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Thursday, July 30, 2009

Chilling at Home

I sit here in the B-Dub, having just read two chapters from a heady book about a conventional God, I contemplate many things. However, these things I contemplate are often heavier than I feel like relaying to you, the reader, right now. So, that being said, I want to talk about the rain, the beautiful thing we seem to have stolen from the Pacific Northwest.

As temperatures in Portland and Seattle break record highs, here in Denver, where we average 90 degrees this time of year, we've had a few days of 70s and rain. It's been absolutely glorious. It's everything in me not to go into work tomorrow, give my two-weeks notice, and take off for the Alaskan panhandle. I love the rain.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

The Shroud

I love the fog. It's my favorite weather. It's like mother nature is wrapping you up in a creepy yet comfortable blanket. It's hard to feel safe at first, but once you give up a little bit of trust to nature, you are home, surrounded by pure mystery and imagination. When you see tops of mountains, you can only imagine what lives underneath. When you see the bottoms of mountains, they seem to rival the heights of the highest peaks in the Himilaya or Karakoram. The forests grow denser. The deserts become vaster. The ocean becomes deeper. The shroud nature creates forces my brain to fill in the gaps, and it does so with unavoidably fantastic results.

I was seemingly purposely lost driving around Colorado, and I wound up cresting Loveland Pass on US Highway 6. It had just rained, and the clouds were around me, not above me. It was beautiful. It makes me want to live where there is continuous fog and rain, some place like Washington, British Columbia, or Alaska. Sigh...

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

The Journal

One thing that I've found a love for is writing. Obviously by starting a blog, I've found a way to share this love with people. But I also enjoy sharing it with myself. I've been doing fairly well at keeping a journal since December of 2007, when I first moved to downtown Denver. Looking back at some of those experiences, I have to sometimes just stop and live for a second in those great experiences which I've been so lucky to be able to enjoy.

Today, this 87 degree Wednesday afternoon, I sit here in my tiny, climate-controlled office, and I catch up on my journal and my blog, along with a little reading. I'll go to the gym later tonight and do some running since, with my late foray into pretty regular climbing, I seem to be tweaking a myriad of different muscles and joints, like my right shoulder, my left wrist, and now my neck, which stabs me every time I have to hold my head up from leaning back.

There's a glimmer of hope for rain tonight in the gray clouds sneaking over the western horizon. Will we get more tornadoes here in Denver? More hail? Will more people lose power like Monday night's storm caused? One can only hope!

Nature is amazing, writing it's own journal all over the earth with pens of rain, crayons of wind, and an ever shifting typewriter of plate techtonics. The story goes back for millions of years, eons, ages, or whatever insignificant label we throw at it. It's awesome in the true sense of the word.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

The Second Turkey Rocks Excursion

Today Dan "StrongSad", Ryan "StrongBad", Keith "Sylar" and I went climbing again at Turkey Rocks. Ryan led a 5.8 something called "Bloody Englishman" and I led the first half of a 5.6 until I fell into the crack. My left arm has a nice gash on the inside. Anyway, here's some video of Sylar way up in the "Bloody Englishman", shimmying like you would not imagine, as we all were. Today was awesome.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Soul Laundry

Today, a Saturday, I will do my laundry. The BattleWagon has been running well, well enough to deliver me to the coin-operated laundromat in Arvada, Colorado. It's a drive from anywhere logical to where I regularly park, but it was the first laundromat I used when I moved to Denver in 2004, five years ago. It's that comfort of knowing where one came from that helps us face where we are going.  In my case, it's like soul food. It's Soul Laundry.

Soul Laundry is a metaphor for lots of things, I suppose. One could have their own facsimile, like a Soul Couch or a Soul House. I'm willing to bet many a middle-aged or retired male would have a Soul Car or a Soul Quarterback. (Mine's John Elway, but don't tell anyone.)

What is it about these people, places, or things, these Soul Nouns, that are so good for us? Why do we always think back to them for inspiration? Different reasons. in John Elway's case, he was a sports hero to me all the way up to when I was in high school. He led the Denver Broncos to two Super Bowls in a row after more than a decade of mediocre seasons. He was an inspiration in determination.

Then there's my Soul Jeep... dilipated and decrepid. A true direlect. What does it represent for me? Hope. I see it not for what it is, but for what it could be, what I hope to make of it someday.

Sitting here, doing my Soul Laundry, I'm reminded of the courage I had years ago to drop everything and leave my innocent, small town and move to the big city. It renews my courage for my life's present future, captures the optimism that I had when I was 22 years old, and encourages me to keep going.

It's Soul Laundry. It makes you feel goooood.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Autotailor Saves The Day!

Last Saturday, I feared the worst. I was driving up a hill, the van lost power, and I was crippled. I called AAA, the tow truck came, and off the BattleWagon went. I had it sent to the Autotailor, off 17th & High Street in Denver, Colorado. Aside from my hometown mechanic, they do the best and most reasonably priced work I've seen here in Denver. They quoted me almost half the cost of what Downing Street Garage quoted me for my door handle. The guys there are super friendly. Normally I wouldn't use my blog to shamelessly plug a business, but this is an unsolicited article, a genuine thank you to the Autotailor.

So there... oh, and I'm in the cockpit now. The view is great.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Homeless!

So Ryan and I went climbing today up at Turkey Rocks, which is about 60 miles from Denver. We had a spectacular climb in this horrid crack, rated a 5.7, but felt like a 5.9. Two hours, scraped hands, elbows, and ankles, and some awesome dehydration later, we topped out on our pitch! Awesome!!

Then, on the drive out, disaster stuck, and my home died. Ryan's awesome wife Katy (Sell All Your Things And Go) came and picked us up, and now we have the ride of shame to Ryan's house. The BattleWagon has the ride of shame to the mechanic. So, yeah, it is what it is... and Dad, you're right, I also wish Toyota made a 4x4 van...

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Camping with Vagabonds

Today I parked myself in a familiar place. I noticed at least five semis, three with loads, two without, all waiting until they can get back on the road. I wonder about that life, if it's fulfilling to be a loner. I wonder if the scenery one gets travelling the endless highways in the expansive United States, if that really outweighs the silence and lack of companionship. I wonder if that's as romantic as people make it, or it it's as lonely as everyone else think it is.

At this big box store, I see a family loading up their old Jeep Grand Cherokee.  It's not your traditional family. There's a mother, about my mom's age from what I can see. She has two daughters, younger than I, both with a baby of their own. I wonder who's at home waiting for them or at work providing for them. Maybe they provide for themselves. Maybe they don't. Who knows? It's just an interesting observation. Maybe it's a broader view of our society wrapped in a bittersweet package in the urban US.

Sigh... if there has been anything that this experience has taught me, it is to be thankful for what I have, what I've earned, what I've made out of the opportunities I have. Not everyone sees what's in front of them. Not everyone takes the blind leaps that could turn into decent lives. I see more people than i'd like to confess sleeping in cars, pooling money for groceries, panhandling, drunk, lazy, and not doing what needs to be done, not for the bigger picture, but simply for their own sake. It makes me sad.

I guess in the meantime, I'll stay in my home, my home on wheels, appreciating it for what it is, knowing that it's a choice, not a necessity, and working as hard as I can to better myself for the sake of doing so.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

The Streetlamp Anthem

I lay here in my bed, having just waken up from a sweaty, heat-induced nap, and I stare outside at the bittersweet street light parade around this bustling Walmart parking lot. The sky is enchanted, with shades of red, purple, and blue filling my eyes and silhouetting the distant mountains and closer skyscrapers of downtown Denver. I ponder my own future, my own ideas of goals and aspirations, and the horizon seems so distant, yet so tempting and enticing.

I don't know with any certainty how much longer these BattleWagon Chronicles will be my exploration of the human condition. There will be a time, I know, where the Chronicles will simply be a report of an adventure, a report written by a man who is tired, lonely, and deciding to make moves in the direction of a career. But, this time will not be today, nor will it be tomorrow. This writer will keep writing, keep living, keep going as best he can.  This is the life I've chosen for now, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Friday, July 3, 2009

Makins of a Beautiful Day

Today, I've volunteered (again) to help some people move. It's a good thing, I think, but before I get caught up in all that, I'm taking a second (and a picture) to remind myself and everyone else that it's going to be a beautiful day. I'm excited to get some stuff done and then get to where I'm housesitting and do some laundry. Good times!