True Story

Catfish are giant swimming tongues.

If you touch a catfish, it will taste you.

Eye in a tunnel

"Pitter patter is the angel on my shoulder...tick tock,  the clock is getting louder..."

How to: murder my darlings

Reluctant public disclosure: I'm applying to graduate school.

The process is murky. I find it hard to write a personal statement or statement of academic purpose. 

Perhaps my problem is that word: purpose.

Fortunately, I've enlisted the services of a willing critic-whom has provided an absurd level of patience with my crappy first drafts.

The response to my first draft:
"This meanders and ambles too much. Remove the affective and chatty sentences. Send me the next draft."

The response to my second draft:
"It is painful to read this sort of jargon and corporate speak from a person with your background. Try again."

Next draft response:
"The voice is the voice of the village. Use it."

And,

"I notice that you use plain, simple language, short words and brief sentences. That is the way to write English-it is the modern way and the best way. Stick to it; don't let fluff and flowers and verbosity creep in. When you catch an adjective, kill it. No, I don't mean utterly, but kill most of them-then the rest will be valuable. They weaken when they are close together. They give strength when they are wide apart. An adjective habit, or a wordy, diffuse, flowery habit, once fastened upon a person, is as hard to get rid of as any other vice." -Mark Twain Letter to D.W. Bowser, 3/20/1880

"Style is not-can never be-extraneous Ornament. Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it-whole-heartedly-and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings."

-Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch (1863-1944). On the Art of Writing. 1916.

Last draft-finally nailed it, at least for this critic. 

Next task=write an Academic Statement of Purpose. 

I am walking in a fog of mental murkiness with a machete. And I need to murder my darlings. 

expectations

Girls are 

the arc of the world.

Wide open

stretched arms and legs - 

soft, strong and ambitious.

Curious well of conscience and confidence -

sprouting fledglings and birthers 

community...

Expectations are daunting. 

The homeless American President?

Right. Election is over. Obama for four more years. I am okay with that, although I'm pretty darn happy that now I don't have to hear everyone talk about how everyone else is a liar for a while. That's nice. Went to the library and there is apparently a small population of homeless people in this here google-town, Mountain View. A guy pulled up on a bike, talked to another guy who was sitting at the bench next to me waiting for the library to open.

Guy on bike was wearing sandals, blue sweats and had a head piece attached to a tape recorder. First thing he says,

"So I'm sick of all these googlers who don't even know where Escuela Street is. I mean, they move here, drive to work everyday, back and forth, and never even know what street they are on. So much for google maps."

"Yeah, man, I know what you mean." Says guy on bench.

"I'm tired of it. I mean, they can't even figure out where their polling station is. How stupid can you be? Get out and look at where you live!" Recorder guy's peripatetic eyes scan the passerby's.

"Did ya vote?" guy on bench glances up from his copy of the November 6 Daily News. 

"Yeah, I did. No good choices though. I wish it were like the good ole days. You know who my favorite President was? The ONLY President who never had an address, who parked his horse right there outside the White House."

"Who was that?" Inquires guy on bench.

"Zachary Taylor. Now that's a man I would vote for. The guy actually knew what it was like to be a person in this country."

Guy with tape recorder says,

"You know, I voted yes on Prop 30 because I trust Brown [Governer Jerry Brown]. He's the only one in Sacramento who drives around in an old beat-up truck like a normal human being. I trust a man like that.'

Guy on bench jumps out of his seat, throws down his newspaper and says, "What! You like that idiot! None of these politicians can be trusted!"

"Yeah, man, I mean, he's not so bad." Guy with tape recorder leans forward to get it all on tape.

Guy on bench simmers a bit, and asks, "Where's the sign on the back of your bike? You get rid of it?"

"Oh, I stopped putting that up a while ago, helps me find places to sleep at night, because people don't follow me around now. I have a really slick system now. I stuff this sleeping bag I found into the back of my shirt, so I'm all stealth now. I can sleep anywhere."

Guy on bench, "Oh, that's nice. I miss your signs though."

Taperecorder guy, "Yeah, this town isn't the same that it used to be."

Guy on bench, "No, it's not. Rich googlers. That's what we have now."

Both walk into the library as the doors are just opening.

I like public places. Like libraries.

Diablo Trail Race-after thoughts

Jacob and I ran with his dad in the Diablo Trail Race 10k yesterday. His mom was volunteering so signed us all up. I haven't been running. Not really at all. The only run I did was last week when I went out the door and ran on a north/south paved trail near our place. After the 50k trail run last June, I half-heartedly would go out a few days a week in the desert this summer, and could manage like 30 min before the heat would eat me. 

So yesterday was the first trail run I've been on in a while. 

It was hot out, and over 1,000 people turned up, clad in spandex and the lavish lululemon clothing line. On the trail to keep my mind off my lungs I kept track of how many women around me were wearing that logo. I estimate around 75% were. Not sure if it was a large enough sample size, but still. That's a lot of high-priced yoga/running gear. I guess I just don't get lululemon, nor the cult following. I was also really surprised to see such a large search and rescue team out there.  They wore really spiffy costumes. Reminded me of the TSA thug who stole my peanut butter. Something about the way they were just all standing around, waiting for something to happen and something to do. I don't know, didn't make me feel any safer.

Anyway, the route was pretty awesome, winding up near Diablo from the North side. The first two miles were a steady wide trail, followed by a narrow foot path where a single file line bottleneck forced you into going whatever pace as the person in front of you. I had heard that the record at the beginning of the race was 50 min for women, so I decided at the start line I was going to shoot for that. Which meant 8 min splits. I managed that in the first 2 miles, but that dropped the 3rd and 4th mile when the bottleneck happened, the route followed a steep incline up the mountain, and my lungs started hurting. I hadn't trained, so was sort of tired.

After traveling up and then down, the last 2plus miles were pretty much downhill. My splits in between were something like 12 and a half min miles, so I pretty much gave up on the making it in 50min, because that meant I would have to run like 4 and a half minute miles. Nope. I'm not that fast, nor am I that great of a runner. So I just decided to run and play, and look around, and try not to fall.

I had been off and on around a young woman in swishy warm-up pants (one of the 25% not in lulu attire), and was sort of trailing her because she set a good pace. The rhythm of the swish was also meditative. At one point I said, "great job!" and she just kind of huffed at me. I don't think she really wanted to chat. But I know how nice it is to get encouragement, so thought I'd try it. I thanked her later on for setting a nice pace. She still wasn't that excited to chat. Ah well.

J's mom, Rosalie was there at the end of the race, and that was nice. J and Dan didn't share my desire to attempt 50min time for the race, and so came in a bit after me. I finished in 1:05, felt good about it. And I guess it's pretty cool that all those people wanted to spend their sunday on a trail. I think 15 min is a lot to shave off over 6.2 miles, so I'm not sure if my goal of 50min is really that realistic. Maybe if I train? Who knows. I guess it's not really the point, and I'm actually going to start running again because it felt good.

Happy to report I haven't had to invest in any "running gear", aside  from a pair of Vibram five-fingers I bought in Seattle late last September which have continued to work through, I don't know, a lot of miles. They are only starting to tear on the cloth between the toes, but other than that, have turned out to be really reliable and worth the investment.

I still like running on trails, not in races, when it's just me and maybe another person, and you don't really worry about time or distance, and you just sort of go. But it's nice to do races to provide an impetus to start.

True Story

...we all have a lifespan.