What does it mean to be creative? What does it mean to be systematic? Can the two ever intersect?
This has been on my mind lately. Sometimes I find myself bereft in a sea of creative thoughts and ideas, but I also find myself in a mindset of only routine and structure. More perplexing than my seemingly polar mindsets is when I am both of the mind of the artist and the accountant. This mental twilight zone is both perplexing and frankly frustrating as it might seem.
It is difficult to put into words what plagues my thought processes in the misinformed duality of the very nature of my thought. It is like listening to two very different types of music (imagine folk and rap), both of which you enjoy, but definitely want to keep in separate, soundproof containers. I guess that's what it is like, but do not hold me to that simile. Evntually it comes down to one flavor of thought dominating over anther, resulting in either creative structure or structured creativity. It is weird.
I am going to take some pictures of straight lines.
Oct 16, 2008
Oct 9, 2008
nature and such
I visited nature yesterday intending on finding civilization and came close to dying.
Yesterday was an especially sweet Thursday.
Console.Write("\n"); //That's just a little C# for you.
Thursday started an hour later with my first class being canceled, continued through a programming test that was surprisingly not as hard as I had thought. My next class was canceled, so adventure began.
I had a photography assignment in emulating some ridiculous Mormon photographer that I wrote a report on (only because it was the first book I saw on a single photographer in the library). Since the dude took a lot of photographs of railroads and such, I decided to try my luck with our local rail. I remembered there being a really cool view of the train at night from Stephanies' neighborhood, so I headed up there. Daytime did not seem quite as picturesque, so I went above the rails.
Railroads on the side of a hill are crazy looking, so I tried to get a better perspective from farther up the hill. Stopping to take pictures at different tree breaks, enabled by a newly paved private-looking road. Before I knew it, I could see miles beyond Flagstaff and had lost sight of the railroad. But before me stood a dead tree and it said, "climb me." So I did.
There was no reason for this climbing of the tree and I knew for sure that it wasn't going to be easy and surely not safe. I pulled my body up towards the sky as the tree swayed with the wind and groaned against my limbs attempts to scale its weathered appendages. Myself upon the largest eastward reaching branch, the fear of ascent quickly transformed into the fear of a rapid descent, but as I loosened my grip so did my fear loosen its grip upon me.
In this place the presence of God is undeniable. Looking at the sky, the trees, the curvature of the Earth and my presence becomes smaller with every passing moment. I do not know how long I sat fifteen feet above the mountain top, but I know for sure that I spent a day with God, in the silence, sunlight and wind.
Today, although lacking the profundity of yesterday, was, well, a day of bike. I spent most of the day doing productive (alright, semi-productive) stuff before I could resist my urge to ride no longer. I went out as nightfall came close and rode out west on 66 until my bottom bracket started sounding weird. I came back to the bottom Highland Village parking lot to do my usual trackstand cool downs. I was riding pretty hard in shorts (it's getting colder, you know) and my legs were pretty tired. For some reason I decided to try a skid stop even though I've never had that kind of faith in my ability or my bike's ability, and guess what? I did it. The first time I actually did a couple hops, but then I was doing skids like a SF MASH-er (google it). Awesome.
Oct 7, 2008
more nothing
It's just another day. A Tuesday. Another 7th of yet another month. Get my drift? I guess that's a bit depressing, but that's how it's going right now and the crazy part is I know it is all alright. I have never felt less sure of my direction in life and my motivation could not be in any weirder places right. It's not a bad thing because I know more than ever in my life that He is with me and He will not lead me astray.
Deep/vague, eh? Aboot Canadian, too? Right now I've got to work this out with the big man and others, but it's not blog-ready, yet.
On a lighter note, I broke that tenuous strand of steel called a chain not a half of a mile from my apartment, starting my day day off well (it kind of works out later). When it broke it didn't fly up into my leg as I was going too fast, so it just flew out behind me without a scratch. Later that day I bought a cheap disposable chain from Walmart only to find it's about three links to short. Because I can't find my broken chain on the road I'm going to have to figure out something until I get my 3 lb. monster tank chain (I'm not sure how much it weighs, but the links are a combined 4 mm thicker than my previous chain).
Good news. Good news? I am officially accepted into the business professional program. What is that? The BPP is the official standing that allows for the enrollment in upper division business classes. Hooray...
After some ensuing events in the day, I found myself walking my bike down the urban trail system next to McConnell Drive down to my apartment. On my mind the whole day was the passage John 4:1-26 from the small group leaders meeting and 1 Timothy 2, but as I saw a beat-up looking guy on the trail, I was thinking more along the lines of the John 4 story. Before I actually got up to him on the trail, there were a few people going straight past him, looking away, of course. This was the marginalization that I was reading about.
I said hi, but to my surprise the guy didn't even respond, which was not what I was expecting. I tried again, this time passing him on the trail, so I said, "I don't know you, but God does and he loves you." At that point I think I was just as surprised at what I just said as he was. He then responded with the usual "I'm a veteran and I'm not on good grounds with God now." After that we talked about Vietnam, alcoholism, second chances, and fixed gear bikes, we parted ways and I immediately prayed we would meet again, Larry and I.
So that's about it, just another day. When will when not matter?
Deep/vague, eh? Aboot Canadian, too? Right now I've got to work this out with the big man and others, but it's not blog-ready, yet.
On a lighter note, I broke that tenuous strand of steel called a chain not a half of a mile from my apartment, starting my day day off well (it kind of works out later). When it broke it didn't fly up into my leg as I was going too fast, so it just flew out behind me without a scratch. Later that day I bought a cheap disposable chain from Walmart only to find it's about three links to short. Because I can't find my broken chain on the road I'm going to have to figure out something until I get my 3 lb. monster tank chain (I'm not sure how much it weighs, but the links are a combined 4 mm thicker than my previous chain).
Good news. Good news? I am officially accepted into the business professional program. What is that? The BPP is the official standing that allows for the enrollment in upper division business classes. Hooray...
After some ensuing events in the day, I found myself walking my bike down the urban trail system next to McConnell Drive down to my apartment. On my mind the whole day was the passage John 4:1-26 from the small group leaders meeting and 1 Timothy 2, but as I saw a beat-up looking guy on the trail, I was thinking more along the lines of the John 4 story. Before I actually got up to him on the trail, there were a few people going straight past him, looking away, of course. This was the marginalization that I was reading about.
I said hi, but to my surprise the guy didn't even respond, which was not what I was expecting. I tried again, this time passing him on the trail, so I said, "I don't know you, but God does and he loves you." At that point I think I was just as surprised at what I just said as he was. He then responded with the usual "I'm a veteran and I'm not on good grounds with God now." After that we talked about Vietnam, alcoholism, second chances, and fixed gear bikes, we parted ways and I immediately prayed we would meet again, Larry and I.
So that's about it, just another day. When will when not matter?
Oct 6, 2008
finding these words
Now that it seems like I am writing daily, I cannot stay away from the blog. I guess when you get into the writing state of mind, it's hard to stop (although I have not finished my communications paper yet).
After praying for the people of the W.A. Franke college of business I decided I haven't had a Red Bull in at least two weeks (a long time for me), so I decided to grab one on my way home in hopes of it giving me the energy to write my paper and then move on with things.
Because I was without my Chrome bag I had to put the RB (the larger can, because I like the way it feels in my hand, because I'm a man) in my hoodie's front pocket. Forgetting almost immediately after I put the can in my pocket, I jump on the BG thrasher (my fixie) with usual zest and the RB flies out. The ensuing contact with the pavement put a nice sized hole on the bottom sidewall of the can, spraying precious nectar on the side of the convenient store. Quick thinking, I pick up the can and open the top, releasing some pressure and causing the spray to become a drizzle. Naturally, I started drinking it from the bottom, and thus I experienced my very first Red Bull mini-keg-stand.
I wouldn't say it was awesome, but not as enjoyable as sipping on a RB while doing something intellectual like reading an art book, or something crazy like trying to have a conversation with that oddly attractive German exchange student. Verdict on Red Bull mini-keg-stands: better fit for an Amp, because really, who wants to actually taste an Amp?
Disappointing bike news disguised as good bike news: I got my new 160 mm cranks today. The 160 mm cranks are a full centimeter shorter on each side than my 170 mm cranks. What that means is that I can stop worrying about pedal skipping, which was the cause for my hand wound two weeks ago. The bad news is that I forgot to measure the BCD (distance from bottom bracket to chainring bolts), so my new cranks don't work with my current and only chainring, which is 130 BCD, I think. In addition, the largest sized chainring available with 110 BCD is 48T, which is the same size as what I am using now with my 170 mm cranks, which will probably be a little small, but we'll have to see. I am really tired of spending money on my bike, but I want it to be a tight ride that I can be confident pushing to the limits. I have officially given up the dream to deck it out with bright green accents, unless a part gets damaged. Speaking of damage, over the past week I broke one side of a chain link, but I've decided to just ride the sucker until it snaps and the sharp metal whip puts a huge gash in my calf.
Do I like pain?
After praying for the people of the W.A. Franke college of business I decided I haven't had a Red Bull in at least two weeks (a long time for me), so I decided to grab one on my way home in hopes of it giving me the energy to write my paper and then move on with things.
Because I was without my Chrome bag I had to put the RB (the larger can, because I like the way it feels in my hand, because I'm a man) in my hoodie's front pocket. Forgetting almost immediately after I put the can in my pocket, I jump on the BG thrasher (my fixie) with usual zest and the RB flies out. The ensuing contact with the pavement put a nice sized hole on the bottom sidewall of the can, spraying precious nectar on the side of the convenient store. Quick thinking, I pick up the can and open the top, releasing some pressure and causing the spray to become a drizzle. Naturally, I started drinking it from the bottom, and thus I experienced my very first Red Bull mini-keg-stand.
I wouldn't say it was awesome, but not as enjoyable as sipping on a RB while doing something intellectual like reading an art book, or something crazy like trying to have a conversation with that oddly attractive German exchange student. Verdict on Red Bull mini-keg-stands: better fit for an Amp, because really, who wants to actually taste an Amp?
Disappointing bike news disguised as good bike news: I got my new 160 mm cranks today. The 160 mm cranks are a full centimeter shorter on each side than my 170 mm cranks. What that means is that I can stop worrying about pedal skipping, which was the cause for my hand wound two weeks ago. The bad news is that I forgot to measure the BCD (distance from bottom bracket to chainring bolts), so my new cranks don't work with my current and only chainring, which is 130 BCD, I think. In addition, the largest sized chainring available with 110 BCD is 48T, which is the same size as what I am using now with my 170 mm cranks, which will probably be a little small, but we'll have to see. I am really tired of spending money on my bike, but I want it to be a tight ride that I can be confident pushing to the limits. I have officially given up the dream to deck it out with bright green accents, unless a part gets damaged. Speaking of damage, over the past week I broke one side of a chain link, but I've decided to just ride the sucker until it snaps and the sharp metal whip puts a huge gash in my calf.
Do I like pain?
Oct 5, 2008
sidetrack / fun
I'm attempting to write my communications paper right now, which is going decently, but I got sidetracked by this story, which I think about time to time, but can never remember where I read it. It's a pretty humorous (in subject and style), but serious (in consequences).
I wore a helmet for a solid week a couple weeks ago and I cannot honestly say I noticed a huge difference, but I wasn't really thinking about this study when I was riding (I was thinking along mch different lines at that time), but I wouldn't doubt if it was true here in the States. I must admit that Flagstaff drivers are decently respectful to cyclists, although I'm not a very good judge, considering how I ride most of the time.
I cannot remember who I was talking to about this, but it always makes me feel bad when it comes up. It always starts with "...so you're one of those riders," and then some kind of mild, but effective admonishment. This is why:
-I pass cars on the left, right, and sometimes going the opposite direction
-I haven't stopped at a stop sign for at least three months
-to me, a red light is always a yellow light
-paint jobs weren't made to be perfect...
-hand signals are always optional
-skitching
-track stands are not optional
So I may not be the model cyclist, but my reasoning is that the world needs a few bad cyclists. Lets face it, cyclists have gotten the raw deal when it comes to roads. We get delegated to the shoulders, the gravel-covered bike lanes, and someone's idiotic idea of sideWALKS. It's got the word WALK right in the name, it's not a sideCYCLE, it's a sideWALK. Back to the point...
If every cyclist gave into all these ridiculous notions of a "second class" mode of transportation on PUBLIC roads, we would get nowhere. The world needs radical cyclists to take back the streets that we rightfully have an equal share in. I pay my taxes not to get buzzed constantly on a shoddy shoulder, but to enjoy a nice, paved road for my wheels to spin freely on. When I bend and often break the rules I not only give cyclists a bad name, I also am fighting for our existence on the same plane as the gas-guzzlers.
The other side of the argument is quite simple. I am a hazard for motorists, the cycling community, and to my own health.
Why should I wear a helmet?
I wore a helmet for a solid week a couple weeks ago and I cannot honestly say I noticed a huge difference, but I wasn't really thinking about this study when I was riding (I was thinking along mch different lines at that time), but I wouldn't doubt if it was true here in the States. I must admit that Flagstaff drivers are decently respectful to cyclists, although I'm not a very good judge, considering how I ride most of the time.
I cannot remember who I was talking to about this, but it always makes me feel bad when it comes up. It always starts with "...so you're one of those riders," and then some kind of mild, but effective admonishment. This is why:
-I pass cars on the left, right, and sometimes going the opposite direction
-I haven't stopped at a stop sign for at least three months
-to me, a red light is always a yellow light
-paint jobs weren't made to be perfect...
-hand signals are always optional
-skitching
-track stands are not optional
So I may not be the model cyclist, but my reasoning is that the world needs a few bad cyclists. Lets face it, cyclists have gotten the raw deal when it comes to roads. We get delegated to the shoulders, the gravel-covered bike lanes, and someone's idiotic idea of sideWALKS. It's got the word WALK right in the name, it's not a sideCYCLE, it's a sideWALK. Back to the point...
If every cyclist gave into all these ridiculous notions of a "second class" mode of transportation on PUBLIC roads, we would get nowhere. The world needs radical cyclists to take back the streets that we rightfully have an equal share in. I pay my taxes not to get buzzed constantly on a shoddy shoulder, but to enjoy a nice, paved road for my wheels to spin freely on. When I bend and often break the rules I not only give cyclists a bad name, I also am fighting for our existence on the same plane as the gas-guzzlers.
The other side of the argument is quite simple. I am a hazard for motorists, the cycling community, and to my own health.
Why should I wear a helmet?
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