Somewhere, in a dark cobblestone alley...

Neuros leaned leisurely against the wall beside the back entrance of a worn down bowling alley, the fog from his freezing breath and the puffs of cigarette smoke mingling together in the brisk winter air. He was dressed for the cold, but not so much that he couldn't pass for a worker out on a smoking break. Which, by the way if you were to ask him, he was.

Not that the topic would come up. After all, this alley, at this hour, was not exactly a hub of society. At least, not most society. Neuros only planned on talking to one man that night. That man had just turned a corner and was walking up the alley, as slowly and casually as any stranger would walk towards another. His gate betrayed no knowledge of the man taking a smoking break until they were within feet of each other. By then, the stranger had spotted the smoker's face out of the corner of his eye. He greeted him.

"Hello, Neuros. I didn't take you for the type that smoked."

"You haven't talked to me in so long, I don't expect you to be able to take me for anything." Neuros said, dropping the butt to the ground. It landed in a dusting of snow and went out with a sizzle before he could grind it with his heel. "I don't, really. Its mostly for cover." he said, smirking as he looked up at his old accomplis.

"I appreciate you meeting with me. I heard you had retired."

"Oh, you know my type...we rarely really retire. " His voice became a bit softer- "At least... not with people like you, Wanderer. "

Wanderer looked away and coughed for a second, then seemed to pause before talking again. "Thanks."

"I haven't seen you since, what... 20? You look a bit different now, you know. Your wearing black." he added, half jokingly.

Wanderer looked at his coat briefly as he produced a small vile from it. "I'm wearing something." he said distantly as he popped the cap off, letting steam rise from the top. He noticed Neuros's inquisitive look. "Nothing from a paper bag, Neuros. Just coffee."

"I must say-" he said in a pleasantly surprised tone, "You've done better then I thought you would have. Your discharge, was it...?"

"It was a discharge, okay?" Wanderer snapped back, "but...I don't think its permanent. "

"Sorry....So, whats the occasion?"

Wanderer put the lid on the vile and slipped it back into his coat as he cleared his throat. "I have a...gardening dilemma, so to speak."

Neuros expression barely changed, but his eyes betrayed a smiling understanding. "Botany; of course. Do tell."

"There is a garden I've been watching back in the country- a very special garden. Its fruits will be prized, its promise is unmatched. I've spent a lot of time walking through its rows, smelling its air. It is a beautiful garden. I've thought about it, and I've decided I want to cultivate it myself so that it can better meet its potential and so I can have the opportunity to enjoy toiling with such fortuned soil.

Neuros laughed softly. "Thats quite a speech... I've always thought you were a green thumb at heart. Whats the problem?"

"Someone else is tending it already."

Neuros furrowed his brow. "Does he own it?"

"No one owns it!" Wanderer shot back, slightly surprised at the seething tone in his own voice. "Its a wild garden."

"But- he got to it first. "

"Yeah."

The man out on his smoking break raised his head up in thought, and let out a slow deliberate breath that filled the air above them with a fleeting fog. "Is this man dying?"

"No."

"Is this gardener a very wicked man?"

"No... I wish he was. He's a very nice man, actually. I almost like him. But I know I could do better- and there is no other soil like this. The fortuned soil suffers from my inaction, in a way. "

"Do you plan on taking it?" Neuros asked calmly.

"Perhaps. " Wanderer turned his head to meet the gaze he could feel being directed towards him. "Look, I know its not...ideal. But it might be an opportunity that I just can't give up. He...he doesn't appreciate the soil, anyway."

"Do you know that?"

"It doesn't matter if I know it! All I can do right now, is LOOK at it. I want to be a part of it, Neuros! I want the dirt between my fingers, I want to be invested in this land. I want to nurse it through the droughts, fend of its pests and celebrate its bounties when they come. I know I can. I know I'm right for the job..."

Neuros was silent, his expression, unreadable. After a moment, Wanderer continued.

"Some fruit- they rolled out of the plot. Several of them, actually. I tasted them. Its out of this world. I need this fruit- and Neuros, I think it needs me, too. "

"So you are going to take it?"

Wanderer relaxed a bit and took out his vile again. "I don't know... not just yet. " He took a sip. "I'll continue to watch it. I'll hold off my decision until another year or so passes by. A lot of things can happen in a year, you know? Maybe, the gardener will take sick. Perhaps he will be distracted with business afar and abandon the land. Perhaps there will be an accident. There is always the chance that he will be out of the equation. Then.... " Wanderer tapped his vile of coffee, nervously distracted in thought. "Then I wouldn't have to deal with it. "

"Your not suggesting...taking him out of the picture yourself, are you?" Neuros asked, his normally blank expression betraying a hint of anxiety.

Wanderer put the vile back and dusted off his coat. He looked at the ground and appeared as if he were about to say something, but instead he just shook his head. Finally, he looked up.

"Well, thanks. Thanks for listening, friend. "

"Thats it?"

"Thats all... we haven't talked in a while, and I'm not sure when the next time will be so.... I figured I should let you know what I might do. "

As Neuros looked at Wanderer, one could not tell if he was more angry, surprised, or proud. It didn't really matter. Wanderer went on.

"Because I know- if anything goes wrong? Any plan you could start working on right now for just that occasion will prove itself very useful. "

And with that, Wanderer turned and walked away.



TO BE CONTINUED...

A fog examined

Driving home tonight was made much more exciting then normal by an unusual amount of fog. As I drove down the road, it seemed to come at me in small surging wisps and in long hanging clouds. The road would be visible one moment, almost completely concealed the next, then visible through a soft layer of fog again. It kept one guessing, and made you alert. My feet were a little closer to the pedals, my posture, more prone. I didn't know what to expect, and moment after moment was a surprise.

It was oddly analogous of the primary. It kept us guessing all week, then it kept us watching all night. For me, it is a unique election. This is only my second time being able to vote in a presidential race, but its not the second campaign I've followed. My family has always been at least moderately aware and active in politics, and I've spent several evenings huddled close to the TV, watching results pour in. But this one is different for me. For the first time, I wasn't rooting for the candidate my parents were rooting for. My candidate (Ron Paul) wasn't even considered a serious contender. And different also this year is my following of the democrats primary as well. I never thought I'd say this, but I think I got more into the democratic ABC debate then the Republican one. Even though I dislike both candidates policies, I have found myself rooting for Obama to get the nomination on the Democratic side. I had a horse in both races. I was happy when he came in first in Iowa. I was overjoyed when people started talking about Hillary falling fast. And so, I was hoping for another victory by him tonight to balance out the bitter taste of McCain taking the state I love and giving the most American, constitutionalist candidate I know less then 10 percent. Afterall, if I was to have to pick between the two democrats running, I would feel safer with Obama. Clinton is, as a friend has recently put it to me, "a very oldschool, power play, family connection kind of candidate". I want to see her loose. I want her to see that no one is owed the presidency in the United States. At least Obama brings a freshness to the table. But no; in my great state, Obama has lost narrowly to Hillary.

Though a somewhat discouraging end to my otherwise pleasant day, I have hope for the rest of the campaign. The race is really wide open, on both sides. And so the tightness of the race, like the fog- though it confounds us and frustrates some- it makes the ride a heck of a lot more exciting.

Here's to a great 2008 everyone.

(And I'm sorry my first post in over a month had to be about Politics. )

Reading by the fireplace

I was always a fan or the romantic idea of curling up to a good book and reading it by the fireplace light. Its such a warm, safe and cozy sounding thing... but you know what? Its really not all that great. I mean it is, but its not as perfect as we so often make it out to be. I thought about this last night when I attempted to recreate this idealistic notion while a blazing fire was started upstairs. I pulled up a chair and tried to read The Golden Compass.

I began to realize yet again as I shifted in my seat that all I ever get when I actually try this in real life is strained eyes from bad lighting, a cold back and a leg thats about to go up in flames.

And yet, I still love the idea. Its irrational, really- but somehow my personal memories of how difficult it is to get comfortable by a fireplace are always overrun by this grand ideal thought of being around a fireplace. Anyone else ever notice that kind of quirk about yourself?

A Good Morning to you, too.

Because my boss is off to another country to see his brother get married, I have moved up to the 9 to 5 shift for today and Monday.

I really like my normal hours, but I am enjoying this change of pace. Leaving in the morning is somehow different. The day is young, everything is waking up at once... the drive there is bright. Even though I got a little less sleep last night as I had to adjust to this shift, the daylight seemed to help me feel awake. Everything felt awake... you could tell it was morning just by the smell of the air. It made me feel more alive; more motivated. I haven't smelled morning in a while.

So motivated was I that after arriving at work, I fixed some code I had written to assist me. It basically goes through the program I use for my work most and makes the selections I have to make everyday and clicks the buttons for me and such, all by itself. Since someone had changed something in the program a month or two ago, it stopped working (it would click and open the wrong stuff). I even optimized the way it was written so it works much better now. Good stuff. Haven't written code in awhile.

Then after that, I totally cleaned my desk. Hadn't done that in awhile, either. Or write an email to a department in another state with out worrying it will get there after they have already left for home. Did that today, too.

Come to think of it, its probably not the time of day (except for that last one). I bet its just the change.

You see, I have been building a theory about myself over the last several years. The theory states that I thrive in change and stagnate in sameness. I don't know if its bad or good- more likely then not it just "is". When something is new to me, when my surroundings change- even (especially!) when they change drastically, it excites me. Its fresh, its something new. Its a challenge and an adventure. Among the exhibits of evidence for this theory are my thriving at AGAPE, my love of traveling and the fact that to this day I almost always fall asleep quicker on a foreign surface then on my own bed.

Is that weird? Anyone else out there relate at all?

Ouch.

Preface

I was going to post an amazing poem and sort of deep ramblings type post next. I had some stuff I've been knocking about in my head for a spell that I had until very recently not been able to render in any discernible form. These were the things that my next post would be about.

But then someone seemed to almost take offense that I posted about a car (or any possession for that matter- the thought!) and seemed to suggest that non-material things would be much more flattering on this blog.

Dude, this blog is me. It's post processed for a number of reasons, sure- but its me. If I get a car, am I not to be happy about that? If I make a good deal with someone, am I to wipe that smile off my face and put on sackcloth and ashes? We live in a world of things material. To not find joy in them would be folly in my opinion. To make them the source of our joy or to buy them hoping they will provide our joy- that is folly was well. I strive to be like Paul- being content with plenty and being content with little.

Strangely, before purchasing the car (and I'll admit, a little bit after it) I had this weird "car guilt" complex. Because it was fun and really cool. No, I didn't spend to much for it. No, it wasn't useless. No, I am not getting this car to attract attention to myself and no I am not getting this car as a status symbol (its 17 years old for Pete's sake!). So why would I feel guilty? There is no reason to make a purchase, and then instead of enjoying it, turn around and wallow in remorse.

..Wait, what the heck? This was supposed to be a shallow "look what I dun wit my here toys, yeahaw!" type posts. Huh... Oh well... I'll just work my point into the story.

Once upon a time...
Now that I have a car that I can commute with (both for [AwesomeCo] and my own meetings), I am less concerned about the trucks quirks, even if they prove fatal. Even if Big Yellow went down, it won't affect my ability to get places. This allows me the freedom to use my truck in a very stupid, fun recreational sort of way... going over trails and through woods, even if Grandmas house isn't on the other end.


I found some power line trails pretty close to us that Brandon and I spent an hour or so with one day. It was pretty fun, but we couldn't go to far on it. Then the other day Brandon told me about some trails over by his work. When our schedules finally matched up, we loaded into the truck and got going.

As it was my truck, I was first. I drove up the trail slowly until I got to a certain point where we parked to get out and survey the road ahead. Mum had warned me to not get stuck and we took the advice to heart- anywhere the terrain looked iffy, we walked through testing the firmness and plotting out how we would steer to avoid this rock here, or that boulder there. We mapped ahead till we found a place we could turn around the truck in- that way we would have the option of going further, but at least we knew we could get back.

I started at the top of a hill, which we went a little ways down in a crazy crossing back and forth manner at first, but after that the path wasn't very hilly- just curvy. Speed isn't the thing in offroading (at least its not the only thing)- you want to be in control and the fun appeal is more in conquering the terrain and going the limits of your vehicle mechanically rather then going as fast as possible. That being said, when we came to the mud stretches, we needed enough speed to make it to the other side. I took the first one- pulled to the right a little over the track to dodge rock number one, cutting it hard to the left for a second to avoid rock two, then straighten out to make it to the other side. I was just about to come to a muddy and futile stop- Brandon was saying "Don't get stuck, don't get stuck...." and I was replying "I know I know, almost out..." We were loosing speed, but just before we would have come to a stand still my front wheels grabbed solid land and pulled me out. Perfect.

After that I the ground rose a couple of feet and curved around again to present a second muddy area. This one was not so tricky as it was a much clearer shot and I basically just powered through it. So far, so good.

We came to the little area where we could turn around and parked the truck. Hopping out, we ran up the trail a bit and saw another mud pit- this one much worse. "I dunno..." we said. We wanted to drive further, so we followed the trail up a bit more by foot to come to a small wetland area complete with frogs resting in a shallow lake. "Okay, not going to work..." we said and turned back. After investigating a fork in the trail that also lead to disaster, we headed back to the truck. "Your turn Dude!" I told Brandon as a handed him the keys. He got in, adjusted the seat and all that, then we were off.

He deffinatly didn't want to get stuck. The first mud pile he powered through a little faster then I did and got over with no problems at all. Now we wound our way down and around to the second one. Coming back to this mud area from the other direction meant we didn't have any straight lead up to it like the last time. It was just sort of there, and our front wheels were almost in it . He laid the gas down heavy.

Too heavy, IMHO. We were bucking like bull riders, and when your front wheels are in the air steering is much less effective. Long story short, we hit a rock or two. Hard. From the air.

(...okay thats a bit over dramatizing it I guess. What I mean is that I my front wheels went up and then slammed down on a rock I think).

We heard an awful scraping sound, drowned out only by the noise of the engine and Brandon's perfuse apologies. We figured there was some damages- but at this point we weren't out of the mud yet so we were committed. He pressed on till we were out of the mud pit. He threw it into park and we got out of the vehicle to see what happened.

Immediately I started to look around for something that had come off of the truck. I don't have a skid plate and it really sounded like I hit something on the undercarriage. But after looking behind us on the track for awhile and around the vehicle we didn't find anything laying about. We got back in and started to roll out some more. As we started to drive, suddenly I heard a weird sound-

"ka-thump....ka-thump....ka-thump"

Again we stopped the truck, and again I jumped out. This time, I saw the problem. The right front tire was flat, and a little bit off the rim. "Oh man, I popped the tire off the rim..." Brandon observed. Oh well- I had a spare, no big deal. I dug into the back of my truck and fetched out the tire-iron, then the jack- oh wait no! I don't have a jack. Shoot.

This proved to be a problem. For a while we tried to figure out how to drive it into some terrain that would lift the wheel off the ground for easier access, but after that failed we surveyed the terrain ahead of us and decided to drive it up and out onto the road (I drove this time). We got it there and pulled it to the side, flashers on. Then we proceeded to go door to door asking for a jack.


Two no-one homes later and one "don't have one" later, we called in the infantry- that'd be...that'd be my mom. We called my mom, who found the floor jack and brought it over to us.

But before that happend, a cop came and...well I guess he couldn't really pull us over since we already were, but he pulled over, and did the whole "guilty till proven innocent" thing. I was all smiles with him, having a good time but boy was he nervous.

"Whatcha got here?"
"Just a flat."
"Where were you?" (Clearly a rhetorical question since the trails were to the right and my muddy tracks to the road were right in front of him.)
"Over there on the trails..."
"What were you doing?"
"We were just going around on the trails."
"WE? Who's 'WE'?"
"Me and my friend."
"Wheres your friend?"
"He's just over the hill...hes taking a break"
"He's what?"
"Just takingabreak..."
"What he doing?"
"He's taking a leak Officer."
"Can I see some I.D.?"
"Sure..." (pull out my wallet, give him the ID then put my wallet and hands back in my pocket)
"Sir please remove you hands from your pockets!!"
"Oh, okay right..."

It continued. We got back to the topic of what I was doing.

"Supposed to be there?" (Strangely worded...its not like that was our calling, but...)
"Yes officer- or I mean, we aren't not supposed to be over there."
"Is that so?"
(trying not to take the confrontational bate)
"Yes Officer I believe so-"
"That your land?"
"No sir, but its public access."
"Is it?"
"...yes officer- I mean, I am not trying to contradict you sir but I am fairly sure it is. Is it not?"
"Its the power companies property"
"Yeah, but its public has public easement, doesn't it?"

I could tell he didn't know this, but he was really nervous about it. It was almost like he wanted us to let on to what was legal or not. It wasn't really going to work since apparently we didn't know anything he didn't either way. About that time Brandon came back from the hill and joined the fun. Asked him what we were doing, he told 'em we were mudding, officer asked for ID, etc.

When he turned to go to the cop car and we took a step forward while we asked if he had a jack he got scared again (though this time I suppose I can understand it)- "Please do not approach the vehicle!!! Please step back and remain by the truck!!"

Phew... I tried and tried through smiling and making small jokes to get this guy to laugh but the most he did was crack a "you stupid youth" sort of smile. I guess thats something. We didn't get written up for anything after he found out that there were no warrants for our arrest, so thats cool. He did tell us not to go on those trails because they were the private property of the power company. He wouldn't tell us anywhere we could go, just that we should take it up with our towns.



After he left and we were waiting for the floor jack to arrive, the person who didn't have a jack for us came back out. "I'm really sorry, I feel kind of stupid I have 4 cars and not one that will fit yours... did you guys get someone?" We told him we had- he was really nice. Hung around while we changed the tire and even let us use his pliers. While we worked we told him about what the cop told us about it being the power companies property."

"Nah, that all back there is MY property, actually."

Oh, huh... go figure. I suppose if we ever had the urge to go back to that trail we could ask him for permission then... not that this will happen. This kind of maintenance is not really in my budget (when we got the wheel off, we found out that the rim was bent. Yay us).

Moral
Okay, so I said I'd tie this story in with the point of my preface. This at least won't take long- I just wanted to say that I didn't really care that Brandon busted up my wheel. Its material. We are all safe, its an accident, I've broken things before. I don't want to be the type that freak out when something of mine breaks, even if it cost me something. Its just not worth getting upset about it. I'm sure he feels worse then I do as it is anyway- I know I would and I don't want to make things worse.

Thats how I want to enjoy material things- they come, you can enjoy them, but when they go (I'm Not to say my truck is dead- I drove it home and everything) , just don't worry about it. Its just things. I want to be able to do that with everything, especially when I have a family. "Oh, you drove my car through the garage junior? Well just next time don't drive until your over the age of 10." "What, you burnt the clutch out Susan? No honey, don't worry about it I did the same thing with my dads."

The world is made up of things. Enjoy them. But don't rely on them- after all they are just things.

One liners of wit or wisdom, but probably neither

This is a jumbled up, to-much-weirdness-swirling-around-after-to-many-days-of-running-ragged sort of post.

---_---
Maybe you've heard the song "Everyone's Beautiful." Well, I get what he's driving at, but I think I have to make qualifications on this.
A) MOST people are beautiful. I truly believe this as basically everyone I know is beautiful, to some degree if not an extreme one. I don't care what you look like, you have to be pretty messed up to not have at least a trace of beauty in you. It probably comes from the Divine family resemblance.
B) That being said, even to such undiscerning tastes, some people I think can truly be evil at their core, whether it be reflected in their facial features or not.

So, to restate it I suppose it would go "Most people are beautiful. And some are quite pretty, too." Hmm... I see why the great band water deep didn't go this route though... not nearly as good a line to build a song around.
^-*Frustrated exhaling of wind from the esophagus* I don't think I conveyed quite what I was trying to say here.

---_---

I want to be near a hail storm once, if not just so I could go out, pick a hail stone up and announce to everyone that this is a piece of war. "War?" they ask, "Why yes," I'd reply, "Haven't you heard? War is hail."

Actually I bet their are alot of jokes just waiting to happen after a hail storm. It would seem to me that frozen water is a comic gold mine.
_-_----

Google is sometimes just as geographically challenged as me. We make a horrible team.

_--_-

I'm a bit concered for Brad when I heard he was going to Norwhich univerity. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the name an abrieviation for "Nordic Witch Univeristy"? Brad, what are you doing getting mixed up with those Viking wiccans?!

--_-_


Me, upon trying the new Cheesy Angus Bacon Burger: "My name is Zeke Gable, and I approve this burger."
-_---

Its Palm Sunday- *high five*

(...get it?)

_-_-

I feel my fortune is double edged. On the one hand I am surrounded by beauty. But on the other, I feel I am forced to only look at it from a far. I am so afraid of spoiling it, or perhaps of what others think of me if I tread upon it, that I dare not enjoy but a fleeting shallow interaction.

I suppose it doesn't help that I've once carelessly destroyed a prized garden. And I had been so careful up until then. But one destruction as such, one defeat via the enemy through me, and I'm out. I find it safer. I find it more prudent. I find it unbearably difficult as well.
_-__--

Is it possible to call in well? Like, my sister has to work all day Saturday. Thats a drag, but you see she's not sick. Can't she just call in and say "Hey sorry I have to call in well. Saturday is a going to be really nice and I'm going to be too well to come in. "

^This one was alot funnier before I wrote it down.

--_-_--

If you have elder-berry echinacia tea, I think its Biblical to respect it. I don't really know how far the whole "elder" thing goes, but I figure I'll be on the safe side.
_-_--

Okay, so that was a meaningless just sort of ramble on the keyboard post. Don't mind the overdue teenage angst, I'll be better after some sleep. I just wanted an outlet.

Big changes subtly realized

Hi everyone, big life announcement-

I'm getting married.

No, no, I'm just kidding.... well I hope to eventually but I'm not any closer.

Okay, so seriously.

I'm moving to Arizon.

Okay, nah I'm just kidding there as well. I mean I won't rule it out. But I'm not going anywhere.

Okay.

I have a cell phone.

No, this one I'm serious about. What, not a big deal? Yeah, I get that. Check it- I'm edging towards 21 and I finally decided to get one. It is cool. Just...not very spectacular (this post is not a gadget post, but remind me sometime to tell you about this phone because it is pretty sweet).

Thats basically what this post is about. Not about the phone or even major life changes, but a life changed majorly, and when you look back at the things that caused it, you can't help but scratch your head and say "thats it? Thats what's caused all the difference?"

Perhaps the events really are major and I just adapt to change too quickly and too well. I hadn't thought of this until now- but that would make sense. I've sort of built up an indifference- immunity to change over time, (a "just roll with it" type of deal) and it has served me well for the most part. That could be it- maybe not. Either way though, growing up can be terribly anti-climatic.

For me, I've only noticed a major differences while realizing a major tug of war in my schedule. I have work 8 hours a day now, and I've been trying to start a business at the same time. I can be pretty busy. But on the other hand, my job has begot money, which has begot mobility, and when mobility is full grown, it gives birth to freedom. This is wonderful- it allows me not only to go to and from work, but also enables me to be more actively social (sort of). I can now visit my brother, meet clients, and get together with friends from Agape with out having to sync myself to the van schedule.

About that last part- friends. I feel like I am on a sparse middle ground between the professional world (or at least "real" world- the junk business isn't that pro...) and adolescent world- the safe sandlot world, where one can have fun and make mistakes with out worrying about how it will play out in the rest of your life. I say its sparse ground simply because I know not of many others that tread it- its not really difficult the way I walk it right now, but it is strange, I think, to others. I have friends ranging the ages and I still really have fun with them. I go to concerts, I hang out with people (though not as often as I'd like), I even got to visit the school yesterweek. But at the same time, I am watching the clock like an adult- I know their is no question as to me arriving at work when I say I will. I have a ball with my friends from Agape, I miss them! Nothing really has changed in the way I interact with them, but mentally I spot a difference.

I show it to you all now; mark it well. You can make mistakes now. You can work out human nature's drama in your social circles at this time. Its like a sandbox. Thats what its there for- you learn to work out who you are and even work out who you don't want to be. Yes, there are repercussions. You have the potential to get into a lot of trouble. But when your on the other side you'll see a difference, I think. What I mean to say is that for alot of people, adolescence is like the Vegas of life- what happens there can stay there. Except lessons learned can be carried through. Its really remarkable.

In the back of my mind I wonder if I went through the social mazes too well. I got by pretty well by playing it, at least as I saw it, smart. I avoided alot of mistakes I saw people make, or heard of them making. I would oft go against my natural instincts or desires in favor of better judgment.

*removes hand from keyboard and looks around nice office, and at dual screens, reflectively*
Well, maybe its not such a bad idea....

Still, reading, learning and doing business has banged a concept into my head so often that I suddenly realized I believe in it at a very core level. And that concept is that making mistakes is the best ways of learning. And that, yes, you want to calculate and not aim for failure, but getting out their and making some deals that go bad, by getting burned on something- doing this EARLY is much better then doing it late.

Right now I'm trying to be a scrap broker. I bought 22 computers for $200. I was hoping to turn around and make $300 or at least $250 on them. I had talked to the supplier, I asked him about what they had in them. They were supposed to have 512Mb of ram each- I knew I could sale the ram alone for $20 on ebay or somewhere else. I calculated what I needed to do. I had it down.

But of course, when I got them back, they didn't all have 512MB of ram. 4 of them did. 3 of them had 320MB. The rest had 128MB, with the exception of the three that wouldn't turn on.

According to a philosophy that I am increasingly subscribing too, this is a perfect opportunity. Instead of cursing out my supplier and hitting myself for being an idiot who didn't test everything or drive a hard enough bargain, I should stop and think "What is this circumstance trying to tell me?" [Editors note: I am not implying any sentience on these events, like they are part of something bigger and smarter. I am merely personifying.] I think I know the lesson here- always verify claims of people to the best of your ability, and don't be afraid to point out where they fall short. Its not being rude, its protecting yourself and your livelihood. Lesson learned. $200 pleas

Getting back to the point I was making.... This is an example of an early mistake. This was a small mistake- I may have lost, at the most, $200, plus time. Am I upset about that? Yeah, its not the ending I would have chosen. But what if I got lucky this time, and the next, and the next- lets just assume that things go peachy for me for deal after deal where everything is always exactly what they say. When I finally getting around to making this mistake, I might make a two hundred thousand dollar mistake instead of a two hundred dollar mistake. It is better to fail early and learn then to avoid failure at all costs.

So how does this apply to me? Well...what if I should have made mistakes earlier? What if I should have gotten into trouble? I know this is a really weird line of reasoning, please bear with me. I'm not going to go postal or crazy just yet or anything so don't freak out. Its just something that I've been wondering about. Does the same thing apply in other things? In love? In social choices?

"What would you suggest?" I can hear you ask. "Would it be better for you to have slept around and mugged somebody so that you could know you don't want to?"

I don't think so. I don't really know the answer to these hypothetical questions. And I don't want to encourage people to go out and do stupid stuff or anything. But some things that have happened in the last year or so have brought it vividly to my attention: After a certain point, some mistakes can NOT be afforded. I am past that point for alot of mistakes. They are no longer a option.

Here's hoping I didn't need them.

[Editors note again: I really don't know what to think of this post- it was going to be much different, but curse my unruly fingers, this is what it turned out to be. I just sort of rambled. Its big, I know. Consider that punishment for begging for another. By the way- I'm on face book now. Sorry y'all, its just that much cooler. Name's Zed Fable, if you care.]

New ride, new life idea(s)

Hello, everybody. I'm back. For those of you who were looking for new material, sorry. I was sort of busy with life things and not updating my blog. But for those who’ve been checking, thanks. It’s cool to be read.

Alright- so I will start this off with a picture of my new friend:

(Tiki mug for display purposes only. Uttereast.blogspot.com does not condone drinking and cycling. Check your local state laws before drinking anything, eating anything, or breathing in certain restricted state wildlife zones. Buckel up, even when cycling if at ever possible. Voidware prohibited.)

That’s right, them right dere is my new wheels, yo! And don’t be hate’n just cause It’s 2 wheels instead of 4- for one thing, I’m sitting on 26’s and this baby has taken me 40 miles already and will take me over 133.16 more. It is a Schwinn S-30 and whenever it is not breaking, it is my friend. Its lighter then my old hard-tail (which in retrospect must have been made from some sort of lead alloy) and it climbs and accelerates really nice for soft-tail, or any bike for that matter. It even makes me feel cool sometimes, which is quite the fringe benefit. But wait- I’m getting ahead of myself, I know. Let me start at the beginning.

Probably as far back as two years ago, my friend (hereafter referred to by his alias, “dX”) and I talked about doing some crazy-go-nuts trip across New Hampshire over the power line trails. We decided to try it next summer, when dX would make a return visit to NH from his new residence in Kansas. He came up, but for various reasons I don’t recall, we never made the trip. This year, we have decided to right that wrong.

Originally, we planned on starting up in Canada and riding our way back south for a week or two over the power line trails. But eventually, due to the current restrictions of reality (such as our inexperience, flood levels and the difficulty in securing complete maps of power line trails) we decided to shorten the trip- From Maine, across New Hampshire as far as Milford, and then eventually back to my house, in 4 days.

That’s where the new bike comes in. You see, I had one already- a Boulder SE hard tail. Nice bike, but I killed it years ago. I took it in for estimates and it would have cost me as much as $230 to get it back into working condition. I figured if I looked hard enough, I could find a good deal on a better, newer bike for less money. But where?

I found “the one” astray in a police auction of seized possessions. I took it under my wing and had it fixed up. It had some loose bolts here and there and a bent wheel, but other then that it was in FINE condition. And though I’ve had to have the rear wheel trued twice since getting it, it now seems to be holding up very well… I’ve been trying to ride it far and wide to train myself up, and it is performing marvelously well. I love it… And I am so psyched to get going on this trip.

Just being on the verge of this adventure has birthed ideas that tantalize my brain- I’ve always been fascinated with under-the-radar, obscure ways of living: hoboing , truck driving, eeking out power and water beneath forgotten subway tunnels in New York, the cowboys of old and so forth… But I have come up with an idea that seems more immediately accessible to me: Nomadding Bicycle tech-gypsies. Or just “Bike Tribes” for short. In case you are still not clear on what I am talking about, think of it like this:

Gypsies; only with bicycles, a little less smelly, and hooked into the Internet wirelessly.

Think about it- the idea is insanely plausible. I haven’t run any hard numbers yet, but it would make your cost of living take a nose dive- you could work for maybe a few months and have enough money saved up to live in the outdoors for a few years. You wouldn’t need insurance, and you wouldn’t pay rent. Of course, you could choose to pay for a cell phone, occasional internet access or the occasional campground fees- maybe even a real motel bed if you wanted it- but the only mandatory costs would be food and things relating to bike maintenance. The best part is this: if you wanted to, you could still have a job in many fields. Anything you can do online, obviously you can do on the road now. With services like manpower, it would not be posible that people could get as much money as they needed for life from every industry in any State (and 68 other countries). Not to mention other, more loosley defined resorces such as Craigslist. Seriously, this is huge. It's outdoors, it's tech, it's social and it's wanderlust. All of which are pretty much in my top ten ideas of life. Whats not to love?

Okay… but as for now… Heh, it will just be a 4 day trip for me and dX. Several of our friends have also been nice enough to lend us their homes as hops along the journey where we will have access to modern marvels such as running water and internet. And of course, in addition to refilling water, taking a shower I plan on blogging whenever I can. I will bring my crappy camera and dX will probably have at least one camera amoungst his many gadgets. So- stay tuned.

Lord willing, we should be leaving this Monday (the 26th).

LatSee you on the road!

A boy named Wanderer- A true story.

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Wanderer. He grew up in a good home with good parents and good siblings. But even those so well fortified in life are never truly safe from its darkness- for while he was still young, the boy was visited by an evil. For a season it wreaked a quiet and untraceable havoc on him, making no visible damage but sowing dysfunction. And then it stopped. The boy was spared by the Hand of God.

Wanderer seemed to show resilience to the evil. After a few short years he had all but forgot the dark force that had visited him. He became an ambitious child and continued to grow up as an apparently well-adjusted child. But two forces resided in him that he knew not of.

The first was a parasite. This parasite was an agent of the darkness that had invaded the boy, and its purpose was to corrupt him to the very darkness itself. The parasite hid itself and masked its symptoms behind things normal to a growing child so that it would not be detected. Meanwhile, the boy developed a love for the Cause, wanting and training earnestly to fight the forces of evil as a warrior. The boy became vigilantly on the lookout for The Darkness- he set garrisons about the property and gazed over them with watchful eye. He tried to keep himself informed of the Enemies plans- he knew of all their latest movements. But he never realized the threat within himself- the parasite was so close and so hidden, that he did not see it. And so the greatest danger to all was allowed to grow.

As the child developed into a young man, the second force started to appear. Wanderer grew apathetic and weary. It was another symptom of the parasite, but he did not know it. His far sight was attacked and his Vision blurred. His dedication to the Cause waned and faltered. He always knew the drills, but his heart was not always in it. He knew in his mind what the moves and strategies were and he remained engaged with others in his ranks, but he grew less and less motivated. This force he at least recognized. He called it different things- lack of self-discipline, laziness, and more. He tried to correct it. He decided he needed an infusion of discipline- a personal morale booster of sorts.

He volunteered with the Cause for a dangerous deployment far away. He submitted himself to the riggers of discipline and danger, and he felt the tide turning. He returned to his native shore, alive and stronger. He was no longer weary and for a time it would seem that the force of apathy had been ridded from the man named Wanderer. But the parasite was still there, and though damaged by the Hand of God, it was not destroyed.

The parasite was smaller when Wanderer first came back to his native shore, but it grew past its previous size in mere months. Wanderer was again tired and careless. He knew he was being damaged and so once more volunteered for more missions. Each mission would take longer to restore him then the last and each time he returned his morale and energy would last shorter. Each time his morale was dampened, it became harder for him to get up the courage to volunteer for more missions. He volunteered less frequently, until he finally stopped altogether.

Now the ideals and Man behind the Cause are noble, just and good. But the institution of the Cause is never perfect. A man can sometimes too easily fall aside from the true meaning of the Cause. He becomes weary and dysfunctional, but as long as he maintains the correct drills and courtesies, the commanding officers will never notice the difference. Such was so for wanderer. He attended all mandatory drills and followed proper courtesies and customs. But he was no longer in it. His body was a husk; an empty shell.

He became a man divided, and deeply introspective. His outside mannerisms were controlled by courtesy, by custom and by upbringing. He never lost that. His conversations were intelligent and polite, for the parasite attacks these more visible things last. But his mind was growing more corrupted by every minute. He soon grew worried that his inner demons were stronger then most. He knew everyone must deal with them themselves, and so he never thought to ask for help. He began to question this line of thinking. But still the parasite grew and established more control, all the while unnoticed.

But alas, these were not the only forces working in him as a young man. There were forces called in, forces of Goodness that had been sent by the Hand Of God. They were appointed to him while at the outpost “Love of God”. And they were agents for truth and love and courage. They were forces of spiritual stimulation- forces that began to shake Wanderer’s apathy, even while the parasite struggled to maintain it.

The battle was played low-key. Forces from either side never openly assaulted one another- there were only munitions fired in burst at targets of opportunity, poorly aimed grenades and botched assassination attempts. It was a secret stalemate, each side hiding enough cards to be one step in front of the other and just out of sight enough so that no witnesses were aware of what they were witnessing, even when they saw it.

The struggle awoke ideas in Wanderer. He continued to be introspective and to think on things long forgotten. He watched for patterns. He noticed his mind growing darker and darker. He felt a vague horror. He had disgust for his own thoughts- but yet he held a spellbound twisted fascination with them as well. He was recognizing something… but what was it? He thought on it often. He had seen these thoughts before.

Meanwhile, he continued to try and function for the Cause. He would escort less skilled forces and assist them. An ambush would happen, and his old training and his well-ingrained skills would come back to him. He would lay down a suppressive fire, he would route the enemy. He was commended. But sometimes when this happened, he felt dizzy. He would falter for a second, and in his confusion he would point the weapon at his own forces. He scared some, but it only lasted a few seconds. He would get it under control and retreat for a time. He would wonder what happened- his thoughts…were they were being rendered? Were they really animating him now? And where, where did they come from? He grew tense with the question, and the uncertainty of when it his spells of confusion would strike again. But he continued accompanying younger troops. It was what he did intuitively; his instructors always said he seemed to be born for backup and escorts.

Once, he was accompanying a small group, and there was a surprise ambush. They were badly outnumbered and outgunned. Wanderer quickly created makeshift bunkers, and laid down return fire. It was an intense fire fight- the younger troops hardly fought at all. Bullets were flying everywhere- the air was filled with the stench of sulphur and of the dirt that was kicked up in clouds from the bullets that had missed their marks. It created a haze and freighted the troops who were not properly trained. After an hour of holding the enemy back, Wanderer knew they needed to retreat. He began to think of the plans in his head- who he would call, the platoons he could radio in- but the leaders above him beat him to it. An extraction force came in valiantly and scattered the enemy long enough to make an escape possible.

When Wanderer returned from the battle, he was exhausted but proud. He lay down on his bed and thought. I may be losing my energy, but I still have it. It felt good to Wanderer to know he was apart of such a dangerous mission and that he defended the Cause’s new blood. Just then a medic came up to his bed.

“Were you the sergeant on escort duty for the new bloods today?” the medic asked.

“I was.” Wanderer replied, rising out of bed.

“Come with me.”

He followed the medic into the infirmary. All along his way, the camp was abuzz with the news of something. People were talking in excited tones and almost all who were talking seemed to have on their face a look of disbelief. When they arrived at the examining room, he recognized a recruit a few tables down. She looked sad and in extreme pain; her gaze met Wanderers and her eyes filled with pain. He had never seen anyone look so sad before. She was in bad shape, too. Blood was everywhere- it looked like she had a head wound. The doctors and nurses assistants were buzzing around her quickly, only meeting Wanderer’s gaze for a brief second of recognition before returning to their work. Then, suddenly four fully armed military guards closed in around her, and stood on alert. He could no longer see her.

“Hey!” Wanderer shouted out to the medic “I know that person! She was with me today on the field-“

“Yes sir… she…” the medic looked out into space for a second as if not exactly sure what to say.

“Is she badly hurt?”

The doctor looked back at him. He seemed angry.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Wanderer was upset with the question. He ignored it and turned to her.

“Lieutenant, your going to be fi-”

The guards tensed and raised their firearms in his direction. The medic grabbed Wander by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye.

“WANDERER- You are not to talk to the Lieutenants anymore. That is an order.

“What?!?”

“Do you know why you’re here? You nearly KILLED her. Wanderer- you shot that Lieutenant in the face!”

Wanderer reclined slowly on the operation bench. His head was reeling, but suddenly he wasn’t confused anymore. The excitement at the camp, the reason he was here… it all began to snap together. The escort job that day, the pattern in his thoughts… then the piece he was missing, the part he had nearly forgotten so long ago-

The evil that visited me… it didn’t leave. It never left. Oh God…

And he knew he had the parasite. It was the last thing that he remembered for a long time. Whether from fainting, exhaustion, or the needle in his arm, Wanderer fell asleep. They were to try and operate.

THE END.

Hobo boots and humanity.

Check out this sweet deal:I call them my hobo shoes, and they rock my socks like it was their job. Which, I guess, technically, it is...

These are rare find for me you see- My feet are so ridiculously wide that I generally have to speacial order them- haven't bought shoes in a store probably since I was 10 or so. But here these shoes were- just sitting on a rack in Goodwill, waiting for me to come and claim them in all of their awesomeness. There wicked tough, espeacially for something that is used. I think there sides are made of leather. I dunno, but if I had to hop a train I'd say that at least my footwear would look authentic.

Ok, on to other matters.

Today I have been simultaniously in awe and in disgust of humanity. I read all about how we irradicated disseases and I took in many works of art- great marks of our achivement. But then I have also seen depravity seemingly incarnated in people. Jerks- men with such obviously low ambitions and methods. People that litterally disgust me. *sigh*But we are all of the same stock.

Welcome to humanity. Welcome to sin and to cities that don't sleep. Welcome to the good neigbor and the sex offender. Welcome to a human nature- seemingly good intentions, yet wicked to the core. And its in us. Good times!

So I just re-wrote the above paragraph about 4 times because I suddenly had a whole bunch of poetic inspiration. I think perhaps next time I will post a poem worked out on that concept, but for now I must turn in... I have an audition to try out for tomarrow!