#415- College Degree

     Without a doubt, this blog, and the strange experiences it documents, are my way of making up for my false-start into adulthood. When I wrote my first entry I was a nineteen year old college dropout, a dishwasher working every other weekend, and a mostly nocturnal hermit that would only leave his room for some sort of microwavable entree. The last nine years have been spent with the hope of making up for wasted time, lessons and experiences. This past week, I made some real progress towards that goal. I got my first degree.

     My first stint at college lasted such a short time, it left me rather traumatized about the whole thing. If someone told me to give something a college try I'd be like "So you want me to show up for like a week, fall asleep a couple times, and rack up thousands of dollars in debt? Cool." Needless to say, I didn't have much school spirit, so the thought of going back was out of the question for years. Fortunately, slowly but surely, I began to convince myself to give it another try... a real college try. So I enrolled at the community college down the road and began taking whatever classes would fit with my work schedule.
     Cue the montage! There were the late nights spent attempting to absorb entire study guides before a big exam, times I got the cold sweats before checking a grade, times where I would have rather eaten dirt than gone to class. But there were also really interesting classes and teachers that surprised me with their humor and passion when discussing their subject. It wasn't always easy to juggle school and work, but it all worked out. One of the highlights was finding out that I had made the Dean's List while taking five classes and working which only served to boost my academic momentum. It was all pretty great, except for that last math class, that class can suck a fart.

     So now I have a degree, and I'm currently working on my next one. I know that it's just a piece of paper, but I hope it's also a reminder. One to let me know that its never too late for me to finish what I started.

#414- Rubik's Cube

    Solving a Rubik's cube has been synonymous with intelligence within pop culture for decades. Will Smith's character in The Pursuit of Happiness impresses the head honcho of the firm by completing the puzzle in a taxi, and Sean William Scott's character in Dude, Where's My Car? activates the "continuum transfunctioner" which is a very mysterious and powerful device and it's mystery is exceeded only by it's power. Anyways, Hollywood and people in general, seem to hold those who can solve it on a pedestal. And if there's anyone who wants the glory and social affirmation that comes with solving the cube, it's this guy!

First solve!

     In my pursuit to conquer the cube, I found that there a huge subculture of "cubers" out there. Some like to spend their time speed-cubing while other's enjoy challenging themselves with more advanced puzzles (not your standard 3x3x3, more like a 17x17x17 puzzle). There are entire channels dedicated to these sort of puzzles in all their mind bending forms, complete with surprisingly vibrant communities of subscribers and commenters. I even watched a documentary on the cubing world that can be seen for free here.
     Obviously I don't have the skills nor the attention span to really dive into this sort of life, but I figured that dipping my toes in would suffice. Armed with YouTube tutorials and some very beginner algorithms, I spent the past four days slowly chipping away at the process. My goal was to posses the bare minimum skills to solve a cube in any state without looking up any of the algorithms. It didn't matter how long it took for me to solve it, as long as I could do it on my own.
     Honestly, I'm a little disappointed. Sure I was able to solve the cube eventually. But that only dispelled my personal belief that only super-genius' could conquer it. The algorithms are not nearly as hard to memorize as I thought, and as long as you like procrastinating on your summer classes, this is the perfect pursuit for anyone with too much time on their hands!

#413 Surfing

     Stef and I are currently a week into a ten day vacation in beautiful Sayulita, Mexico. The food is unbelievable, the weather is gorgeous, and the tequila flows freely, which all makes for a much needed brake from the school, work, and wisdom teeth that preoccupied most of my time recently. Sayulita is a beach bungalow known for it's waves and I had my heart set on trying it months ago.

Not a farmer's tan, it's a white "rash-guard"

      I did attempt to stand on a surfboard once about six years ago in Oceanside, California, but wouldn't go so far as to say I got anywhere near surfing. I demonstrated my dog paddle, got swallowed whole by a single wave, and spent the rest of the afternoon nursing my chest that had gotten torn up by the sand on the surfboard.

     Today, I didn't want my efforts to be wasted away in vain. We got a hook-up from our friend Chris (a.k.a. Jessica) and her husband Rob who live here for some surf lessons from Rob's nephew (who is also named Rob). I scurried into my rash guard and tried my absolute best to pay attention to everything Rob was saying to me while we were still on the beach. I have this tendency to zone out at the exact moment when someone is giving me actual useful information. A lot like how I indulged in daydreaming for the entirety of the safety protocol spiel when I went indoor-skydiving and proceeded to flail around the turbine for my turn. I did not want surfing to end up like that.

     After trying to absorb everything Rob said to me, it was time to hit the waves, and to my surprise, I was holding my own out there! In fact, the first wave I tried I ended up riding back to the shore. Granted, the waves were lil babies, and Rob did give me a much needed push. But as I got the hang of it, we wondered out further and Rob pointed me to some bigger breaks. After a few awkward attempts I was catching my own waves and having an absolute ball.

     Update- I wandered back down to the beach today to see if my luck would hold up for one more session on the waves. If it weren't for the tequila breakfast, I would've been discouraged by giant waves pounding the shoreline as I arrived without Rob the instructor. I wish I had photos of todays waves, they were so massive that I couldn't even paddle out past them, I kept getting swallowed up whole by the ocean and spat out like a piece of stale chewing gum. The first ten tries were laughable. Not only could I not stand up on the board, but I couldn't even begin the process of standing up. It was like as soon as a massive wave would come by I would forget everything that I had learned the day before and swallow several gulps of ocean water instead.
     But, I did not go home defeated. I paid for an hour rental and goddamnit was I gonna get my money's worth. So I swallowed my embarrassment (along with some more saltwater) and tried again...and again...and agin. In my hour long stint in the water, I was able to ride four of them. I was visibly pumped after each victorious attempt, and it has so far been my highlight of the entire trip. I successfully surfed some real waves (not like the baby one in the photo above) by myself!

Siesta on la playa

#412 Wisdom Teeth

Before-
     Over the past two years I've neglected the cyclical toothaches and words of warning from the dentist. Sort of like how George Costanza had convinced himself that refusing to see the doctor was synonymous with avoiding getting sick, I've done the same with my teeth. Even this past November, when I was hit with a brutal infection on the right side of my jaw (which is apparently pretty common with neglected wisdom teeth), I chose to eat a square meal of ibuprofen instead of seeking actual medical help.

High spirits

     But I can't avoid this forever. The orthodontist made sure to drive that point home during my consultation with him. He put on a disposable glove, stuck a finger in my still talking mouth, and felt around for a suspiciously short time before listing off all the terrible things that would surely happen if I didn't get all four teeth removed as soon as possible. Nerve damage, loss of other teeth, social ostracization. Pretty grim stuff.

I don't remember taking this

     So it's the morning of my procedure and I'd would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. I hate these sort of things, especially the part of going under. That's probably the most jarring aspect. I haven't been able to eat or drink since last night. It doesn't help that I tend to overthink pretty much everything, and my imagination (like everyone else's) doesn't do any favors for my anxiety. So wish me luck I guess.

After-
     It's about eleven hours later and I made it through the procedure more or less. A part of me thinks that some of my mental bandwidth will be forever lost in the gaseous ether they pumped me full to know me out. After watching my drooling myself on video, I can certainly see why they require a designated driver for all surgeries. It wasn't fun, but it also wasn't the "big deal" my imagination had cooked it up to be either. I spent much of the afternoon spilling soup on my chin, sort of sleeping, and remembering faint whiffs of stupid things I had said while coming out of the procedure. Instead of me trying to write about an experience I was only present for in the most generous of terms, I'll just leave this video of the aftermath here for you to laugh at.

#411- Anxiety

     You may have noticed a change in my regular posting schedule. Instead of posting sporadically every three months or so, I've slipped a bit and am now aiming towards the whatever, I'll get there if I get there sort of pace. Some recent life developments are to blame (or credit, depending on how much you like these sort of rants). The first of which are all of the brown moving boxes that have taken over the living room of my apartment in preparation for a move. The second is the spring semester of school I started. They're both exciting in their own way if you squint hard enough, but both will be major sources of boredom or backaches too.

     Anyways, the reason I'm making an appearance at all is to talk about a newfound obsession in my life. See recently, it's come to my attention that I am an anxious person. This news may feel underwhelming to someone with the benefit of not being me, but let me tell you, this discovery has kind of shaken me up.
     News of my anxiety came as such a shock to me because had always thought of myself as an adventurous guy. Hell, I'm the guy who started this very blog to document the adventures I was having. Even after my attempts to stroke my own ego, I began to feel the rumblings of something very unsettling.
     The first year of noticalbe anxiety was a lot like a connect-the-dots picture. Anxious episodes were like dots scattered throughout my weeks and months, often small and seemingly insignificant. Sometimes I would feel cloudy, other times I would be preoccupied with an ineffably sour feeling. But most often it would simply be too difficult to muster up the motivation to get up and do something. It was only once I took a step back that I could see how the dots connected to form a web of anxiety closing in on me.
     Things got really bad at one point in time. I felt trapped in the most peculiar situations. I would lose actual sleep dreading the thought of having to drive a car, or go shopping, or even ride in an elevator. I found myself crumbling under the anxiety at times too. I rerouted my commute to avoid even sparse traffic, I would forgo groceries in order to avoid sweaty hands, and I'd spend my weekends laying around watching TV so I wouldn't have to leave my apartment. Aside from work and the occasional skate session, I felt housebound.
     I assume if you know me, even a little bit, then you wouldn't peg me as an anxious person. Even while I was busy rerouting commutes, I was convincing myself that I was the same adventurous guy as before. In fact, I hear that most anxious people go virtually unnoticed.
     In the past three years or so that anxiety has noticably affected my life, I've made some progress that I'm proud of. Here are three things that I think are worth a quick shoutout if you're feeling anxious:

1) Meditation and Mindfulness-
Meditation has been a staple of my day for over two years now. It's helped me accept and even appreciate some less flattering aspects of myself. Most importantly, I think meditating has helped me reestablish my relationship with anxiety. Anxious thoughts are still present, but I don't always respond like I once did. But sometimes I still do, old habits die hard.

2) Journaling-
Frustrated? Write about it.
Happy? Write about it.
Whatever you're feeling, write about it. A journal is a nice reminder that what you're going through will not last forever. Good or bad, it will pass.

3) Some really good books-
I've become infatuated with the subject of positive psychology and mindfulness. Here's some ones I've enjoyed:

Dare Barry by Mcdonagh

Waking Up by Sam Harris

Advice Not Given by Mark Epstein

The Headspace Guide to Meditation by Andy Puddicombe

The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg

Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert

When by Daniel H. Pink (great for habit formation)

10% Happier and Meditation for Fidgety Skeptics (by Dan Harris and Jeff Warren)

The Miracle of Mindfulness by Thich Nhat Hanh

I don't know if anything you read here will be of any value to you. I figure that it can hurt. We spend so much time pretending to be perfect versions of ourselves that our actual selfs may feel neglected. My hope is that I can make an effort to be more of myself and not just the parts I'm proud of.

#410- Design A Skateboard Graphic

     It's with a heavy heart, and a sunburnt neck, that I have finally come to terms with the fact that summer is pretty much over. It's a bummer I know, but rather than sulk in a state of sesaonal depression before the leaves even begin to fall, I figure that now is a great time to write about what has to be one of the best highlights of the entire summer. Designing a skateboard graphic.

My Graphic!

     On January 1st, which is most certainly not summer, I got an email from Brian, a rad dude/friend/skater/fill-in-the-blank for Square State Skate (the skateboard lesson/camp I work for) asking if I would be interested in designing a board for the upcoming summer. I considered this to be a huge deal. Skateboarding and drawing are like my two favorite things ever (well like, I like Stef and my dogs too, but whose keeping track right?). Skateboarding, and the art that is so tightly tethered to it make up almost all of my adolescence.

The Original World Industries Sticker-rama Board

     I'd routinely ditch class to roll around a desolate parking lot, spend class lectures drawing skateboards, parks, and related skate iconography instead of taking notes, and avoided any and all normal social teen functions for a chance to ride around on my board. Maybe the teen version of me had a problem, but teen-me would argue that I had the answer, and frankly I'd have to agree with him. Skateboarding is the absolute best, I have it to thank for the qualities I value most, the friends I have, and the lessons I've learned.
     So when given the chance to design my own board, and in turn, insert myself as a tiny cog within the vast machine of skateboarding, it felt like a dream opportunity. I got to work instantly, and over the next four months, and countless renditions and revisions, I sent off my final draft.
     The design is inspired by an old World Industries graphic of a dirty downtown cityscape, full of vice supplying stores. The original board also included a sticker sheet full of a colorful cast of questionable characters; mostly prostitutes, pimps, and a dog peeing (oh and one dog that was also a pimp).

     Obviously, since the board was being made specifically for a kids skate camp, the more colorful content needed to be changed pretty drastically. In my version I traded the locked up liquor stores and dinged up cop cars for a more bubbly cartoonish feel of downtown Boulder, Colorado. If you look closely, you can spy the names of all the counselors hidden within the board. And my favorite part is the sticker sheet. Although there are no pimps or even any dog-pimps on mine, there is a hover boarding alien and a few cellphone-fueled zombies, which I would say is even better than a canine pimp any day.

First board, ridiculous smile

     This was a great experience. A long, arduous, and often never ending, but none the less great experience and I'd love to more stuff like it. Receiving the first board in early July (more than a half a year after starting the design) was somewhat surreal and very very cool. Thanks Brian and Square State!

Day 409: Sell A Car

     Hey guys, guess who has two thumbs and has already fulfilled one of his three New Year's resolutions? Thats right. This guy!
     But Kyle, which one of your resolutions did you accomplish? I assume you ask. Unfortunately I haven't spent the last two months "traveling more" or "trying new things" so by process of elimination, I must have sold my car.
     Yes, you read that correctly. I sold my car. If you know anything about me, then you probably know that I hate -I'm sorry, hated- my car. I've no doubt relayed the horrors that vehicle brought on me every opportunity I got. I wear my bitterness on my sleeve, like a stain of black ink. Whenever car stories are being swapped, you can be sure that I'll be there to cut through the lighthearted conversation with an over-the-top recount of the time my ride tried to kill me. You'll know it's me telling the story too because I still turn red whenever I think about it...Not that I'm holding a grudge or anything. Surely I wouldn't stay sour over a lemon (that's a car pun). All I can say is don't hold your breath, I can be pretty petty if I put my mind to it.
     It's a long story, one that no one ever asks to hear. So instead of offering to tell you, I'm just gonna start...

This car was the best

     I loved my 1996 Subaru Outback. It was a small manual transmission wagon painted an obnoxious shade of red. It was the first car I ever bought, I even wrote about it here. That car was the best. I affectionately named her "Earl the girl" -I have no idea why- but she plowed through snowy winters, mountain passes and a sporadic oil change schedule like a champ.
     Back in August of 2014, Earl the girl was the target of a hit and run. Stef got a case of whiplash and I (and this is true) ended up getting shingles from the cumulative stress of working full time, dealing with uncooperative insurance companies, being broke, and taking too many classes during the summer semester. But other than that, no real injuries.
    Being without Earl, I took what little money I was given from the accident and put it all towards the first car I saw at the first dealership I visited. This I learned, was a bad idea. This new car was much more expensive than Earl was, surely it would be just as good if not better than my dear Earl. This was a bad assumption to make.
     I buy the car, and it has it's quirks but nothing too crazy. The window tint is heavily scratched from what I assume was a dog, many of the lights (dome lights, mirror lights) don't work even after fuses and bulbs are replaced. Whatever.
     Our story begins on December 31st, 2014, which was about three months after purchasing the car. A last minute plan to spend the new year in a cabin tucked between the Colorado Wyoming border is made and we cram five people and a dog into the car and hit the highway. It was about 85 miles to the cabin, and the sun had set hours prior. It was a miserable 2 degrees outside by the time we hit the dirt roads. Trying to navigate to the cabin proved to be a bit of a guessing game. I've been there countless times growing up, but I've rarely been the driver, and had never driven without someone to follow behind. Plus we were far outside of any cell phone reception.

I bet you're sensing some foreshadowing right about now.

     The temperature dropped down to -2 degrees as we slowly climbed up a particularly steep hill along the pitch black dirt road. I remember the temperature, because it's the last thing I saw on the console before the car blew up. We were inching up the hill when a violent jolt erupted from the engine. The car recoiled and began making a grotesque mechanical gargling sound. The engine hacked up a constant stream of dirty smoke that enveloped the car and any power felt from the gas pedal was cut.
     Kevin, Mouse, and myself took it upon ourselves to assess the damage. I lifted the hood, which only added to the comical amount of smoke that was pouring from it.
     "Well, it's definitely blown." Mouse said, using the flashlight on his phone to cut through the smoke.
     "What the car? The car's blown?" I asked panicked. I know nothing about these machines.
     "The turbo." Mouse said.
     "I have a turbo?" I asked.
     "Had a turbo." Kevin clarified.
     "I stood in the bitter cold, watching my frozen breath, trying very hard not to freak out. It had been about 40 minutes since we had seen another car, and even longer since we had any cell reception. Other than the five of us, nobody knew that we were going to the cabin that night and there was no way the car would make it the rest of the way. The roads got progressively more demanding the further into the mountains one drove. I struggled to digest these odds all with the realization that it was currently minus 2 degrees outside. By then it was around 8:00 at night, the temperature would surely dip much more the longer we waited. That realization, that we were stranded in such cold weather, without shelter or communication to anyone, was my first taste of legitimate fear. It was a thick primal sort of panic, the first time I really thought "could this kill me?"
     You're probably thinking five kids and a dog are stranded in the middle of nowhere with a broken car on a freezing winter night? Is this the premise for a low-budget slasher film? And I'd have to agree with you on that. I'm sure it's in pre-production already.
     After somewhat gaining my composure, as well as pondering which Freddie Kruger-esque monster would fulfill our crappy slasher flick, I got back in the driver's seat a tried to imitate a demeanor of confidence towards the situation.
     "We need cell service. We need to head back" I tried to say with authority.
     I don't think anyone bought it, not even Kevin's dog. Regardless, I start the car and attempt to backtrack down the hill. The engine sounded like a blender eating up Hot-Wheels. I could feel the zeros being added to the repair bill with every foot we drove. There was no doubt that every hill was doing monumental damage to the vehicle. It was painful to listen to. My whitening knuckles tightened on the steering wheel more and more with every unnerving clunking sound that came sputtering from under the hood.
     This went on for quite some time.
     Each hill was a roll of the dice. The vehicle had absolutely no power, any part of the road with even a slight incline could easily stop us. I tried to gain as much momentum as possible from hills and coast up what I could. Some small bumps (we're talking, less steep than your driveway) took several attempts to climb over.
     A car that cannot go over small hills is not conducive to driving in the mountains. I knew it would only be a matter of time until we found ourselves stuck between a valley of two hills that we could not get out of. This worried me, along with pretty much every other aspect of the situation.
     Thankfully, after what seemed like hours, I spotted a pair of headlights on the horizon. It was a car heading towards us. Moral was suddenly at an all time high in the car as I flashed my brights and honked my horn in excitement. The car didn't seem to respond to my cries for help as it didn't slow down, just kept driving. I started to worry that the car wasn't going to stop as it approached us. At the last moment desperation kicked in and I jumped out of my seat and leapt in front of the car's headlights waiving my arms frantically. Thankfully, the car chose to stop before hitting me.
     The people driving ending up being Godsends. They lived part time on one of the properties around, so not only did they have extra gallons of drinkable water, but they also had phones with special coverage for the mountains. So I grabbed the phone and dialed the one number I could remember, my mom. I explained everything as well as I could, apologized for ruining whatever New Year's Eve plans she may of had, and promptly asked her to pick us up at the Forks (the only landmark I could think of. It was a cowpoke bar that located where the dirt road forked. Get it? Clever name right?)
     Not to drag an already longwinded story out further, but we somehow ended up making it to the Forks, causing immeasurable damage to the car along the way. But it didn't matter, never have I been so happy to see such an unsuspecting bar. We celebrated our new leases on survival with some beers and nachos while we waited for my mom to pick us up.

thanks again mom 

     We made it back to our apartment before the midnight Ball Drop but by then, I was so over everything that I went straight to bed, hoping that the next year would be better. The repair bill was extensive. Just about everything under the hood was damaged and would need to be replaced, which basically doubled the cost of the already expensive car that I was leasing.
     So call me bitter, but I never could look past that experience even after the car was repaired. For instance, I still say the car instead of my car. I just want to distance myself ya know? I know that it's not the car's fault either, but still. Oh and if you think I was being dramatic about the danger posed when the engine blew, I read an article in the newspaper the next very next day about a man in the same area who also had car trouble that night. He earned a spot in the newspaper because he wasn't as lucky as us. He was unable to get picked up by his mother at the Forks and had to spend the entire night huddled up in his car. He ended up with frost bite on his feet and nose.
     So yeah, I sold my car, and for good reason. The car drove fine afterwards, but I think we can all agree that I could use to lose some of that damn baggage. Whew, anyone know of any good cars for sale?