Bobsled

This January I resolved to play outside more. It sounds like a lame challenge, I know. Actually, It sounds like I am trying to revert back to a childish behavior instead of pushing myself to be bigger and badder.

To be honest, I decided to play outside more because I needed more fresh air and exercise in my life than I was getting last fall, so I am now making time for aimless outdoor adventures.

Which is why I went bobsledding last weekend.

It sounded like a quaint Saturday afternoon activity until I saw a bobsled go by me at 80 miles per hour. Speed doesn’t seem that impressive when you’re in a car or train or plane because there’s no wind resistance, so it doesn’t feel that different whether you’re going 20 or 100 miles per hour. Not true with bobsledding.

Bobsleds do not have windshields. They also do not close in the back. They are not cushioned or equipped with airbags. You do not get strapped in to them. Overall, they have less safety features than a banana peel. What they do have is tracks on the bottom that look like wide, iron ice skate blades.

While waiting for my turn to get pushed onto an ice slope in a metal casket, I felt myself becoming my mom.
Mom doesn’t do things like bobsledding. She doesn’t go on theme-park rides. She does not jump off of cliffs into water. Besides cars, she does not drive motorized vehicles. She does not play contact sports. All in all, she does not get any thrill out of danger.

Since high school, I have slowly been collecting her fears. When I was nine, I would jump off of rock cliffs into water. Now, I don’t.

While I shivered in the cold at the “launching deck” for the bobsleds, I wished I had put my foot down (like mom would have) and refused to even consider going to an event like bobsledding.

When I got to the bottom, I was glad that I had done it. Picking up speed on a downward slope is always intoxicating. There’s no way to explain why going faster and faster and faster is fun. Also, I had conquered my fear of the bobsled. I had completed an outdoor activity that wasn’t physically straining, but still hard. I had overcome my mom instinct.

This post is not intended as an anti-mom. It’s an anti-irrational fear post. My mom has already made up her mind about activities she would like to do and activities she would not. There’s nothing wrong with that, and if you’ve ever met my mom, you would know that she’s not changing her mind anyways.

What I’m hoping to do is prevent myself from limiting the things I chose to do, so that I won’t have to fear bobsledding and contact sports in the future. Jumping off of high cliffs into water is already out of the question for me, so now is the window of time when I decide what it is I will do.

Thoughts for a Wednesday

I thought of this idea in about three minutes this morning while studying for my Capitalism and Democracy quiz. I blurted it all out on the page at once, and it happened to end up in poetry. I've never had this idea before, and I don't live up to any of what I am preaching here, but I think it makes sense for me to start trying.
* * *

Do not reward yourself for hard work.

Do not reward yourself for cynicism, or intelligence,
Or ingenuity, or optimism.
Do not reward yourself for social aptitude.

Do not reward yourself for individuality or rebellion.

Do not reward yourself for feats of manipulation, or humor,
Or romance, or efficiency.

Reward balance.

The Hut

FOUND (aka another post about the hobo hut, Darin, and my cell phone)

When we were walking down to check on the hobo hut yesterday, Darin said, “hey, maybe we’ll find your phone,” and I said I hope not, because finding your phone after going through all the trouble of getting a new one is like getting remarried after all the trouble of getting divorced. (I actually have no idea if that analogy works.)
But there it was -- glistening with water, smiling, and still (remarkably) turned on with (even more remarkably) full battery. It was hidden in about the most obvious place ever, a foot away from the entrance of the hobo hut, and about three feet away from where I realized I had lost it. Since the hobo hut seems to have turned into a place for hobos to sleep at night and college students to visit by day, I have no idea how the phone could have possibly stayed there for seven days without getting picked up or stepped on. My roommate Allyson thinks that the hobo must have charged the battery for me at some point during the week. I have trouble disagreeing with her. If someone wasn’t taking care of it, I can’t imagine how it could have survived a week of snow, freezing temperatures, and other people being down there. What I am certain of is that fate and hobos work in mysterious ways and that we should be kind to both of them. Last week I thought losing my cell phone was the worst thing that could have happened, but this week I’m weirdly glad that it did.

LOST

Day #1: In Denial

Last Sunday I put three things in my jacket pocket before I left the apartment: my camera, my keys, and my cell phone. I also poured myself a quick glass of orange soda before I headed out because it was the only beverage we had in the fridge besides Ketchup. I met Darin at the elevator. Our intention was to do something cool, like build a snow cave or something, but instead we ended up walking up to a large snow bank across the street, kicking it a few times, and giving up. We decided to walk down the trail by the Winooski River to see how Ian’s fort held up over Christmas vacation. Ian’s fort was built by my friend Ian. He made it a few months ago in the woods near our apartment building because we were going through this nature survival tv program phase (i.e. Bear Grylls.) Anyways, when we got there, I saw that someone (college students, a homeless person??) had tripled the size of the shelter with logs added across the front. This was exciting to me, and knew Ian would be thrilled about these developments, so I had to call him to discuss it. That’s when I discovered I had lost my cell phone – which is where I was going with this story.

I panicked when I realized it was gone, and began searching the ground around the hobo hut, thinking that it must have dropped out of my pocket. Darin came up with reasonable explanations for where it might be (at the apartment) and I – being quite flustered and certain that he was wrong – insisted that it could only be in unreasonable places (stolen by a hobo.) When I got back home, I swept over the apartment, but too much in despair to try that hard to look for it. I already knew I wouldn’t find it. It was on vibrate, which mean that if it was in the snow, I wouldn’t hear it, and if it was in my apartment, I would hear it (which I didn’t.)

Day #2: I wish everyone I knew would lose something valuable to them, so that they would understand my suffering.

I was angry at the world for swallowing up my two month old cell phone, and I couldn’t stop obsessing over how gone it was. It was hard to concentrate on homework that day because my thoughts would go, “Okay, I need to read page PHONE ten in this book and answer PHONE questions about PHONE PHONE PHONE it to post PHONE online.” My pocket felt empty. I kept wanting to call people to tell them that I lost my phone. I would be stabbed through the heart every time I realized how much that idea didn’t make sense. I also felt insanely jealous of anyone I saw operating a telephone that day, especially my friends. “Insensitive traitors!” I would think.

I also made a plan with my mom that if I didn’t find my phone by tomorrow, she would replace it, but it would have to be mailed to me, since U.S. Cellular doesn’t exist in Vermont. That meant it would arrive at the earliest on Friday. Friday seemed really far away.

Day #3: Ready to talk about it.

By now, I had realized that my phone was actually gone and I was ready to go public with the news. My Facebook message read: “LOST: 1 grey and orange phone yesterday (sunday) in spinner/skating rink/trail to Ian's fort. Responds by vibrating when called.”

I was also able to think practically about the matter at certain times throughout the day. I cleaned out my desk drawer in case it was buried in the clutter. I made a third trip out to the hobo hut but I didn’t really look for the phone, because it was clear that someone was sleeping in it at night, and I was afraid of being raped and murdered if I hung out there too long.

At other times throughout the day, I was still angry and unreasonable about my loss. I looked at some baby photos of myself on the computer to make my problem seem insignificant in the context of my entire life. It helped a little, but then I just felt stupid about looking at the pictures at all. Also, all of the stress made me want to call my mom a lot. Which reminded me that I didn’t have a phone a lot.

Day #4: Feeling like a pioneer, except instead of traversing the Great Plains in a wagon without getting dysentery, I have traversed 72 hours without instant connection to everyone I know.

I had a revelation about communication today: they way people solve (or try to solve) their problems in 2010 is by announcing them to the world. Think about how many “FML” Facebook statuses are out there. Every time something goes wrong, we whip out our cell phones and call someone for reassurance. It’s how we cope with scary and confusing. Last winter, when I got pulled over by a cop for the first time, I called my dad when I couldn’t find the car’s registration instead of continuing to look for it like a reasonable person would. I probably thought his voice would reassure me, but if he hadn’t picked up, I would or wouldn’t have figured out where the paper was, and either way, I’d have gotten through it.

After that thought, I felt much more Zen about the matter. I did start to feel pretty tough for spending a whole week of college without a cell phone, but then I started thinking about the guy in the hobo hut…

photo from:

http://www.aboutcellulars.com

10 Epiphanies I Remember Having in the Semi-Recent Past

1. Be upfront about your limitations.

2. You can condition without shampooing, but never shampoo without conditioning.

3. Have a plan that you can see yourself implementing.

4. Don’t rebel for the sake of rebellion. Do what’s right. It will undoubtedly be some type of rebellion.

5. Try to eat something from each of the 5 food groups every day.

6. Practice moderation.

7. Don’t be shy about shutting off the television.

8. Don’t brag. People will be more impressed if they figure you out on their own.

9. Only date someone whose company you could enjoy even if you weren’t dating him.

10. Remember that everyone has a story they aren’t telling you.

Filling Up the Days

From my house in small-town Maine, you can walk to Bailey’s Apple Orchard about half a mile down the street, and Varney’s gas station a little over half a mile up the street in the opposite direction. In about five minutes, you can drive from my house to St. Denis Church, Whitefield Elementary School, and the Windsor Fair. My nearest friend and the grocery store are in Augusta, a fifteen-minute drive away. Most of the other people and places I that want to get to, like the movie theater are about 12 miles away.

Whenever someone offers to meet me at the mall, or go out to eat, or get together at someone’s house, my first thoughts are parking, lane changing, merging onto the highway, driving in reverse, and navigating rotaries. Even though I’ve had my license for four years, I still haven’t gotten used to operating a vehicle. The only time I like driving is at night. In Augusta, most of the traffic (and by traffic I mean Maine quasi-traffic) has leaked out of the city (and by city I mean medium-sized town) by about 7:30, and that’s when I feel comfortable enough to relax my grip on the steering wheel and turn on the radio. During the day, I drive like an old lady with cataracts. Except that I really don’t because I’ve never been in an accident or close to an accident. I just think that I suck at driving, so I avoid it when I can.

With an isolated house and an aversion to escaping from it before 7:30, I have mastered the art of daytime solitude over school vacations. For those of you who are also two weeks in to winter break, and suffering from boredom/loneliness (even if you live in town and don’t mind driving), here is my advice: make a list and stay busy. Sleeping, watching tv, and going on Facebook will only get you so far, and they are an easy way to waste a week’s worth of time, so come up with an agenda of stuff you want to accomplish. Don’t write yourself a list of chores. Write yourself a dream list of everything you want to do to have a relaxing and productive week. Here is mine:

Work on blog

Knit

Spend time outside every day

Read book assigned for my new job next semester

Study Spanish flashcards to get ahead on Chapter 6

Buy music with itunes gift cards

Watch Bride of Frankenstein

Revive dead orchid plant

Work on logo for spring environmental project

I also have stuff that I don’t put on my list, but I do every day to fill up the time that I don’t have activities planned for myself, like helping to cook dinner, refilling the woodstove, and getting the mail. And, okay, it seems kind of stupid to have to make up little “jobs” to stay busy, but it does work. I never watch tv during the day, and I rarely find myself sitting on the couch without anything to do. When I think of new things that I want to accomplish, I add them to my list, and when I finish things I scribble them out. At the end of vacation, it’s rewarding to look over my crossed-out-and-written-on-in-four-varieties-of-pen-and-pencil scrap of paper, before throwing it in recycling. I admit, if anything about me is reminiscent of an old lady with cataracts, it’s probably more my obsessive list making and activity planning than my driving skills, but this is what gets me through vacations, so I’m sticking with it!