time turnin', tockin' and patiently walking

flashback last 3 weeks, go! Denver trip Dushko, Viktor, and myself doing the city and burning the wick. Mexican omelets and the smell of the city at night.

10 people successfully sliding through the crack and 14 climbing Long's Peak.

business trip with Brett, and the old persuasively unconvincing sound of business ventures.

Marshall beating me at mini-golf.

first volunteer English class ever.

learning folk rhythms on the guitar.

rock climbing outside on some amazing formations and loving every minute of it.

becoming a British citizen.

Funk Nasty

It's hard to be philosophical. I guess it doesn't come easy-- at least not for most people. It's also hard to write on a regular basis, at least for me anyways. I seem to manage to squeeze one of these out every 3 weeks or so, only after I've forgotten all of the interesting stuff that was worth writing about. Let me just make a list of the most recent interesting experiences that won't mean much to anyone else without further detail:

--2 rowdy camping trips, one Turkish and one American, that both ended with minimal sleep and a long day of    work.
-- I was the drown victim, in order to test the lifeguards, for a crowd of maybe 50 in our public swimming pool (thanks Caleb)
--My car broke down in the middle of the rode and myself and 3 Colombian girls had to push it a quarter mile down the rode, one was in high heels. I didn't get completely angry and dejected, success.
--completed my longest and highest climb yet, Twin Sisters, 7 miles and 12,000 feet.
-- ate at the Indian buffet, had a charming encounter, and appreciated certain aspects of life more thoroughly than usual.

I'll leave this one short and boring because I'm feeling unmotivated. Cheers and chocolate raisins. Next time a short story me thinks.

Pretty Lights

This is a picture I took in Guanajuato, Mexico. I think it pairs well with this pretty chill song by Pretty Lights. More universally, though, it brings up the theme of memories for me. I don't have strong memories of childhood, and those that I do are just solid images and not streams of remembrance. There are also times in my life that I thought I would never forget, but that have quickly faded because I don't revisit them frequently enough. This is one reason that I have begun to make more of an effort in the last couple of years to document my life in words and pictures, however sporadic and inconsistent it may be. These things, along with friendships, I believe are some of the only real ways to truly conserve the past and all its sentiments (duh). I bring this up because I have recently been in contact with some old summer friends in hopes of having a reunion of sorts during my time in Europe. Talking with them has made me reminisce on times in my life that I thought I would never forget, but that are already surrounded in a cloudy haze. I still get that nostalgic, happy feeling I when firmly grasp one of those moments, but I also wrestle with a touch of sadness knowing that that time in my life is over, as well as that way of seeing the world. I suppose these feelings tie in somewhat with the pre-college/post-college sentiment that I have now, but i can't help thinking that life will never be that way again. This makes me exceedingly excited about spending time with those people that I shared such golden moments with, so that they can polish and restore some of my older memories that have lost their luster. There is something new and interesting about seeing people again for the first time in 5 or 6 years too. It borders on rediscovery and realization. I'll throw this in now to put this paragraph in a nutshell: 

I WANDERED lonely as a cloud
          That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
          When all at once I saw a crowd,
          A host, of golden daffodils;
          Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
          Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

          Continuous as the stars that shine
          And twinkle on the milky way,
          They stretched in never-ending line
          Along the margin of a bay:  
          Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
          Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

          The waves beside them danced; but they
          Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
          A poet could not but be gay,
          In such a jocund company:
          I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
          What wealth the show to me had brought:

          For oft, when on my couch I lie
                                In vacant or in pensive mood,                             
          They flash upon that inward eye
          Which is the bliss of solitude;
          And then my heart with pleasure fills,
          And dances with the daffodils.
                                                              1804.

 My home in 4 months...