Delinquencies

I’ve been out for almost a couple of weeks, and I had meant to write a review of my trip back to the Quad Cities. It was a delightful time, and one with a good number of interesting observations—not coming from Chicago but from Boise.

What was most important, arriving home in Moline/Fyre Lake was seeing my beloved family, including my sister, and then seeing my friends. I had a good number of runs on seem neat routes, which made the runs at home neat. The two eight-milers I ran were different: one went from 24th Ave, down to the Mississippi, off to East Moline, and then back. The other run went around Fyre Lake, back up to the Corner Mart, and then back to my folks’ house. They were fun runs.

Of course, what was also quite delightful was returning back to Boise, where I’ve bought and moved into a house. I bought the house back in October—closed on the 30th. Then, I took possession on the 31st. I moved in over subsequent weeks, and I couldn’t be more pleased with the house.

You’ll have to forgive the organization or cleanliness, as the pictures were taken following my return from a week of vacation. It’s not that I live messily, but that I still have not had a chance to finish unpacking. In addition, I had not unpacked from being away for the week of Thanksgiving.

Here are pictures:

That’s where I am, and I look forward to having visitors to Boise. It will be too much fun to have friends and loved ones come to Boise to visit.





http://picasaweb.google.com/matthewcurtisjohnson/MattSHouse113008#

Pictures, Songs, Haircuts and Fashion, How They Evoke bygone Times

This morning, I was visiting http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/, reading about one of my favorite band’s album’s reissues being postponed. In doing that, I see this picture—the one off to the right, and am struck with this wave of nostalgia and passed time. For me, it’s quite amazing to see haircuts, colors, and photo components none of which would be considered part of contemporary fashion. At the same time, because of what has since occurred, those items seem all the more out of time.

Since this photo was taken, for bands in Pavement’s genre, recollection of 60’s and 70’s garage rock meeting dive bar aesthetics has been dominant. Beyond that the styles of college-aged kids, even those revolting against their contemporaries’ affluent aesthetic, have changed substantially. I realize this is a bit meandering, but in how cyclical fashion aesthetics are, it’s hard to write about it without a flow chart. The ebb and flow are interesting.

I digress. Seeing this photo brought me back to thinking of just how much time has passed since this photo was taken for this no broken-up band, at the same time, how much time has since passed for me. The year this photo was taken, I was either concluding my freshman year at Illinois or starting my sophomore year. I was quite into being a fraternity boy, and working on enjoying the fruits of my labor during pledgeship. It all seems quite long ago, and evokes this time about which I seldom think. I think about later years in University, but seldom back specifically to the year of 1997.

Of course, sometimes I wonder if that is because 1997 was one of the easy and comfortable years of Clinton pax-Americana. Because the events of the Balkans and Africa were quite far removed from college students out having a good time, and none of my friends were subject to having their reserve duty called up, thinking about the world stage at that point wasn’t a question. I wonder now how nineteen-year-olds find themselves in those similar circumstances.

I guess that begs a great question: is it better to live in days of Halcyon or days of concern, which keeps one focused on the world’s events?

Young Professionals

Today, I was at Boise Young Professionals, which was interesting. I decided to try out the first luncheon, to see if I had interest. I do, to some extent, so I will probably bone up and join. It’s a nice young professionals organization, which is interesting. I am working hard on keeping an open mind towards it, like most things along those lines, which I find a bit pretentious.

Above and beyond that, what was interesting was during their speaker’s main topic. The speaker initially was putting some folks on the spot, which was entertaining, and then he asked a voluntary question from a volunteer about a great business mentor one has had, and what they did. You get the picture.

I didn’t mention Ditto by name, but I raised my hand for the microphone, and mentioned his being an Idaho Vandal*. I went on to speak about how Ditto was a terrific communicator, but not just in speaking or writing, rather he was a great listener. His skills really involved honing in on someone’s ideas and synthesizing them into something quite successful.

The speaker as he took the microphone complimented me on the side, with the mic away.

It’s amazing how some can affect us in little ways, which come up during instances such as that one. Of course, there are great folks in all of our lives, but what is most spectacular is recalling what it was that made them so special, and how it helped make their lives great. Dear friends are about as good as it gets.






*there was an earlier discussion between the Vandals and the BSU Broncos, which is a standing debate here in Boise. It wasn’t anything of substance, except that it was a topic to which most could relate, there in the crowd.

Peter and Maria, Mike and Anu

Writing is such an amazing means for communication or meditation. The latter was what had me pull out my notepad here in SEATAC. What had me thinking of that was thinking about what I had earlier written to my wedded friends Maria and Peter.

Maria and Peter were married today; this was the 20th of July. There I stood at the reception thinking about how truly joyous and special their wedding was for me. It wasn’t special due to anything exceptional concerning Peter and Maria’s circumstances or the material components around their wedding—with the exception of their location, view and weather. Rather it was special because of how joyous and expressive they were for one another and their love.

Reading that as I wrote it makes me self-conscious about how cliché that sounds. Nevertheless, it was truly between them, and abnormally expressive coming from my friend Peter; to read that, or to fully understand that, you have to know my friend Peter.

Peter, a great guy, is someone whom often times keeps emotions more to himself. In this case, Peter could not have been more proud and happy than to be marrying Maria. This was evident and expressive in the broad and white smile born across his face. Moreover, in the apparent face of the minister speaking too softly into the microphone; there Peter was, with a booming, “I do!”

There I stood at the reception thinking of all of this, along with my overwhelming enthusiasm for my friend Peter and his beautiful bride Maria. I decided I needed to go write something more substantial to the guestbook than I did earlier, at the front of the reception.

There I stood, over at the guestbook table penning this relatively lengthy note of joy. Of course, I was conscious of anyone coming late, or taking the opportunity of distraction to write something away from the earlier lines. When a woman came up behind me, I offered to set down the pen. Upon offering, she declined, and walked away from the table with a smile. It wasn’t of any consequence.

Following from that, I was finishing up my paragraph, and I found a couple behind me. I apologized immediately, but this time I promised, “I am just finishing.”

The attractive young woman said, “What you didn’t get them a card?” with a broad smile across her face. Her husband stood next to her, amicably smiling, but also ready to move forward with signing the guestbook.

I stated to explain, but didn’t go into detail, after I finished what I was writing. Instead, I went to find Peter to wish him a wonderful evening, express what I am now writing in the airport, and to say “goodbye,” as I had to be leaving for my flight. I introduced myself, and they reciprocated with good manners.
“I am Matt.”
“I am Mike,” he said. “I am Anu,” she followed. It was perfectly amicable and nice, with her grin at catching me in the act of writing a rather verbose note to Peter and Maria.

It was indeed a pleasure to see faces of so many I had not seen for a while, but the real pleasure was seeing a dear friend find his true love. After this wedding, it was the kind of good fortune and beautiful display of love and happiness you wish you could laconically articulate to others during a warm toast, wishing them the very best of life and love. “May you meet a spouse to make you as happy as my friend Peter was today, this the 20th of July.

Fascinating Excursions

I often wonder if iterative self-analysis or self-assessments are consistent across the board. I relate that, because as I sat down to aimlessly play on the internet, in the midst of my workday, I went to LinkedIn. I spend a lot of time on LinkedIn, since I moved to Boise. Part of me wonders if LinkedIn is an escapist outlet for re-establishing connections and correspondence that one wouldn’t otherwise do.

For those of you not familiar with LinkedIn, it is, in essence, a social networking site, similar to Facebook or MySpace. The exception to LinkedIn is that it is for “professionals.” Rather than the aforementioned websites—Facebook or MySpace, LinkedIn is work-acceptable, in that it enables one to keep in contact with current or former classmates or colleagues.

I digress, except to say that as I was going to LinkedIn today, I wondered, “are you going here so often whilst at work, because it is escapism? Is this an avenue to keep in contact with former colleagues, or is it also another means to keep up-to-date with how people are and what they are up to?”

For right now, I have to admit, I think it is a bit of both. While I used to play around on MySpace, I don’t find myself nearly as interested in the site any longer. I would say that is largely the case in that I am growing older, and my friends now, at this age, don’t belong or play on MySpace. Rather, nearly everyone I know, who are professional in some context, are alive and well on LinkedIn.

Wow, I just came full circle to find: one, my friends and I are grown up; two, I “escape” every once in a while; three, I am too up on current events to occupy more time than I do at home with the media.

Quick question: Is iterative self-analysis predicated on an idiosyncrasy, or is it on too much alone time?

Ode to the Fox, but then the Deer

I was running down Shaw Mountain Road last night, coming down out of the foothills. As I was nearing Reserve, another street, off to my left down the hill a bit were three good sized whitetail deer. The deer were all doe, and they were eating or rummaging for something.

Whatever the case, while not the most majestic deer I have ever seen, there they were. As I ran towards them, they maintained their position eating. They did so until I came within about ten-to-fifteen feet of them, and they then ran. Their tails were as white as could be, and it was quite joyous to be running in the city itself, seeing such wild and business-as-usual animals doing their thing.

Similarly, up and down the same foothill I run for my weeknight runs, I heard coyotes howling on Saturday morning last week. These are things with which I grew, but to have them back again is so nice. I know I write often about being closer to the outdoors, and I suppose much of that is predicated on that being closer to my life now than it has for a while. I cannot complain, not by a long stretch; however, it is even something of which I am self-conscious. It’s quite odd how vibrant it is, but how delightful and enjoyable.

Spousal/Partner Assistance

We receive so many emails in the course of days, weeks and months, many of which are spam. Far too often they are concerning one’s desire for pharmaceuticals, one’s vanity or they have to do with relationships. Before, I have sounded off about such things. Yesterday, in my Inbox for GMAIL, I received an email with the subject line reading: “Spousal/Partner Assistance.”

Upon receiving that, I assumed it was someone marketing their mail-order bride dating service. Lo and behold, being single, I could find a way to hook up with a “beautiful and single” Russian or Chinese “wife.” Because of GMAIL’s normally careful filters, I assumed that if this was in my Inbox, it deserved an opening. I opened it up, and was very surprised to read for what it was.

In their relocation efforts, my new company hires relocation consultants to assist someone like me with the relocation of their wife or spouse. I immediately returned the woman a note saying: “I do not have a spouse or partner. They hired a bachelor, and I have moved to Boise for just myself.”

I was laughing so hard in writing that with self-deprecation thinking that it was spam, I didn’t pause for a moment to really think on it. Ultimately, the subsequent thought process, one must realize is largely predicated on the new city, which I call home. I say that, because when one surrounds him or herself in their demographic, and everyone they meet is married and is rearing children, it stands as a firm contrast.

By no means am I a lonely heart Matt, at least not so far as I think; however, moving here to Boise does serve to keep me more in exceptional contexts, rather than that of the “normative twenty-nine-year-old young professional in Chicago.” A good fifty-percent of my friends back in Chicago are not married; most of them don’t even have a relationship heading in that direction. Here in Boise, however, when I meet people around my age with similar career aspirations, I find them married with adorable little ones.

I continue not to have plans to “rush into” anything. I say that with all sincerity; but, I would be a liar not to concede that one’s surroundings don’t highlight their being an exception. As I move to conclusion, the thought that lingers in my mind is one of a bit of fear. Quite honestly, I am fine being so single, albeit with the occasional lonesomeness; however, the fear I have is that I have not been living in Boise for a long time. Those who have, immersed in this more paired up culture, without a spouse or partner, have to feel their exceptional nature even more than I do, in my newbie status. With that, not having yet been on a date here in Boise, I have to admit, I am a bit on my heels. My fear is meeting a lovely young woman having a date or two, and quickly finding out that she not only has the expectation of quick nuptials, but a quick family. As many of you know, I ran into that in Chicago about eleven months ago. Those are expectations or requirements I would prefer not to encounter. As I write that, I find myself thinking: “Matt, no risk, no reward.”

That’s me on a Saturday morning, at work, before my training group for the Robie Creek Race.

USA Today, Wow – Garbage Shouldn’t Be Delivered so Easily & Soldier Boy - Matt’s Pop Deficits

Rather than type an open letter to USA Today, I’ll simply cite the front page headline this morning, taking up seventy-five percent of the front page: 'American Idol' tries to get its groove back in upcoming seventh season.

All this, in the midst of a war in Iraq and a Presidential Election! Rather than rant and rave on this, I think it all speaks for it self. One just has to question the journalistic integrity of the editors of the newspaper. Beyond that, this is a garbage newspaper, for which hardly anyone subscribes. It is a rag paper in hotels throughout the US. I am just thankful for the Internet, faced with new options like that.

Of course, I could go on a rant about CNN’s morning news show talking about “Soldier Boy,” a pop dance sensation from a teenager in Atlanta. Here is a confession: I had never before seen it done. I haven’t had a lot of opportunity to watch a lot of Football; clearly, this is all the rage amongst coaches and players.

I turn thirty this year. Am I getting old? Clearly, I go on a tear about USA Today’s cover dealing with American Idol, and I don’t know a thing about “Soldier Boy”. Methinks this nearly relegates me to Ward Cleaver status. It’s not as though I feel I am missing something important, or I want to be more attuned to things like this. However, I have found “better” things to do than keep up with things of this sort, which makes me think I have grown “old”. Well, what can I say? My diet is better; I am fitter than ten years past; I sleep better, and I am more fiscally mindful. I'll take it.

Perspectives and Life’s Little Reminders

This morning, after I got to the airport in Boise, I found my ticket was not issued. It wasn’t too much trouble, but the travel agent had to issue me a ticket for the next flight, as the earlier flight I was on was oversold. The extra couple of hours in BOI were fine, as I had my shoes shined, read, spoke with Mom and had a nice cup of coffee. The next couple of unfolding items served to remind me how precious life is, and sometimes just how easy it is to lose track of the most important qualities of life: health, happiness, emotional strength, education and love.

Getting the cup of coffee the clerk that helped me had what I would characterize as a mild case of Downs. I am by no means a physician, as all reading this know, so I could be wrong. Whatever the case, the man that helped me was exceptionally friendly and kind, and his cheerful disposition served to remind me how important the basics in life are and how easy they are to overlook.

I have flown enough over the past year that I am Premier Exec, but not drinking, I felt no need to try to upgrade. Rather, I sat in the first row in Economy, in the aisle seat. Sitting down, the window seat guy moved along side me, and I said my hellos. We both sat down, and the window seat guy, Ryan, moved to fall asleep. I can take a hint, so I didn’t move on through conversation.

While sitting there minding my business a female flight attendant led a young boy, approximately thirteen over to our middle seat. The boy was crying profusely, and was inconsolable to the flight attendant. The flight attendant spent a few moments telling him that someone was going to meet him at the gate. During those moments I thought, “I wonder if this younger guy is afraid to fly?”

The flight attendant left him with his tissue, and I quickly introduced myself. “Hi, my name is Matt. How are you?”

The boy immediately broke into tears, and was so hurt. I could feel how sad he was by looking at his face and seeing his tears. I said, “I hope all is well. Are you okay?”

The boy went on to explain that he wasn’t okay, because he was leaving his mother from Christmas to go back to his foster family in Iowa. We talked further, and without my prying, he explained that he had four more months of foster care, where he had to be in Iowa away from his mother. The boy also expressed that he had been in foster care for four years.

While I started talking to him about his school subjects and what sports he liked, I thought to myself just how tough it had to be to leave one’s mother. I have no idea as to why the boy has to go to foster care in Iowa, but I cannot imagine the circumstances are particularly good. I could write about this indefinitely. My speculations are unimportant, he was a trooper. We spoke about the Presidents, and he said they studied Lincoln. I explained why Lincoln was our best President, as he was strongest when things were the toughest, which is why historians consider him the best.

I did what I could to tie that back to him being a tough young guy for facing such challenging circumstances in life. I had said to him earlier that I was proud of how well he was doing for the tough thing he had to do. That he would be able to get through it through his strength, and that it is how well one fares in challenge that shows how great they are. I related that back to Lincoln, and I quoted some Twain along the same lines. Please know I did so not preachy-like, but tried to make it as conversational as possible, so my message wasn't lost due to him feeling patronized.

Towards the end of the flight, I managed to casually bring the other man, about my age, sitting with us into conversation. We were talking about travel and business, and he said he studied Forestry in undergrad. Upon hearing that from him, I mentioned what the thirteen-year-old between us liked, some farming related things, and I mentioned what I suggested the boy could study. We then casually, as the "older" two guys there discussed things the boy could study to further follow his interests.

By no means am I suggesting that I helped change this boys life, but hopefully one little nugget of life’s truths will come back to him sometime when things are tough, about what a great President Lincoln was and why. Even if that doesn’t happen, that young boy, in his anguish and pain served to remind me how important and fortunate we all are for the love of those around us. How great education is for teaching us these important components of human experience from the past, and how it all ties in so well to our own lives. The same way the slightly disabled guy at coffee reminded me that health is something for which we can not strive hard enough to maintain, and to have the good fortune of good health is something not to be squandered.

Of course, all of those things dwell in the same category as emotional health and well being, which can be a challenge for everyone in their lives. For some, it comes down to circumstances, and coping with them through something like therapy to remedy their after effects. For others, it’s something physiological that requires rehabilitation, therapy, or psychopharmacology.* For some others neither of those circumstances are factors. Whatever the case, witnessing a truly random disparate sample of folks today, has me sitting alone in a hotel room thinking about just how fortunate we all are. Life is indeed too grand to articulate, it’s just amazing how it takes reminding sometimes.

*Rather than go tangential in the body of what I was writing, I would note my thoughts on psychological health predicate on a chairlift ride I had on Sunday. I was riding up the mountain with a guy about thirty years older than me. That man and I were talking, and he mentioned his being a psychiatrist and runing a psychiatric hospital locally. Those weren't his words, but for the sake of discretion (like referring to the boy as "boy" rather than his name), I feel responsible to keep it generalist. Whatever the case, the doctor and I were talking, and I took interest in his profession. I noted that they must have seen a sea change relative to psychopharmacology over the past few years, as stigmas have to be declining and the medications are treating more issues, etc... That ride up Bogus had me thinking about how quality of life is so well predicated on psychological health, and too often that is missed in self-evaluation. Perhaps that, like other very personal ailments, doesn't receive discussion over the water-cooler; ergo, remediation is kept secret. At the end of the day, being well is a full self inventory, it isn't just how well ones cardio-vascular works...

Weekend Activities

Since 2001, I have driven with pride and glory my Subaru. I bought my car in Memphis with anticipation of moving to New England, thinking I needed something for the snow. Of course, I would be less than honest not to admit the connotation an “All Wheel Drive” car like the Subaru Outback possesses, at least for me, and that being a reason why maybe I bought it*. Of course, when I found I was moving to Boise, I told the Subaru, “You are going home.” This weekend, I felt finally like I was living a lifestyle appropriate to my car purchased seven years ago.

On Friday night I had my friends James and Liz over for dinner. I cooked them salmon and lentils, along with some Maytag bleu risotto. I will post the recipe for my salmon and lentils a bit later. Anyway, following their leaving I went to bed, and I got up the next morning to head to my training club for Boise’s “Robie Creek” half-marathon. Robie Creek is probably the toughest half-marathon there is. I know they claim the toughest in the Northwest, and maybe there is one in Colorado, or something; however, Robie is approximately eight miles uphill, then five downhill. It’s tough, and I am looking forward to running it in April.

Following my training run, one that wasn’t too long, only three miles**, I went to have some coffee. After having coffee, I grabbed my new snowshoes and drove up to Bogus Basin to hit one of their snowshoe trails. The drive up to Bogus was easy, but a pain the arse in a few respects**. The snowshoeing was a lot of fun and it was easier than I had expected. I did their toughest and longest trail, and noted that my heart rate was comparable to what it would be were I running. Of course, a lot of that was also predicated on that I was at 7000 elevation, so working at that altitude gives it some of its depth.

Of course, what I had done by Saturday night was run and snowshoe, which made me a tired puppy. I rested on the couch after an Epsom salts bath to watch the debates. I was glad to see Obama continuing to command his lead, which was encouraging. After the debates, I dropped like a log; I was beat. I slept like a baby, and woke up to head over to Jim’s Coffee for breakfast to meet James and Liz. There was a fresh three inches on my windshield, and the snow here is wicked dry and fluffy. All of that snow had me in anticipation for what was to come. That said, I digress, Jim’s Coffee doesn’t deserve to have “Coffee” in his title, because on weekends, they don’t open until 8AM. In the Midwest that would never fly. I don’t think it would in an Idaho fishing camp, but then again, I live in the North End****, so who knows?

James, Liz and I met at my regular coffee shop Java*****. There we ate breakfast, and I drove all of us up to Bogus. Of course, the fresh snow made skiing all the more attractive; it spoke less well for the drive up. The mighty Subaru held like a champ up the fifteen miles to Bogus from Boise. Without chains, without a V8, it worked its way through the snow and bad road conditions like a champ. That’s not to say there were not about four or five “Man’s Trucks” spinning out on the way up, stopping to adjust or turn back, but the Sub****** – she held!

Liz, James and I made it up to Bogus safely, and they were kind enough to snowboard with me while I skied down the runs we went as a group. It had been two years since this last December since I had skied, but I felt pretty good. Dittman will have to talk to me a bit on some thoughts I am having relative to length and such, provided the powder is something with which I am not as familiar, but it went really well. We had terrific powder on which to ski, and Bogus, less than twenty miles from Boise, was terrific and had a good number of runs! It only makes me more greatly anticipate skiing here so close to home.

Needless to say, I was beat yesterday evening after running, snowshoeing and skiing. I did my best to eat well, but didn’t do as well as I should have throughout the whole weekend. I should have eaten more, but I tried to eat healthily at my dinners on Saturday and Sunday evening. Of course, I write this now in the airport, on my way to Denver, but I couldn’t be happier about my move here to Boise. It has brought my Subaru “home,” as now it has an owner that does the things Subaru uses to advertise their cars, like Patagonia or LL Bean do with their clothes or lifestyle gear. I feel terrific, fresh and healthy. I hope to continue to feel so well about what I am doing and how I am doing it. It’s quite exhilarating. Of course, I write this in the airport looking at a picture of the President and of the Head of Homeland Security. Things will have to go much better in this year’s elections. ^^^

*Ok – truth be told, I went to university when every middleclass to well off kid had to roll with North Face or Patagonia, as such the “outdoor” lifestyle was something not only in vogue to live, but to dress as though you did. In other words, even if you and your family couldn’t afford regular trips to Aspen, Telluride or Alta, to be “cool,” one needed to dress as though they were just about to hop on the plane to do so. Probably with that same mindset, or a likeness thereof, I went out at the age of twenty-two and purchased an All-Wheel-Drive Station Wagon. This was largely also due to my thoughts I would move Northeast, but perhaps that was more of a justification for something new and fancier. As such, I was not a fan of the SUV, which was the way to go in Memphis, because I had political-economic implications in mind concerning gas prices and the kind of guys that drove big SUVs^^.

**I say three miles isn’t too long, because I typically run five-to-six miles on my weeknight runs these days. I have not been training for anything specifically, but I am keeping a base trying to keep fit. I took Friday night off for the Saturday run, that it was just three; I was in good shape for it.

***Driving uphill fourteen miles with lots of “U” curves at 20mph and switchbacks, all of that is just fine. My challenge was twofold: one, there was a line of cars both ahead and behind me; two, there was a car that was behind me, riding my ass, as though I was going to be able to speed up magically getting ahead of the cars ahead of me. My challenge with riding me so continuously was troubling, because I could not get ahead of what was in front of me. The guy tailgating me was pushing a rope, which just doesn’t work, either in mathematics or in physics. On another note, I was breaking in advance of the curves, and then accelerating through them, so he would ride my ass going into the curve then would be left behind, as undoubtedly, he was breaking hard in the curves. It makes me think that his daddy didn’t teach him how to drive in the mountains, which for me is counter-intuitive. Needless to say, downshifting downhill, I encountered similar issues. Whilst trying not to ride anyone’s ass going downhill, cars would ride mine. It wasn’t worth pulling over to let more cars pass, as the stream was continuous. It’s just troubling that some teenagers, I am assuming, don’t know what they are doing.

****The North End of Boise is known for being an older more bohemian part of town. Hyde Park is in the North End, and has my favorite restaurant in town. It also has Java. The North End is where one would find a Craftsman bungalow, or something of a similar time period. Because of the aforementioned description, it has rather silly connotations amongst my colleagues. Clearly, the North End used to be somewhere more common place for Hippies back years ago, I don’t know. It earns terms like “granola,” etc… Whatever the case, I have yet to find a place more accommodating to young-ish bachelors in Boise. If there is a place, and you know of it, let me know. I like it just fine, and I have yet to see any smelly old hippies. More often than not, they are young professionals or aspiring to be as such.

*****Java is my Hyde Park coffee shop. They have coffee, food, and exceptionally cute young women working. I have become regular enough to be known by most of the staff at Java. That is largely predicated on the frequency with which I get coffee (every night before my run), and on the weekends before my training runs. The conversation is the most social I have outside of work (work is fine, but I am trying to keep worlds more separate), and it reminds me that there are, in fact, young not-married women here in Boise. Ultimately, I have not yet seen any of these young women outside of their jobs and I have a rule^ against asking out wait staff or those working at a place I frequently patronize. That said, I don’t know that I am getting anywhere in romancing a cutie Java-girl, but that’s cool. They are still nice to surreptitiously admire.

******That’s not to say the Subaru does any better breaking in ice than any other automobile. I was breaking and slid once, which did no damage, but something for which I need to be aware and buy chains. It’s not going to hurt. Note to self, buy chains. ^My policy against asking out waitresses is largely predicated on the fact that they have to be nice. Of course, in addition to that, being “one of the regulars, Matt, just asked me out; he’s like old” doesn’t entirely appeal to me either.

^^For me a large SUV was always a sign of one’s phallic deficiencies. That said, to go out to buy an Excursion or Expedition seemed largely predicated on other personal inadequacies. Certainly, I know some guys that are so massive that they require big cars, but what, is that one in twenty? I have never seen a physical justification for an SUV that a four-wheel drive station wagon will not fulfill. Just because one has soccer players doesn’t qualify them for something like an Excursion. If one truly needs to ferry eight nine-year-olds around in their car, they need to buy an obnoxiously ugly Dodge Ram van. Those are just my thoughts relative to all of it. Really, one can do whatever they can afford and justify to themselves; however, I am quite gratified in being a twenty-two-year-old knowing better all those years ago.

^^^Ok W and Chertoff look particularly silly in pictures on the wall of the airport, just after metal and baggage detectors. One, W’s smile is a bit too juvenile for a President, as he has that smirking smile of his, which for me, does not look at all Presidential. In large part, that is predicated on the fact that since he has been in office, and since the TSA has been so well pronounced, we have been in a “War on Terror.” If we are in this “War on Terror” look Presidential; don’t smile because Turdblossom thinks it is going to help pull off 2004’s election. Chertoff looks a bit like an alien, and methinks his picture is solely there to serve as juxtaposition to Bush’s more “photogenic” picture. In short, the pictures look like a fraternity composite, one with the nerdy fraternity brother positioned next to the spoiled impish playboy rich kid spending Daddy’s money. While one can be reminded this horror is soon to be over, the pictures were a standing memory of what our country represents to people elsewhere in the world.

Sitting down to Write – Writing in Terms of the Metaphysics

Every once in a while, when I have the opportunity, I enjoy sitting down to write a bit to post here on this blog. What is quite odd to me is my propensity to do so when I don’t have anything that is particularly evoking thoughts of articulation. What’s more is the desire to sit down, nevertheless, and write something about, well as Aristotle put it, “being qua being.” For more information on the random phrase I just wrote, one can go to Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metaphysics_(Aristotle) for the quick and dirty. In short, it involves the analysis of something that is “being” for its own sake, not for any other reason.

Rather than delving into something that truly sounds as though it could be a vicious infinite regress, and how Aristotle establishes a defense in Book Alpha, and later Lambda, I simply think that like “to be”, there can be “writing qua writing”, right? In any event, I guess one could observe that I am a jackass for citing Aristotle’s Metaphysics to write about nothing except for their writing. Of course, it leads me to think otherwise, in the words of my favorite High School English/Writing Teacher, Dr. Thomas Watkins, “when have writer’s block, just start writing.”

Dr. Watkins is right in that assessment and suggestion, and you win the Team Award if you are still reading following that verbose introduction. It’s interesting in analysis what one comes up with when they are alone much of the time. I am, as some might say, an External Processor. With that, I find that I think a lot right now, not that I haven’t always, but going home to oneself, it provides for errands, reading and sleep. I do all of that following my runs. Prior to my run, I usually go to Java, my local coffee shop, wherein I am not too scared to start conversation with a random person or two. I have made wonderful conversation, and I have met some wonderful friends in the process. Sometimes, it is hard not to be self-conscious of the act, in that it is socially somewhat unconventional; however, I find that I reconcile all of that with a self-justification expost facto. Quite simply a friendly smile is enough to draw me into a discussion, and as you know me, I can typically speak about a good amount of trivial information.

Sometimes, I wonder if I come off as though I am trying “too hard,” in the process. I don’t know. What’s the most comforting is to find someone who is educated with a spouse or significant other, those are the most comfortable and forthcoming with invitations to have me sit down and enjoy my coffee. My friends Andrew and Lea were like that my first full Saturday here in Boise, and they have become age-wise my closest friends in Boise. Beyond that I met a lovely couple with children my age following my run on Sunday, Barry and Roz, native Irish folks who have lived in Boise for twenty-five years. Their younger daughter is getting her Master’s in Water Management, which led me to a rather robust discussion on Water Rights and to ponder how all that will go.

The simple point is that those with whom I speak on occasion make things all the more comfortable and enjoyable in my hours away from the office. The office is lovely on several accounts, but one of the greatest advantages is having nice folks here with whom I can speak. The challenge of course is making certain that all of that speech, while at work, is professional. I make a concerted attempt to always do so, and provided how much I have grown up in the past years; it’s not been too difficult. That is the nut of it, I suppose, one wants to be friends with their colleagues, but it is also important to keep work and life separate so as not to intertwine the two too much.

As I write this, I feel as though I have been here for so many weeks, whereas I have not. I am coming onto my third week here in Boise, and the time has flown by; however, in looking back over days, I feel like I have been here for quite a while. Perhaps that is because of all that I have accomplished, and the two full weekends here now following weekdays at work. Most certainly, I have my routines, which allow me a great deal of efficiency and control over my environment, which makes me think about something I once heard from someone older, “Matt, don’t be afraid of settling down sometime soon, and getting married. If you don’t, you’ll get too set in your ways.” Taking a step back from my life, I have to say, my love for routine and regiment are such that I now suppose there is some truth to being set in one’s ways; however, I don’t feel as though I should work myself into any big rush to settle down and get serious. I have yet to be on a “date” here in Boise, and I am cool with that moving forward as it should.

I did have a terrific “Man” date last night. Just prior my run, I received a phone call from my friend Terry. Terry’s wife was out taking care of some grandkids, and he was cooking soup. Following my quick run, I drove over to his, and sat down to a wonderful dinner. Dinners are such a joyous thing, and it was such a nice evening to sit with a friend that has an older person’s perspective. One can’t help but love the nuggets of wisdom that unintentionally come from someone with some years. By “unintentional,” I mean conversational suggestions, not stern talking-to’s or overt suggestions.

There it is, I surmise, the thoughts whilst sitting down to write, which is to say, “I live alone.” I enjoy living alone, and I have done so before, both in Memphis and Chicago. It is always an adjustment, one that requires ingenuity, but what is so interesting, it allows for greater control and regiment to my life. This weekend, since Bogus Basin is not yet open for skiing, just outside of the city, I am going to be productive in Boise one last weekend. Saturday morning will be a good run with a new running group, and following that, I am going to REI with my friend Andrew to pickup a new pack and some snowshoes. I want to then make one last push before I say, “My place is done.” Then, I will be ready to go on vacation for the week following next. My family and I are going to Nicaragua to see Sister Becca, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. Of course, what’s so fascinating about the excursion is the surprise-like way it is going to come upon me next week. I have been so head-down focused on sorting life here in Boise, I have not thought much about leaving the country with parents, aunts, and grandparents. As such, next week when I find myself back in Chicago for dinner and crashing at Zack’s on Friday, I will be awash with surrealistic sensations. Writing about it right now has me smiling as to how funny that will seem.

Again, that is moving elsewhere and living alone, it provides for so much introspection and reacquainting with oneself, the hermit-like self humor is always abound. I couldn’t be happier with that.

A Lonesome Friday Night

As a departure from my rants on the state of things more political-economic, I am feeling a bit more introspective tonight. A quick admittance, it is 9:15PM on a Friday night, and I have nothing in the way of plans. Alas, these are the prices one pays for moving far away from one’s friends in a city they called home for four years. While writing that seems a bit morose, I feel nothing of the sort. From this evening’s events and this first complete week in Boise, I have nothing but the most sublime wash of self-satisfaction undulating over me.

I liken it to my drive from my apartment in the morning or evening, running to work, errands or whatever. In doing so, I drive away from my place by driving down a hill with a decline of approximately forty-degrees. Every once in a while, driving down my hill, I think to myself, “the life on these brakes is going to be reduced driving down this hill a couple of times per day.” These are the kinds of thoughts I am sure many people think in certain iterative circumstances, concerning the life and maintenance of one’s mechanical materials with finite lives.

Every time I find myself thinking those thoughts, I also find myself reconciling that internal complaint by acknowledging the fact that I moved here for the very topography I am now finding will shorten the lives of my brake pads. Indeed this is a small price to pay for migrating to a place with close proximity to wonderful mountains, rivers and streams. I suppose that is at the root of the famous “Opportunity Cost.”

What I find is so amazing about being solitary is the heightened awareness of the body’s nuances, which are probably more often than not well recognized by the busy and distracted human mind. I could go on and on about the minutia I note lying awkwardly on my couch typing this post.

What else the couch provides? A refreshing reminder of the importance existing on cable television, penultimately the talking head shows of twenty-four news channels, and ultimately VH1’s “I Love the XX’s” series. Indeed nothing is more fulfilling from a self-awareness perspective than knowing one is the target demographic for inexpensive programming predicated from boredom and nostalgia.

Why I am not out is because I am going to get up in the morning to run errands. Action-packed, I know. Listen to this list of excitement, the DMV, Target, Boise Bench Commission (for a dinner table), and the grocery store for whatever I couldn’t obtain at Target. While I make fun of how unexciting that is, my sister would love to run to the furniture/Target, in the comfort of my car. What can I say, for everything we can whine about, we can always put it in perspective. Beyond not having an exciting evening and a busy morning, I am so happy to be here in Boise. I am having a love affair with the city; my job and the folks here only serve to enhance it. It’s great to wake up every morning having this perspective.

Mormonism—Romney, “You-Go-Girl”—Clinton and Presidential Politics

Romney will not get my vote. In spite of Romney’s business success, his pretty family and his well fitting hair, my ballot will not go to Mitt. Is it solely that he is a Mormon for me? No, it isn’t. When I see him, I feel as though he lacks substance. I am sure he is intelligent; however, his intelligence is muted by the disingenuous commercials with his family-side chats, and their commune-like decision about him running for President. For one, it cannot look more staged and gross. Two, they look too plastic for me to gain a sense of substance or sincerity. Romney’s family in the commercial look as though they made sure their make-up was just right prior to it.

Beyond that, yes, I have a problem with his Mormonism. I have to admit, I don’t get the religion, nor do I have an interest in being converted. One of the major tenants of Mormonism is to convert, which for me says, Romney cannot detach himself from his religion or its influences and be President. All of this is in spite of what he says about his faith’s affect on him potentially being the President. Romney saying all of that before a crowd at the George H.W. Bush Library, in front of the Seal of the President, seems all too well crafted and staged.

As for Hillary, from the other side of the spectrum, she won’t get it either, but for the same reason: disingenuousness. Hillary repeatedly looks like someone uncomfortably trying to fit into a comfy-casual politician model her handlers and Bill try to encase her. First, just bringing back the phrase, “You Go Girl” is reason enough for me to hate her; beyond that though are her and her staffers attacks on Obama. They have had nothing of substance; however, they pushed out that ‘at five he wanted to be President, so he has always wanted that.’ I don’t know that I have ever seen a group of people be more absurd. It’s not Hillary from a policy perspective, but it is her personally; I will never be able to like her.

For me, Hillary is a one-way ticket for Romney, Huckabee, or Giuliani to win President. I say that, because I feel like deep down the majority of Americans sense Hillary lacking any sincere conviction, e.g. her vote on Iraq. I could go off on this vote indefinitely, but, in short, I’ll simply state that I think she voted for that authorization, because she didn’t want to look weak on Defense strategically. One can extrapolate a million other decisions she has made from that, but I just can’t buy into her.

There it is, I don’t like either Romney or Clinton, not because of their policy stances, and so as much as I feel like they are both overly groomed and too disingenuous to be a good President. It’s just not cricket. When Obama wins Iowa, and subsequently wins New Hampshire, he’ll be both the nominee and our first African-American President.

Down on Petrol, but from a Different Angle Today

http://www.economist.com/opinion/displayStory.cfm?Story_ID=10252015

I realize that I have been rather prolific lately, and as you saw on yesterday’s post concerning the CAFE Standards and Monday’s on Petrol, I have a big issue with our lack of conservation in policy. Reading the Economist, above I posted the link, they have written about something I was talking about with a Gold Market expert a few months in arrears. Quite simply, we are driving ourselves to starvation. A lack of fuel economy and a thirst for larger automobiles predicated from bad policy in Washington, is consuming all of the commodities in the world at a faster rate.

Seriously, if one were to sample the aggregate for all commodities’ pricing, if I was an Economist I would; they would find a substantive increase in the market price for commodities. Some of the commodities are the likes of Gold, because in a tumultuous world, Gold is a safer bet than currency or bonds for longevity. Of course, with resources being finite, and our population ever-expanding, the commodities like ore are shooting through the roof as well. What’s just as interesting are rights and ownership pertaining to water, which we should watch in the coming elections. Then, of course, there is petroleum.

Quite simply, we have a finite pool of resources in the world, and we have an ever-increasing population with needs for them. The areas to right now invest are the commodities, particularly if one is moving for longevity. Those companies in the business of extracting these things are only going to grow. In the meantime, we need to do a much better job of reducing demand for this pool of supplies, all of which are only growing more limited.

This is not a granola-loving tree-hugging perspective. I can’t get on my high-horse about environmentalism with a clear conscious; I am by no means a model member of the Sierra Club or Greenpeace; however, from an Economic perspective, I don’t like paying more for everything. Not only are peoples’ lives throughout the world affected by this short term greed, but, in the long term, our way of life is in jeopardy. With resources growing more and more limited, we only have more war to look forward to, more likely than not, these wars we will fight over indirect dependency on a region’s commodities.

It is unquestionable as to why we have such a vested interest in the Middle East to date. Quite simply, by limiting our demand for finite resources, we remove ourselves and our society from indentured servitude to our interests elsewhere in the world. In the meantime, as a society, we will continue putting our values and freedom on the block to sustain material needs, which are solely predicated off what the Jones’s have and our lust for what marketers tell us we want.

Social Stratification and Boise – Moving away from the Plethora of Ghettos

I am absolutely enjoying life here in Boise, and it has me thinking a lot about the broader spectrum of life than the atmosphere of life I was experiencing while living in Chicago. Provided the size of Chicago, there is no question there aren’t more elements or dimensions to life; however, having lived in several cities, in different regions, I can say one thing: “the more medium-sized a city is, the easier it is to find a broader spectrum of life.”

In retrospect, I find I am getting more to life’s dimensions here in Boise than I was in the much larger Chicago. I realize this is fairly abstract, but a great way to ponder is for one take a step back and look at her or his life in college. I say that because, if one were to go back and look at their lifestyle in a big university, and from this context, odds are good they would find the following bits of reality. One, they would find quick social stratification, kids coming from money hanging around others with money. This was especially true in the Greek system, where wealthier young women or men would tend to be drawn to the same sororities or fraternities.

In another way, because these groups of students are arriving at a large state school, coming from various backgrounds, those coming from especially strong High Schools were afforded the opportunity to place higher in classes right on the front-end. I can continue to spell out such examples, but rather than doing that, I will assume my point is made. The net of it is that we are a collegial species. We form groups or clubs, and rise up a barrier of entry, whether we do it consciously or not. If we aren’t consciously working to do so, more often than not, we are doing so subconsciously, or we are simply joining on with others of the same mindset or body of experience.

A classic example of this was how, in going to a large public state institution, we had lots of different ethnicities, but more often than not, kids of the same ethnicity would socialize together. The same applies to cities and life outside of one going to a Division I university; they are analogs.

I say that, because I assume that if one went to a small Liberal Arts College, because of size constraints, more often than not, their classes would place them in a broader mix of socio-economic varieties. With that, in the same way, I feel as though being in Boise is providing me the same broad variety of experience I was more accustomed to in primary and secondary school than I was at the University of Illinois to now. The one exception in that arc, of course, was living and working in Memphis.

In Memphis, because of the composition of economic class and ethnicities, at the office I was more than likely going to see and interact with folks of many different persuasions, pertaining to socio-economic categorization. Upon moving to Chicago, I relegated myself rather continuously to ghettos of young, largely Caucasian, affluent ghettos. By that, while living in Chicago, I lived in the West Loop, River North, Old Town and Lincoln Park. If one were to take a random sampling of the demographics of those neighborhoods, undoubtedly, they would find neighborhoods full of aspiring eighteen-to-thirty-five white folks. That is not to say that is always the case, but by percentage, I am going to argue I am more correct than not. In working for a smaller firm, leaving a more ethnically diverse large company with many people making the spectrum of incomes, I relegated myself further to one more ghetto. That is not to say that there weren’t more working class ethnically diverse folks working at company two, but it was so small there weren’t too many in all directions. In short, if work was where I was finding diversity, then the second employer in Chicago wasn’t the place to find it.

Now, I am in Boise. I cannot say there is a plethora of varying ethnicities here in Boise, as it is a largely Caucasoid population; however, there is more variety in economic status here than there was for me in Chicago. That is the trick, I surmise, by positioning self in a smaller city is more than less likely that they will be confronted with a wider variety of economic stratification. That is not to say we, or I for that matter, still don’t relegate and ghettoize ourselves wherever we go. I would argue we inadvertently do; however, being somewhere smaller allows more heterogeneity in people and experience. It’s something for one to consider, I suppose.

First Blog is First

It is ironic, sitting down to type one’s first blog on something as catholic as a move and company change, alas a beloved English teacher, Dr. Watkins, once instructed me, “The best way to cure writer’s bloc, is to simply start typing.” I am convinced, so that is what I am doing, and it is my expectation form and substance will follow.

That is to say, if you have not read a blog from Matt in a long time it’s not because you’ve not checked old forums. I simply have not written a blog, or posted anything substantive in a great while. It has been too long since I have, and as such, I think it is time for me to start writing.

As you probably know, if you have received or come to this link, I am making a move to Boise, ID here in the States. I have been eager to move out West for some time, and Boise has sat firmly at the top of my list of preferences. If you have never been to Boise, it is a lovely city, much smaller than Chicago, nestled in the Southwestern corner of Idaho. The climate is absurdly temperate, and the people of Boise are exceptionally kind and down-to-Earth. It’s hard to summarize it any further than that.

I suspect as you continue to come to this website, over the coming months you will see a more substantial reckoning; however, for the time being, I can only speak for the five days I have been in Boise, three of those being for my interview.

I have much intrigue in the changes I am to expect, both from cultural and quality of life perspectives. I suspect I will greatly enjoy attitudes that are less intense than those one might find in Chicago, but part of me also wonders about the times when I will want more intensity, when I am frustrated by the lack of progress on something professional or otherwise.

Alas, that is why one simply sits down to start writing, the form and substance will come, and that is my expectation with life as well. There are numerous clichés or allusions I won’t bore you with that say this more immediately, but I like the analogy back to Ole’ Dr. Watkins, “just start writing,” methodology, one just has to start making a desire change. With making a change, I have most certainly made the effort to complete this as prudently and as well planned as possible, but that is not to say there aren’t anxieties or things left undone that are more continuous doing so.

If my writing as kept you along to this point, now I suppose I should explain the title of the blog “Escaping the Iteration of the Pastiche.” I used “Iterations of the Pastiche in a conversation last night, and on its own, I realize the two words together “Iteration” and “Pastiche” are largely redundant. Quite simply, in the conversation from where this phrase came, what I was referring to were the iterative observations of the same thing repeatedly pertaining to “Sushi dates on Friday,” “Big Ten Male Alumni drinking macro-brew beer during NCAA Football Saturdays in Lincoln Park,” “keeping up with the Jones’s in condo purchases in fashionable younger Chicago neighborhoods,” or the “Rock Her World” advertisements for engagement rings and the truth in the market they convey.

Videlicet, this is my Blog and here I am. This is not meant for anything other than keeping up with my friends, and offering the opportunity to see my updates in this move out West. Of course, I always welcome comments or thoughts, and I look forward to the discourse.