Remorse

I feel bad for President Bush. I had been thinking he was an idiot for the longest time, but I hadn't given him the time of day. It was easier for me to believe my critic friends and my cynical opinion. When I heard him discuss the price of gas possibly jumping up, he managed to put together a decent on-the-spot speech. It's hard to speak in public, especially for those of us who don't have to be in front of others 24-hours a day for a job. I can somewhat sympathize with his stammering over words and not being an expert in everything all the time. It's tough. I have to be an all-knowing answerer on all topics about everything from all over the world... a foreigner is a foreigner... I should know about "all that stuff."

He has matured, the grey hair reminds me of the madness after Clinton's 8-year stint. Just a lot of stress and sighing... president's got to be a difficult job. I liked hearing Bush's strong opinions, even after he's been made out to look like a liar and a cheater. He has a clear goal, based on his economic understanding and ideology. It is certainly one-sided, but at least its clear. And his intentions are truly paved with the gold (that leads to hell). But he is not evil... At least he is consistent. And strong. And, from what I understand about stupid Democratic-party American Idol contests... Bush's stubborn close-mindedness is at least something to admire for its steady pace.

I understand his long vacations at his ranch. We all need that privacy, when we have so many eyes on us. He has billions of pairs, whereas I only have 2500 pairs of eyes of students and teachers... and every person who I walk/ride by o the streets, everyday.

I sympathize with the (thank you Falkner) story created by this idiot, because he is not evil. He is just human. Attempting to strengthen one's own country at the expense of others is the way it's done these day (however, wrong it may be). In this he has made the USA look rather selfish in the eyes of the world... but he isn't concerned with the world, just his country. The world didn't elect him, his country did. Its much easier to critique than to empathize. But he is a human being with a rough job... and, for (225) years the spoils have gone with the victors... so this is really nothing new.

(I wanted to run a comparison to Adolf Hitler here based on my studying WWII in depth at university, but the analogy isn't quite comparable. I do, however, want to point out that I the thought of parallels between Hitler and Bush have run through my mind.)

So, while I am appalled by the last eight years of American... NO, not "American," as they say in Japan, but US history, I know that it is a story of real human (created) drama. I know that citizens "re-elected" him or sat idly by while his cohorts bypassed Democracy in lieu of money... or was that the first election? We watched twice, as Democracy was IGNORED and did nothing. Fuck US (this is not an abbreviation). This means you and me, us... citizens of the U.S. Disgraceful. This eight years can be a reflection for future generations of how humans managed to deceive themselves. Blame Bush? Nope, he is the perfect reflection of the horrible people that we are in the US (easy to play on U.S. and to capitalize "us"). I am guilty of perpetuating this; I didn't speak up as much as I should have. WE blew it. A great record of human history. I feel bad that President Bush has to have his face on it, but I think that has caused all of the grey hair. I feel bad for him, like I feel bad for myself for just being in the wrong time (in history) at the right place (in history).

But I cannot, no matter how much I appreciate his consistency or martyrdom, defend or condone the war he created. To destroy human conventions is borderline bad, but to destroy human life is sincerely shameful.

On Blogging in this post

On Blogging in this post

I want to put it out there:

Even if there is nothing to say I still want to put in my time on the keyboard and in front of the screen on the computer in my apartment on the second floor of a building in Kamitsu town, a windy-streeted neighborhood of hard concrete laid on top of pure dirt in the city of Kurume on this very cold and sunny day of our LWord in Western Japan; for I turned on the blasted machine in hopes of looking onwards and inward.

How...?

How about a new post?

How about that for a handsome young man?

How about this shot of Daisen's backside? (where the slopes are!)
How about this picture from the top of Daisen overlooking the Japan Sea?
How about this great group shot (sans one) of Kurume Champion Ski club?

How about this picture of the front of the volcano (extinct?) Daisen?

How about my back being super sore? How about being sick from what I thought was food poisoning? How about five other members of the ski club suffering from the same virus, almost in-synch? How about my having an IV drip for an hour and a half today? How about three different opinions from three different doctors in three days? How about enough medicine to remedy the gastro-intestinal tracks of four beluga and seven humpback whales?

Yes, how about that?

Fear

I am most scared of stopping. Of not continuing. The inability to move paralyzes me. I have to ride my bike to work, to the store to go anywhere. If I cant ride my bike, I'll have to walk-- at least far enough to catch a bus... and then walk from there. Cabs everywhere is unreasonable for this town and pricey at that. BUT, it is all still liveable.

The inability to move is a paralyzing feeling (creatively and in actuality, true). That would mean no snowboarding, no basketball, no soccer, no well, anything that I do. No living, in essence.

When I had inflamed knees in Argentina last year, I couldnt go anywhere. I stayed put for two weeks longer than normal at my campground. And then I was forced to leave because I had only $11. In order to get on with it (three days of hiking with no facilities), I had to space out my emergency vicodin and take advil sparingly. Continued the adventure and for another month this injury slowed me down a lot. But I made it through.

So, when I hit the deck on the basketball court last weekend with a bizarre sensation in my knee I just stopped. There was nothing I could do besides wait, evaluate the pain and slowly move myself off the court without exacerbating anything. After some time on the side, I got up and walked over to the sideline. I immediately and carefully dressed and called my evening short, 30 minutes early.

I am beginning to feel better, but its tough because I have to ride my bike everyday, for one thing or another. So total rest (best medicine) is impossible. And the cold is raping its way into my joints. So, its not an easy task. This is not asking you to feel bad or empathy or sympathy. This is my coming to terms with my lifestyle. This is the mandatory, double-edged sword that I have to use. I have to be active and moving and athletic as often as I can. But that lifestyle is conducive to injury. Accidents do happen and intentional things happen too. Can that hold me back? The fear of not being able to move, to live, to be?

It means that I won't do anything because I am afraid that my participation could prevent me from participating in the future, upon injury. That is impossible.

Gotta be in every moment of particpation. I have to be there when I am actually there. And I have to accept the potential danger of my lifestyle. And go from there. Accepting what is, seems to be a great way to move on, from irritations and great things, from life-changing positives to catastrophic depression. Accepting what is. Taking the precautions available and go with what is presented at the time.

When I hit the deck, I saw my future snowboarding, diving, backpacking trips dwindle.... But those are the future and in that present moment, all I could do was laugh at myself for not even saving the ball from going out of bounds. I got injured and didnt make the play. I laughed and reminded myself to get the next one... just a bit more carefully.

If I ever, EVER don't go for it... if I ever, EVER hold back because of unforessen dangers (not like cliffs, silly) then do me a favor and put a bullet in my knee, then in my head. Or, be a nice friend and a swift kick to the ass will do it too!

the journaling packrat

The best part about being a packrat is keeping things from years past.

The best part about journaling is writing the moment in the hopes of being in it more.

The best part about being a journaling packrat is having the ability to look at a though from five years ago... and realize that it is the exact same phrase that I wrote in a journal today!

thanks for telling me

Thanks for communicating subconsciously... PROCEED, no precede... there goes my English... I feel like an idiot for writing the wrong thing.