Adrenaline and Heresy

Hello again! 

Sooooo I like writing blogs alot. So I decided to do it again! Yaaaaay. So today, I wanted to explain a thing that might assuage spme worries, or cause some. I dunno. Theres a simple fact that needs sharing, to begin. 

I like going fast. I like to feel the air in my hair and between my fingers, I like to feel it push against me and know that its there. I like to feel forces acting on my body, and I like to know what to do about them. I like wheels. I like sliding. And after a day of thinking, I think I know why. 

Heresy. A human is only really designed to go about fifteen miles an hour. We're pretty squishy, and a fall from that speed will rough you up a bit. Interesting side note: a cheetah can sprint at about 62 miles per hour, but a human actually has a higher endurance than a cheetah, because of our superior cooling system, aka sweat. So yea. But anyway, we were really only designed for fifteenish miles an hour. Except we can break that. It is a heresy against nature, against design. We are breaking the rules. People wonder why I like to bike to school, even though I arrive sweaty, stinky, and usally either too cold or hot. There are several factors: its good for the health, it lets me know I'm alive, but the main reason isn't quite as highbrow as those. Even on a bad day, when my gloves are too thin and my fingers don't really work anymore, and I have a sharp-edged history textbook stabbing me, there is a certain section of greenway where it all falls away. No matter how tired my legs are, or how cold I am, it is heaven. I'm riding it right now, in my mind, every bump and corner perfectly preserved. 

There is a speed limit on the greenway of ten miles per hour. I don't follow it. This section of greenway has long swooping turns, s-curves, and several 90° corners, and it is perfect. The world stops and adrenaline fills my blood and my legs are pistons and my chain is cranking and nuts and leaves are cracking under my wheels and it's like a grow fills my mind and the only thing there is is the determination to push a little harder. I don't think about my counter-steering and is my lean angle agressive enough for the next turn and what if my tire bursts in the middle of the corner and should I worry about that wet patch right there. I just know, just do what is needed. Sitting here on a very comfy sofa I know mentally what to do if i lose traction in a hard corner ( shift weight towards the wheel that still has traction, lift out of the lean and go straight, but don't brake, and get ready to fall. I can usually get it back though) but when it happens, I just act. I love it. And when I'm flying around corners I just act. If you stop to think about all the facets of riding a bike hard, you're too late and already running off the far side of the corner into a tree. You have to just act, and I love that. I pursue that feeling. I spend all day thinking and predicting and planning ahead and it is heaven to hve a task th only doesn't require planning, but does not permit it. I love feeling gravity and centrpetal force and accelertion and knowing exactly what to do with each nugget of info. And I love knowing that despite the fct that while in no way was I desgined to do this, it comes as easily to me as breathing. I love the fact that it is a heresy against nature, but at the same time I have the power with my pedals to warp time and space and leave the world behind. 

I took a hard fall on a bike recently. I was on an empty greenway, going downhill, out of the saddle, and pedaling hard. I was flying. Then my chain got stuck and I was left off balance, unable to move my feet, and probably touching thirty. And I went down. Hard, and fast. It was like pedal pedal BAM ground. Slide slide slide. Oh crap theres a wall there. (Yea didn't mention that earlier) And then I was getting up. Don't remeber hitting the wall. But anyway I got a hefty scrape up probably a quarter of my forearm, and one about the size of an apple on my shoulder. And I tore my favorite jeans. I got up nd was afraid I had popped a rib into my lung, cause I was having trouble breathing on my right side, where I fell. But ypu know what? I'd take that fall again. I don't take pleasure in it, I don't like hurting my self, but nothing can be accomplished without pain. And I was flying. Andrenline was pumping, thoughts were left behind, and all that was left behind was action, reaction, the bike under my feet and the wind in my face. It was clarity. It was enlightenment. Some of you have seen my on my bike at school. One thing I always notice, is that when going slow, when hopping curbs and manuvering around people biking gets a lot harder. I get clumsy, and awkward. But when I charge off, it all falls into place. I can concertrate well enough, but I have never been able to concentrate on one thing 100%. There's always a bit of me pondering some other random thing. But when I ride hard on a bike, my mind is the domain of one thought and one thought alone: Go. Fast.

So it may not be safe. It may not be smart. But all things I know, of this I am sure. It is good. And so help me, I'm gonna go fast. I am going to find my Adrenaline and my Heresy.

Tuesdays?

So when you uproot and transplant yourself like this, ya gotta be ready for some poopy to hit the fan. Bend your knees! Be ready to absorb shock! heehee. Anyway. There are good days, and bad days. And the foreignness of everything makes the good and the bad like...I don't even have the words...maybe euphoric and...despondent? I dunno. EXTREME. Back to the point. There are some days when every tiny little victory feels like a big bowl of popcorn, or a successfully landed bike jump, or a goal in quidditch. These are really awful analogies...a goal in quidditch? a tiny amount of people play quidditch...OH! I know: that feeling when you get home at seven o clock and take you socks off! They feel like that satisfaction and accomplishment and bliss and excitement all at once. Days when you got to school early, people laughed at your poorly constructed french joke, and that kid with the cool shirt and shoes and hair and no acne talked to you, and its just like ahhhhhhhhh yesssssssssssss I am in the right place and I am good at this, gosh darnit.

And then there are days where you leave three minutes late and have to haul ass to get to school on time and you can't get the door lock or the microwave to work and your jokes fall flat and you get cold shoulder and there are ideas beating a relentless drumbeat inside your head and you just know that if you could talk or write or listen or think properly then some of these people at least would like you, find you interesting, but they don't because they don't know the storm that is going on in your head and your shirt is boring and your jeans have holes and are they too baggy and oh no my shoes are dirty and your hair won't go where you want it to and you try to go up to the board to solve a problem and explain it but you trip and you're tongue tied and your words that were locked tight in your grasp a minute ago have suddenly grown wings and you go home and sit at a computer that sucks the life from you and feel like you're caught in a spiral of bouncy flowy noises that is tantalizingly close to comprehension and yet impossible and you think why on earth did I decide to come here.

And so you made plans, grand plans, I'm gonna go geocaching, and skateboarding, and write a blog, or a fanfic, and I'm gonna cook and when you're sitting there at that computer with three pages to write in FRENCH on an american keyboard and about a text that doesn't deserve half a page it all gets a bit...tough. Those plans get brushed aside by an invisible hand made out of uncertainty and doubt and you, in a moment, or a year of weakness decide to sit in your slightly messy room with blood on the sheets that never seems to come out and postpone exploration. Till tomorrow.

Then tomorrow.

Then tomorrow. And before you know it another week has flown by and I coulda sworn yesterday was friday how can it be friday again!? and another one of 40 (ish?) weeks here is gone and what did you do with yourself? Nothing hurts more than a refused opportunity.

The good days are usually tuesdays.

And all you can do is try your hardest, give your utmost to get out there and make something of your time. But sometimes you just have to crawl into bed. I dunno man.

You know that thing on facebook that I posted yesterday? I imagine you do if you're a personal friend of mine (40 likes and a lotta love, thanks guys!) but if you're reading this from russia (which has happened!) you probably don't. Unless you're crazy creepy.

So here it is:

Okay, I just wanna say something to you all real quick. As you apply to colleges, get good grades, and get ready to make your way out into the world, there is one thing you should never sacrifice, never forget in your quest for success. Don't forget, every so often, to take a little time to be awesome. Listen to loud music. I don't care what type, as long as you enjoy it, and it's loud. Dance a lot. Wear weird clothes. Even if you don't know if you like them, just to shake things up. Always try to be a bit better than you were yesterday. Never settle for the easy, safe option. Run, even when you could walk. Know what rules to break (the ones that are designed solely to make someone feel better, or make more money, or make really no sense at all) and then break them. A lot of things are way too similar in this world of ours, so remember to change something, and make it your own. Or even better, make something brand new. There is no one in the world exactly like you. Your stuff should reflect that. Also, always remember that there are a crazy number of coincidences that had to happen to make you, and this world you live in, so take advantage of your life. Break stuff occasionally. On purpose. And if it's an accident, don't worry about it. It's just a thing, and there are tons of things. Don't worry about pain either. Nothing great ever came about without a bit of pain in the process. As long as you don't screw yourself or your body up too bad, it'll heal. 'Sides, scars make great stories. Take risks. If you take the safe road, you may never screw up, but you'll also definitely never do something amazing. Do what makes you happy, but also know when to do what you hate. If people laugh at you, take solace in the fact that you were brave enough to do something to make them laugh. If people insult you, take solace in the fact that you were then better person and didn't insult them. Take sudden turns, follow unknown paths. It's a big world, you should try and see all of it. Or at least as much as possible. Really though, I don't care what you do. It is your life. I just don't want my friends to live the sort of life where you have to be sad when you are on your deathbed. There is nothing, NOTHING that hurts more than a lost opportunity. So don't lost them, take hold of them, and take advantage of those suckers like they'll be gone tomorrow. Cuz you know what? They most likely will be.

So please, please please, don't fall into a rut. SHAKE IT UP. GET DOWN. BE WEIRD. DO THE UNEXPECTED. And never ever stop BEING AWESOME.

That was just as much a kick in my own pants as it was a kick for you all as well. So today? 

Today, 

I was awesome.

The Lightbox is Open!!!

Hello all you internet slugs!


Just a quick little announcement! I am on flickr! After being simultaneously an old man who refuses to adopt anything that's new because "thats not the proper way to do it" and a hipster who is too cool for it, I have succumbed and am now sharing my photography with the world. I updated all of my computer stuff and switched to iOS 7 last night, and that spurred what was basically a complete revamp of my virtual organization system, and than that spurred a complete revamp of my photo organization system.  Sooo yeah. That's that. My mac is working its shiny sleek little silver butt of dumping a bit of my best work into the Lightbox right now, but it's older stuff, pre-France. As I was reorganizing I realized that after being here for a month I have a really taken pathetic amount of photos; my camera is probably quite fussy with me. oh well. So I'm gonna go work her out a little bit, and hopefully by the time all you teenagers wake up, I'll have something actually worth sharing. (It's about 8:20 there now), so frankly I'm impressed if you're awake to read this, but the great thing about the internet is that it'll be here waiting for you when you wake up!

I'll be back later with more photos and a proper, old-fashioned tom-style stream-of-consciousness dump onto paper. Spoiler alert: I have taken up LONGBOARDING, so come back to hear about all that! Also, at risk of sounding like I'm on youtube, you can now subscribe to the right both by RSS Feed and e-mail, so please do that, and also please share my stuff with people you think will enjoy it!

Sooooo see you all later! Well not see...you're going to read my words, but...you know what I mean. To get to my flickr, click the tab up above this post but below the title that says "The Lightbox"

And now it's real life. Also Party!

I did laundry for the frist time today. French laundry woooo.

Hello agai everyone. I hope m words find you all happy! Things are going pretty well here; I'm in a ridiculously comfy red couch, about to eat dinner after taking a sunday to relax and sleep and clean and...repose is a good word. I went to a party last night and it was...ummm intense I guess. Loud music.  The sort of dancing that is mostly just thrashing and jumping up and down (aka the best sort). Stayed up laaaateeee like three o'clock. And then they decided to go backdowstairs and restart the party. So was kept up a little longer. Some one blew a noise maker in my ear and for the next few minutes I took some guilty pleasure in enertaining thoughts of violence. But! I had a wonderful time.

It's odd though. In the States I'm generally the organizer of my own social things, and I take care of transport and everything but here I'm like a social baby. I didn't even know this party was happening till friday night (they had told me before but I had forgotten. I think a side effect of speaking and listening french is added forgetfulness.) and Louis just said yea these people are picking you up here at this time. I'm not sure how I feel about that it's a bit like I'm a parasite, he's taking care of everything for me. But at the same time my family tried our best to do it for him two years ago. I've made it a goal to take care of more stuff on my own now anyway though.

I'm also a bit frustrated. Thinking and living in a different language is very tiring and I'm often taking naps or sleeping late (till like noon) and I know it's necessary but at the same time I'm painfully aware of the fact that both my french clock and my life clock is ticking, and every moment spent sleeping, or relaxing, is one that I can never get back. It's a sad thing to think about. But at the same time it's not like you can realistically take maximum potential of each moment either. I can't go skydiving and then read a book and then go to portugal and then learn kendo everyday, I'd kill myself. It's difficult to see the potential of each moment, briefly, and look back and think that you wasted some, but also to be stuck in reality...I dunno. 

Sugar Cubes and Stoplights

Hello gang...I've never said that before and don't want to again...Anyway. Hi. It's been a while, as i've been busy busy. This new world of mine seems to flow by, like a river of hot wax, and tea and smells and strange words and sounds, and pens and pencils and flowers and wind. And then next thing you know its a week later, and your parents are gone.

There's nothing quite so humbling as to learn a language in a foreign country. One thing Louis, my french brother now who came to stay with us two years ago always said was that he was like a language baby and I never realized how right he was. Everything is different, what you need for school, who pays for lunch, stoplights, and sugar cubes. I bloody love sugar cubes. They're sugar, but you can make a house out of them at the same time. One of my things that I promised myself I'd work on while I'm here is humility and that definitely seems to be happening. I'm coming to realize that the world is huge. I grew up in a 300 mile equilateral triangle of D.C, Raleigh, and The Outer Banks. I occasionally left my little triangle on a quick dash where I desperately tried to soak up everything I could, to Have all the experiences I could, and I did. Rock hopping in Bar Harbor, Maine; Bouldering on the cliffs of Big Sur, California; Mountain biking and hill bombing in the Arizona desert. I have a good life. But it was a tiny life. I explored a corner of a country that is a corner of a continent that is a corner of a big wide wonderful world and because I had two french brothers I had the audacity, the gall to think of myself as wordly, as above the US of A. So I'm sorry, and to all of you that think I was full of it, you were right. Now, when I stop and think that I am on a different continent, looking at the other side of my ocean, it all makes me feel pretty small.

Even stoplights are different. You're probably thinking "What's he on about? A stoplight's a stoplight!" But it isn't really. Here sometimes there are two sets, one for bikes and one for cars, and then there's a light a cross the street to tell you when the lights for the cars coming the other way are red, and then there's another that flashes to tell you that if you're on a bike its okay to turn right on red. OH! And...actually context first: for those of you that don't live in the US, we don't have traffic circles, roundabouts. At all. There's one in my city, and it's a place of huge accidents because no one knows how to use it. There's writing on the road giving everyone directions and it's all very confusing. Here, on the other hand, if four roads, or three roads meet, pretty much a guaranteed roundabout. There are barely any stop signs. Though...the ones that there are are in English for some reason. It's pretty funny.

Also if anyone else does a year abroad, plan to sleep alot. I got by with six hours, or five in the US, but the mental effort required to speak and understand another language all day is incredible. And I, at least, need to take little zone out breaks. At a soirée or something I can't follow all the conversations for the whole thing or I'll just kill myself.

The other thinkg you need to plan on though, is everyone being crazy nice. The minute you talk to anyone, they ask where you're from, you say you're American, and they light up immediately. Everyone wants to show off their English, even if it's just "cool," "non-stop" and "ohkay!" Every one is very understanding and willing to explain things or talk slower. And so far, at least, no one has given me a dirty look. Let's hope it stays that way.

That's enough word sharing for now I think. Imma go get a haircut. Chez la coiffure!
I'll be back though!