The Calm

This is the last weekday before classes, and now I'm about to check on the apartment that I'm going to be living in for the next two years. (When I arranged to "check-in" a couple of days ago, the student employee in the apartment office said to a fellow employee that she wondered if it would be ready for the 26th. Since it is a small office, I happened to overhear.) I'm hoping that there will not be any kind of problem, especially seeing as how I have friends and family coming from Big City to help me pack. This weekend is my planned day to move. Here's hoping everything works out because Monday morning at 9:00 a.m. I officially kick off my graduate career.

Dickinson and Deadlines

Today has been at least as busy as yesterday, and with my planned trip to Big City tonight, the day is about to get a lot busier. I still haven't finished packing, but that has dropped to my second or third priority. I'm hoping that I'll be able to rope friends and family into insanity known as packing. The main project, the one that has consumed most of the energy I regularly devote to worrying, concerns a 3-5 page paper that I'll have to write by 2:00 p.m. Tuesday concerning my choice of one of five given poems by Emily Dickinson. I also have to figure out what classes I'm going to registering for by tomorrow. The meeting I had with my graduate advisor cleared up some problems, but now that I have a clearer idea of what I'm doing, it has created new ones. I hope I don't forget anything.

Discombobulatory

Alas, here it is Wednesday and I haven't made many posts here in the cellar lately. However, I expect that to change somewhat now that I'm in school again and have more regular access to a computer.

I must say that the last few days at my new grad. school have been nothing short of bewildering. Among the many academic requirements to remember, the forms to fill out, the professors to meet, and the meetings to attend (there's a composition conference that's currently in session), I am still just figuring out what I'm supposed to be doing at any given moment and how I'm going to move this weekend. It has been a struggle. Many of my things remain unpacked. In true college student fashion, I intend to throw out most of what I can. Rather than receive the general and congenial welcome that I had initially expected, especially considering the apparently misleading term of "welcome week," I now feel that the experience can be summarized as "sink or swim." I've only been keeping my head above water for the last few days.

Closer Inspection

I forgot to mention the other day that, among my adventures in travel, I took the greyhound bus from the Big City back to my small home town. The reason for this was my car needed extensive repairs despite my need to be elsewhere; so while the car got what it needed, I did too. And earlier I had already mentioned that I was pulled aside in John Wayne Airport so a security person could wave a wand over my body, not to find contraband or explosives so much as to alert half of the people in the airport to begin staring at me with wide-eyed suspicion. "Lookit here folks," the arm waving seemed to say, "this here is not just your average scruffy looking guy, he just might be a genuine scary person. Be sure to keep an eye on him in the plane." Again, decidedly not a terrorist, I took it all in stride and good humor. After all, I want to be as safe as the next person, yet I think that they could figure out a way to examine people in this manner more discreetly. I imagine that if I had the slightest tint of color to my skin, the experience would have been decisively unpleasant rather than mildly amusing.

The experience was again repeated at the bus station, but with a twist. This time, rather than single me out, the security personnel examined everyone in this way. On my earlier bus trip a week before, there was no examination at all - the bus driver didn't even sell me a ticket, he said that I could pay for it once I arrived in Big City. If I had been more daring and less conscientious, I might have gotten away without paying at all. (Although, being a classic good guy, I paid in full.) While I was able to carry my small pocket knife with me on the first trip, the security personnel took it away from me on my second. It irks me a little, even though they did offer to ship it to me for about two dollars; of course, only after I was already in line.

I can't help but think that there are some class issues at work here. Bus travel, the mode of transportation for the very poor, seems to require (at least occasionally) inspections of everyone. I know that the buzzer for the airport metal detector went off when I walked through it, still I have yet to see a "business man" being examined like I had been. Maybe I would have to travel a lot more to see that happen, or maybe those business guys are incredibly careful about what they carry, still I can't help feel a little singled out as individual at the airport and then singled out as a class member at the bus station.

Bemused in California

So ends my trip to southern California - Orange County to be exact. I must admit, having lived in the Pacific northwest for several years, there are some differences I noted, the biggest of which is the amount of water people use considering the inescapable fact that the place is geographically a desert. Almost every home I saw from the plane has a pool, and a nice one too.

(Speaking of the plane, I was only pulled aside once to have the security personnel examine everything in my carry-on and then promptly parade me through to a special area where they used "shoe sniffers" and their "magic detector wand" to. . . well, I'll just leave to rest to your imagination. Needless to say, although I might look scruffy and disheveled for a man of thirtysomething, I'm decidedly not a terrorist.)

One of the places we visited, besides seeing relatives, was Knotts Berry Farm. Overall, I must admit to liking the place, especially since we got in for half price; and as it was the off season, there were absolutely no lines. My favorite ride was the log ride and one of the roller coasters, but every ride is way too short which I guess is the price for being extremely popular. The apparent emphasis is to get as many people through the ride as quickly as possible.

There is a western theme to a large part of the park, and "the mystery lodge" ride is offensive in that it appears to make the indigenous people of the northwest coast of north america both an entertainment and a exhibit, which theoretically could work I suppose, but the tone was all wrong and the "makeup" for the main performer was horrible. It presents a people as a spectacle, almost as if they were zoo animals.

There is much more to tell, but time is still short, and I still have to move. I need to pack, change my address, and all of that. I did it for my girlfriend about a month ago. Now I need to do it for myself.

Abandonment

It has been awhile, so I figured that I should post something to explain how I haven't abandoned my blog. I still intend to keep it updated, but I've got some big plans over the next couple of weeks: moving, a week long trip to California, and starting grad. school. Therefore, if you don't see any posts, it doesn' mean that there won't be any in the future. Again, there are several things that have happened that are worth writing about, but I can't fit them in here now with the time available.

Kaboom!

After spending a night sleeping on the couch and waking up this morning, I spent a couple of hours wasting time watching the movie "Airport," and then "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen," a film directed by Terry Gilliam. I confess to liking both of them, each a little campy, but especially the second. Gilliam is a true visual artist, whereas most other directors have become mere marketers selling a product they themselves don't believe in.

As I get older, the type of movies that exicted me before are having less of an impact. Action movies like Highlander and The Terminator were among my favorites, something I now chalk up to aggressive teenage hormones. I've significantly mellowed, so while I still can enjoy a post-apocalyptic action fest on a certain level, I'm more interested in the originality of an idea or presentation. The fifth time you've seen a mode of transportation mechanically blow up, from firetruck to streetcar, you get a little bored with the idea.

I remember watching a true cult classic - "C.C. and Company" - latenight at 2:00 a.m. several years ago. (Once movies are older than twenty years or so, you can ignore really bad plots and just focus on how times and attitudes have changed.) The story, which reminded me of "Easy Rider," was mildly interesting in a boring sort of way, focusing, as the hero's name would imply - "C.C. Ryder" - on motorcycles. I was able to recognize it as an action movie, albeit without much action. There was an easily identifiable hero rebelling against "the man," "society," or "whatever you got," who, of course, had an attractive girlfriend. Everything appeared to be building up a final confrontation between the hero and a large and angry motorcycle gang. When the climax of that last confrontation occurred, there was one explosion. One. And a very small one at that. I remember thinking - "that's it?" I'd been programmed by the summer blockbusters to expect bigger explosions, and a lot more of them. Still, I had to realize that people during that time must have thought it somewhat exciting, and maybe even a little shocking. (Although I've read critics had panned the movie even back then.) I guess I've been inoculated against poor action movies. I've built up a type of mental resistance because essentially they're all the same. As an overall group, I believe we've all become a little bored with this sort of movie, but as long as there are still teenagers struggling with their own aggressive hormones, and who also have money to burn, there will continue to be a KABOOM! in the summer movies.

Heat

It has been really hot during the last few days, especially considering that it is now september and things should be cooling off in this part of the country. The heat has been partially responsible for the general malaise I've been feeling over the last two days. While things around me seem to be speeding up (what with my plans to move and all combined with finishing the final tasks at my summer job), I've been personally slowing down - like taking naps and watching television. No-one really likes change when they are relatively comfortable, and it has been a reluctant realization on my part that compels me to admit that I really don't like change, even when I'm uncomfortable. Still, I will force myself forward; I just hope it won't take to heavy a toll.