something needs to be different.

as i sat in the cardiology ward of the u of i hospital this last week with nary a non-octogenarian in sight (myself and staff not included), i silently agreed with the nice old man with whom i'd conversed about the perks of free waiting room coffee that i am, in fact, too young to have a heart problem. it's a bit of a blow to my masculinity that the scariest time of my life was not when i got chased down a narrow trail on the edge of a cliff in italy by a wild boar. nor was it when i woke up to a bear outside my tent in the tetons. nor the countless times tornadoes have touched down within a mile of where i've sat cowering under a flight of stairs. nope, all it took was a gentle walk to the bathroom, a heart rate jump from 70 to 140, and some sincere wondering if i would ever actually catch my breath again to make me more scared than i've ever been. good thing the doctor who slapped this heart monitor on me is two hours away and clearly didn't give a damn about my well being. his "take care of yourself" as he left the exam room was the most hollow, least 'heart'felt thing i've heard in a while.

a word on health care. mind, i don't have much room to complain about our country's health care system. i have to be honest and say that in the months leading up to last november, i spent exactly zero time researching the two candidates' health care plans. i voted obama, and from the half-'heart'ed attempts i make at following current events, it seems his plan for our health is a bit of a debacle, so maybe i voted wrong. then again, all politicians are inherently corrupt anyway, leaving personal character as the only thing to base our vote upon, and in my opinion, obama is less of a shithead than mccain. which is by no means saying he's the heal-all demigod that the "leftys" would have you think. then again, all politicians are merely pawns in a grand scheme put together by the federal reserve and (arguably) the new world order to make the rich and powerful infinitely richer and more powerful, buying politicians (obama, et al.) along the way, thereby controlling the US government, thereby the world.

but ANYWAY, let's leave that sidebar where it belongs, on the side for the "crazies" to write blogs and make documentary films about that no one will ever take quite seriously. and also, i'm on a government-provided health plan anyway, so the swirling debate about lowering the cost of health care has exactly no effect on me at the moment. surgeries, tests, medications, exams? free. all it costs me is an always needed day off, a two hour drive to see dr. doesn't-give-a-damn-about-me, and your generously donated tax dollars. no, my beef isn't with the cost of health care. it's with the giving a damn, or in my case, the lack thereof. would it have killed the guy to spend an extra five minutes with me and explain what the hell i'm supposed to do with myself when my condition, which by the way, is generally suffered by 5% of the population over 65 (not exactly my age group), flares up and i start wondering if i'm gonna die? apparently it would have, cause all i got from that guy was a not-so-thinly-veiled hint that he thinks my family doctor in ames is a moron, and the aforementioned "take care of yourself." now the nurses, of course, were all totally kickass and kind and caring and the like. quick fix - fewer doctors, more nurses. put that in your plan and smoke it, obama, just like that marlboro habit that the new world order said you could keep when you gave them your soul.

meantime, is it still the general medical consensus that red wine is good for the heart? cause i'm still pretty freaked out from tonight, one glass deep, and i've a mind to kill a couple bottles. takers?

treeline

according to the lopsided clock in the kitchen of my friends the olsons' clear lake cabin, it's been 8:15 for over two years. i can't think of a better way to sum up lakeside culture than that. it's a welcome escape from the ins and outs of a typical week, with a deadline here and a schedule to keep there. i sincerely doubt that you would have an easy time finding an alarm clock that's turned on in a house that sits within 50 feet of this lake. while still remaining thoroughly plugged into modern life, living this way, even if it's only on the weekend, seems to be one of the few times we can excuse ourselves to be reduced to following our most basic human desires. you hungry? eat. tired? take a nap. need to poop? well, you should probably wait till everyone else goes out on the boat cause there's no ceiling vent in the bathroom. actually, wait. there' no ceiling at all, and the bathroom's right next to the living room where everyone's hanging out and shooting pool. so yeah, you'd better wait, cause the pine-scented lysol air freshener will totally give you away.

while lakeside culture is a quick, easy, and refreshing way to simplify your life for a couple days, the one real deal i've found for doing this is backpacking. granted, this takes a great deal more planning and prep than just throwing some clothes and a toothbrush in a bag and driving for an hour. but still, there's no better escape for me, and it's worth every second of planning and every expensive piece of gear that's necessary for such a trip. plus, you usually end up lakeside anyway, and where's the harm in kicking back next to a nameless mountain lake that's actually crystal clear? though the olsons are certainly great company and beyond great hosts, i'd choose that mountain lake anytime over the improperly named clear lake in flatland central iowa, surrounded by houses and filled with boats.

the simplicity of backpacking is beautiful. take a map, some food, water, and some shelter, put it in a pack, strap it on, and start walking. feel tired, hungry? stop. eat. set up camp. sleep. what time is it? well, the sun's setting, so it's roughly sunset. nothing can be more freeing for me than living my life for a week by the sun and my most basic desires. entire days can be decided by how many heartbeats you feel like spending that day. you look at a map, find something you want to check out, and you pack up and check it out. and the best part is how you get there. just walk. if it's too steep to make a path through the saddle between those two mountains, hey, just take the long way 'round through the valley. the sun's just come up, and we have until it goes down. there's no driving, no agonizing over what to queue up next on the ipod, and no pompous clear lake cops giving you a $100 speeding ticket 1/2 mile before you get to the lakehouse just cause you stopped paying attention to the speedometer for like a second and come on, dude, highway hypnosis is totally real, i just got off the freeway, dammit. there's just your own two feet, the pack on your back, and the trail ahead. oh, and need to poop? no problem. just walk out of sight, dig a hole, and fertilize the pines that freshen the air up here and make me so glad that my life can be simple for a time.

single white male seeking single hot female.

having recently finished my 26th orbit around the sun, i can't help but notice one thing that i've been really missing out on lately. i haven't dated in roughly four years, which i'm more than okay with, as the last two relationships i was involved in went by in a two month-long flurry of insecurity, disrespect, and all-around "badness". no, another girlfriend is about the last thing i need right now. i'm fine with watching my friends who are newly and happily married get their lives in order and buy homes, learning from the decisions they make, playing fake uncle to their children, and waiting for whoever may or may not come along for me.

however, i really want someone to make me mix cds on a regular basis, so i guess this means i should sign up for a chemistry.com profile, see who's out there , and try to force a relationship into working. hopefully whoever she is won't breathe on me after eating yogurt. actually, if she does that it's fine, as long as no cd she ever mixes for me contains a song by jack johnson, which should be legal grounds for an undisputed breakup/divorce in any relationship.

seriously, though. a few weeks ago i was riding in my brother's truck while we were on our way to visit a friend. unfortunately he's still a slave to the 20th century, with no hookup for an ipod in his vehicle and limited space for cd storage. thus we were reduced to repeatedly trying (and failing, in most cases) to figure out and sing along with the harmonies on the self-titled crosby, stills, and nash record, becoming euphorically happy to "this will be our year" by the zombies, and getting a contact high off of the grateful dead's aoxomoxoa. on our little road trip, we were both ready for a change, so i opened up the glove box and thumbed through the reserve case containing maybe 15 more albums. one of the discs sitting in the sleeved case was titled "mary 2." out of curiosity i put it in, and i suddenly felt like i was intruding on some private part of their relationship.

a mix cd can be put together for so many reasons and can act as a brilliant marker for different stages of a relationship. even as i was driving and this whole mix cd idea crossed my mind, i started mentally putting together a mix for my first date with unknown chemistry.com babe #1. here are some of the highlights of our night, which will be set to the first mix that i'll give her.

-dinner at eight, rufus wainwright - during dinner.

-drinkin' wine, beastie boys - after dinner.

-whiskey bottle, uncle tupelo - when the wine runs out.

-i want to love you in my room, irving - when the wine & whiskey have kicked in sufficiently.

-turn out the light, the new amsterdams - during frenching/heavy petting (which, by the way, is the grossest term EVER. petting should only be used in reference to cute kittens and puppies, not for talking about grabbing boobs and asses.)

-scatterbrain (as dead as leaves), radiohead - during a mid-french tangent discussing how my parenthetical thoughts are often longer than the actual thought itself.

-do it, nelly furtado - duh.

-lick it clean, refused - gross. so gross. but i couldn't resist.

-do it again, queens of the stone age - duh.

-catch my disease, ben lee - hahahahahahaha!!!!!!

-we are sleepyheads, belle and sebastian - so tired.

-good morning, girl, journey - wake up to this on ihome alarm clock.

...alternate final track: it ends tonight, all-american rejects - when i spot a jack johnson cd on the shelf when i'm looking over her shoulder during the nelly furtado track.

ain't nothing stopping me now but the leaving of it all.

get me out of here.
not really.
but kind of really.

let me clear that up. i grew up in a small town. i've done a fair amount of traveling. i've tasted the smog-soaked fruit that grows in the greener pastures of The City. said fruit was delicious, especially the loquats. except it probably gave me cancer. anyways, fruit-based analogies illustrating the pros and cons of living in a big city aside, i am catching the whole "time to move on" bug once again. and it's for real this time. seriously. no, not even kidding.

yes, the past few years i've been known to be the boy who cried "i'm moving!" only to stay put right where i am. los angeles, germany, italy, kansas city, yosemite, just to name a few of my for sure destinations. "just six more months, man, and i'm there." if you'll notice, i'm painting $700,000 houses for asshole doctors instead of roughing it at 10,000' in the tuolumne high country, slapping a mule on the ass to keep him moving with his load of supplies for the asshole doctors who are "camping" in the high sierra "campgrounds," all the while courting some tanned goddess who can flash a 5.13, run half marathons on trails at altitude without breaking a sweat and who thinks my propensity to write in runon sentences is charming.

when considering a big change of environment, i believe the whole "get me the hell outta here" mentality is horribly dangerous. everyone i've ever known who's left a place with that mindset has inevitably ended up right back where they started - dissatisfied with their circumstances, albeit in a new location. plus, i have a lot going for me here, so there's a very large part of me that thinks getting outta here, no matter what my mindset is, is a pretty bad idea. but that part of me has always had and will always have something to say to get me to keep from taking risks and making choices that may make life tough for a time, but will in the end help make me the type of person i want to be. so from now on, i will be politely asking the powers that be to "get me out of here, please, kind sirs. i believe i will benefit greatly from it, and your assistance would be much appreciated."

seriously, i can't even take the time to list everything that would be amazing about a big change for me right now. but here are a few of the biggest ones.
1) an easy escape from a black hole career in painting.
2) the ability to date someone and NOT have 10 friends who already know everything about her. come on, isn't this one of the best parts of getting into a relationship? finding out about the person slowly, then introducing them and showing them off to all your friends?
3) point number 3 is entirely contingent upon los angeles being my destination, which is uncertain at this point, but here it is. LAKERS. and easy access to kickass tacos at all times. also i have family there. but they come after the lakers and tacos.
4) uh, carpools? i don't know. it seems like that's something that city folk should be into, so i'm just practicing.

and obviously, there are plenty of things that would kill me about being away. the biggies.
1) a small, core group of friends, old and new, whom i adore and get so much strength from, would be greatly missed.
2) ditto for family.
3) i recently got puked on my a 9 month-old. this didn't gross me out. that's pretty cool. i think if i was around, baby sol could teach me a whole lot of things that would be quite beneficial in my later years when i'll potentially be creating spawn of my own. plus he and his parents are just fantastic.
4) autumn in iowa = heaven on earth.

so there it is. i'm ready and i'm not. now it all comes down to which voice inside me wins the argument. get ready, somewhere, i may be heading your way soon. and if you live in one of those somewheres, do me a favor and hook me up with some cheap rent for my broke ass.