Ok. SO I don't really write in this one anymore

Greetings to all (all three of you.) I have started a new blog, called Trying to Think:My life as a Student at Western Washington University. And I don't really write in this one anymore. The link is http://tryingtothink-chachinator.blogspot.com/

It's a bit more fun than this one, but recently I've been thinking a lot about life and politics, and the words we use everyday that define our society. I just posted the other day on the words "Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of happiness." I did another one today on "morality." So that's about what I'm up to. I think I have 20+ posts up, and I try to update at least every few days. I won't lie, most of them suck, but you can be the judge of that.

I may post here again, but I'll let you know when, because I'll be using the other blog while I'm at school.

For those of you who wish I would just shut up, I fart in your general direction. and you say "But wait, I thought you were already, 'cause your stuff STINKS!" And say "HAHAHAHA and you can continue to smell it."

Love, Peace, and Chicken grease.

Brandon

How Soon is Too Soon?

Ok. I have long pondered this question. Someone answer it for me.

Say you express interest in a certain female. Maybe you had coffee and had great conversation. Maybe you just met and felt there was mutual interest, considering that you exchanged phone numbers. Whatever the circumstances, when ways are parted she says "Call me sometime." Or perhaps "Call me soon."

When is "sometime" and "soon?" Because the last thing I want to do is call that evening and appear overzealous, but I also don't want to wait two weeks, give the impression I'm not interested, and give her time to find someone else.

Such a hard question.

Because once I called too soon. And last time I text messaged too late. Maybe that's the problem.

So I leave for school a week from Sunday. That's weird. I was trying to get used to it, but I've given up on that.

Remember the "packrat of knowledge" thing I wrote about earlier? Yeah, it extends past knowledge and squarely into the "stuff" category as well. I suppose I'm just a packrat in general. Anyway, the last few mornings have been spent sifting through all of the crap packed away into my closet, under my bed, in my desk. I have found unopened junk mail from 3 years ago. Shoes that I will never wear again because I skated the crap out of them. Maps, old homework, like six music notebooks, which I did consolidate into -a- music notebook. Old guitar strings rolled up. The list goes on.

Sent an email out today hoping that someone will tell me what classes to take. Still haven't heard back from my roommate, which could mean I am either on my own, or that he's even more of a slacker than I am and just hasn't checked his email. I know my email is working because I just got one from my RA. Woo hoo.

I am feeling like I need to pack something, but chances are that I would need the object that I packed precisely six hours after I pack it, so I have refrained from doing such. I think that's after all the cleaning takes place, which means it will probably happen around 8:00 on Saturday night.

So I think I'll just sit here for now, because really I don't know what to do next, and I am sick of throwing things away.

The Last Resort

I love the Eagles. I really do. I love the harmonies, the tightness of their sound, the care given to things like tone and intonation.



So I'm sitting here. By myself. Rekindling my love for a band some people I know discard as ancient.



And this one song keeps hitting me. Everytime I pop in this song, I am rivetted. It's called the Last Resort, and it's somewhat a historical narrative of the American West. It was once this place of freedom and adventure. Dangerous, but if you made the journey, it was a dream come true. The last words of the last verse are absolutely astounding. I'll let you look them up, or better yet, listen to the song. It's one of my all-time favorites.



I love the northwest. I love the rain and the relatively mild summers, the green, and it's somewhat-hippy leanings. I am also a student of history, and never cease to find crummy things that people have done to others, no matter how good their intentions. So when I visited the river front last night, the lights of Portland and headlights reflecting off the water, I was torn. Sure, it was nice to look at. But how many people that lived there before Meriwether Lewis, William Clark, and Robert Gray were displaced because having them there didn't fit the national interest: raping the land of it's naturally abundant beaver population? I wondered what the Columbia River looked like before Portland, before Vancouver, before the Hudson's Bay Trading Company. No Bonneville Dam. No I-5 bridge. Just river and whatever plants or people were there before. I expressed this idea, which was quickly shrugged off as Brandon being a hippy. This seems to happen a lot.

While I am quick to gripe, it would have happened anyway, the westward spread of civilization. And I do like living here.

So I guess it's a mixed bag.

I still would want to be displaced or killed because I am interferring with commerce and still use a harpoon to catch salmon.

Call someplace Paradise, kiss it goodbye.

I Wish I Had The Answers

My dad's Jeep is crapping out, my truck is making this wretched squealing sound (no it's not a belt, it's metal on metal) whenever I steer and idles like junk. I wish I knew how to work on cars. I want to be a mechanic, not merely a parts replacer. You should look at my desk, which at the moment happens to be my kitchen table. Auto repair manuals are sprawled out as I shift from book to book, and newspapers are displayed in a similar fashion, with my handy-dandy oversized Mickey Mouse coffee mug my sister got me for Christmas two years ago.

My brain is wired soooo weird. I don't have a job, which is nice, but it also has it's shortcomings; first, no income. Second, I am just about bored silly! This is me. Wake up, shower, put on music, make coffee, email, pour coffee into Mickey, nytimes.com, local news, gripe about how I read the local news yesterday on nytimes.com. By now, it's 11:30. Skateboard for about an hour, then it's lunchtime, usually a sandwich. Reheat coffee, email, nytimes.com. Xbox, skateboard. Now it's about 4:00. Snack, email, nytimes.com and general browsing. Call several people. All working, schooling, hanging out with their girlfriends, or just unspecified "busy." Dinner time. Eat, Make more music. If I haven't gotten a call by about 9, I give it up, watch Monk or something, go upstairs, check email and nytimes.com, go downstairs read until about 12:00, think about my cars and how to fix them, and go to sleep at an unspecified hour. Then I do it again. And again. I was so bored I watched CSPAN the other day! And I actually like it!

As you can see, all of this nothing has given me time to completely perfect my inner nerd. Today at Bernie's going away party, my friend Steve made a remark that the end of the food tables and leaning against the railing was a very strategic spot. And what do I do? I start naming off geographic locations! Upon a phone call to my other friend Simon, who asked me to tell him what I knew, I began rattling off the current news in the country of Pakistan! OH. MY. GOODNESS. I collect maps. Who collects maps??? I am reading through these technical manuals of Jeep Cherokees and Chevy S-10s as if they were pleasure reading.

At one point I took this Strength Finder test online. Fourth down was input. Essentially, being a a packrat of knowledge. Wanting to learn all sorts of random things, because you never know when you're going to need it. Like at the end of a food line at a going away party.

And that's the end. Good story, yes?

Tragedy Divides Skateboarders

These are the headlines every day on my beloved morning paper. For four days. For crying out loud! I really need to get a real newspaper.

Here's the story: a 16 year old skateboarder without a helmet was goofing around with his buddies, doing what we call "skitching," or being towed by a car. He was hanging on to an open drivers side window going about 15-20 mph when he got the speed wobbles (when the board starts to shake because the tolerance of the trucks has been exceeded or something. I don't know. Ask an engineer) and fell, first hitting his head, then being run over by the car that was towing him. He was killed.

Since this has been getting so much press and I have a connection to the situation, I feel compelled to weigh in on the subject. I am a skateboarder. I have broken my arm, and it hurts. I've hit my head and it sucks. Gouges, scrapes, dirty-nasty- gross infected wounds, rolled ankles, getting sacked on rails, I've been there. And as I get older it affects the way I skate, because this body has to last me forever. When I broke my arm, I had about 12 doctors/nurses ask me if I was wearing a helmet. No. I wasn't. And I still don't. Unwise? Perhaps, even probably so. Why not? Because it's the summer time, and I don't need an extra four pounds of plastic on my head making me sweat. It's not a law, but if it was, I still wouldn't. Because my lack-of-helmet keeps me in reality. There is a false security that is derived from such things, and people can do dumb things wearing a helmet and still get worked.

How does this apply to the situation? News-flash: if this kid had been wearing a helmet, he still would have gotten run over by a car. It wouldn't have changed anything. He wasn't being smart. He was hanging on to the drivers' window, while others choose to hang on to the bumper where the wheels are in front of you rather than behind. I have never skitched and don't plan to, because it seems less than intelligent. I didn't even know it was illegal, but I'm bummed out that it is because someone in Olympia who's never ridden a skateboard decided to make it so. I take issue with where I feel this is headed, to the legislative process where a bunch of politicians are going to mandate helmets while skateboarding, bike riding, or other wheeled sports where some sort of damage could be incurred to the noggin of the poor, unsuspecting, idiotic,
doing-stupid-things-that-don't-make-sense rider. Someone in the Columbian advocated the mandatory use of helmets for everyone under 16. Can you imagine getting carded every time you go to a skatepark!?

Here's my stance, now that I've led up to it; Helmets are a personal thing. Parents can mandate them as a condition for being allowed to skate in the driveway, but I'll bet you as soon as the kid is old enough to hop a bus to the skatepark or other skate spot, that helmet's merely gonna dangle from the backpack. An option, if you will. In case the kid needs a little bit of extra assurance before they get wrecked doing something that's above their limits. But while just cruising down a hill to the next spot, I'm betting, no helmet.

Many pay-to-skate parks mandate helmets to protect themselves from lawsuits. This works, because that's the condition for skating in a confined indoor area, and kids will do that just to have a spot to skate in the crappy Portland rainy season.

The point is, the rider needs to make the decision for themself that they want to wear a helmet.
Safety? Knowing limits? Just wanting to look cool? It's their call. No legislation is going to make kids want to wear helmets, just like making skitching illegal didn't prevent this kid from doing it.

For example, up on the mountain snowboarding, I choose to wear a helmet. $90 for a helmet with headphones and $20 for wrist guards is the price I paid for protection from the unknown in an icy snowboard park, where trees, skiers, and other boarders tend to make their way into your landing. Perhaps it's easier for me because most of my friends choose to wear helmets as well, and as a result, we've ridden away from things one without a helmet would not.

The Timberline staff doesn't mandate a helmet law, and helmets are not uncommon up on the mountain. Conversely, a mandatory helmet law is impossible to enforce by law, and most skaters are adverse to cops anyway because they are often the ones called to kick us out of spots. The whole "We're just trying to protect you" thing won't hold any water. To us, all it is is The Man trying to regulate our fun.

The bottom line: Know your limits. Don't do anything dumb or drastic. Wear a helmet if you want to because even though I don't, I recognize it really is a smart thing to do. There is a definite plus: If you choose to wear a helmet and smack your head on the concrete, you'll be the one to call the paramedics when the guy behind you doesn't get up.

WOW. I am PAYING Someone to Take My Jeep

OK. Let me explain. This all hit the fan in the last 45 minutes or so, and I am pretty sure I have found the right course of action. A few months ago, I purchased a 1986 Jeep Cherokee. White, 4x4, two door. This thing rocked, and I had always wanted one. One catch. It had 256,000 miles on it. Didn't matter, to my perspective, because it ran great, and if it was taken care of it would run forever. I asked my dad if he was in my position, would he buy this Jeep. His response "I think I might." Yeah, I didn't take the hint.

Driving it home, it quit. I was able to get it rolling again, but the problem persisted, growing more frequent. After a few attempts to fix it, my good buddy Simon and I went out to drive our cars through the mud. It was a really dumb thing for both of us to do, because he fried his starter going through a big puddle, and I bent a rod trying to pull him out of it. He has since become fed up with his car as well, and is trying to get rid of it, though he is not nearly as desparate as I am.

I took the Jeep to the shop. Upon arrival, I started it up to see if he could tell what it was. As soon as he heard it, he said "turn that thing off, it's gonna blow up." Damage: $3000, engine rebuild. Kill me now. I held off, and he said since it was a lot of money to find a spot on the curb and just leave it there until I figured out what I wanted to do. So I did.

Turns out I parked it in the wrong place. I received the impound notice today, and I have the option of just letting the DOL just have the car and sell it off at an auction. All I have to do is pay the towing and storage fees, totaling to about $400. I called several wrecking yards, they'll give me $175 for it, but since it doesn't run I'd have to have it towed, which would just about even me out. I might come away $100 ahead, which still leaves me $300 behind. I'm just tired of dealing with it. So I may just give it to the DOL and be done, and never do it again. My old Chevy is gettin' me around great for now. Either way, this whole ordeal is coming to a close and I am sooo glad.