17 May, 2008

Saturday: Love

Over the course of this last week I have learned a great deal about myself. Through the journey of self-discovery that was writing these daily blogs I have faced my fears, examined my dreams, and shared about my family… I really think that you and I, dear reader, have drawn closer to one another.

“I must admit, Eric,” I hope you’ll begin, “we are on much better terms than we have been on for a while. I think things might just work out between us.”

That’s exactly the point I’m getting at! As Jack and Meg White (accompanied by Holly Golighty) sing: “It’s true that we love one another.”

You see, dear reader, I love you (in an academic sense, of course) and I love this world. I hope my love is never so obsessive as to make me shout at you while at dinner: “I wrote a hit play!... And I’m in love with you.” However, I will make no promises.

“What exactly are you getting at here, Eric?”

It’s sort of like my friend Shea in this picture. I want to live with my arms outstretched in accepting bliss; however, I also don’t want to get up from where I am. I want to love you in the laziest way possible: sitting right where I am. Like the picture, this concept is somewhat blurry.

What I’m trying to say, dear reader, is that I think the best way for us to continue in this loving relationship is if I keep sitting here and writing you inane things, and you keep reading them. Granted, I’ll have to go underground for most of the summer, but I hope this week has done enough to rekindle our flame to last for the summer. What do you say, dear reader?

Is this the end of Oolong Fancies, or will you wait for me?

16 May, 2008

Friday: Death

Today I am traveling. Actually, I am currently soaring over California as I write this (don’t worry – I have AirPort turned off). I’ve already finished my complimentary orange juice, read a little bit from one of my female-writer-crushes, and stolen several looks over at a comically sleeping gentleman. Yes, air travel is an amazing thing.

However, there is a darker side to my journey; whenever I travel I always feel like I’m going to die.

“Eric,” you pipe-in, “do you think someone will hijack your plane?”

No, dear reader, I do not fear death by hijacker, crash, or even suddenly getting sucked down a depressurized toilet. No, I simply think that I will suddenly cease being. When this thought started I am not certain, but it assuredly is connected with being alone in a large crowd.

Late last month, whilst traveling north to visit my friend Haley in San Francisco, I wrote:

“…I suddenly have this fear that this will be the last thing I ever write… that this will need to convey m love to those I leave behind…”

Haley has little to do with death, as she is so young

What brought this sudden awareness of death about?

Perhaps it is growing because my travels signify saying farewells to people. How many more times will I make the trip down the coast to see friends and family in San Diego? After visiting San Luis later next week, when will I go to Linnaea’s again!?

“Eric, do you think this is just part of growing up?” you tenderly ask.

I think so, dear reader, I think so. I think part of my growing up is accepting my transience, and the fact my friends are transients as well.

This is why journeys with friends like Nick and Joey are so appreciated. None of us really have homes at the moment, and our placelessness allows for us to be truly present with one another. Okay! This is too Sencha for this blog.

Despite popular opinion, Joey is not from Lord of the Rings

Where am I going with all of this?

Death isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s a metaphor—maybe it’s not. You decide. But yes, I am indeed traveling.

15 May, 2008

Thursday: Adventurin’

Let me start off by saying that I had no intention for yesterday’s article to be offensive… it was simply supposed to be ridiculous! I hope this dispels any false assumptions and alleviates any heartache. That being said…

Summer is almost upon us, and the great out-there is calling my name. Yes, dear reader, not only does summer mean camp, Echo, bad food, and another prolonged period of blog inactivity, but it also means rolling pant legs up and wading down creeks.

At the risk of a journal-like entry, I would like to talk about yesterday. It was balls-hot in Santa Cruz yesterday (and today is following suit), and I felt a calling from deep within my bones to return to the sea; however, as I don’t have a car, I figured any water would work out quite nicely. So, I grabbed Brandon my sidekick (I don’t think he’ll agree with that terming, but it doesn’t make it any less true) and we set off for Redwood Camp!

You see, Redwood is Mount Hermon’s only peninsula, and thus it is the logical place for water adventures. Girding ourselves in adventure shorts and straw hats, we took off down the river. There were a few hiccups along the way (killer crawdads, water in cell phones) but we eventually made our way into the once proud railroad town of Felton. We went to the local general store and picked up some water Mohicans and couple of mighty fine burritos. We feasted and then began the long trek back home.

Making adventurin' look good

I relay this little tale to explain what my summer might hold. Drama so thick you could cut it with a dulled knife!

“But Eric,” you interject, “why are you writing about this on Thursday? Do adventures and Thursdays mix?”

A discerning question to be certain, dear reader. Back in the days of yore, before I inherited a demon bird mask, was diagnosed with HIV, fought vampires, refuted Kant, hosted a Rockus Caucus, or sought out the fountain of youth, I adventured with one of San Luis Obispo’s favorite sons: Jordan Jolliff.

One quarter Jordan was fortunate enough to swing having classes only on Mondays and Wednesdays – naturally this gave him an unnatural advantage. Jordan began, what he called, Adventure Thursdays. He would grab a few friends, hop in a car, and drive around the Central Coast until a prospect met his fancy. What would follow was the stuff of legend.

I had the great fortune of joining in on some of these adventures and they played a formative role in my life. I can now only hope to live up to them this summer.

So, whenever you see a creek this summer, make sure to take a second look, and you may just see a man-pree clad man roasting a crawdad over a fire.

14 May, 2008

13 May, 2008

Tuesday: Ruminations

I just reread what I posted last night and nearly pooped my pants at how bad it was. What can I say about it?

“You could start off by apologizing, and then stop trying to convince us this fetid trash actually counts as a blog entry,” you’ll, no doubt, most rudely condemn me.

I must admit dear reader that there is some truth to your scathing accusation. I am sorry for the poor quality of yesterday’s entry, and what’s more, I cannot even blame it on having a case of the Mondays.

You see, I think Mondays have been given a bad rap. Sure, for many they signal the return to either the school or work week, which by its nature demands the weekend ends; however, this deliberate maligning of the Monday is bigoted and old-fashioned.

“Eric,” you interject, “what could possibly be narrow-minded about day prejudice? And shouldn’t you have written about this yesterday?”

Well, my astute reader, it may have made sense to write about this yesterday; however, there is a connection with Tuesdays just around the corner. As for now, let us look at the validity of my anti anti-Monday statement:

According to the reputable source wikipedia, Mondays are considered good days for fasting in Judaism and Islam, and I interject that it would have been a good day in Christianity as well since it follows the feast of Sunday. Early Christians did not see this as a case. Following an unfortunate trend, Christians moved forward with an anti-Semitic mindset, and in an attempt to distance themselves from the Jews began observing Wednesdays as good fast days. Could our distaste for Mondays spring forth from anti-Jewish sentiment?

Before you can interject on me again, let me state that I don’t think so. I think our distaste for Mondays is largely unoriginal. People set themselves up for a fall on Mondays. We hold Mondays on the same plain as disembowelment.


What about Tuesday? The little bastard-child of the week… Going into Mondays expecting the worst often leaves me realizing that Mondays aren’t so bad; however Tuesdays really grate my nerves. It is so apparent that the workweek is not coming to an end—I don’t even have the right to complain like I did the day prior. BOO!

If only every Tuesday was this awesome

So there you have it: hating Mondays was so last decade, Tuesdays are the hip new day to dislike, and I will fight anyone in the face who says any differently.

I’m sorry to be so testy, but it is Tuesday after all.

12 May, 2008

Monday: Formerly Untitled

My night has been a strange one. First my boss and his wife came to have dinner at my house. We had stuffed peppers and talked about the joys and woes of interning (at both Mount Hermon and elsewhere). Several almost sexual references were made, and there were more than a couple of suppressed giggles at what could have been perfect “that’s what she said” moments.

Eventually my boss headed home, and we put on Butch Cassidy and the Sun Dance Kid. I am currently a little better or worse for wine, and the movie plays on!

Yes, this is a terrible blog entry, but I have little choice at this point. All I feel like talking about are walking hay bales! Around one hour and thirteen minutes a walking hay bale! What does that mean exactly? Sure, there is a man walking in front of a hay bale, acting as though he is pulling it along, but if you watch it in slow motion, there are some obvious legs moving the hay bale about. Is this funny? I’m not certain; however, everyone else who is watching found it uproariously humorous.

One hour and twenty-four minutes into the film a character dies who claims he is “colorful;” is this another example of blacksploitation in the 70’s?

More questions arise, but I am too tired and disaffected to actually answer them (or even pose the questions to you for that matter).

I’ll try to do better tomorrow. No really, I will!

11 May, 2008

Sunday: Will Eric Keep His Word?

I have become a lazy blogger. I even attempted to assuage some of your complaints with my last entry – assuring you that I am a busy little bee. However, the masses have spoken! You want me back… admit it.

“Don’t you think that’s a little cocky for having been so absent as of late?” You will no doubtedly insist.

Well, I do give to you that I haven’t been around as much as we would all like, but hey, absence makes the heart grow fonder!

“Or forgetful.”

Well, my dear emotional reader, in an attempt to make things up to you, I am launching the most aggressive and daring blog campaign ever before attempted. Yes, today begins my attempt at a week straight of blogging! Do I have the material for such an effort? Most likely not, but I’m not above making things up. So, what do you say? Will you read onward?

“I suppose so, but this is your last chance, you bugger.”

My, you have become testy since I took my leave of absence. Well, here we go!

Tonight I will pay homage to an important aspect of the day that you may not be aware of…

“Shouldn’t you use your other blog to talk about Pentecost?”

Oh geez, how embarrassing. I had no idea it was Pentecost today! No no no… Today is also Mother’s Day! It’s one of those days where you pay honor to the woman who birthed and/or raised you. It’s really a spectacular day, especially when you have a spectacular mother! Allow for me to introduce to you Carolyn Garner (artist, Swede). She is a sweet little lady who loves simplicity and might just scream while playing Pit Spoons.

My mom rocking everyone's socks off at my sister's wedding

I would love to write about her in greater detail, but anything I say at this point will come across as contrived or insignificant. Instead, I give you a video I had shown in church for her on Mother’s Day several years ago. I’ll let it speak for itself.