![How about that Earth Day?]()
by Richard Timothy | Apr 23, 2010 | Gratefully Grateful, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
Is it wrong that for Earth Day I had a salad for lunch? I wasn’t trying to be insensitive, I was just hungry… just not terribly hungry. So it’s Earth Day. Um, go Earth! I’ve decided that for Earth Day that I would go ahead and anthropomorphize the Earth for a minute or two, which I’m pretty sure has never ever been done before. I even called my mom to make sure.
I think I’d like to start a campaign to rename planets and moons. According to NASA:
“The official names of planets and their moons are governed by an organization called the International Astronomical Union (IAU). The IAU was established in 1919. The IAU is the internationally recognized authority for assigning names to celestial bodies and any surface features on them.
The IAU recognizes that astronomy is an old science and many of its names come from long-standing traditions and/or are founded in history. With the exception of Earth, all of the planets in our solar system have names from Greek or Roman mythology. This tradition was continued when Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto were discovered in more modern times.”
In my opinion they are a little out of date. I’d like to see them with a more contemporary name. We go with names loosely based off of the 7 dwarves or possibly even the Smurfs:
- Change Mercury to Tiny
- Change Venus to Surfette… ok how about Neurotic … hmm, maybe Happy then.
- Change Earth to Lively
- Change Mars to Angry
- Change Saturn to Hoopy
- Change Uranus to Lazy
- Change Neptune to Hungry
- Change Pluto to Lonely
And for the Sun, I think we should all just call it Frank.
I’m not saying these are set in stone, except maybe the Frank thing, but it’s a smirk worth having.
The point being that the anthropomorphized Earth, let’s call her Ethel. Ethel is that one girl that you somehow had every class with that was brilliant, creative, breath taking, but has no idea how amazing she really is. Plus, she’s always really nice, except when she’s not. Also, when she’d go out with someone that was going to treat her like crap and take advantage of her, you’d always get really upset.
I like Ethel, actually I need to call it what it is and what it is, is love. I love Ethel. I can honestly say that if it was not for her I would not be here today. Yeah, I know, I could do those all day. For today though, I am going to share with you my Earth Day activity, and would invite you all try it after you finish reading today’s Earth Day Smirk.
First, go outside. Once there find a patch of grass, dirt, a tree trunk, something organic that is connected to the planet and touch it. If you are going to stand in the sand, grass, dirt, mud, whatever really. Do it barefoot. The point is establishing that connection between you and Earth… your skin against the Earth’s skin.
Then allow yourself to think about it. Don’t think about work, or dinner, or puppies, or your favorite Bee Gees song. Just take a minute to think about the Earth and the connection you are making with it at that moment. If you want to go longer than a minute, by all means take an hour if you want. Whatever is right for you is right for you.
This actually started as a result from a conversation I was having with a surfer in Washington State. He was one of those zenish, zenful… zennanite surfers? He was one of those “Surfing is Zen” people. In our conversation though, he brought up his practice of connecting to the Earth. When he was having a not so Zen day, he would go to the beach and cover himself with sand, and let that connection help him in feeling better. Does it really work? I did for him, and I’d dare say it does if you let it. Ultimately, it’s your choice.
It makes for a good Earth Day moment regardless. If you dig it, the nice thing about it is that you don’t have to wait until next year’s Earth Day to do it again. It’s all yours now, use it whenever you want. I do hope you give it a go and at least try it once. I know I appreciated it when I finally tried it. Besides if you do it barefoot there is always a chance that the grass might tickle your feet, so there is a definite chance you’ll get a giggle out of the whole thing… if you have ticklish feet that is.
Any groovy Earth Day moments you experienced this year?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Earth Day, Pluto, Zen Surfer, and feet in grass.
![How about that Earth Day?]()
by Richard Timothy | Apr 22, 2010 | Confessed Confidentially, I Just Don't Get It, I Think There's a Point, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Something I Know Nothing About
I’d like to say that this past weekend was a road trip, but I’m not sure it was, even though I spent 4 days on the road, and I don’t mean that in the Kerouacian way. It was fun. It was also very exhausting, a little uncomfortable, highly butt numbing, but still fun. I equate that to the company I was traveling with. You want some random relationship advice? When you meet someone you rather fancy and you are deciding on whether you want to take it to the next level or not, go on a road trip with them. The driving time should be a minimum of 10 hours to your destination and 10 hours back. If you still fancy them, or even mildly like them. It’s worth moving forward.
The reason I don’t really consider the trip a road trip is the adherence to a schedule and destination. I’ve always looked at road trips being 99% about the journey and 1% about the destination, which was not the case this past weekend. Our trip was predominantly about the destinations. Still there were a few things that did fall into the realm of the road trip.
I’m not sure why it is, but there are levels of trust and acceptance that happen on a trip of this caliber. These processes may seem insignificant, but there is something incredibly bonding about them. The first of these two steps happened maybe 6 to 8 hours into the trip. It was subtle and innocent and placed very properly at the end of a sentence. It was the first burp of trip.
Yeah, I don’t get it either. Being of the male persuasion, burping is a, well, a rite of manhood. Learning to burp the alphabet is how the team leader of kickball was decided during recess. He that could burp it the fastest got to pick first. I dare venture to say that this necessary function is viewed with a bit more reserve by your average woman.
It was impressive to notice the air lift in the car when the first burp accidentally escaped. It was that sigh of relief that the bond of friendship between everyone in the car had now reached the “burping is an acceptable activity to do around these people” step of road trip etiquette. Another thing I learned, in the confines of a small vehicle where the burp bonding portion of the trip is engaged, women find burping just as funny as men do. The key thing to point out is that these are unsolicited burps, meaning mostly accidental… which means people start drinking soda instead of water to make sure they have the opportunity to make their contribution to the burp bonding that is now in full stride. Cheers and congratulations are also implemented at this point. If a burp is expelled with purpose, volume, and vibrato the others, after the laughter has subsided, offer their verbal support with a “oh nice one”, “well done”, or “nice push.”
There is a natural progression to this venue of trust, openness, and bonding. There is something inherently accepting about arriving to that stage of comfort to allow your body to perform a very natural and necessary process of human existence. The pungent bodily produced aroma therapy designed for release and traditionally lit on fire by males ranging between 13 to 24 years of age is one of those defining moments in a relationship. Men commonly slip open first, but when a woman finally reaches that level where she can pass wind in front of a guy when she really has to let it out… let’s just say if you are not already living together, get ready to have that conversation.
Does that mean that windows were strategically rolled down and back up a minute later during our trip? Here’s what I can tell you about that… maybe. But, and this next bit is just for the guys, I did learn something about the female mind that I had no idea of until this trip. It’s a girl thing that I had never heard of before, but apparently, women are very conscious and weary about using your toilet early in the relationship. It‘s a very real relationship marker when a woman feels comfortable to finally use your lavatory. Who knew! Well obviously they did, but now we do too. It’s like finding out a secret that you were never supposed to know, like it was a Roswell aliens that were responsible for the assassination of JFK. Sure it’s a mute point to most men, but it’s also oddly fascinating.
I do have to say that the core road trip element of the entire trip occurred in Vegas, namely at Trader Joe’s. Trader Joe’s is the store that Whole Foods wishes it could be, but is just a little too posh and insincere to ever become. There is one key element concerning Trader Joe’s and it can be summed up in one word… wine. Cheap, yummy wine… ok so let’s make that three words.
Utah liquor laws are mostly silly, with a hint or two of mind lobotomizingly stupid. What does this mean? Easy, bootlegging! The art of smuggling alcohol across state lines to assist the never ending urge to completely fill your wine rack at home. I’m not sure why, but the true road trip framework always seems to have an illegal or walking the line of illegal element associated with it. Bootlegging wine from Nevada to Utah was our truly road trippian moment, and it was worth it! I had a glass of one tonight. Besides, it was only one case of wine. I very conservative run based on my bootlegging batting average.
The trip did result in me getting to know two friends a lot better. It was wonderful, and it left me loving my wife more that I did before we started the trip. But she’s one of those people that you can’t help but love more and more every day. So it really was a challenge or a surprise. All in all though, it was a grand and immensely successful trip.
Any road trip insights you care to share?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: road trips, burping, farting, and bootlegging.
![How about that Earth Day?]()
by Richard Timothy | Apr 15, 2010 | Gratefully Grateful, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement, Reviewed and Recommended
So yesterday, I had managed to put together a few lines for a new Smirk plus an intro and rough outline for a new book and then… I went to a Biz Divas event, with special guest star Lisa Nichols. Yes Lisa was back in town and was speaking at another of my sweetie-baby-cutie-pie-wifey-pooh’s events. The Biz Divas is Angela’s networking and education company for business women and entrepreneurs. So when faced with the option of writing about the finer points of how to best review a Hollywood movie or sharing some of the points Lisa talked about the previous evening, well, let’s just say… take it away Lisa!
See had I actually recorded any of her presentation that would have been a perfect place to put it. I did take some notes though, and I do concede that now would probably be a perfect time for those. Funny thing about perfection, it’s a little more subjective than one might think. One person’s perfection is another person’s pa… something. I was hoping for another p word, but I’m not exactly sure which one fits the way I want it do. Hmm… problem, poppycock, picture frame, ooh how about placency, well complacency. There’s even a p in it and I think it works. Actually, I think I’m looking for the opposite of that word, something like anxiety… only with a p in it. I think I’ve made my… a point.
So when arrived at the event I was a bit bothered. Not because of the event, but because of work. Ok not exactly work, but I received a phone call at work from a Crap-Magnon, which is a lot like a Cro-Magnon except that they look like humans and sound like humans when they speak, but have not evolved to the point that they know how to speak with and be human. They reek of foul, vile energy and after talking to them for about one to two minutes tops, your skin begins crawling and a trigger in your brain that goes off that repeats over and over again that this is not a good person and you need to get away from them as soon as possible.
Even an hour after the call had ended I was still bothered that I had experienced such an intense black hole of negative energy. You could say it was the energetic equivalent of accidentally stepping into a pile of Great Dane pooh. The smell follows you around for a while and it takes a little time to get all of it off. Plus, you’re going to need a water hose to do it.
The water hose arrived when I walked into the event. The room was an energetic white hole, which is the opposite of a black hole… I looked it up. When I walked into the event the room was full of friendly faces, old friends, new friends, friends that will someday be friends, but as of yet we’ve still not met. It was the radiating positive energy of people there. It was light, kind, warm, and accepting. Also, because the room was full of people like that the energy just kept growing, and expanding outward. Five minutes after walking into that room any residuals from the Crap-Magnon caller were all gone. It was a good day and it was only going to get better. So a thank you to everyone there for that, and thanks for the smiles, the hugs, and the love.
Lisa’s presentation was grand, and it was a little different than last time I saw her. This time the focus was on business and some tips, suggestions… make that steps for people to mull through and start with to assist them with their own business. I did like this concept a lot. One of the things that make us all the same is the fact that we are all so different. When you share information designed to help others it helps to have multiple choices that people can choose from, because we’re not all in the same place. One person’s “eureka” is another’s “that was so last year.” Out of the 6 steps she shared there were individuals knowing that Step 1 was just for them while others cradled Step 2 as their “Yes, YES” and so on for each step shared.
Here are the steps Lisa gave, although if you get the chance to see her present these 6 steps I highly recommend you do so. Mainly because she has a brilliant entertaining personal story to go along with each step, and the presentation is definitely going to make you feel all warm and fuzzy.
- Step 1: Begin with the end in mind. It’s good to think about the process, but it just as important to know what the end result looks like.
- Step 2: Give yourself a thousand second chances. It’s not that your idea or dream didn’t work. It just didn’t work that time. Give yourself a second change, and then another, and another, and another. You get the point.
- Step 3: Get someone who is better than you to play with you. Get a coach and/or mentor for your business (art, music, writing, whatever it is you do), to motivate and encourage you, and to remind you that they were once were you are now, and are now were you want to be.
- Step 4: Give yourself permission to have what it is you say you want. If you have no respect for millionaires and think they are all evil and bad people, how can you become one? The more successful you are the more you can share your message and help others. Begin wealthy does not make you a bad person, it only amplifies the person you are.
- Step 5: Bring your family on the journey, but don’t drag them. And don’t wait for them. It is your vision, and you have to keep it going. Either they will support you or they won’t. What you need to do is keep moving forward.
- Step 6: Move from operating like a flood light to operating like a laser. Don’t try to do everything at once. Start with one or two things and focus on those. Once you get those down and they begins running on its own (or the event you planned is over, or the song you wrote is recorded, or the book you wrote is finished), focus on your next vision, idea, product, etc.
And that’s it… six steps. Find the one that speaks to you and own it… or don’t, in the end it’s always going to be your choice and no one else.
Which one was my “ah ha!” step? I think it was a mixture of 1 and 6, but mostly 6, mainly when it comes to my writing. I have already started four novels and only one is roughly finished. 
I get to finish that first book. Proofread, edited, revised, and submitted to publishers. Then it will be time to start working on the next one. I get to be more laser focused on completely finishing my first novel instead focusing on my writing like a puppy with ADD in a bouncy ball factory. Don’t worry though, I’ll keep Smirking as long as people are willing to read and happy to laugh.
It was a good presentation and a good night. Of course when Lisa is in the room, it always is. I wish you all could have been there. But since you couldn’t I guess it’s a good thing I took notes. Yay me!
Any thoughts on today’s Smirk?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Lisa Nichols, 6 steps, rude people, hosing off shoes, and puppy with ball.
![How about that Earth Day?]()
by Richard Timothy | Apr 12, 2010 | Adolescent Shenanigans, Confessed Confidentially, I Think There's a Point, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Something to Wine About, When I Was a Kid
So I had one of my best friends visiting from out of town this weekend, which is always a grand time. We have known each other since I broke his collar bone during recess in kindergarten and we’ve just sort of been friends ever since. Look, it wasn’t my fault. Ok, it was, but it was not intentional. I was 5 and I had just recently been introduced to the magical devices known as slides. It was a big slide too. It was your standard straight run slide with an accelerator hump half way down. It was steel, shiny, and obviously a gift from the gods. Apparently Zeus had shagged one of the locals and at some point blessed that child and all generations of that child with this brilliant gift of sliding perfection.
One of the things you could always count on in kindergarten was the b-line all the kids made to that slide once the recess bell rang. Kids would like climb up the two story ladder, which was probably about 6 feet up, but when you are only half the size of an adult Ewok a ladder that high is only about three steps shy of being able to grab the moon so you can use it to play catch. This slide was Mount Olympus, and then you got to the top you would look over all of the known world.
Apparently, on the day of the event I was a little imaginationly blinded. I saw the top of the slide as the one place on the planet that had to be at, as soon as humanly possible. If I was not on the ladder platform, the world was going to explode. The off switch was on the top of the slide platform and I was the only one who knew exactly where it was. I had to save everyone on the planet. So I pushed and stepped and climbed over, around and on the other kids climbing the ladder to the top of the slide so that I could get to the top. Once there I pushed the Cancel World Destruction button and saved the planet. Then I had to slide down before the platform dissolved making it impossible for anyone to ever push the Earth Self Destruct button ever again.
As my feet hit the ground I made an explosion noise and jumped away from the slide. I was safe! But something wasn’t right. There was a congregation of kids gathered around the slide, but none of them were trying to get on the slide. No, this was a group of kids trying to get a look at something that had just happened on the ground. When I got closer to see what was happening, I was greeted with a flank of little fingers pointing at me yelling, “You did it!” This was not the “Hooray you just saved us all” meaning of “You did it!” No, this was the “It’s all your fault.” translation accompanied by the finger of blame. I had no idea what they were talking about, but I did notice there was a kid lying on the ground a little dazed and a teacher was picking him up and rushing him to the small school building we had class in.
As I faced the horde of my peers taunting me with blame, and telling me I had just pushed Anson off the top of the slide, and that my teacher was going to find out, and that I would going to have to go to the principal’s office, and was going to get a spanking, and that they were going to call my parents and tell on me, I did what any hero who had just save all those people and the Earth would do, I started crying. Then I tried running away. The problem I discovered with being 5 and trying to flee the scene of a crime is… short legs. You can run has fast as you can, but you really don’t get that far.
Because I was the unintentional assailant of the whole affair part of my punishment was to face the person I had so carelessly pushed off the slide and apologize. I still claimed that I didn’t do it. I mean I honestly did not see him. The 30 eye witnesses saying contrary sealed my blame. So when my mom took me to see Anson and told me to apologize to him, I did it. No questions asked, whether I agreed or not.
Anson responded in the only way a 5 year old wearing a new cast knows how when confronted by another kid of the same age. He handed me a marker and let me draw on his arm sling. Our parents took this as a good sign that the apology was accepted, and we, not sure what apology really meant, were way past talking about broken bones and were now discussing the finer points of spaceship themed Legos. And it just sort of kept going from there. Now, 31 years later we’re still going strong, and I always try to make sure I buy him Legos for his birthday.
So now, since we has moved to Iowa to teach 3D animation, he has a sort of yearly ceremony where, when spring break rolls around he takes advantage of the off week and pops by Utah for a week of play, party, and possible parental visits. Meaning he possibly visits his parents if there’s time and not that he visits people that might possibly be his parents. He does have a lot of family in the area, so it’s always a good trip for him to catch up with friends and family. During this time my brother and I will always take at least one day (sometimes more) off of work to hang out and catch up.
There are always three things that always happen when he visits. One is that we go out and eat epic amounts of sushi for dinner one of the nights he in town. Second, we always watch at least one MST (or MST subsidiary). And last, we have a party. As it worked out, we were having the monthly wine party the same Saturday that he was going to be in town. Granted it worked out that way because we planned it that way, but when given the opportunity to go with a “happenstance” explanation vs. a “we planned it that way” explanation, I’m usually going to go with the “and it just so happened that…” version of the story.
The Anson wine party was brilliant, and I’m tickled with the new people that are becoming more regular wine party attendees. Although, I did experience a wine party first this past party. We actually had some wine left over. In the four or five years we’ve been doing it, it’s never happened. I mean sure there have been cases were there was one or two half bottles left by the time people were sober enough to drive home. But as it turned out, we had 5 unopened bottles left! When I got up Sunday morning I walked downstairs and saw the dinner table covered with wine bottles. Then, I noticed it. There was only one at first, but as I started examining the collection of empty bottles I found that there were 2, no 3, no 4, no 5… yes 5! There were 5 bottles of unopened wine. Ha ha ha. (Count von Count would be so proud.)
Traditionally the recommendation for our wine party is to bring a side dish to share and bottle of wine for people to try. This applies to couples and singles, meaning that if you come as a couple you bring a bottle and if you come alone you bring a bottle. What happened is that people were in a “let’s try wine” mood. Instead of one bottle per couple, we had each person bring a bottle. We even had one friend bring three bottles just from him, the little sweetheart. I tried too. We were all for trying every wine that graced our presence that evening, but I’ll tell you, after 16 bottles of wine, and one small bottle of 12 year old scotch we reached a universal “I’m done” point in the evening 5 bottle shy of completion.
As for the wine of the month, I believe I’m going to have to go with the 2007 Trapiche Broquel Malbec, although we did have a 2008 there as well. Both were yummy, but if given the choice, I recommend the 2007 over the 2008. It’s an Argentinean red wine that upon the first sip, asks your mouth if you’d like to dance the tango. I recommend that you speak for your mouth when this happens by nodding yes and then take another sip. After the third swallow of this wine your tongue will stop prancing around your mouth and begin to get the hang of the rhythm the wine and tongue need to make together to fully enjoy all of the flavors and depth that this wine brings to the table. At only $14 a bottle, it’s a fabulous wine for a very reasonable price.
I did have one kind of, sort of epiphany like thought during the night. One friend brought me a wine in hopes that I could save it. He claimed it was one of the worst wines he has ever tasted, ass wine if you will, and wanted it out of his house forever. He thought it was sacrilege to just dump it. So he was hoping I could work some of my drink mixing magic and get it to a point where people might actually enjoy drinking it. Well I do love a good challenge and after 2 lemons, some strawberries and pineapple, a hint of honey, and a handful of a cinnamon and sugar the wine abomination did become quite drinkable, in a “no too bad” kind of way.
Well when my little sister arrived someone handed her a wine glass that had a tiny bit of the pre-surgery ass wine. Her face, after tasting the wine, announced to everyone in the house that she agreed that it was one of the worst wines every made. The thing was that every other wine she tried that night was “fabulous” according to her. So this was my though, if you are sharing wine with someone who is trying to work their way up to drinking and appreciating more wine, a tiny sample of ass wine might be helpful. For the sheer fact that anything else you try the rest of the night is going to be so monumentally better that you sort of shock a struggling palate into appreciation. I think it could work, then again it just might be one of the “seems like a good idea at the time” ideas, and we all know how those usually end.
As with all my wine reviews, what are some of your wine suggestions? I’d love to hear them… the good I mean. Thanks.
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Trapiche Broquel Malbec 07, playground slide, running kid, save the world, broken collarbone, bad taste face, and bottles of wine.
![How about that Earth Day?]()
by Richard Timothy | Apr 9, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, Life Characters, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, When I Was a Kid
This story starts as all stories on this subject start… with good intentions followed by a series of bad choices. At least I think that’s how it started. While going to college in Powell, Wyoming I was without a car… actually I started with a car, but it died about 30 miles from campus. And when I say died, I mean dead died, like never coming back dead… like Steve Buscemi at the end of Fargo not coming back dead.
My first car was a 1971 Chevrolet Impala. Believe me there is no need to be impressed. The car cost me $50 dollars and it was a vomit aqua color of blue and green and rust all mixed together. The inside was gutted so that there was not padding or covering of any kind on the inside roof of the car. And it burned oil. It burned oil like a Brit drinks gin, like a vegan eats tofu, like an alien probes a… abductees. Yeah it burned a lot of oil. We named it the Lucky Bastard mainly because it had actually made it to California and back when the previous owner, my friend Ryan, felt compelled to learn to surf before heading to the UK for a few years. It was a miracle that the car made the round trip and we still running for that matter.
As I was driving to Powell I was traveling along a windy canyon road and found myself stuck between a Pratchett Troll and a dab spilled soy sauce on a white shirt (a rock and a hard spot). There was a large yet motionless exhaust pipe in the middle of my side of the road. There was a car traveling in towards me in the opposite lane and a cliff with at least a 50 to 75 foot drop-off to my right. So I took the only logical option I had. I slowed down as much as I could and ran over that exhaust pipe. This resulted in a very large crunching noise the emitted from under my car. It sounded a little like two Transformers making out. So when I found a turn off point I pulled over and checked out the car.
The back seat was so full that I could not see a thing out of the back window such had a billowing cloud of white smoke coming from my car. I couldn’t really see a problem, but when it comes to a working knowledge of car related things, well, I can usually identify the color, but that’s about as far as I usually get. Long story short, the crunch I heard was the exhaust pipe knocking a dime sized hole in my oil pan. It only took 20 more miles before all the oil had run out and the engine seized, never to be started again. The tow man did take pity on me and was kind enough to town to Powell even though we were already in a Cody (a town about 30 miles away from Powell).
Hence, this is how I arrived in Powell with a car and without any transportation. So when a friend told me that there was a co-op in Billings, Montana (a city about an hour and a half from Powell) that was selling some rental mountain bikes for about $200. Sure it was four times more than I paid for my car, but it was also going to be 10 time more reliable. They were that year’s model and they had been well taken care of and kept up. I was in, I just needed to find a way to get there and bring one back with me.
Turned out that Carrot Jim and a few other people were heading up to Billings that Saturday and were happy to have me join the trip and help donate to the fill the tank with gas fund. We went to the co-op first and picked up the bike with no troubles to speak of. It was a mountain bike with front shocks and it was just my side. Carrot Jim even had a bike rack on the top of his Jeep. It was one of those older model station wagon style Jeeps. I know there’s a name for them, just don’t care enough to look it up.
Now as I was test driving the bike and taking care of the purchase and all, some of the people in the Jeep thing had… hmm, let’s go with they were suffering from glaucoma and took some time to ingest some air that just so happened to be filled with a little HC accented T. I mean I know one of the side effects is poor short term memory, but what happened next was… I really just couldn’t believe it.
Once we had attached the bike to the roof of the Jeep, most of the people in the car were expressing an intense desire to get something to eat, and Jim needed some carrots. His backup bag was now empty. He suggested a place in the downtown area that had great coffee and good food. It was unanimous and as short while later we were in the heart of downtown Billings. Jim mentioned that there was parking lot close to the café that we could park at. What he failed to mention was that it was an indoor parking lot. So as he pulled into the place I spoke up from the back seat, “Dude, you have a bike on the roof of your car!”
This received with a few giggles and Jim continued pulling into the parking building. I tried again, “Jim! There’s a bi….”
And I was interrupted by a very loud crash, bang, boom, and scraping sound from the roof of Jim’s car. He slammed on the breaks and actually said, “I thought you were kidding!” as he jumped out of the Jeep so we could check the damages. The front fork shocks were dead, but they are what saved the frame of the bike. The seat had caught one of the low cross ceiling beams and the shocks were pulled out of their tubes and stretching out the springs.
I was baffled when I got out of the Jeep. He thought I was kidding? What? Why… How is that even possible? He helped me attached it to the roof of his car less than twenty minutes ago. I mean… seriously! All I could figure is that it must have been some amazing pot, because that much memory loss over just a short time and distance was simply dumbfounding… and commendable if you think about it. I mean the fact that most of them graduated, well done indeed.
It was clear that Jim didn’t care about my bike at this point, we was more concerned about any damage to his Jeep. Other than a small dent or two there was no real damage. I on the other hand was going to need to get new front shocks, which meant that my just bike was about to double in price. New shocks were going to cost as much as I had just spent on the whole bike, which I didn’t have. Yeah I was pissed at the time, but I would imagine most people in my situation would be.
Jim sensed this and to help smooth things out promised to pay for the new shocks, all the while apologizing profusely. The unfortunate part was that the reality was that we were both broke college students, so when I finally got the bike fixed and called while with the bill, he was honest and told me he would be paying it. He didn’t have any money to do so. So I responded like the young 20 year old I was who was also a broke college student and just used their portion of the rent to get their bike fixed because they were told they’d get the money for it. I started swearing at him and doing my best to point out every possible flaw I could think of about him in regards to his failure as a human being.
Sure I felt bad afterwords, and I know he felt bad about it as well, but I was stuck in victim mode and was angry and chose to be mean and unforgiving. Youth can do that to you sometimes. So we stayed clear of each other after that. We wouldn’t even acknowledge one another at parties, or art shows, or in classes we had together. It was too bad too, and in the scheme of things, utterly pointless.
I think the saddest thing was that even after 13+ years of this event transpiring, one of the first things Jim said to me when we reconnected on Facebook was that he was a little worried about accepting my friend request and that he had a little anxiety when he saw my name on the friend request because of the bad way things ended between us. That’s way too long to be carrying around that type of bad energy. It’s so bad for you on so many levels. We’ve since cleared away the any residual negative waves between us. I don’t know if we’ll get any further than old college acquaintances, but even if that’s where we end up, it’s profoundly better than it was for all those years. And based on that alone I think it’s a rather happy ending to an unfortunate event. Besides, the mental image of watching a Jeep drive into an indoor parking lot with a bike on the top of it is going to keep putting a smile on my face until the day I die.
What are your thoughts?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: 1971 Impala, tow truck, mountain bike, bike rack, apologize, and shaking hands.
![How about that Earth Day?]()
by Richard Timothy | Apr 8, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, Life Characters, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
College is one of those things that will always mean something to those that went to college. What does it mean? Honestly, it just means that they went to college. For some people I know, college was a wise choice. I, for one, appreciate knowing that my dentist went to college and got a degree in the art of wielding tools of oral torture. Just thing of how unsettling it would be to walk into a dentist’s office and find him reading a “Cavity Drilling for Dummies” book just before you are to have a cavity filled that appointment.
I also need to point out that college, for a lot of people, is one of the most expensive private party clubs they will ever join. I know I’m still paying off the cover charge on my last collegiate endeavor. There is a universal conversation that all college goers have about 2 days after graduating or leaving for good, and that is, “Do I have to start paying of my student load right now, or in like a week or two?”
In my case, I went to college twice, once for art and once in hopes of getting a degree that could help me get a job afterward. The art school I went to was a touch odd on a few levels. For one thing, it was a school in Wyoming that was known for its arts programs. I should state that it was only known for this within the state of Wyoming, no one had any idea this was even possible. Besides, if you know anything about Wyoming you know that this equates to about 12 people actually knowing about this school. Ok so maybe there were a few more than 12, the point being that there just aren’t that many of us. In fact, if there were a Wyoming species of human, I’m pretty sure we’d be on the endangered species list.
Another oddity about the school is that it was also an agricultural school, for farming, and horses, and rodeo, and other cowboy and farmer like skills. Ok that’s actually more of an expectation instead of an oddity, but it did mean that about 90% of the students were either art majors or agricultural majors, and that does make is a touch odd as far as Wyoming colleges goes Other than the initial surprise that Wyoming actually has colleges.
The nice thing about being an art student is that, traditionally speaking, artists are rather odd ducks. If there is one thing I learned from the ugly duckling story it’s that odd ducks need to stay together … oh and don’t be a mean bastard. I’m pretty sure that was one of the lessons in that book.
It was during this attempt at being an art student that I met the lad I want to talk about today. His name was Jim, but we called him Carrot Jim. And before he was Carrot Jim he was Banana Jim. I wish I could say that it was because he was a vegetarian, but I don’t think he was. The banana name came from his bananas… the ones in his sketchbook. You know, the more I keep talking about this the more I think I’m going to get in trouble. See Jim was one of those artists that always had his sketchbook out and was working on a drawing. It was quite inspiring really.
Now if there is one thing you can count on from an artist it’s that they have phases. Picasso has his Blue phase, Monet has his water lilies phase, Pollock has his splashy-splashy dribble-dribble phase, and Jim, well, Jim had his Banana phase. He was always drawing them… and for the record, when I say banana I mean that strictly in the fruit that The Librarian of the Unseen University loved to eat. Besides Jim’s banana obsession, the other thing that set him apart from the other art students was his glasses. They were of the Buddy Holly genre of eye ware and you usually saw those dark horn rim frames before you saw Jim.
Jim belonged of the pasty pigment phylum of man and because of that his eye glasses were one of his more distinguishing physical identifiers. Perhaps this is what started the carrot project, I’m honestly not sure, but what I can tell you is this, college is a time to experiment and try new things just for the sake of trying it. Jim was no different.
It started out as one of those “You know what I heard” conversations where someone actually said, “You know what I heard? I heard that if you eat a bunch of carrots it will eventually turn your skin orange.” This was followed by a barrage of, “gnut agnaa”, which can be loosely translated to mean, “oh no it won’t.” There was however one “Really!” in the bunch. Maybe it was a result of being too pasty for too long. Maybe it was because he wanted to be the same color as Alan Steel in Hercules Against the Moon Men. Then again, knowing Jim, he just wanted to see if it could be done.
And that was the birth of Carrot Jim. For the next few months, for every meal, breakfast, lunch, and dinner Jim ate carrots. Not just a few carrots, but a cafeteria tray half full of carrots. He did eat other things and as I recall was a big fan of coffee, but mostly, he ate carrots. Now perhaps it’s just me, but attempting to change your skin color through mass consumption of carrots would fall under the “seemed like a good idea at the time” category of ideas, which usually translates at some later point to “that really wasn’t a very good idea, why didn’t you “friends” try to stop me.”
And why is it when a friend makes a poor choice and then later reviews it, you suddenly become a “friend” as opposed to a friend, when they talk about your lack of stopping them from the choice they made. Yeah, and they always raise both hands, doing that little bunny ear sign in each hand when the say friend just to make sure you know the word is housed in quotations. 
This is when you attempt to explain that you, on numerous occasions, did attempt to defer them by saying things like, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” To which you always received trite and unimaginative response, “Well I’m not you.” In most cases people are going to do what they want, regardless what friends and family tell them to do. So stop trying to blame your “friends” for your choices. Case in point, I blame no one but myself for that six month period I went through that I tried to mimic Robert Smith’s hairdo. And you want to know why I did it? Easy, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Still, after about a month of mass carrot consumption Jim slowly started to tint orange, and with each addition week the more pigmently altered he became. I mean sure he might have been a little pasty, but at least it was a normal color that didn’t both confuse and detour the opposite sex, or whichever sex you fancy. Watching Jim turn orange, albeit entertaining, was in the end rather unfortunate. He did stand out in a crowd thought, and the ladies did notice him, it’s just none were interested in “getting a cup of coffee” with Carrot Jim. I think the biggest problem was that orange just wasn’t his color. Poor guy. Although, regardless of anything else that could be said about this experiment, I’m sure we can all agree on one thing… at least the lad was regular.
Jim couldn’t stop either, the carrots I mean. He said he had become addicted to them and could not stop eating them… so I slapped him, threw some milk in his face and yelled, “The power of beef compels you.” while hitting him with a half eater hamburger paddy. Ok, maybe not, but we did talk to him about a possible intervention. Eventually he began to cut back. I’m not sure he ever quit completely, but his skin did eventually return to its natural shade.
My friendship with Jim ended as most college friendships end, we graduated and moved on. Sadly there were some uncomfortable feelings at the end, which at the time was a big deal. In your early twenties there are a lot of big things that turn out to be not that important at all. And now, it just makes for a good story that has been known to get a laugh from time to time. I’ll have to tell you about it sometime.
Although, thanks to the reconnectability magic of Facebook, I’ve since caught up with Carrot Jim. He’s just Jim now and turns out he stuck with his art, and fortunately for everyone, he got past his Banana phase. From what I’ve seen of his recent work, he’s become a rather fine artist.
So, any of you have any friends that tried and succeeded in turning themselves a different color?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: college, sketching in sketchbook, baby carrots, finger quotes, and intervention.
Is it wrong that for Earth Day I had a salad for lunch? I wasn’t trying to be insensitive, I was just hungry… just not terribly hungry. So it’s Earth Day. Um, go Earth! I’ve decided that for Earth Day that I would go ahead and anthropomorphize the Earth for a minute or two, which I’m pretty sure has never ever been done before. I even called my mom to make sure.
This actually started as a result from a conversation I was having with a surfer in Washington State. He was one of those zenish, zenful… zennanite surfers? He was one of those “Surfing is Zen” people. In our conversation though, he brought up his practice of connecting to the Earth. When he was having a not so Zen day, he would go to the beach and cover himself with sand, and let that connection help him in feeling better. Does it really work? I did for him, and I’d dare say it does if you let it. Ultimately, it’s your choice.
