Writing Again

I've had this blog too long to give it up. Maybe it's time to start writing again.

Photos for rally

The Church of Breath and Footsteps

Hi,

So, this blog gets neglected and often only hosts rants and worries and neurosis of my head. I don't like it all that much. Summitsunday has been fun, but I'd like to move on to something else. This is where the title of this post comes in. I'm going to start a new blog about the thoughts I have while training and being active, whatever they may be.

The story goes that I was running in the Ruby Mountains with Noah on our way out to Salt Lake City and I was having a really good time in the moment. It popped out of my mouth that this was an awesome run and great scenery. I told Noah that I felt like we were running through a Cathedral and he asked what church. We continued to run and I mulled it over in my head. And when we passed a dried up creek bed I said, "It's the Church of Breath and Footsteps" and it felt right. Noah then asked me if I do any writing, because he thought I had a writers voice, and I told him that I only write tortured poetry on occasion. But that was the seedling of an idea: to write about the process and the things I notice in training. I'll write up a better narrative of this later. Right now I just want to put it out there so I have something on paper. there are more stories like the intervals in the rain with Wilson that I want to write up, but for now, thanks for your readership. Talk to you later.

Be Brave. Live.
GusTruck

Dancing

I am so into this video. The older I get, and I'm officially a quarter century now, the less appropriate it is for me to dance. That's sad.

Congrats, we did it!

Here it is- not completely unheralded by the weather forecast and the season
and all the undergraduate credits we've passed so far:
But suddenly- a chilly wind as we walk across the quad, arms folded and coat collars up- and I can see it happening.

you- a spool of kite string,
unraveling before me without a knot fastened to the handle,
and a rope burn, in return, if grabbed a hold of.

me- a passenger in my head, wishing for a lot of things.

Our years of string wound round, unwind,
and the distance between us grows this cold April day.
The sun shines, but the grass is stiff and matted from its long winter blanket.
I thought graduation would feel different.

Ending the story

I'm beginning to become bored with #summitsunday. People know it's a thing now, which is nice, but I've got to admit that I had hoped for more conversation to come with it. It has become just another "hey! look-at-me blog." No one comments, which is what I had been hoping for. Comments are the best. They feel like a real conversation. Real-er. You know what I mean.

I have been super pleased with the reaction on instagram and the fact that it is a hashtag which people use. Nick suggested it become a coffee table book, and I like that idea. I will have to do some writing to sum it up, but it could be a project if I put in the work. At the outset it was something to do, then it became an identity thing, and now, I am looking forward to a new identity- an additional identity, because I won't stop being the person who climbs for fun, I just don't feel like creating that stuff anymore.

How do you transition gracefully?

Flailing Arms

First, I just read this blog: http://www.yourmusicisawful.com/2013/04/hey-kids-grow-a-pair-how-music-blogs-neutered-indie-rock/

Then I kind of agreed with him. I still like most of those bands he mentions, with the notably exception of Beach House. I don't get Beach House. But the point is, I decided to play something loud and fast and flail my arms around like I play guitar for a bit. I came up with this band: Heatmiser. Probably not a choice that the blogger would have liked, since Elliott Smith was the major product of this band, but they do rock hard on a lot of songs.

After a good pursing lips, flailing arms, and head bobbing session in front of the mirror I began to laugh at myself. I can't think of how I'd get away with so much fun if I had to live with other people or had a girlfriend. I'm feeling thankful for my tiny hobbit-hole house.

Soul Pancake Did It Again

They showed me a video that made me realize what they mean by "encouraging you to open your heart without feeling like an idiot".

Who hasn't done something like this? Well, probably a lot of people, since it's scary and awkward to put yourself out there like that. But I can honestly say that I've done things like this on a smaller scale, and felt that sense of stupidity he must have felt at turning away from the door. It's funny that I saw this video today because I was thinking earlier about how we over-romanticize romantic relationships in our life as is they were the only fulfilling relationships we can have. I'm going to try to be more appreciative of the genuine friendships I've made.

-GusTruck

Pursuit

"There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy, and the tired"

And suddenly you find yourself hungover in a hospital cafeteria, drinking their free coffee and eating their cheap corned beef and hash with scrambled eggs. There is 65 cents on the table because they only take cash, and you need to use the ATM to pay. Green and rosey grey tiles and the sickly smell of cleanliness. Charging your phone for free on an outlet by the wall.

It's good to be pursued, but I would add another to the list, Nick. There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy, the tired and the timid.

Remember

Here's the first entry in my Deathly Hallows Journal. It's dated June 22nd, 2012.

Try to remember this moment, though you know you won't be able to. The lapping of the flag on the flag pole, the lapping of the waves on the shore. The newly finished wooden staircase leading out to a harbor of gently rocking boats beneath the sunset. We'll leave it at that. because its enough for one person to remember as is.
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Tired and Worried

I'm tired. It's an ache in my lower back that spreads to my soul. I feel like the most basic things take me forever today. I'm too tired to sleep. too tired to write. I feel myself compressed heavily into the futon I sit at, and here I'll remain until it's dark enough outside to lie (lay? I still don't get it) on.

I think about the future and am filled with the dread of the present. How can things change if I don't change them now. I have several thoughts going through my head at the moment. Can I ski faster, is it worth it to go for it? How am I going to make enough money to pay off my tens-of-thousands of dollars of student loan/ car payment debt? Do I want to become a better writer or a better musician? Do I even have time for either if I'm going to keep skiing? What about graduate school, have you lost hope for that?

Maybe I'm just hungry. Where's the food? Oh wait, I can't afford it.

(if she reads this) I'm okay, mom. Don't worry. I'm sorry if I make you worry. I'm happy. Really, I am. I feel bad that I make you worried sometimes. I just want to be independent and stop being your burden. We're even, okay?

-Stavó

Amanda

I thought this video was beautiful, and also sad. And both of those things are things I can't say on facebook. I played Elliott Smith's Either/Or on the way home from Truckee today in front of a friend, and found myself explaining the reason I like Bright Eyes and Elliott Smith and "sad-sack" music. It's a part of me that I don't often show to people. He responded that he thought of me as a pretty happy person, and in general, I am. But it got me thinking about the filters we place on ourselves for others. Is it lying? Is it melodrama to share?

I'm going to try to expand my empathy, take more notice, write more openly.

Be Brave. Live.
-Gus

P.S. I think Amanda Palmer is a true artist. She understands the small things like gesture and expression.

The Noose

This past week has been a week of planning and scrambling. Tahoe Donner doesn't have any work for me ever since the snow to ski on melted out, and now I'm on the job hunt again. There's light on the horizon though, because I've been set up to do some property management work as an independent contractor through the graces of a friend. I've never been an independent contractor before, which is a scary and stressful thing to research. There are a lot of warnings online about making sure you know what you're getting into, and tricky tax filing requirements to take care of. So there's that. Plus, I'm always nervous when I don't have money coming in at a time when money needs to be spent on bills, rent, gas, and food.

In light of all that, I have resorted to doing what I usually do when things get stressful: sleeping a lot, training a little, and distracting myself with books, music, and crafts. The picture above is the most recent incarnation of the crafting distraction. I like knots and rope now. I didn't used to. They used to be a bit of a stressful thing themselves. Growing up in a boating family, ropes and knots were important. My dad used to try to teach me how to tie up the boat at random intervals throughout my childhood, and I never quite got it. The ropes never made sense with all that twisting and tying, and along with the overarching impatience of my father's frustration, ropes were a constant source of dread. I went with the "if you don't know a knot, tie a lot" approach; tying convoluted overhand knots that may or may not  have actually come untied again. Come to think of it, it probably runs deeper than just boats. I had a hard time learning to tie my shoes as a kid too. And with each re-teaching, my parents patience ran a little thinner- until learning those loops felt a lot like tying my own noose.

About two years ago, living on Fire Island as a camp counselor, I decided to take up knot tying again. I got myself a book and practiced in the evenings while sitting on the porch of the yacht club watching the sun set over the Great South Bay. That's where I started to really get it. There was no pressure and no hurry. Life just flowed from sunrise to sunset, everything else was just the slow island-time BS in-between.

On Writing to the Anonymous

There are drawbacks to writing a blog which you use as a springboard for some of the things floating languidly to the surface of your head: not all of them are polished. Some, in fact, are quite rotten and putrid and bloated. I'm not particularly proud of some of those ones, but they did come out of my brain; and hey, they've already been published. The second part about writing for an unknown public is that there's no small amount of anxiety toward people reading those half-formed thoughts and judging them to be disfigured, frightening, sad, slow-witted, or self-obsessed.

Here's my advice: While rowing along the tranquil lake of your consciousness, if one of my pale, misshapen thoughts should come floating water-logged to the surface of your attention, bumping into the oar of your small wooden boat; please don't hit it too harshly. Let it wash up on the beach to be gathered with the driftwood and burned.

But by some chance, should you happen upon a little water-lily of a thought; pick it up and show it to me. Bring me the comfort of knowing that once in a while- a thing I scribbled down was a comfort to you, because you weren't alone in thinking it.

Be Brave. Live.
-Gus

Sequestration frustration

This is the reason my Facebook political views section says "would like to live in a remote fishing village someday." I'm becoming a giant squid of anger.

making yourself nervous.

Do you ever get nervous with your dreams? Like when setting a goal that is a bit out of reach, how it might actually prove that you couldn't do it after-all. Just reaffirming those worries, and proving once and for all that you were a failure. God, this wasn't supposed to be one of those "I'm afraid to fail" things, but it seems to be turning into one those, doesn't it. I want Nevada to bring back their NCAA ski team, and I want to coach it. I think about it, and I start brain storming how I'd recruit and how I'd be at running practices. Would the athletes respect me as a coach? Would I have what it takes? I think it'd be a reach, but a part of me thinks I could really do it.

I also get a bit overwhelmed by the thought of starting. How do I go about contacting the booster's organization to get involved? Do they even exist anymore? That's a start. Where's the alumni association for the ski team boosters. We should have a newsletter that people subscribe to which keeps them up to date on the happenings at the club. I could write it.

just wait a second

This blog isn't dead yet.

What to write for my status

If I don't contribute to the online conversation, do you forget me? I don't find facebook interesting anymore, apart from the voyerism of enjoying other people's interaction. I want to be better at the internet, and find it a fulfilling place, but you cannot use it as a substitute. It has got to be a complement (with an E) with real world interactions that already make you happy, and will therefore make others who care for you happy. Is social media just the place we go when we have a thought but don't know who to tell it to? I don't think so. It reminds me of my "Be Brave. Live." post in which I talked about letting your thoughts be witnessed. #MLIA

That wasn't supposed to sound as vague as it did. I honestly thought "who cares if I post 'having fun isn't hard if you've got a library card"' "am I just searching for likes?" the last time I wanted to post a facebook status. Is this what it means to be an adult: to doubt? I believe I have stepped outside of "bear nature" (bonus points if you get that His Dark Materials reference.

For Big Chuck

I will remember, before I ever even met you, moving into the dorms and seeing your black Salomon nordic boots already sitting in the closet. I don't think you knew how good it felt- for a shy boy 500 miles from home- to see that, and to know that he had an instant friend for a roommate. Thank you for being my friend.

Rip Chord Relays with Charlie as my Partner

Charlie and I skiing in Aspen