I guess all I want to say is throw me a pastel and a smearing paper. In defense of the blurred line:
Its like being vegetarian. All the sudden you can never eat meat again, there becomes this definitive border probably laid down by the creator and guarded by minute men so the white chalk line doesnt get blurred by the surrounding dirt as I try to trample over it. I still consider myself a vegetarian despite my occasional ham and cheese sammie with tomytoe soup. chew on that hide.
and then there is this hole doctor bisnast. I mean this is where the gray matter really comes into play right- as in the grey matter up there... your noodle... your brains? I mean your a doctor or your not. Its like you were smart enough played your cards right and won the game. Doctor. or your every other position in the health field. they all blend together PT PA NP RN. PNTR you might as well call it. PaiNTeR. thats what I want. to paint.
Disheartening really.
I mean its fine to be in the gray- you just spend your life explaining or defending yourself- like when I made A team as a freshman for Ultimate. You play frisbee? Like on the beach? Wait I thought you were vegetarian? PA what -thats like a nurse?
ugh.
I help in the production of filtration sea water used as an international standard for equipment equilibrium. ..
I wash bottles.
Monday, May 26
Tuesday, May 20
Self preservation.
Growing up my family would pack up my dads old red patrol car with grapes and graham crackers, coloring books and raffe tapes and drive from minnesota to New York- despite all this my brother would get extremely bored and condition himself to sleep the entirety of the trip. Self preservation.
And as i sit here after a long night of paper writing and wayyy to much time at school and meetings... I rented 3 discs of the office, made up a tray of nachos-a-la-liz, blogin... self preservation.
The thing is sort of though right- I mean I hoped on my bike and 'Trek'ed it over to the blockbuster in la jolla up torrey pines (true confession? with my signature red vest on in case I passed my boyfriend on his way home while I was riding over so he would recognize me as I zoom past him) not only did I not see him blockbuster's stock of office episodes had been rented out! Blast!
So then I stash treky on the side of my apartment building- too much in a urgent rampage for office to actually open my door to safely store the little jem. jump in old pheb's and bump shakira as I finally go and grab three discs at the blockbuster down at good old ralph's college central. check!
Now I sit her tuck-the-fuckered-out. planning on spending the next six hours with TV nutrition assignment, spanish HW and making up a core plan. yup that was worth writing about... not.
Growing up my family would pack up my dads old red patrol car with grapes and graham crackers, coloring books and raffe tapes and drive from minnesota to New York- despite all this my brother would get extremely bored and condition himself to sleep the entirety of the trip. Self preservation.
And as i sit here after a long night of paper writing and wayyy to much time at school and meetings... I rented 3 discs of the office, made up a tray of nachos-a-la-liz, blogin... self preservation.
The thing is sort of though right- I mean I hoped on my bike and 'Trek'ed it over to the blockbuster in la jolla up torrey pines (true confession? with my signature red vest on in case I passed my boyfriend on his way home while I was riding over so he would recognize me as I zoom past him) not only did I not see him blockbuster's stock of office episodes had been rented out! Blast!
So then I stash treky on the side of my apartment building- too much in a urgent rampage for office to actually open my door to safely store the little jem. jump in old pheb's and bump shakira as I finally go and grab three discs at the blockbuster down at good old ralph's college central. check!
Now I sit her tuck-the-fuckered-out. planning on spending the next six hours with TV nutrition assignment, spanish HW and making up a core plan. yup that was worth writing about... not.
phenom.
So like no really. Lets talk about this whole crying phenom. and not phenom in the sense of phenomenal- but just phenomenon or even phenyl. cause frankly it reaks.
I mean there's always going to be the breakdown into tears, granted. Like that night that you stayed up all night writing your mmw paper but then the screen blanked and you had to ctrl+alt+delete your way out of followed by the loud roommate so you cant concentrate and you stain your favorite sweat shirt with the coffee you are drinking and then your pant pocket gets hooked on the door latch and you lent out your favorite pen and didnt get it back finally as you are scribing along with a crappy mechanical pencil you run out of led and reach for that last scoop of ice cream you had been saving just to find out your roommate's friend ate it while they were drunk and you begin to cry. you just stand there 2am in your stained sweat shirt and ripped jeans, freezer door open in the middle of the kitchen with an empty carton of cherry garcia and tears just start to stream down your face and drop to the linoleum floor. Breaking point.
But since when has my threshold decreased? I mean really. Since when have I lost the ability to reason my way out of tears and submitted to the pout? Its rather embarrassing- even just the let down- the slow down - that simple breath after a long day has brought me to tears over small frustrations that I should not logically affect me so much- do. It needs to stop. and that's just it right? Blame game is great right- "o your just stressed sweet heart"- "o its just birth control or hormones in general" but at a certain point I had to come to the realization that its not- everybody deals with stress and practically half the population is on hormones- so what it comes down to is sucking it up and getting over it. done.
At the same time sometimes when your in target with your boyfriend and you have to buy the cheap blender instead of the quality full power blender right next to it because neither of you have any money you just stop and cry right there in aisle 5 amongst the kitchen appliances.
Sometimes someone just keeps picking on you about your shoes and you want to take it lightly but it just hits your breaking point and you burst into tears and just wish they would stop picking on your god damn shoes.
I mean shoot, these are the stories of the two girls who inspire me most- and sometimes crying doesn't need to be justified. Tricky. I'd rather just not.
I mean there's always going to be the breakdown into tears, granted. Like that night that you stayed up all night writing your mmw paper but then the screen blanked and you had to ctrl+alt+delete your way out of followed by the loud roommate so you cant concentrate and you stain your favorite sweat shirt with the coffee you are drinking and then your pant pocket gets hooked on the door latch and you lent out your favorite pen and didnt get it back finally as you are scribing along with a crappy mechanical pencil you run out of led and reach for that last scoop of ice cream you had been saving just to find out your roommate's friend ate it while they were drunk and you begin to cry. you just stand there 2am in your stained sweat shirt and ripped jeans, freezer door open in the middle of the kitchen with an empty carton of cherry garcia and tears just start to stream down your face and drop to the linoleum floor. Breaking point.
But since when has my threshold decreased? I mean really. Since when have I lost the ability to reason my way out of tears and submitted to the pout? Its rather embarrassing- even just the let down- the slow down - that simple breath after a long day has brought me to tears over small frustrations that I should not logically affect me so much- do. It needs to stop. and that's just it right? Blame game is great right- "o your just stressed sweet heart"- "o its just birth control or hormones in general" but at a certain point I had to come to the realization that its not- everybody deals with stress and practically half the population is on hormones- so what it comes down to is sucking it up and getting over it. done.
At the same time sometimes when your in target with your boyfriend and you have to buy the cheap blender instead of the quality full power blender right next to it because neither of you have any money you just stop and cry right there in aisle 5 amongst the kitchen appliances.
Sometimes someone just keeps picking on you about your shoes and you want to take it lightly but it just hits your breaking point and you burst into tears and just wish they would stop picking on your god damn shoes.
I mean shoot, these are the stories of the two girls who inspire me most- and sometimes crying doesn't need to be justified. Tricky. I'd rather just not.
Monday, May 19
Pseudosophy
on a larger scale its all about 2 things endurance which bleeds to durability. Understanding which inherently requires the ability to laugh things off. sometimes really hard. but just like Duh.
You know?
I mean I'm no karl Marx or even Arctander O'Brian- no Anne Landers I'm not even a mom- I have no reasonable basis for philosophy or advise- more like pseudosophy. My credibility stems primarily from the chalk board outside the Pannikin in Leucadia that I read as I lock my bike up to the iron cast wagon post.
shits tough. I mean really- here we all are taken on the world- each from our own little battle stations- personally I have quite a few pilot stations, local branches if you will. where do you go for group study (that you can laugh about TCA= The Citric Acid cycle- uhh not BML I can tell you that much) or computer work or the perfect latte and scone with cinnamin crumples that swirl in the latte foam after you dunk it and leave sweet scone dregs at the bottom of the glass? ANd then there are all the other players- We try to team up with others- my enemy's enemy is my friend kinda deal- I mean there's love and fun involved to...sometimes... but like really- you team up with people cause you need different players with different weapons to win the game you know? like lab partners who suck it up and put on an orange hat and a green duct tape label. Or they have secret weapons, for example we have this one family friend who will chase a lazy waitress with the bill so we can all leave- right? you want to leave but you dont want to be the one that stands up with two little plastic cards half way sandwiched into a little leather portfolio with a little paper recipt flapping out of the other end in your hand. Then you have your resources- bike guy who swaps out your tire because you were practically siblings in high school, computer guys who save your ass with a titanium think pad, car guys who tell you not to drive like my brother!, hook up at the golden spoon to give you that extra swirl of blueberry. I mean really- a friend once said that the world is out to get you and you need someone on your side. maybe. I mean basically I just want to win. I hear if you wash you win!
Basically we got shit to do. and we do it. thats kinda like what life is.
In the words of Winston Churchill- Keep on Buggering on. Durability. Loose some battles. Win the war. Pull an Apolno- take a beating and come back for more.
heheh. pack it up.
You know?
I mean I'm no karl Marx or even Arctander O'Brian- no Anne Landers I'm not even a mom- I have no reasonable basis for philosophy or advise- more like pseudosophy. My credibility stems primarily from the chalk board outside the Pannikin in Leucadia that I read as I lock my bike up to the iron cast wagon post.
shits tough. I mean really- here we all are taken on the world- each from our own little battle stations- personally I have quite a few pilot stations, local branches if you will. where do you go for group study (that you can laugh about TCA= The Citric Acid cycle- uhh not BML I can tell you that much) or computer work or the perfect latte and scone with cinnamin crumples that swirl in the latte foam after you dunk it and leave sweet scone dregs at the bottom of the glass? ANd then there are all the other players- We try to team up with others- my enemy's enemy is my friend kinda deal- I mean there's love and fun involved to...sometimes... but like really- you team up with people cause you need different players with different weapons to win the game you know? like lab partners who suck it up and put on an orange hat and a green duct tape label. Or they have secret weapons, for example we have this one family friend who will chase a lazy waitress with the bill so we can all leave- right? you want to leave but you dont want to be the one that stands up with two little plastic cards half way sandwiched into a little leather portfolio with a little paper recipt flapping out of the other end in your hand. Then you have your resources- bike guy who swaps out your tire because you were practically siblings in high school, computer guys who save your ass with a titanium think pad, car guys who tell you not to drive like my brother!, hook up at the golden spoon to give you that extra swirl of blueberry. I mean really- a friend once said that the world is out to get you and you need someone on your side. maybe. I mean basically I just want to win. I hear if you wash you win!
Basically we got shit to do. and we do it. thats kinda like what life is.
In the words of Winston Churchill- Keep on Buggering on. Durability. Loose some battles. Win the war. Pull an Apolno- take a beating and come back for more.
heheh. pack it up.
Apolno.
I must have a lot of work to do- because I feel a sweeping desire to carve out my observances in mega potentailly gigabites.
SOo I have this computer. Named Apollo- I like to name things after greek gods- like my computer, and bike... which is also named apollo- so scratch that I like to name things after Apollo.
Anyway it's busted so might as well just call it Apol-no.
I get that it has a busted hinge and a duct taped power cord to hold the little fibers in place- really its just like a neuron that I have done the work of myelinating it so it has a more effective transmission. But the things a fucking trooper.
Durability. Number one requirement. for life. Its been implied that I'm not the best about "taking care of things" no. your right I dont pamper things. Anything that sticks around takes a beating and comes back for more. Apolno being a prime example. Last night it played this little pity game of flickering its lights and turning off. In a panic I call brother and father and tell them the situation- considering my history the shock value is non-existant. Plan- titanium case IBM thinkpad. To compliment my titanium double thick leather encased cell phone and steal bicycle.
ANyway - the word Karma is ringing in my ear as I trudge over to ACS to see if they can salvage my research paper or nutrition assignment. The girl at the computer instructs me to pull out my computer and turn it on- not bothering to remove her eyes from the screen infront of her or refraining from the relentless click of her pointer finger against the one buttoned mouse. Low and behold, my computer turns on like normal the little lights in the corner flickering on - winking at me as if it had worked the entire time but had just refused to do so last night in spite- to teach me some kind of lesson for treating it so bad. Fool.
So here I am open computer in one hand- maxtor external harddrive in the other- transfering my life- bracing the hinge to avoid any connection malfunction- walking briskly to the closest library to plug the dang thing in before the 7 minute battery life runs out.
Well I made it and so did my computer as I sit here blogging instead of studying for my midterm in T-2 hours. classic.
But what next right? do I shut my computer and risk it not turning back on? Or do I go to my mifterm with an open computer in front of me- I hear thats fine.
SOo I have this computer. Named Apollo- I like to name things after greek gods- like my computer, and bike... which is also named apollo- so scratch that I like to name things after Apollo.
Anyway it's busted so might as well just call it Apol-no.
I get that it has a busted hinge and a duct taped power cord to hold the little fibers in place- really its just like a neuron that I have done the work of myelinating it so it has a more effective transmission. But the things a fucking trooper.
Durability. Number one requirement. for life. Its been implied that I'm not the best about "taking care of things" no. your right I dont pamper things. Anything that sticks around takes a beating and comes back for more. Apolno being a prime example. Last night it played this little pity game of flickering its lights and turning off. In a panic I call brother and father and tell them the situation- considering my history the shock value is non-existant. Plan- titanium case IBM thinkpad. To compliment my titanium double thick leather encased cell phone and steal bicycle.
ANyway - the word Karma is ringing in my ear as I trudge over to ACS to see if they can salvage my research paper or nutrition assignment. The girl at the computer instructs me to pull out my computer and turn it on- not bothering to remove her eyes from the screen infront of her or refraining from the relentless click of her pointer finger against the one buttoned mouse. Low and behold, my computer turns on like normal the little lights in the corner flickering on - winking at me as if it had worked the entire time but had just refused to do so last night in spite- to teach me some kind of lesson for treating it so bad. Fool.
So here I am open computer in one hand- maxtor external harddrive in the other- transfering my life- bracing the hinge to avoid any connection malfunction- walking briskly to the closest library to plug the dang thing in before the 7 minute battery life runs out.
Well I made it and so did my computer as I sit here blogging instead of studying for my midterm in T-2 hours. classic.
But what next right? do I shut my computer and risk it not turning back on? Or do I go to my mifterm with an open computer in front of me- I hear thats fine.
Monday, May 12
Ex- traveler
So today I was a “casual traveler” I mean talk about labels- I don’t mean like at the cabin this weekend or stereotypes or any of that crap- I am talking about how now at the airport there are three lines- “family”, “causual” and “expert traveler” – the family one is pretty clear cut- but the expert and casual- what exactly does that mean- by putting expert it automatically designated casual as retarded traveler. Which apparently today by sheer chance I was. But honestly who is going to consciously choose retarded traveler over expert. But where is the line? Who determines who is an “expert” at getting on a freaking plane- I mean is there like a minium flight requirement or do you need one of those fancy rolly “I think I am making the most efficient use of carry on” rolly bags? And do think that if I snuck over with my hippi canvas bag and sweaty grey t-shirt the security guard would come after me with her cloth badge? I found myself being critical of those in the line superior to me- it was like seeing an old Geo in the fast lane, or someone with 18 items in the 12 item express lane at the supermarket. And for that matter- do the expert travelers get priority- is there lane shorter- the answer is yes. It is. Let it be known always randomly choose the line to the left. You might end up an expert. To the left- Cause you know you ain’t right!!
the saga
So at 1 am last night I made a binding agreement to use the power of the internet only for productivity. That is I personally proposed and pronounced pilfering primarily for productivity. What a prospect.
But here now it is 10 am!! It is not actually 10 am. It is 6:30, but I will hold off sending this till 10. dont ask how that is justified- just anticipate an ongoing extension of this message as I doddle along- Its like I am racing time- but rather than putting on my tennis shoes I put on enormous fins and try to run a marathon. Till ten- when I feel once again justified in emailing you. the bearers of my delerium.
8 am- I bear down on the last of my work allowing my green eyes of envy to drift only for a second to katie who colors "Closets are for clothes" on an old tie died shirt for her work- all she wants is a better world. All I want is to make shirts. Believe you me.
8:45- I have now burned my two nutrition lectures from the week onto my imposter ipod. I plan listen to on the plane.plane plan. along with enough daft punk that I intend on playing loud enough to put anyone in a deaf funk. -cut it-paste it- zip- up zip it-scratch it- burn it- write -rewrite it. Story of my life. wish both you were here for daft dance punk party. though I am sure you are both glad your not. But I feel intergalactic as I type along wearing the arm warmers you gave me.
9:15 am- AIP outline done. Spanish read. Nutrition assignment started. LA bre prt. dahhh. one section left. oONEee Pewny paragraph between me and pounding some pavement and deaf funk. I want to run.
Ria says I am justified in talking only of myself in these emails- as I am an expert on the subject SHe also thinks I am justified in pouring rainbow sprinkles all over the floor and flapping all my appendages in effort to make a sprinkle angel. So her word should be taken with a grain of salt. but we need that for these freaken chipless salts I bought.
Melodramatically yours,Intensabith
and its only 9:20.
Later Friday...
ANd so the saga continues... yes I understand that email is not a diary and maybe I should retain from using it as such. BUT COME ON. maybe I should get a blog. and then keep my strange desire to voice my menial mental experiences and opinions secret but yet exposed. B
ut I am just really impressed that San DIego airport has free wi-fi. Brilliant. 5 points San DIego. Go padres! And outlets which I just spent 5 minutes peering behind the rows of benches for- funny effect it had everytime I leaned in to check it out like five other people would turn and look as if there was some kind of small circus show back there that they might be missing out on. I didnt bother to explain to anyone what i was doing. I like that mystery- though it would have been funny to say something nonchalantly like "mouse". But I didnt- now people just probably think I am suspicious- security will probably come- I wont get on the plane and I will spend the rest of the weekend here- in which case I am extra glad they have internet.
Well you have to excuse me I have to wrap this up and hit the restroom why it is still an option. Our house is still currently without plumbing and rather than explaining the situation to the neighbors and setting up some open door restroom policy- my parents have turned it into some kind of game -an excuse to get to know every bathroom in pleasanton and then call me to tell me the rating. Peets is the best. single room not stalled. You have to get a key though- impliment hand off strategy to maximize visits without suspicion. There were four missed calls on my phone- none of which I responded to. lucky for you there is no internet in yosemite. then again maybe one of those dorky satilite trees they added a wifi branch to.if only.
E-liminate-th
Sunday
"mother nature's son(s)" and "the late great daughter(s) of mother earth" i'm glad to spend it amongst her millions of other tourist children in Yosemite and of course my own flesh and blood marmse- who dispite her lack of granite slabs and flowing waterfalls and dramatic valleys- is pretty ok- I mean she trecked it up the mist trail to nevada falls and then back the john muir trail and then around Hetch-hetchy reservoir to Wapama falls.
Yeah and I am impressed that our motley 6 person crew of engineers, physicists, interior designers and kindergarten teachers bucked it up- hit the road at 6 am- weekend warriors ready to hit the trail early before the crowds- but thats just it right-the crowds- the non warrior weekenders- its like thinking you are going to avoid lines by going to space mountain first even though you arrived 2 hours after the park opened. So there we are trudging our way up through the the mist- engaging in the "No you carry it game"- trying to jab all your shit into someone else's bag while not having anything added to your own- waterbottles and sunscreens flying and getting soaked by the pouring shower off vernal and navada falls (and unlike a theme park there is no "wet zone yellow line" where you can sit and avoid Shamuck's big splash) so we are climbing our way through in our sneakers, wick-a-way shirts and eddie bower packs past the crowds in their sparkle tops and wedge heeled pink flip flops- you know the ones I am talking about- and you think that is it- you think the bane of plastic strap blisters and slippery rocks will take em out by the first falls. wrong- we get to the top and there they all are! Now that is impressive.
Herding over to the railing to get that bizarre unreal mutant stomach feeling you can only get as you look at 60 million gallons of water rush over a 600 foot fall I come upon a small asian man with his walking stick fermly wedged into the fence keeping him and his Friends from getting him any 'closa' than 5 feet to the fence.
The cabin was fully outfitted. outfitted in labels- o gee how do I turn on a movie?- phew- the buttons have been outlined with complete directions labeled on the back- what dont know which pillow went where- dont worry their coordinates are pasted on the back- and guys- feel bad about leaving the toilet seat up? dont worry it shuts on its own!!!! TECHNOLOGIT!I think we got a bit tipsy at the Iron door bar (the oldest in California!) because the next morning all the juice glasses and been placed on the cereal bowl shelf. I cant be held responsible.
The next morning we headed out to hetch-hetchy- which is no yosemite- the dam was rad. any massive construction we can read 8 different informational postings with collaged pictures wins our crowd over. THe hike? could have done without the death march amongst scrubby manzania and poison oak- but the view into the valley with a few snow capped mountians was nice- and Wapama falls made it more than worth it!! BRILLIANT!! with a bunch of bridges to jump the rocks and fully embrace the falls.
The family was as rediculous, fun and sometimes painful as ever to a girl as impatient as me- but trying to change the situation is like trying to screw in a philips head screw with a flat head driver- you think it might work by shoving it into one of the cross sections, and small adjustments might be made, but really all that happens is you strip the screw. Stripping and screwing Story of my life
Seemingly regularly yours, Eli-sappy-beth
sorry a note about the picture of my father and I- I spent nearly the entirety of our hike trying to prove via emperical evidance (thank god for the crowds to offer more than sufficiant evidence) that the two holes at the bottom of the sholder strap pulls were merely pulls and not ment to string the waste band through- which he was convinced it was for- hence why the waist band is around the same spot that fred from I love lucy's pant line was- aka practically at the nipple line
ok 7 am flight tom morning. mom made blueberry muffins for the plane. looking forward to who lost the ro-sham and will be at the airport to pick me up :) :)
Elooserbeth
But here now it is 10 am!! It is not actually 10 am. It is 6:30, but I will hold off sending this till 10. dont ask how that is justified- just anticipate an ongoing extension of this message as I doddle along- Its like I am racing time- but rather than putting on my tennis shoes I put on enormous fins and try to run a marathon. Till ten- when I feel once again justified in emailing you. the bearers of my delerium.
8 am- I bear down on the last of my work allowing my green eyes of envy to drift only for a second to katie who colors "Closets are for clothes" on an old tie died shirt for her work- all she wants is a better world. All I want is to make shirts. Believe you me.
8:45- I have now burned my two nutrition lectures from the week onto my imposter ipod. I plan listen to on the plane.plane plan. along with enough daft punk that I intend on playing loud enough to put anyone in a deaf funk. -cut it-paste it- zip- up zip it-scratch it- burn it- write -rewrite it. Story of my life. wish both you were here for daft dance punk party. though I am sure you are both glad your not. But I feel intergalactic as I type along wearing the arm warmers you gave me.
9:15 am- AIP outline done. Spanish read. Nutrition assignment started. LA bre prt. dahhh. one section left. oONEee Pewny paragraph between me and pounding some pavement and deaf funk. I want to run.
Ria says I am justified in talking only of myself in these emails- as I am an expert on the subject SHe also thinks I am justified in pouring rainbow sprinkles all over the floor and flapping all my appendages in effort to make a sprinkle angel. So her word should be taken with a grain of salt. but we need that for these freaken chipless salts I bought.
Melodramatically yours,Intensabith
and its only 9:20.
Later Friday...
ANd so the saga continues... yes I understand that email is not a diary and maybe I should retain from using it as such. BUT COME ON. maybe I should get a blog. and then keep my strange desire to voice my menial mental experiences and opinions secret but yet exposed. B
ut I am just really impressed that San DIego airport has free wi-fi. Brilliant. 5 points San DIego. Go padres! And outlets which I just spent 5 minutes peering behind the rows of benches for- funny effect it had everytime I leaned in to check it out like five other people would turn and look as if there was some kind of small circus show back there that they might be missing out on. I didnt bother to explain to anyone what i was doing. I like that mystery- though it would have been funny to say something nonchalantly like "mouse". But I didnt- now people just probably think I am suspicious- security will probably come- I wont get on the plane and I will spend the rest of the weekend here- in which case I am extra glad they have internet.
Well you have to excuse me I have to wrap this up and hit the restroom why it is still an option. Our house is still currently without plumbing and rather than explaining the situation to the neighbors and setting up some open door restroom policy- my parents have turned it into some kind of game -an excuse to get to know every bathroom in pleasanton and then call me to tell me the rating. Peets is the best. single room not stalled. You have to get a key though- impliment hand off strategy to maximize visits without suspicion. There were four missed calls on my phone- none of which I responded to. lucky for you there is no internet in yosemite. then again maybe one of those dorky satilite trees they added a wifi branch to.if only.
E-liminate-th
Sunday
"mother nature's son(s)" and "the late great daughter(s) of mother earth" i'm glad to spend it amongst her millions of other tourist children in Yosemite and of course my own flesh and blood marmse- who dispite her lack of granite slabs and flowing waterfalls and dramatic valleys- is pretty ok- I mean she trecked it up the mist trail to nevada falls and then back the john muir trail and then around Hetch-hetchy reservoir to Wapama falls.
Yeah and I am impressed that our motley 6 person crew of engineers, physicists, interior designers and kindergarten teachers bucked it up- hit the road at 6 am- weekend warriors ready to hit the trail early before the crowds- but thats just it right-the crowds- the non warrior weekenders- its like thinking you are going to avoid lines by going to space mountain first even though you arrived 2 hours after the park opened. So there we are trudging our way up through the the mist- engaging in the "No you carry it game"- trying to jab all your shit into someone else's bag while not having anything added to your own- waterbottles and sunscreens flying and getting soaked by the pouring shower off vernal and navada falls (and unlike a theme park there is no "wet zone yellow line" where you can sit and avoid Shamuck's big splash) so we are climbing our way through in our sneakers, wick-a-way shirts and eddie bower packs past the crowds in their sparkle tops and wedge heeled pink flip flops- you know the ones I am talking about- and you think that is it- you think the bane of plastic strap blisters and slippery rocks will take em out by the first falls. wrong- we get to the top and there they all are! Now that is impressive.
Herding over to the railing to get that bizarre unreal mutant stomach feeling you can only get as you look at 60 million gallons of water rush over a 600 foot fall I come upon a small asian man with his walking stick fermly wedged into the fence keeping him and his Friends from getting him any 'closa' than 5 feet to the fence.
The cabin was fully outfitted. outfitted in labels- o gee how do I turn on a movie?- phew- the buttons have been outlined with complete directions labeled on the back- what dont know which pillow went where- dont worry their coordinates are pasted on the back- and guys- feel bad about leaving the toilet seat up? dont worry it shuts on its own!!!! TECHNOLOGIT!I think we got a bit tipsy at the Iron door bar (the oldest in California!) because the next morning all the juice glasses and been placed on the cereal bowl shelf. I cant be held responsible.
The next morning we headed out to hetch-hetchy- which is no yosemite- the dam was rad. any massive construction we can read 8 different informational postings with collaged pictures wins our crowd over. THe hike? could have done without the death march amongst scrubby manzania and poison oak- but the view into the valley with a few snow capped mountians was nice- and Wapama falls made it more than worth it!! BRILLIANT!! with a bunch of bridges to jump the rocks and fully embrace the falls.
The family was as rediculous, fun and sometimes painful as ever to a girl as impatient as me- but trying to change the situation is like trying to screw in a philips head screw with a flat head driver- you think it might work by shoving it into one of the cross sections, and small adjustments might be made, but really all that happens is you strip the screw. Stripping and screwing Story of my life
Seemingly regularly yours, Eli-sappy-beth
sorry a note about the picture of my father and I- I spent nearly the entirety of our hike trying to prove via emperical evidance (thank god for the crowds to offer more than sufficiant evidence) that the two holes at the bottom of the sholder strap pulls were merely pulls and not ment to string the waste band through- which he was convinced it was for- hence why the waist band is around the same spot that fred from I love lucy's pant line was- aka practically at the nipple line
ok 7 am flight tom morning. mom made blueberry muffins for the plane. looking forward to who lost the ro-sham and will be at the airport to pick me up :) :)
Elooserbeth
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