June 2012
61 posts
Phrase of the day: L’appel du vide.
French for “”call of the void”. The urge some people get to jump from high places when they encounter them, for example when close to the edge of cliffs.”
I just conquered Swasey with my fixed gear.
The grinding groans of my chain joined the silent chants of exhaustion under my breath as the slope went from flat to not. It was like a roller coaster, the tension was building as the bike and I climbed higher and higher, my legs squirming and squealing like an excited carnival goer.
Yet I had conquered this hill before, in fact, many times, so the scenery was not new. It was inside that burned with a new passion, with a new hurt. While before I had the ease and safety of clicky gears, now I had just one drive. One straight connection to the wondrous machine that would push me up this mountain.
It helped a little that a competitor was on my tail. His blue jersey clashed almost perfectly with my yellow one, and his gears ticked noisely behind me. But I would not lose, and I did not. Even when my legs were burning, and my chest was chanting at me to stop, I pedaled on. And when the pace slowed, and the hill approached me like a wall in front of me, blocking my path, I pedaled on. On the last leg of the hill, the most brutal part, as my legs and my bike shook with fire and fatigue, I did not stop, I pedaled on.
And so I was the victor, not against my rival, but against my self. I had completed a task that I thought impossible. It’s small, yes, no books will sing about the conquered hill, but this proves to me that I can do it.
The smirk on my face carried me all the way home.
Recently discovered an awesome site that simply and plainly instructs you how to cook.
It’s great for the budding college chef or even those who haven’t any idea how to cook.
Last night was a clusterfuck of everything.
Stuff was happening, and it was odd, so odd. The weirdest part was how uncomfortable I was in my own skin, it felt odd, felt like I was just absolutely terrified. I’ve never had a panic attack, but I can imagine what they must feel like.
You were there to rest upon, a saving grace, as it were. Thank you. I didn’t like that through the craze emotions were muffled, and signs became muddied over the emotional haze of the evening.
Tonight, I promise I’ll make it up to you. Tonight, with a blanket of stars, things will go better.
I hate it when I create suspense and then find myself fooled by my own trick, if you can call it that.
I don’t mean to make things difficult, but sometimes it happens. And now, I sit here, waiting, pressure building upon my shoulders and my eyes, awaiting the cheery tone and bright blue of a screen.
I’m oddly frustrated here.
The lack of activity is something that I had completely missed when I was going over my checklist for summer. This town is infamous for it(isn’t every hometown?), and yet I was somehow able to block that out with conjurations of sweat and water and eyes. It’s been interesting seeing what has tried to fill the ever expanding gap that is inactivity. Recently, I downloaded Game of Thrones, and god knows how much time I will spend watching that. I have quite a few good books to read, and some pretty fine days to read them. A fridge full of ingredients and a large granite countertop await the wailing of my sliced fruit and minced vegetables.
And yet still, a restless urge grabs at my feet, it slumps my back, and pulls my hands over the course overthrow on my bed.
It may very well be that the problem at hand is myself. The lack of activity is because of me. I have so many opportunities, and yet I can dream up a million different ways not to do them. It makes a little sense now that maybe that could be a little frustrating. I’ll be a lesser man and pull an excuse here, something that can at least shoulder some of the blame; Friends.
Cal Poly has in it a wide group of people, whom have a surprisingly little alike. Yet somehow, a new “brand” of people, even a species, if you will, has been created in the steaming and swirling alphabet soup that is the college body. That brand does not reside here. Little traces of it, yes, do exist in familiar faces paired with unfamiliar voices, but not the whole feel.
A wise, quiet women told me not to play up this summer, to not get lost in summer dreams sandwiched between trampoline tarps and white speckled skies. I didn’t listen, and already that seems to be bitting me back, with poisons that brag restless feet and devils workshops.
“But wait!” you cry, “Where’s the resolution, the finish, the grand finale?”
You’re reading it.
Word of the day: Sommelier
Noun - A wine steward; a waiter, as in a club or restaurant, who is in charge of wines.
When it’s in supply, I find myself with this title.
