped to the outside of our door:

Samantha and I joked about becoming "Secret Neighbors" or "Apartment Pen-pals" I haven't decided if I'm going to write back though.  Part of me wants to, but I don't feel like I have anything else relevant to say right now. My sleep deprived slap-happiness of that morning has worn off.  Maybe the mood will strike again someday.  I already see it.  I'll draw a picture of Princess Peach in a Bowser suit and invite him over for some Mario Party.  For now though, I guess he'll stay the faceless person on the other side of the wall.

Cogitations at 5:40 AM

So here I sit. It's the wee hours of the morning, and I haven't gotten a wink of sleep.  Normally I can at least fall asleep by 2 or 3 AM.  Not tonight.  Maybe its the pain killers that I took earlier or just an over active brain.  Whatever the case may be, it's something that happens all too frequently lately.  Instead of wasting time scrolling through people I never talk to on Facebook or pinning things that I'll probably never do to my boards on Pintrest, I finally decided to do something productive.

I intended to start this blog a long time ago.  More than a year ago in fact.  Originally I named it "My Awesome Unemployment" after losing my job at Notre Dame.  It was going to be a way to keep myself busy and accountable for my time.  What I realized was that to be content, I needed to Do something, Make something, or Learn something new everyday.  And while that blog never materialized,  I think some of those still ring true.

I've spent the last year and a half stumbling through jobs, journeys and misadventures. Sometimes I feel like I have forward momentum. Other times I feel as if my life is hopelessly stalled.  My twenty-sixth birthday is less than three months away, and I've realized that I am deeply intrenched in a quarter-life crisis.  I'm stuck in a rut with a maze of choices to decipher the right direction for my career path.  This blog will be part of my shovel.

The last blog that I wrote documented my adventures during my time in Puerto Rico. I started it as a convenient way to keep my friends updated on my experience there. I slaved over every post, making sure that I had a well crafted story before publishing it. And I left out a lot of the bad things. The things that made me think, "Who the hell are these people. What the fuck am I doing here." At the time censoring myself to the world was therapeutic.  I didn't want to come off as whiney when recounting a once in a lifetime opportunity to my friends and family.  This is not that blog.

I wrote those posts for other people.  These I will write for myself to reflect on all the angles of a difficult crossroads.  Carefully constructed words will become mental vomit expelled from fingertips recounting anything hopeful, exciting, frustrating, thought-provoking, and absurd. I don't give a shit if anyone else reads them.  However, I welcome those who are brave enough to peek into the inner workings of my thoughts. If I wanted no one to read this, I would write a journal instead.  But maybe someone will stumble across this, glance at a few words, and relate to something I've said.  And we can both feel a little less alone on this crazy journey.