tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83652343478557718742024-03-12T21:19:05.929-07:00Boot 'N PaddleAlexander EatonUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-33321030458788660282008-04-14T19:18:00.000-07:002008-04-14T19:20:15.831-07:00Boot 'n Paddle - April 11, 2008<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US">Yesterday I got so excited that a person standing next to me exploded. That got me even more excited! Right now, thinking about that person’s explosion, I am getting so excited that I need to scream! Now everyone down the hall is getting excited. Madison is so excited that she just put her head in the sleeve of her sweatshirt and is stomping around like an elephant. She’s yelling, “Your community-based consersvation won’t hold me down!” Brent just lit his computer on fire he’s so excited. Glen just got so excited that he has hives; he’s rubbing his body on the carpet to ease the itching but his face is really showing some excitement. Brit is searching the Internet for palindromes and screaming them at the top of her lungs. “No, it never propagates if I set a gap or prevention! Rats live on no evil star!” She’s getting really excited. “Straw? No, too stupid a fad: I put soot on warts!” Ace won’t stop wiggling. He just fell off his bed and is madly wiggling on the carpet next to his roommate, Glen. I’ve never seen two people so excited! Justine is standing inside her room with both hands on her door handle repeatedly pretending to slam the door shut but then stopping an inch from the impact saying, “Whoa, that was close!” Cameron is so excited that he is coloring all of his clothes solid black with a sharpie. Dakota is tonguing the air like a lizard. June is smashing ice on the floor of her room yelling, “It’s snowing!” Kiren and Rick are so excited that they decided to order ten subscriptions to a science fiction book of the month club. Now, they’re even more excited. Ricky is biting his lip to hold in his shrieks of delight and Kiren is shaking Rick by his shoulders yelling, “Do you realize what we have just done, my friend?!” Ariel just passed out she’s so excited. Parker’s mouth is wide open, her entire face aching to scream, but no sound will come out. She’s that excited! Sam is eating all of the T-shirts that Cameron is coloring black, forcing Cameron to color more. They’re both getting really excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Ariel just came to and is screaming, “The President needs to know about this!” over and over again. Theo is sitting at his desk nodding his head up and down and occasionally slapping himself. Megan’s ears are bleeding she’s so excited. Perry is standing in front of the mirror yipping and saluting himself. Elsie is so excited that she is putting on all of her roommate’s clothes on top of one another. “Nope, not there yet!” she just yelled. And its all got me thinking, isn’t it nice that I know everyone’s name?</span><!--EndFragment--> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-73895043296904213102008-04-09T17:23:00.000-07:002008-04-09T17:24:37.986-07:00Boot 'n Paddle - April 5, 2008<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s late right now, this column is eight or so hours late, I have a drawing due tomorrow at 8:30 am that I haven’t started, my bad spot is itching like crazy, and all I can think about is how sick I am of Pileated woodpeckers, especially those on our campus.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Here’s what I’m thinking about Pileated woodpeckers: First of all, are they paying tuition? That is, of course, a joke question, but they aren’t. They aren’t paying tuition. What do our tuition dollars go towards? Okay, fair. Sure they don’t go to class, nor do they eat is the dining hall. But guess what? A large portion of our payment goes towards maintenance, and residence. These freeloading mutts fly around <i>our </i><span style="font-style:normal">campus, living in </span><i>our</i><span style="font-style:normal"> trees. Not only that, to live in these trees they have to peck out they trees’ insides (the trees’ soul). They do the same thing to eat. More holes! No, thanks. I would rather these turds eat at Dana than litter our lawns with wood chippings, ruining the trees in the process. We should work out a system where the peckers eat our scrap Dana food. I hope they don’t like Mac and Cheese triangles because of those I never have leftovers.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Then there’s the principal of what they are doing. Imagine this scenario: Me. Out next to a tree completely naked (birds don’t wear any clothing), with an axe chopping away at a tree day after day. To me that sounds illegal. So why are these birds not being prosecuted?! I’ll tell you why, because the burden of proof is on the prosecution and no one has enough gumption to stand up to these savages! </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Here’s an idea… When I was younger my family had a fish tank full of brightly colored fish, and one day it and the fish were gone. My Dad told my brother and me that he put some in our pond and the brought the others to our town’s college for experiments. I thought this was really cool and my Dad said we could visit them in the laboratory anytime. We, St. Lawrence, just built a new science building that is huge and I’m sure somewhere in that building there is someone who thinks it might be fun to use the Pileated woodpeckers for experiments. And what do experiments do? They help people <i>and </i><span style="font-style:normal">birds. Couldn’t we just round up these creatures and bring them to the new science building for research and testing? Or we could just flush them down the toilet like my Dad actually did. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-68039268494430071562008-03-30T19:17:00.000-07:002008-03-30T19:19:41.808-07:00Boot 'n Paddle - Almost Caught Up!Due to the fact that this is appearing in a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">news</span>paper and that I have a bit of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">news</span>, I’m going to tell ya’ll something that has had a dramatic effect on the past two weeks of my life. Ya’ll? Wow, this excitement is really making me fresh! I should also point out that while there seems to be a lot of farce in this issue of the Hill News this Boot ‘n Paddle is one hundred percent authentic. <br /> Here’s what happened: A couple of days before spring break I came home from jai-alai practice and had a parcel waiting for me in front of my bedroom door from my friend, Pete. It wasn’t wrapped, nor was it in an envelope, so initially I was irritated by Pete’s lack of presentation. However, I then picked up a note that Pete had written and I forgot all about my annoyance. Here’s what the note said:<br /><br /> “Alex, I found these in the snow by the 24 hour room at ODY… either these are yours or you have a secret admirer. –Pete”<br /><br /> Now, besides letters that I’ve written to myself, I’ve never had a secret admirer, so these words gave me goosepimples. Along with Pete’s note was a pile of old newspaper clippings. I thought, “Boring,” but then something caught my eye. I noticed that the clippings were my very own Boot ‘n Paddles! Someone, not me or my parents, had cut out ten or so of my columns and collected then in a group! It’s not like they cut them out and put them in a drawer somewhere; they were carried around campus and as far as I can tell were taken out of a backpack outside of the library and admired to a point where they got so excited that they dropped them in fit of delight.<br /> This is a pretty neat story and it makes me feel pretty good, but there’s a problem. Someone out there was/is seemingly very enthusiastic about Boot ‘n Paddle, and now they’ve lost their collection! (There is, of course, the possibility that there was a disgruntled fan that reached such a level of discontentment with my column that they took their Boot ‘n Paddle collection and ditched it by ODY… I’m just saying that because I’m trying not to sound arrogant but let’s face it, that scenario just isn’t plausible.)<br /> So that’s my story. It was a great day. <br />Below is a little note that I wrote for the individual who lost his or her Boot ‘n Paddles. If you are <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">not</span> that individual, please respect our privacy and don’t read the following section. Thanks! <br /> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> I’m twenty-three and think you are really great. I’m worried about your lost B&Ps. I love breakfast foods but rarely eat breakfast. Would you like to eat corned beef hash with me sometime (for dinner)? I smelled the clippings that Pete gave to me and there was a trace of Vicks vapor rub… are you sick? Some of them smelled like bosco sticks. I’ve never had an email relationship before, but I think, I mean if you’re into it, that we should get one going? (aceato05@stlawu.edu) Let me know. :-)</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-17467409651716539102008-03-30T19:15:00.000-07:002008-03-30T19:17:15.458-07:00Boot 'n Paddle - Still Catching Up!St. Lawrence students email me all the time asking for details about me, Alex Eaton. They say, “So many of your columns seem to be fictional. In Boot ‘n Paddle # 15, you said you have a bald spot and I don’t believe it!” They tell me that they want to know the man behind the column. I usually write back a calm, mildly offensive note suggesting that they get to know themselves before they pry into other people’s lives. It seems to have worked.<br /> However, as a result of a constant battle to try to reinvent myself, I’ve now decided that being open and forthcoming should be valued and practiced on a daily–– no, hourly basis. So, I’m going to put myself out there; I’m going to show this campus (and my parents who read this is Arizona!) who Alex Eaton really is. What better way to introduce myself than to give a sample of what I was like as a child, the basis for who and what I am today? This should also interest my parents as for most of my childhood I was under the supervision of a drifter named Gary.<br /> I have chosen to print a story that I wrote in Kindergarten for the Cornwall Elementary School’s annul literary magazine. This particular story is called the “The Slug” and was accompanied by an illustration, peanut-like, and labeled “Slug.” <br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Once upon a time there was a fat slug. And he snuck out of the house. Then a kid fell and landed on him on his slimiest part. Then Indiana Jones came to save him. Then he whipped the kid. Then the kid got out his pistol and shot him.</span><br /><br /> I was a cute little kid.<br />Okay, sure there’s a certain degree of ambiguity at work… like why was the slug <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">in</span> the house? Who did Indiana Jones really come to save? Whose pistol did the kid use to shoot Indiana? Most importantly, did Gary write this story and try to pass it off as mine? We can’t be sure because Gary was killed with a pair of toenail clippers when I was ten, but I think that he probably did. For those of you who know me (you, now), I am not a very violent person. In fact, I rarely think about whips and firearms; Gary was very passionate about them. <br />So really, this story doesn’t give you much insight into who Alex Eaton really is. But do you see what happened? In setting up the story and explaining its significance you learned a considerable amount about me. You learned that I am hesitant to divulge details about myself. You learned about my parent’s role in my upbringing. You learned about Gary and the regrettable (and illegal… he was wanted by the police for selling his pee as lemonade) influence on my childhood and presumably my adult life.<br />I’m really glad I did this. Thanks to everyone who emailed me!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-34119879485295576832008-03-30T19:14:00.000-07:002008-03-30T19:15:44.504-07:00Boot 'n Paddle - Catch Up!Last week I wrote about how we should all avoid collapsing far into the depths of the St. Lawrence social network, and the importance of acknowledging the reasons we are here, those which can easily become mundane. That was a recap; it seemed more lighthearted in the actual column. This week, contrary yet slyly complimentary to last week’s column, I want to stress the importance of frivolity.<br /> Last year, I took a writing course during which the topic of daydreaming came up. People were self-conscious about the subjects of their daydreams, but there was no doubt that everybody did, in fact, daydream. However, there was one exception. A lowly, highly beauty shopped coed sitting in the front row. She expressed to the class that she didn’t really understand what we were talking about, that she had never “daydreamed” before and thought it sounded immature. I thought she sounded dumb. <br /> Now I will say an opinion that I have and you will agree or disagree, but can’t argue with me because you’re reading a newspaper. Not daydreaming or fantasizing is indicative of a much larger characteristic of being a generally dull human being who will do little with their life. The individual I’m talking about has graduated already and I would try to imagine a day in her shoes but it’s tough imagining what it’s like not imagining. <br /> What can we assume about the lackluster student? First of all, that she has no aspirations. You need to imagine something to aspire to it. Also, she has something very substantial on her mind constantly, probably gymnastics or sudoku, leaving absolutely no time for her mind to wander. Let’s also assume she is a horrible storyteller. And she is always very well kempt because she can’t imagine the right guy coming along and falling in love with her even though she’s just in her jammies. She’s awful and she’s out in society bringing other people down to her level of depressing nonbeing.<br /> We need to steer clear of her approach to living. I fantasize on an hourly basis; it’s how I accomplish things. It’s how I will accomplish things. Plus, fanaticizing is fun. I don’t get that many chances to be a badass, but when I’m walking to class and I imagine a that I just got back to school after escaping a hostage situation in the Middle East, I am a badass. Then I go to class and feel way cooler than everyone else having not actually accomplished anything. There is, of course, a delicate balance between daydreaming and living in a fantasy world, but having real conversations with real people makes that issue futile. <br /> You don’t have to daydream all of the time; it’s just a great way to stop taking yourself so seriously. Laughing, and joking are also good methods. All I am saying is we have a lot of cool kids on campus, kids that need to lighten up a little or they’re going to end up like my former classmate. If you ever need inspiration for fantasy, try going to Stewarts (see past Boot ‘n Paddle).Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-38970026397287399932008-03-30T19:12:00.000-07:002008-03-30T19:14:28.616-07:00Boot 'n Paddle - Spring '08College, St. Lawrence, the basic concept, is odd when you think about it.<br />Think about it. When we turn a certain age, once we’ve achieved a certain level of accomplishment, our parents send us off to a communal living situation where our seniors teach us the information they think we should know during our lifetime. They pack us in together, within the confines of a few acres, where we have everything we need and want to live. We sit, everyday, lined up in rows staring blankly at our mentors as they transfer their knowledge into our brains. And dining halls? Weird!<br /> Not to suggest that it is, but college can be very cult-like. I think it’s fair to say that cults are often times negligent of the outside world. Sometimes truth, commonsense, rationality, and consequence have a way of slipping through the cracks here in the collegiate realm. As we wend our ways through a lifestyle of repetition, it’s very easy to get caught up in a humdrum of nothingness. Days and nights littered with work, friends, and the same sidewalks bleed into one another; the more time we spend in this whirlwind, the more our lives revolve around what happens on this tiny campus. But this, of course, defeats the purpose of college!<br /> What a depressing outlook! Wrap your brains around this! Contrary to the first paragraph let me depict a different scenario of academia. For eighteen or so years, our parents and communities prepare us for four years of intense training, where a field of experts will tell us everything they know. Even cooler… we spend four years training for a secret mission. We learn everything we can and then infiltrate the public sector where we create results; we use our super-knowledge to make this a better place to live. My version of this scenario also includes a lot of blue lighting, passwords, and someone with a headset walkie-talkie on. And, there’s a phone in the corner that connects straight to the president.<br /> One version is cynical, the other is slightly exaggerated. Compromise, meld the two together to make a truly effective and enjoyable college experience that will benefit both ourselves and others. Hey, listen. When we hear about dogs that are locked in their house all day we feel bad for them. Right? So how can we get mad at them for pooping on the duvet? But if that dog had a human brain, hands, feet, and the capacity for sensibility, then that dog should be punished.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-49857571403807356712008-02-10T15:33:00.000-08:002008-02-10T15:35:27.244-08:00Boot 'n Paddle - February 1, 2008I wrote the following Boot ‘n Paddle on January 13, 2008 (during winter break). <br /><br />For anyone who wants to get in “the mood,” pop on a Leonard Cohen album and just stand there, or sit there. Do anything. You can’t avoid it. The mood I am talking about, of course, is disheartened and dejected. I just did that, and I have got to say, it is working. I’m several miles from the nearest person, I just ate six ounces of hummus for dinner, and today I spent over an hour sitting in a Stewarts. If you haven’t, I highly suggest spending some time in a Stewarts.<br /> It’s actually pretty amazing what they have managed to do. Somehow, they have made a simple gas station/convenience store into the epicenter of many communities. They have wiggly hotdogs, mediocre soups, and weird hamburgers, but something draws people in, something makes people feel unaccomplished if they haven’t stopped into Stewarts at some point during the day. I went twice today. <br /> Not to get too far off topic (I think it will come soon), I don’t smoke, but last week I went into a Stewarts and bought a pack of cigarettes because it felt like the right thing to do. If you want to quit smoking, I suggest not throwing your abused cigarettes out of your car window. I put my fashionably, dramatically smoked cigarettes in an old Altoids tin and was amazed at how fast they added up. The substantiation was astounding!<br /> Cool story, huh? So, I’m sitting all by myself, next to a pleasant little woodstove, beside a very drab Lake Champlain, and it hits me! Leonard Cohen might be encouraging pitiful emotions, but don’t let the first three paragraphs fool you; I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Besides the aesthetic qualities of my current location (a secret!), it is just fantastic to be alone ¬¬–– wait, I’ve got a few more thoughts on Stewarts. <br />We all love their classic fountain sodas, e.g. key lime and cherry cream, but their other Stewarts brand products are awful. I think it might be the packaging. The sodas are glass, which is shiny and alluring, and makes me really want to drink them, but the bags of chips are brown and depressing, which makes me assume they are the kind that will make the roof of my mouth bleed. I thought it was standard practice for salt & vinegar to incorporate blue packaging.<br />Anyway, I’ll bet if you’re reading this you’re not alone, not that you should be; reading Boot ‘n Paddle alone can be really depressing. However, think about ditching your friends once in a while. Ditch Ricky’s awesome anecdotes and Candace and her black light posters. If you’re looking for ideas, hanging out at Stewarts does count as being alone. I’ve never felt more alone than at the end of an hour spent in StewartsUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-71312267126357961572007-12-07T08:56:00.000-08:002007-12-07T08:57:23.029-08:00Boot 'n Paddle - December 7, 2007Five months ago I was assaulted by a school of brook trout. Following the attack, I was told that I would never write Boot ‘n Paddle again. They said that due to the vicious nature of the creatures and the mob-mentality that I was exposed to, it would be traumatizing for me to consider the masses reading my column. Doctors, psychologists, psychoanalysts and my neighbor, Barry, all told me to step down. They said there would be no shame in taking certain precautions in order to prevent severe mental agony. <br /> “But it isn’t that simple!” I would say. “Can you ask the sky to stop being blue? Or the ocean deep? Can you ask a mountain to stop being mighty? Or ask a whale to stop being bulky? Can you tell a love song to stop being tender? Can you ask Mad Magazine to stop being hilarious? A light luminous? Tape sticky? Brook trout…merciless?”<br /> This last one would always quiet the whole room, because they were still uncomfortable with the nature of my attack, and negate the reasoning behind their request. <br /> What I am saying is I had to keep writing Boot ‘n Paddle because it had become a part of being Alex. Boot ‘n Paddle was inherent in my Alex. I mean, can you ask a sponge to not absor–– oh wait, I already did that.<br /> This is my 20th Boot ‘n Paddle. Five months ago I had only written ten. Therefore, I have written ten post-brook trout Boot ‘n Paddles. Twenty may not sound like that many, but consider for a moment trying to come up with a creative idea every single Tuesday in addition to all other commitments. Consider finding the confidence to write something that will be read by everyone who stumbles upon The Hill News. It can’t be stagnant or repetitive of past columns but instead something fresh, something that the reader hasn’t seen on television or read in their favorite magazine. It has to be a formulation of the thoughts and feelings that the readers have all had but aren’t able render. Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote, “Easy reading is damn hard writing,” and I think he’s right on. Think about having to wrestle the ideas inside your head and pin them down onto the paper in such a way that the reader will know exactly what you mean. Consider writing a column that you know people will bad-mouth and criticize. Then consider for a moment typing that column on a keyboard without any fingernails because they were chewed off by unrelenting brook trout.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-64063891757906290862007-12-03T09:41:00.000-08:002007-12-03T09:43:09.952-08:00Boot 'n Paddle - End of NovemberI’m really getting sick of people being good-humored and having fun. It’s the smiles and head nodding, the eye contact and gentle shoulder grabbing that’ve got me so down. Yesterday I saw two friends (not mine) talking and laughing together and I wanted to push them into a river. <br /> Right now it’s snowing outside, symbolic of death, and people are playing. To me, having a snowball fight sounds great. It means I get to whitewash my little sister until she cries. Outside, they’re having a snowball fight but they’re having fun–– <br /> Actually, wait. Maybe, I’m wrong. Maybe I just never learned that the definition of fight involves the word frivolity. Or –– probably even more likely –– a group of scientists got together and decided that the rules of competition don’t apply to snowball fights. As if! It’s just people being immature. It reminds me of my intellectual capacity at age six. <br /> Me. I’ve learned that smiling is a sure sign of imminent failure. Despite my parents’ influence (they are disgustingly happy), through extensive self-discipline and punishment, I have learned to never give someone the upper hand by smiling at them. If you smile at someone, you are showing them that they are more capable at something than you, making someone smile. On occasion I will smirk at the psychological anguish of others, but at that point I’m already the victor.<br /> <br /> Hold it…. I haven’t been totally honest with you. I’m not really upset with people being happy! Those people I saw? I talked to them! I told them a joke and they laughed! The snow? It was beautiful! My friends playing outside? My friends! Smiling? Forever!<br /> Gosh! I’m at my desk listening to A Charlie Brown Christmas and I’ll tell you nothing can get me down. It’s winter, there’s snow outside, there are only a few days until I start my advent calendar and¬¬––<br /> <br /> (Mumbled voice from offstage) <br /> Alex: What?<br /> Offstage: Your sister was eaten by seals.<br /> Alex: Oh.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-3067199811476081362007-11-14T17:34:00.000-08:002007-11-14T17:35:27.591-08:00Boot 'n Paddle - November 9, 2007Around this time of year I always like to sit my friends down in front of a fire and tell them this story. This year, since I don’t have a woodstove, and I technically don’t have any friends, I’m going to tell you. <br /> <br />Kip took another bite. “I’m sick of eating fish,” he said.<br />“Huh?” Jeremy was puzzled. Sick of fish? A bear had never said, or even thought, that before. <br />“Especially trout.” Kip pushed the half-eaten fish corpse into the river. <br />“Shh…come on…you don’t mean that…Kip? Kip. Kip you don’t mean that.” Jeremy knew all about his friend’s…odd personality, but he didn’t want the bears downstream to hear what he was saying.<br /> “No! I’m serious! I’m sick of it, Jeremy! I’m sick of eating fish, I’m sick of sleeping in damp, dark caves, and I’m so sick of walking around outside when it’s raining. Jeremy! I’m sick and tired,” Kip’s eyes softened, “I’m sick and tired of being a bear.”<br /> “Kip! Quiet” Jeremy slipped on a rock and fell into the river. He poked his head out of the water. “Are you crazy, Kip!? You can’t say things like that!” <br /> “Why not, Jeremy? Huh? Why not?”<br /> “Because there are certain things bears just don’t––“<br /> Kip turned his back to Jeremy and the river and sauntered off towards the forest.<br /> Jeremy’s voice trailed off, “…say.”<br /> The large brown bear ambled through dense underbrush and spruce stands. He stubbed his toe on a root and poked his eye on a dried up pine branch. Kip had had his off days just like any other bear, days when the water seems just a little too cold, days when every fish bone seems to get caught in his throat, but never had he felt like this. <br /> Kip stopped and stared up at the forest canopy and whispered, “I can’t do this anymore. I’ve got to get out of this trap.” He didn’t realize the irony of what he said.<br /> Kip stood still with his eyes closed and his neck bent backwards. Then he opened his eyes wide as though he had just had an idea. His best friend, Jeremy, who Kip had known since he was a cub, and who, even though they didn’t know it, was actually his half brother, knew what that look meant. It meant he was going to start building a home out of logs and underbrush, or that he would decide not to hibernate because he enjoyed the winter vistas. It was that sort of look that meant he was about to do something very uncharacteristic of Grizzly Bears. Usually, Jeremy was there to discourage Kip’s unusual impulses, but on this day, Kip was alone and fully intended to, finally, carry through with one of his ideas. <br /> <br /> Later that afternoon, Jeremy decided to stop by Kip’s cave to apologize for what had happened during lunch. Jeremy knew that he was right but he decided to be the better bear. After all, he didn’t want a little dispute to affect their friendship.<br /> When he entered Kip’s cave, though, there was no sign of his friend! All that was left was a note pinned to the cave wall. Jeremy walked over and pulled the note off the wall. The writing was washed out and runny because cave walls are naturally moist, but Jeremy did make out, “…needed some time… job application…try something new…” <br /> Jeremy’s heart sank. <br /> Kip was gone.<br /><br /> Over the next few months, Jeremy heard from Kip a couple of times by what Kip referred to as “snail mail.” He was living in Boulder, working for the Department of Transportation programming traffic lights. He was dating a real estate agent named Meadow (which to their annoyance was always a big joke at parties), and just bought a new Pontiac Sunfire. Kip seemed genuinely happy.<br /> <br /> One day, Jeremy walked down to the river, just like he always did, to eat some breakfast. But this particular day was special. He wasn’t alone.<br /> “KIP! You’re back!” Jeremy ran down to the river and tackled his friend into the water. “What are you doing back? I thought you had everything you ever wanted in Boulder?”<br /> The two bears stared at each other, both dripping cold, glacial water. <br />“Jeremy, I came back because, this is where I belong. Because I’m a bear and I love that.” <br /> Then Jeremy and Kip hugged in a way only bears can. “Plus Meadow broke up with me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-87228655596206040212007-11-04T15:53:00.000-08:002007-11-04T15:54:22.833-08:00Boot 'n Paddle - November 2, 2007Scarefest 2007 is over and it’s time to turn our attention to a different sentiment: love. Wait. Let me first say that I think we should stop talking about emotions only when they are promoted by holidays. Let us stop feeling glee only during Christmas, pride only on Independence Day, and betrayal only on Leif Erikson day. How does glee on a day-to-day basis sound? <br /> Don’t wait until February to enliven your hearts with the warmth and fervor of love. Love today. Love right now (Boot ‘n Paddle). Don’t let remorse seize you until you one day realize you are utterly incapable of loving anything other than your collection of porcelain butter knives. While in some respects that relationship can be rewarding (nothing beats the thrill of acquiring a new butter knife!), it just isn’t the same as loving a fellow human being. It doesn’t necessarily have to be romantic love. Just love. <br /> I have a story for you. <br /> <br /> There was once a hermit thrush that enjoyed his perch so much that he never left it in fear that he might not remember where it was (he had a really bad memory). As he grew old, all of his siblings left the perch for new parts of the forest where they made friends with other woodland animals. <br /> On his perch remained the hermit thrush until one day, in the later years of his life, he realized that there was something missing. He sat on his perch thinking about it (in a very simple, bird-like way) until he heard a sound that reminded him of his younger days with his brothers and sisters. It was a “tw-tw-tweet.” The hermit thrush responded in typical bird fashion, “tweet,” to which he heard a “tweet tweet tw-tweet.”<br /> “I remember!” thought the hermit thrush. “I remember talking with my brothers and sister like this.” A flood of memories overcame the bird as he remembered, with much fondness, his youth. “It has been so long since I spoke with another bird like this, and it feels so good!” he thought. The thrush began tweeting very excitedly and heard tweeting in response. <br /> “A friend! A friend! I’ve made a friend,” thought the bird and he lifted off his perch and flew towards the responding tweets. <br /> He flew to the base of a large maple where he found, not a bird, but an 11 year-old boy. The boy, who had been whistling in response to the bird, saw the thrush flying towards him and threw a pinecone at him. The bird, having realized his mistake, turned to fly back to the safety of his perch, but he couldn’t find it. He had forgotten the location of his perch as well as the sound of a real bird. He never found his perch, never loved and never had a friend for the rest of his days (which was one day. He was eaten by a mountain lion the next afternoon). <br /> <br /> The hermit thrush lived a life of solitude until one day, as a result, he was eaten by a mountain lion. I’m not saying that if you don’t feel love, a mountain lion will eat you. But I am saying, I did some research, and they usually attack people who are alone. No friends + No love = Vicious mountain lion attack.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-4641467615918832912007-11-04T15:51:00.000-08:002007-11-04T15:53:13.735-08:00Boot 'n Paddle - October 26, 2007I get scared…pretty easily. <br /> I’m scared of sharp things, cell phone radiation, planets, a fire that’s too large, piano strings snapping, polyester, rabies, you (if I don’t know you), pewter, factories, palindromes, freedom, drifters, facial hair, the Gap, canvas, Julia Roberts…I’m scared right now, writing this. This keyboard is freaking me out. <br /> So if I have a crippling fear of most things, how do I function on this campus- or anywhere- for that matter? Well, I was left in the dark for most of my life (not literally, but I am scared of the dark so even metaphorically it scared the bejesus out of me), and it wasn’t until I met John Zaffis, a paranormal investigator, that I finally found the secret to quelling my fears. Who better to ask about fear than a man who works with ghosts and demons on a daily basis (and runs a paranormal museum out of the second floor of his garage)? <br /> This guy is good. I talked to him and he said he’s reduced combating fear to four simple steps that I now use several times a day. It’s pretty clear when I need to use them… my heart starts beating faster and faster, my hands go numb, my eyes tremble and fog up, my ears secrete liquid and my bald spot tingles. Here are John’s steps, and a real life situation that happened to me just a couple of hours ago. <br /><br />1) Think about where you are and what you’re doing. <br /> I’m at a grocery store buying unflavored frozen yogurt. <br /><br />2) Figure out what exactly you are feeling.<br /> My temples hurt. <br /><br />3) Identify the scary thought that goes with that feeling.<br /> Why is the man behind the counter not looking at me?! Are my ears bleeding? <br /><br />4) Argue with that scary thought! Make fun of it and belittle it! <br /> He’s probably just doing his job…oh look; he’s mixing potato salad. That’s why he wasn’t looking at me. And my ears? I can see my reflection in the glass display. They aren’t bleeding. What a dumb thing to imagine! Oh… now he’s looking at me. Why’s he looking at me? (At this point, I would have to go through the steps one more time.)<br /><br /> This Halloween, if you get scared, use these steps. They really work!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-55281396562450690652007-10-21T09:05:00.000-07:002007-10-21T09:07:33.957-07:00Boot 'N Paddle - October 19Mother never let me have a pumpkin as a child. I remember driving past the pumpkin patch on my way to cello lessons, wanting so badly to run up, down and betwixt the rows of the mysterious vegetables, but always hastily bypassing the farmer’s field. Of course, Mother always discouraged running, too. <br /> I remember seeing pumpkins sitting on doorsteps, faces carved into grotesque alterations of the human face, with candlelight spilling out from their eyes, mouth and nose. They frightened me, but mesmerized me, too. I spent many evenings imagining whose face I would chose to etch into my own pumpkin. While I suppose other children carved their favorite baseball players, or film stars, I always dreamed of carving the features of my favorite author, Richard Henry Dana. Many hours I passed in conversation with an imaginary Richard Henry Dana carved into an imaginary pumpkin. How lucky was I to have such a friend who could keep me awake at night with stories of rounding Cape Horn and trading beaver pelts with Native Americans? Every time I pretended to carve a pumpkin, I always chose Richard Henry Dana, for his stories never grew tiresome. <br /> My neighbors, twin boys named Phillip and D’Artagnan, were always permitted to have pumpkins, and furthermore, were allowed to disguise themselves on Halloween night! From my father’s study I could perfectly see the two boys, dressed as ghouls, warlocks, and wizards, playing tricks on the other neighborhood boys. Oh, how I wished to partake in their tomfoolery! I watched them eat sweets that their mother had cooked for them specially for Halloween. They must have had toothaches from the amount of sweets their mother allowed them to eat.<br /> Mother never let me eat sweets. On one occasion, she placed a decorative candle beside me, and I mistook it for a licorice whip, or peppermint stick, and consumed the entire candle before she had the chance to stop me. While the taste was slightly unpleasant, I must say the thrill of eating something so ornamental was truly invigorating.<br /> As this Halloween approaches, I am filled with the same excitement that I have felt before Halloweens of past. My neighbors have a pumpkin outside their door, and my roommate purchased a bag of sweets! I will most likely spend Halloween night with an old friend, Richard Henry Dana.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-52469869672020915022007-10-15T09:49:00.000-07:002007-10-15T09:53:07.758-07:00Boot 'N Paddle - October 5For all you sad sacks out there (sad people love Boot ‘N Paddle), it’s autumn, so cheer up. I don’t mean for that to sound too harsh or unsympathetic, but really! There is so little to be unhappy about in the fall. Summertime? It can be so…like, when the sun is so bright, and you just think, “dang, I wish it were fall.” And spring. You’re thinking, “I hate this wannabe fall.” Winter, is actually pretty great, too. But fall? Oh yeah. <br /> The smells! Wood smoke. I’m not a huge fan of people that smell too strongly of any particular scent. Exception…wood smoke. If you smell like wood smoke, I will almost certainly like you. I will at the very least, in discussing your flaws, throw in an “although… he/she does smell like wood smoke.” The only thing better than people who smell like wood smoke, is wood smoke. Wood smoke. It smells amazing! Think about this scenario. You wake up in the morning. The floor is cold when you swing your bare feet off of your bed and set them down. The fire went out during the night so you throw some kindling on the embers and it starts right up. It’s not long until you add a couple of other nostalgia builders…the smell of bacon and coffee. If I could eat wood smoke, I would. With bacon and coffee, that dream becomes a reality. Those are just a few of the smells. Think about fallen leaves, crisp air, and wool.<br /> Holy cow…wool! This is probably the best part about autumn. I have a lot of sweaters. I just acquired a new one today. I’m wearing one right now. The best part about sweaters is that there is never a “bad” sweater. It doesn’t matter if you have one with Balou on the front. What matters is that it keeps you warm. Add one button down shirt beneath the sweater and we are really getting autumnal. I’m not trying to delve to far into the fashion aspects of fall, but… you can’t have too much wool. Get a scarf. <br /> Of course I have to address the aestheticism of fall. It’s great. We all know that. I’m color blind, and I know that. (It’s not like I don’t see color. I just see colors differently than you do. The colors might even look more vibrant to me than they do to you…so…maybe I actually feel badly for you). <br /> I’m starting to get anxious writing this (actually my intern is writing this… I dictate all of my Boot ‘N Paddles). There is so much to love about fall! Cider! Apples! Pumpkins! Halloween! Fall zephyrs! Christmas is coming! Squirrels! Migration! Bears! Canoeing! Lambs! Soup! Corn chowder! Chicken and dumpling! Split pea! Baked beans! Casseroles! Hot cider! Falafel wraps (they aren’t really autumnal…I just like them)! Flannel! Splitting wood! Crunching! Leaf piles! Sleeping! Chilly, cloudy days! Knit socks! Autumn romance! <br /> If you’re cooped up in the computer lab or stuck in a class, don’t forget it’s fall outside! I never do. If you see someone wearing a couple of layers underneath a sweater and a scarf, drinking hot cider, and breathing slowly and heavily through their nose, that is probably me. The guy next to me is my intern.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-56581257659214642032007-10-15T09:48:00.000-07:002007-10-15T09:49:50.494-07:00Boot 'N Paddle - September 28I was recently looking through the St. Lawrence University archives and came across a great article about Peak Weekend. I’m not sure when this was written, or by who, but I knew I had to share it with you!<br /> <br /> Next weekend, like as not, is Peak Weekend. <br /> Many’s the time that St. Lawrence students have hiked their tails off campus, possibly owning courage to some concoction of mountain dew, to try their luck at ascending a mountain by way of ankle express. <br /> For those out there as sorry as owl bait, close only counts in horseshoes (and hand grenades). There is but one destination and that is the top. Excuses are sucker bait. You might have Tennessee quickstep, or maybe you’ve got a case of the skitters, it makes no difference. You make it to the top or your cake will turn to dough, at least on this campus. <br /> Of course, I’ll be a suckegg mule if each and every peak isn’t done. People have a way of getting down to brass tacks and climbing the mountains like bats out of hell. Always has been, always will be. <br /> It doesn’t take a rip snorter to join the fun. Any blueberry baby could do it! It’s hog killing weather, the best time to put on the dog and beat the band. What have you got to lose? So have a cup of Arbuckle’s if it makes your senses more keen, and jump on the wagon. I could knock you down for a row of brick houses! Just kidding! From hell to breakfast, we’ll see you there!<br /><br /> Isn’t that great? It may have been a little confusing… but it got me really excited for Peak Weekend. It’s the weekend of the 6th and 7th, and it is going to be great! Look out for emails with more information (as if you need more!). Get excited!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-27521924094383298092007-09-19T17:54:00.002-07:002007-09-19T17:55:39.763-07:00Boot 'N Paddle - September 21, 2007Remember last year when I held the contest for a chance to write Boot ‘N Paddle for a week? Contestants had to write a Boot ‘N Paddle about one of three topics: 1) “Welcome back to school”, 2) “The great outdoors” and 3) “You know you’re sick when….” Tons of people entered! The editors and I had a real ball reading through some of the entries! It was so hard to pick a winner…that we didn’t! In the end we decided to enter snippets from some of our favorites….<br /><br /> -This past weekend was simply divine. I have this memory, and it is one that will stick with me for ages, I swear it! There was this moment, a moment so delightful that I had to believe I had conjured up the splendor in some undisturbed summer slumber. <br /> I had just returned from a stroll down an old logging road with my Springer spaniel, Helios. Nearing my rusty gate, my faithful companion stirred a grouse from beside a giant of a maple tree. Just as Helios barked, the grouse fled (This went on for a long time until…) a moment of pure, uncontaminated, autumnal bliss. <br /> - …and yet snowshoeing can be a positive experience, too! I can’t deny that I have felt very happy on a pair of snowshoes.<br /> - Dog is not man’s best friend! My cat is my best friend!... (This was a very heartwarming story that was just way too long for print. Thanks anyway Jeremy!) <br /> - So there I am, in the middle of woods on my fifth day of not having eaten anything except my jeans, so my legs are freezing!<br /> -You guys, I think it is really neat that school is underway! We cast off the lines, and pushed away from the summertime docks to set to sea heading for academia. Well, here we are gang and I must say we have arrived at a very strange new land! <br /> - What is the great outdoors? Is it a myth… some conjured idea stemming from frontiersmen too drunk on whiskey and wine to know their own surname. Well I did some research and the term actually stems (as most things do) from Greek mythology. No, I will not bore you with tales of Zeus taking Athena out his head to bring the world knowledge, nor will I tell you of Artemis’s hunts or Aries’s wars. For it is actually a small fawn named Pan from which our story starts.<br /><br /> Wow guys! Thank you so much for submitting! If I’m not careful, I might lose my job! HAHAHAHAHA!!! (It’s not a job)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-5491006028901541912007-09-19T17:54:00.001-07:002007-09-19T17:54:39.417-07:00New season of Boot 'N PaddleHello freshman class! Here’s a sampling of what you guys have been talking about:<br />- Kelly talked practically all night to Jake about… prettymucheverything.<br />- Brit told Drew that she has the best boyfriend back home. He knows like everything about her. They’re best friends.<br />- Mike told Nick about a bunch of parties that were “sick.” <br />- Meg told her FYP that her brother doesn’t have a belly button. Later, she said it again, and Derick made fun of her because she already said that.<br />- Jill told Maddie that Derick is soooo funny, and cute. <br />- Adam told a really loud story in the student center about how he ran from security.<br />- Pat heard that his roommate hooked up with their neighbor after the quad experience and now Katie is super pissed because she liked Pat’s roommate (after hearing that he had a house in New Hampshire), but now Pat likes Katie (according to Jenn), but he had a cold sore and Katie is super “sketched out,” but is kinda intrigued even though she likes Pat’s roommate because Nicole told her that Pat is awesome at surfing. <br />- Lars told Thom that his brother just graduated. He lived in the town houses and has friends that are living there and can “hook them up.” Thom didn’t completely understand what Lars meant but said, “oh nice!”<br />- Valerie was hung over for her first class and told all of her friends back home.<br />- Kyle remembered a sweet story and told everyone. <br />- Cameron’s orientation group played the name/drink game and he totally knew what to say…Cameron/Corona.<br />- Everyone talked about how amazing the Outing Club BBQ was on Wednesday.<br /><br /> Surprised that I know all this? Well, keep reading Boot ‘N Paddle for an expanse of surprises, and not always good ones. Coming to you from the Outing Club, Boot ‘N Paddle will vaguely address the outdoors (who needs to read about the outdoors? You see it everyday. Right? Wrong), but mainly let’s me write pretty much anything I want (no swearing). Keep reading!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-39867828840714929472007-09-19T17:53:00.001-07:002007-09-19T17:53:51.813-07:00The last Boot 'N Paddle from last yearIn honor of this being the last paper of the year, I am going to devote this Boot ‘N Paddle to an actual outdoor experience I had last weekend.<br /><br />Friday night was a late night. They always are because we are in college and we do college things like staying up really late. That, and writing term papers. And hanging out on the quad. <br />A couple of friends (I call them “buddies” when I’m talking about them to other people. “Oh yeah, my buddies…”) and I decided that we would go hiking on Satu–– no, we would go rock climbing on Saturday. We’re all really good rock climbers who watch rock climbing movies.<br />Friday night turned into Saturday morning and we were still awake! I finally went to sleep at 5:30 and I’m not sure what time my buddies went to sleep. Maybe they never did. I wouldn’t put it past those guys! <br />It’s about a two-hour drive to the rock climbing area we usually rock climb at and I was in the best shape to drive, so at 7:30 we all hopped into my car and headed out. My buddies slept the whole way.<br />I made it to the rock climbing area in an hour and a half, a fact I will casually drop next time anyone brings up driving in the Adirondacks. My buddies woke up and got super stoked about the impending rock we had yet to conquer. <br />Once we reached the rock, we set up our gear and starting climbing, using rock climbing terminology the entire time. One of my buddies climbed and made it to the top. Then another, and another. Finally it was Gern’s turn. Gern is a self-proclaimed rookie who started climbing in the fall.<br />Gern made it about halfway up the cliff before his right hand slipped. He managed to regain a hold on the rock and called down, “I’m not sure I can do it!”<br />My buddies started shouting back to him mixing rock climbing terminology with other phrases that I hear kids saying around school and it hit me how multidimensional we are. We aren’t just college kids. Nor are we just rock climbers. We are rock climbing college kids. <br />I pointed out my realization to my buddies and they were all very intrigued. Greg pointed out that we are also intellectuals. Casey added romantics. Kip claimed to be an optimist and a future leader. <br />At some point during our self-realization, we all forgot that Gern was still climbing. <br />Gern fell and broke his pelvis. Rock climbing can be really dangerous.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-18235623946591477252007-09-19T17:50:00.000-07:002007-09-19T17:52:42.443-07:00Backed up Boot "N PaddleThis may shock some of you. It should shock all of you. Oh my gosh…I’m going to get into trouble for this…<br /> Okay, there is, wow, this is hard. There is, well, okay. It snowed a couple of days ago. That typically doesn’t happen this time of year. In fact, I looked it up, and it has never happened. Ever.<br /> You might also have noticed the new building on campus. They call it the “Science Center.” Hmmm…a building dedicated to science that doesn’t have any people in it… “Okay,” I asked myself, “what’s going on?”<br /> I decided to swing by the “Science Center” and get to the bottom of things.<br /> As soon as I touched the front door, I knew I was onto something. I always thought the building was made out of steel, cement, brick etc. Wrong. The front door is made out of balsa wood. As is the entire building. Even the glass!<br /> So why exactly was the “Science Center” so expensive to build? Keep reading…<br />I walked down the building’s long corridors and rode up and down the delicate balsa wood elevators. Nothing.<br />But then, on the roof, I found…oh boy, this is what’s going to get me into trouble… St. Lawrence University and its scientists have developed a machine that is capable of manipulating weather and have built it on the roof of the new “Science Center!”<br />Why would they want such a machine? Admissions, probably. <br /> Why would they use it to make snow at such an odd time of the year? Well, I can’t say for sure, but I would imagine they are still trying to work the kinks out of it. Just wait, I’ll bet you (after the snow storm fiasco) the weather starts getting much nicer. Green grass, blossoming trees, birds will even be affected by the machine! They’ll start singing! <br /> Don’t expect the “Science Center” to open anytime soon. They can’t risk discovery of their device. In the fall there may be an electrical problem. The spring, while trying to stock the building, there will be a serious chemical spill that will force haz mat teams to shut the building down for at least a year. <br /> It’s a money making scheme. For all you know, St. Lawrence and its scientists could have manipulated you into coming here. Why did you come to school here? Think about it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-39836360484907302702007-04-05T17:12:00.001-07:002007-04-05T17:12:56.517-07:00Boot 'N Paddle - April 6, 2007A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about coming across a distressed classmate in the library and how I was able to help him achieve a certain level of contentment. Now, I don’t make a hobby of walking around teaching people lessons, but…<br />Last weekend, I was walking in town behind a mother and who I assumed to be her children. It appeared to be a pretty nice scene; little kids are great. But then I noticed something. The oldest of the group was walking behind the youngest, stepping on his untied shoelaces! I knew what kind of kid he would grow up to be… the kind that throws toads as high up in the air as possible. A real little dickens! <br />I thought back to my disgruntled classmate in the library. I helped him… I could help this kid, too! The Mom, who I could tell was useless, probably wouldn’t want me disciplining her child, so I waited until they stopped and I casually walked up to the bully while his mother was distracted.<br />“Hey, Bud! How’s it going?” I said as I knelt down to his level.<br />He didn’t say anything.<br />“I saw you stepping on your brother’s shoelaces. I used to do that! But then I realized it wasn’t nice to do. Do you want to hear a poem? I think you might like it.” <br /> He did the thing where he pulls his chin into his neck and shakes he head side to side. I could see tears welling up in his eyes. He was probably scared of my bald spot. <br /> I knew he didn’t want to hear my poem but I launched into it anyway.<br /><br />Tinker was a country mouse,<br />Who went from house to house.<br /><br />By day he ate,<br /> He ran,<br /> He swam.<br />By night he slept in an old can of spam.<br /><br />Of all the games he loved to play,<br />There was none more fun than “Neigh, Horse, Neigh.”<br /><br />It’s of mice that horses are most scared,<br />Tinker enjoyed most of all to scare the fairest mare.<br /><br />As one fine morning grew anew,<br />Into the horse stalls Tinker flew.<br /><br />Around, around, up and down,<br />Through the fair mare’s legs he bound.<br /><br />“One leg, two legs, three legs…not four?”<br />Tinker looked up, a shoe came down, and Tinker was no more.<br /><br />“You know what that means, don’t you?” I asked the boy as silent tears streamed down his cheeks.<br />He managed to let out an, “uh huh” type noise and sniffled. <br />“It means Tinkers dead, doesn’t it? Yeah. Tinker died because he thought picking on someone else was fun. So, maybe next time you step on your brother’s shoelaces you can think about Tinker. Can you do that for me?”<br />The boy nodded and ran off to his brothers and sisters. His Mom looked up at me.<br />“You have beautiful children.” I said.<br />She smiled. <br /> Everything was going to be okay.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-24025381303333979312007-03-28T19:11:00.001-07:002007-03-28T19:11:54.384-07:00Boot 'N Paddle - March 30, 2007You didn’t wow your parents over break?<br />I did.<br />That’s because before I went home, I did some research on the internet, and I acquired some very interesting material that I was sure would knock my parent’s socks off.<br />Next time your parents ask you what you’ve been learning at St. Lawrence, rattle off some of these impressive animal facts.<br /><br />Flying squirrels can’t actually fly!<br />Beavers have teeth so strong that they can eat through an entire tree!<br />A Cobra’s poison is so potent that it can kill a person! <br />Chameleons can change the color of their skin! Eww…<br />Dogs can hear sounds people can’t!<br />Caterpillars turn into butterflies!<br />Birds hate snow!<br />Dolphins can jump out of the water just like we can jump into the water!<br />Fish can actually breathe underwater!<br />A tortoise can, and has, lived longer than a human!<br />Of all animals, Musk Oxen are most prone to depression!<br />My cat, Mini, went to live in the humane society!<br />My parents told me she ran away!<br />In some countries, people eat frog legs!<br />Penguins are technically birds!<br />Baby birds eat their mother’s throw up!<br />Woodpeckers received their name because of the way they make holes in trees!<br />They taught a chimpanzee sign language!<br />Bears are invincible!<br />Worms are boys and girls…at the same time!<br />Squirrels spend the fall collecting enough food to last them all winter long!<br />I really don’t have lice!<br /><br />Be careful, though. Don’t call up your parents or walk in your front door and start did-you-knowing them. It’s way cooler to wait until the topic comes up… <br /><br />Mother: Oh, Gern (That’s you)! We saw the cutest thing yesterday! Dad left the car door open while he ran inside to grab his tennis shoes and when he got back, there was a baby squirrel perched on top of the steering wheel. It really looked like the little guy was trying to drive!<br />Gern: Yeah, that’s funny Mom, but did you know that flying squirrels can’t actually fly?<br /><br />You nailed it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-34251780948376461642007-03-28T19:08:00.000-07:002007-03-28T19:09:51.779-07:00Boot 'N Paddle - March 9, 2007Being outside is great and all, but sometimes it is just way too cold out there. Like take this past week, it must have dropped below freezing two or three times! Cold! <br />So what happens to your day when that outdoor excursion you’ve been planning is called off on account of cold weather? You do something in the only place that’s not outdoors, indoors. <br />Once you’ve made the decision not to go outside, you first need to think of an excuse to tell your nosy friends, because frankly, “it’s too cold” sounds a little wimpy. This is pretty easy to do. Try out, “My car wouldn’t start,” or “My binding snapped because it was so cold,” or you can just say you don’t want to talk about it, that way your friend feels bad.<br />So the big thing is what to do inside. Try going for a car ride. The car is in a bit of gray area between out and in but I’d say it’s more in than out.<br />Check out some back roads. Find a sweet little spot to bring a special someone later in the spring. For you guys, girls love guys with knowledge of back roads. Trust me. <br />Being in the car will give you the illusion of being outside but will allow you to regulate the temperature. Sitting really close to any window and looking out of it is another way to trick your brain into thinking you’re outside.<br />If you don’t have a car and are tired of sitting in front of the window, try some of these activities…<br />Movies are great. Watch one. Also, a well-shot outdoor scene can really make you feel like you’re there too (hello Seven Years in Tibet!)<br />*Watching network television programming and the surfing the Internet are activities you want to avoid substituting for an outdoor experience. Some computer games are acceptable…like Kings Quest. (Right, Hub?)<br />Make a to-do list. I started making to-do lists and find myself to be much more productive. Add long-term goals as well as small tasks. Frequently crossing off items will really give you a feeling of accomplishment. <br />Games are fun. Try picking up Pog or Magic the Gathering––actually, wait, don’t do that.<br />Sleep feels good but is boring when you think about it.<br />Have a conversation. How cold it is outside is definitely a good conversation piece.<br />Combat the outdoors with simulation summer… swim in the pool, sit in the sauna. You might try pretending to buy flowers at the florist just to feel like you’re really in a summertime atmosphere. Be careful about the amount of time you spend doing this. Store employees generally get nervous when someone stands in the corner of their store with their eyes closed for extended periods of time. Buy a balloon or something to keep the florist from getting suspicious. <br />Try an indoor sport that feels like it’s outside. Spelunking in the basement…just don’t get too close to the hot water heater. <br />Set up a tent inside. This is quirky and fun.<br />Constant visitation to a tanning bed will make other people think you’re outside a lot. That’s almost as good as the real thing!<br /><br />Bundle up more than you ever have before and go outside!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-86534307651819249502007-03-28T19:06:00.000-07:002007-03-28T19:08:47.430-07:00Boot 'N Paddle - March 2, 2007As many of you know, last week was “Major Declaration Week.” You probably saw the banner hanging up in the student center, or received the many emails, or even heard your friends talking about it. A major declaration in many ways shapes the following years of one’s college career. It’s something every college student must do.<br /><br />I do have one concern. <br />The banner in the student center seemed to stress “Major Declaration Week” as being something that comes once a year. The truth of the matter is you can make a major declaration anytime you want. And the beauty part is, anyone can! Sophomores are the target demographic but freshman can do it! Juniors can. And seniors can, too!<br />Check this out; I’ll make a major declaration right now.<br /> I am the most able-bodied athlete on this campus.<br />This is a pretty weighty declaration, and it’s also only semi-true. Here’s a more common one:<br />I will never like mayo. <br />Notice there is no room for dissent or misinterpretation. <br />I will never like mayo. That’s that. Take it or leave. <br />There are certain words that work very well in major declarations, words that let the listener know you mean business (And if you’re making a major declaration, you mean business). Words like, Must, Is, Will, and Destroy. Of course taken out of context these words don’t carry a lot weight, but in context… <br />I must have it!<br />That sweater is incredible.<br />I will destroy you.<br />These are basic words that help structure a major declaration. However there are many other words that will really spice things up. Listen to Joseph Conrad. “Woe to the man whose heart has not learned while young to hope, to love…blah blah…” <br />“Woe?” Whoa. The presence of that one three-letter word can add pizzazz to the most minor of declarations. (Avoid minor declarations. No one cares if you sometimes do the reading for class.)<br />Doctors are great at major declarations. When was the last time you heard a doctor say, “You kinda have Spastic Spinal Monoplegia Syndrome?” Or, “I’m pretty sure you need a laparoscopic cholecystectom.” A doctor tells you what you DO have and what you MUST do about it. <br />There’s a common misconception that a declaration’s place is in politics (thank you Declaration of Independence). That is not true! If you like something, declare it! If you feel something, declare it! <br />If you want something…declare it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-78705084593268917902007-03-28T19:05:00.000-07:002007-03-28T19:06:47.959-07:00Boot 'N Paddle - February 23, 2007“Paris is one of the most beautiful places in all the world. Unfortunately, I was so homesick I couldn't appreciate its beauty.” Tyra Banks said that. <br /><br />I think tangled up and twisted around in that quote is something we can all learn from, something that is so obvious in the mind of a celebrity, but so difficult for people like you and me to decipher. I’m going to reiterate what I think Tyra was trying to say in a personal anecdote.<br /><br />The other day, I was working in the library next to an outwardly disgruntled student. He was squirming around in his chair and seemed to be having a pretty tough time hitting the right keys on the keyboard. His situation climaxed with a loud, “UGHH!” Then he swung around in his chair and told me he “is so over this school.”<br />I was pretty uncomfortable because he was talking to me even though we didn’t know each other, so I just told him, “me too.” But then I started thinking about a story my Grandma used to tell me, a story that I realized would help my neighbor. I turned to him and asked if he wouldn’t mind listening to a story, which I think made him uncomfortable, but he agreed nonetheless. <br /><br />(The is a rough translation of the story that I told him.)<br /><br />Kip took another bite. “I’m sick of eating fish,” he said.<br />“Huh?” Jeremy was puzzled. Sick of fish? A bear had never said, or thought, that before. <br />“Especially trout.” Kip pushed the half-eaten fish corpse into the river. <br />“Shh…come on…you don’t mean that…Kip? Kip, you don’t mean that.” Jeremy knew all about his best friend’s…odd personality, but he didn’t want the other bears to hear what he was saying.<br />“No! I’m serious! I’m sick of it, Jeremy! I’m sick of eating fish, I’m sick of sleeping in damp, dark caves, and I’m so sick of walking around outside when it’s raining. Jeremy! I’m sick and tired of being a bear!”<br />“Kip! Quiet” Jeremy slipped on a rock and fell into the river. He poked his head out of the water. “Are you crazy, Kip!? You can’t say things like that!” <br />“Why not, Jeremy? Huh? Why not?”<br />“Because there are certain things bears––“<br />Kip turned his back to Jeremy and the river and sauntered off. <br />Later that day, Jeremy decided to stop by Kip’s cave to apologize for what happened during lunch. After all, he didn’t want a little dispute to affect their friendship.<br />But when he entered Kip’s cave, there was no sign of Kip! All that was left was a note pinned to the cave wall. The writing was washed out and runny because cave walls are naturally moist, but Jeremy did make out, “…needed some time… job application…try something new…” <br />And with that, Kip was gone.<br /><br />Over the next few months Jeremy heard from Kip a couple of times. He was living in Boulder, working for the Department of Transportation programming traffic lights. He was dating a real estate agent named Meadow (which to their annoyance was always a big joke at parties), and just bought a new Pontiac Sunfire. Kip seemed genuinely happy.<br />One day, Jeremy walked down to the river, just like he always did, to eat some breakfast. But this particular day was special. He wasn’t alone.<br />“KIP! You’re back!” Jeremy ran down to the river and tackled his friend into the water. “What are you doing back? I thought you had everything you ever wanted in Boulder?”<br />The two bears stared at each other, both dripping cold, glacial water. <br />“Jeremy, I came back because, this is where I belong. Because I’m a bear and I love that.” Then Jeremy and Kip hugged in a way only bears can. “Plus Meadow broke up with me…Let’s eat!”<br /> <br />By the time I finished my story, the disheartened student had left, as had most of the other people in the room. But there was still one student left, sitting in the corner, pretending not to listen. But I could tell. I could tell I gave him what Tyra gave me, a lens to look through that allows me to truly appreciate where I am.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365234347855771874.post-63784575500001164812007-03-28T19:03:00.000-07:002007-03-28T19:04:57.150-07:00Boot 'N Paddle - February 16, 2007I know that diaries are “private,” and that they should technically be privy to only the author, but the other day, I stumbled upon one that was just too good to resist publishing. <br /> <br />Last weekend I was walking home from an important meeting and noticed something dark on top of a snow bank. It was nighttime so I couldn’t really make out what it was until I got closer and realized it was a notebook. I flipped open the cover to the “In case of loss, please return to:” page, underneath which was written the name–– Wait a minute… oh my gosh! That is so insensitive of me… I can’t write her name! Heeelloo!! Alex, that would be so embarrassing for her! I’ll refer to the author as LD.<br />When I got back to my room I looked up LD in the directory, emailed her to let her know I had found her journal (or what I assumed to be her journal), and while I was waiting for a reply, just killing time, I began to flip through it. It was her journal. <br />A couple of entries in, I stopped and thought to myself, “Holy cow, people need to see this.” LD had without knowing it, or knowing that I had her diary, written my column. Here’s the first entry that got me:<br />“October 22, 2006 –– WE KISSED!!!!! Okay, whoa…I’ll calm down. Lucas and I kissed last night. I have so much work to do but I CAN’T DO IT because he’s all I can think about!<br />I’ll start at the beginning. Yesterday, a bunch of us all decided to go camping and Josh knew a really chill place that’s right on a river so we got our stuff together and left behind any school party potential. The campsite was AWESOME!!! It was like five minutes from the road so we didn’t have to walk far, there was a awesome fire pit, and oh yeah, Lucas was there.”<br />I learned a little bit about Lucas in earlier entries… He lives on the same floor as LD, she has had a thing for him since the beginning of the year and they would have hooked up once if it hadn’t been for LD’s “creepy” roommate. <br />“We started setting up our tents. Lucas didn’t bring a tent but instead planned to sleep in his truck. It’s so like Lucas. <br />So that night we were all sitting around the fire, and Lucas was practically only talking to me! Oh my god, I feel so lame and girly writing all of this… But anyway, the night went on and people started going off to their tents to go to sleep until it was only Lucas and me sitting by the fire.<br />He moved over to me and I totally knew what was coming. As we were talking our faces got closer and closer. And then, we kissed, the really good kind where you know you’re both so into it, and that there’s so much more to it than just kissing. Then he told me he’s been wanting do that ever since the night we watched Ghostbusters together.<br />Oh my god, I HAVE to start my work!”<br />Here’s another entry from later in the semester. At this point, LD and Lucas are going steady, but trying to work things out after a bit of a fight. <br />“December 10, 2006–– Things are so much better between me and Lucas now, but for a few hours I wasn’t sure whether or not we would make it. It was so awful. <br />A little while after he stormed out of my room he showed up to my door and asked me to go for a walk with him. We walked around campus as the sun went down and as snow began to fall. Talking with him, I started to think that maybe we were about to breakup, but then it happened. In the middle of my sentence, Lucas grabbed my shoulders, spun me around, and started kissing me like he did that first time by the fire. The snow fell heavily around us but inside Lucas’s embrace, I felt warm and safe.”<br /><br />Sitting there waiting to hear back from LD, I pretty much read all of her diary. I wanted to show you these two entries because they were the most romantic and passionate of them all. I asked myself, “What is it that makes these encounters so stirring?” I thought about it. Then it hit me. Like a good kiss in the rain, or a groping session underneath the stars, these situations were heightened by the element of the outdoors. <br />So for all of you lovebirds that didn’t fill your quota on Wednesday, head outside, because it is outdoors where indifference becomes passion, distaste becomes desire, and aversion becomes lust. <br /><br /><br />* On a separate note, would Libby Dunhill please stop by the lost & found desk in the student center.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0