The perfect job

One summer in high school, I worked for the Forest Service with someone who would later become a very close friend. After waking at 4:30 and driving the hour to work each morning, we stole pens from the supply closet, studied satellite maps, and chose a sunny spot to spend the day performing surveys on replanted forestry plots. And then we drove, burned one forearm apiece, and talked. We spit sunflower seeds, napped in the shade over our lunch break, and played home run derby with rocks and broken sticks. And we talked, about anything and everything. (In retrospect, it was easily the best summer out of those high school summers).

One of the things I remember us discussing was the idea of our "perfect job". At that point, I decided my ideal career would be to sleep for a living. I would go to work, sleep for eight hours, and then return home. If I had a family, I would spend time with them in the evening (after my job) and then have the night to myself. I could write, exercise, watch movies, and (if I wanted to) sleep a little more. It seemed, well, perfect.

Now, I try to nail down the idea of the ideal job and I feel a little lost. A film critic, an author, a screenwriter, a lobbyist...anything that involves imagination, creation, and people. But this is a place I suppose most people find themselves - dissatisfied with their first few jobs and hunting for something that fits. My hope is that this hope does not go too often unfulfilled.

A extra-whiny personal essay blurb

Whilst cleaning out some old things, I came across a personal essay I wrote recently, which was inspired after hearing an episode of "This American Life" and reading David Sedaris' Holidays On Ice. Here is a short piece of it ---

"In the period between Christmas and my birthday in March, I apply for thirty-seven different jobs. In addition, I send various pieces of my writing to thirteen publications, e-zines, and editors. My extensive application for a Fulbright grant (ten months in the works) and my graduate school submission to the University of British Columbia are both rejected. My long shot goals of writing for “The Onion”, finishing my young adult novel, and pitching story ideas to numerous publishing agents at an annual writing conference go, unceremoniously, unfulfilled. I continue my drudging at the computer store, learning the inventory department in addition to my sales duties. For my own amusement, I write to our company’s president one Friday. “Dear Craig,” I write, “We have not met but I work the inventory department at your Beaverton store. I am writing because certain thoughts have weighed heavily on my mind as of late.” I go on to discuss Capitalism and it’s flaws and the idea of consumer “buying power.” My three and a half page manifesto concludes thusly: “In the end, people buy products they do not need and people work harder, longer hours for less pay with fewer benefits. Ideally, we would see this Capitalistic model fail, as neither the customer nor the employee is treated well. Yet only a massive displacement of buying power or working manpower would have a lasting effect on the system.” Much to my surprise, Craig sends me a reply the very next Sunday. “I am always open to such interesting and intelligent conversation,” he begins, “and I applaud you for asking these difficult questions.” He follows this introduction with his own rousing, three and a half page defense of Capitalism, assuring me that “while it’s not a perfect system, it’s the best we’ve got.” And so my unspoken aim behind writing this treatise, of being plucked from the minutiae of sales and inventory – being thrust into a position of writing, expounding, creating – is lost."

Playoff season and the fear of being a traitor

I realized today that I have yet to write anything about sports, which is odd as many of my weekends during football season are devoted to the watching of at least one or two good games. And it's not as if I'm a neutral viewer who has no opinions on the game(s). (For instance, I disagree with the way overtime is played in the NFL and I find it laughable that Division I-A college ball has no playoff system (particularly when a perfectly workable playoff system exists in Division I-AA)). In particular, I've been most concerned with college football rivalries and the fans that perpetuate them. Bill Simmons, ESPN's "Page 2" correspondent, has a good list of general sports rules for fans, but here are my few college-football-centric additions (some of which run contrary to his):

1. It is okay* to root for another team that is in your school's conference.

*Recently, I've had run-ins with "loyal" college football fans who feel utter disdain for the other teams in their conference. While I think this is normally acceptable during the regular season, the playoffs - or bowl seasons - are a different story. For example, if my UM Grizzlies are out of the hunt for a national title and our rival (the Montana State Bobcats) are still in the picture, I will gladly root for them. This is not only because they are in the same conference but because they have yet to win a national title. In addition, if your team is from a conference that doesn't get much respect (e.g. Mountain West, WAC, etc.) then it is almost obligatory to cheer for the team that is generating said respect (provided your own team is done for the season). The good buzz that appears around a winning team is only good for the conference as a whole.

2. An understanding* of the game must precede any rivalry.

*I can't tell you how many times I've had conversations where I present my side of the rivalry debate (see Rule #1) only to discover that the other person doesn't know how many downs there are in a series. Now, I never played football and I personally know it takes some time and energy to understand it - and some misconceptions about overtime rules, names and positions are forgivable - but it is totally asinine for a "fan" to froth at the mouth about their loyalty to team when they don't know how the game is played.

3. Keep your rivalries in perspective*.

*Plain and simple, we are fans of the schools we attended due to the happenstance, fate, or God that put us there. As such, it's good to remember that most of us were a scholarship or acceptance letter away from being fans of a different school. So remember that rivalries are a means for enjoying the game more and not a foundation on which to build your ego.

One of those...huh...days

I'm having one of those days where I feel incredibly spacey. Whether it's for lack of sleep, stress, or just synapses failing to fire, I feel as if I can't concentrate on anything. (Seems like a good time to post to my blog, eh?) These are the days where you drive home and then cannot remember the last five minutes of your trip. The days where you forget why you walked into the kitchen and then forget what you were doing before you decided to walk into the kitchen. The days where you misplace the TV remote and find it in the fridge a few hours later. I chalk it up to a physical phenomenon I once read about called derealization or jamais vu, where the normal world suddenly appears abnormal to you. (I believe Vonnegut discusses this idea in Slaughterhouse Five). It's as if you look down, see your shoelaces are untied and when you stoop down to tie them, your mind suddenly goes blank. Your fingers freeze on the laces and you realize that you have no idea what to do. And someone could pay you a million dollars to finish but you still wouldn't be able to tie your shoes for the next ten seconds. It forces you to think about perception and remember that who we are depends on what day, hour, or minute you come upon us.

Once a runner...

There's an article in Slate today about John L. Parker's previously out-of-print book on long distance running, Once A Runner. (After reading it, I am tempted to hunt for the novel - which is apparently a task in itself). Anyway, as a sometimes-long-distance-runner, I think the description of the book's eponymous subject is spot on ---

"Like many cults, distance running has its mysteries, and The Secret — how you become a real runner — is Once a Runner's chief concern...But it turns out that The Secret is that there is no secret. The runner must pound the mileage, as we say. It's a grueling, tedious, insane lifestyle. So why do we keep doing it? To understand the answer, you have to understand a bit about distance running. For one thing, it helps to know that only non-runners talk about a "runner's high." It's not that it doesn't exist, that weird feeling of euphoria you sometimes get briefly after a tough day at the track or a superlong run. But no one could possibly be a runner just for the highs, whether brought on by natural chemicals or by winning a race. The running life is mostly just lots and lots and lots of miles. Only a few competitions punctuate the grind of thankless workouts on anonymous tracks, and you literally need a very loud gun to snap you out of the training existence and tell you it's time to save nothing for later. There simply isn't enough in the way of traditional rewards as compared with hard labor to make it worthwhile—that is, if you're only after the traditional rewards."

Current distractions

I'm in the midst of finishing a few books, which is a fairly regular place for me to be ---

"Player Piano" by Kurt Vonnegut - One of my favorite writers, this book hasn't quite taken flight as quickly as some of his other works. But it still contains the same cynical, maniacal fantasies that he is best at creating. I sympathize with his skepticism of organized anything and his faith in the goodness of solitary man. (It's also difficult to dislike a guy who gave some of his own books "C-" ratings).

"The Catcher In the Rye" by J.D. Salinger - I reread this book every year or two. On this occasion, it hasn't read as smoothly as years before. Talking to a coworker of mine, I realized that maybe Salinger is a better short story writer (i.e. taken in small doses) than author of novels. This is not a knock on his talent - masters like Cheever and Chekhov are best known for their shorter works - but more a realization after a long love affair.

"From Hell" by Alan Moore - A Christmas gift from my younger sister, I always felt reluctant to gift this book myself. Jack the Ripper is a gory topic, but it's surprisingly deep in its subject matter. Moore explores the history of architecture - the movements, idols, and misogyny that once drove it - and the way it has shaped various cultures. It's as if we have no choice but to be influenced by the men and women who came before us. Heavy stuff.