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II. I’ve been thinking a lot about music, goals, and dreams. Planning and writing, mapping things out. On the guitar I’ve been practicing a piece named “Tico Tico no Fuba”, which is quite beyond my level of skill, but still appreciable to me because every now and then I hit a measure or four of notes in the right order and I am given  a glimpse of what this song could sound like were I better. Up until last week, I hadn’t really considered expanding my guitar vocabulary beyond simple chords and picking patterns.

:Part of this is me avoiding the confrontation with the fact that I can not see the end game from where I stand. An unwillingness to acknowledge that not everything is going just as planned. A resistance to fixing what is broken. Another is noticing a creativity and perseverance which is ephemeral and hoping that it can become more long term.

I preach a path of balance to myself. The idea of 15 minutes a day, but 15 minutes is never enough. I have shut myself in and only played the guitar or written poetry for days before, but I don’t want to walk into that circle again.

As I realize how crisp and clear it is, I go off course. (I’ve been off course all day, learning new guitar, new ways of typing, and day dreaming while researching instead of doing my best work.) I figure Why rush home? Why not hit a reboot?  Down by the lake, I skirt the Occupy camp and continue on until I’m clear of the tent city and am  able to get good and close to the water. I think of the gap in the cold and wet called summer and how it allowed me so many rambling nights exploring downtown. The games of sardines and tag (massive hide and go seek) that took place in unlikely places, fireworks, and strange hikes to overlook the city and having all the will I needed to run and play “fake it till you make it” with chemistry.

What do I need to do right now? So many things I should stop shirking.

As I continue homeward, I glimpse a view from a hill above the capitol.

This town I live in, this town I live in…It’s hilly terrain makes my heart beat.

It was a late night, I had sought shelter from home and sleep in the 24 hour coffee shop, pouring over a book called “And Then, You Act”…Intermittently that evening I had been talking across tables with the other visitors. A uneasy man, greasy long hair, late 30′s – 40′s who I shall call “Qo” sat a table off. He was eager to share his thoughts on Germany, poets, and linguistics. Qo was in town for his once a week treatment with the VA, he said.

He got up to replenish tea at the counter offering me a fresh cup. I accepted, though I should have run off.

Moments later another man walks in off the street, drunk as hell, and grabs the chair across from me. He hands me his cell phone and insists, “Call me a cab, please! Please, call me a cab. I’ll buy you a coffee…just…”

Qo comes over and takes a seat next to me now, with a full cup of mugwort tea. The table starts feeling a bit crowded.

“You know a number for a cab?” I ask, No such luck, so I visit the Barista and get a phone book.

“Please…get me a cab! I’m not a bum, I own some apartments on the east side…”

Eventually I call the cab company for him, and convince him to wait outside so he doesn’t fall asleep.

I mention that I have a long drive home, and should be going soon myself. Qo tries to hint that he would like to come with me, but I make certain to turn deaf ears on him.

Qo starts talking about how he used to live out in the country, and why he has to sleep with the lights on. “I lived out in the mountains, and my dad was off…so I was all alone. One night, the whole place shakes, the power goes out, it sounds like a flock of a thousand angry birds taking flight from the foundation. I was so scared…I just…I can’t sleep in the dark anymore.”

I wonder about what Qo’s life now that I remember having had this conversation. (Who he is, & was. How much of anything that he said was truth.) I will never be able to ask nor believe him in the fragments of this memory, let alone identify him if we met again.

As one place looks like another, faces and names become others whom I can travel with and meet all over again. Humans constantly rediscovering that our identities, our bodies may or may not be one solid thing. We pass by a small building and I think, “the Windmill Diner in Danbury Connecticut.” Names of two strangers are mentioned and in my mind they must be the people I met years ago in this city and shared such a nice time with…

I’m stopping here.

Midnight is neigh.

Death Valley

Reflecting on how lucky I am to have ventured around this country.  It really helps me deal with the fact that I’m probably not going to get to cover as much physical ground as I would like to in the next few months. I’ve experienced so many wonderful landscapes, but I have not yet experienced the complexity of thought that I would like to achieve.

This past spring, In my search to see a thing called beauty in mathematics, I read numerous books that described the understanding of a proof to summiting a mountain. I think that may be what it’s like for any intellectual pursuit. You stumble into a mess of underbrush, or walk along a clearly labeled path with few detours. Sometimes you can see clearly where you’re trying to get, other times it’s impossible. Like this summer in Organic Chemistry, where I was convinced I absorbed nothing but now in review, I find myself getting excited at the mention of chemical names in scientific papers, and an odd ability to explain some of what’s going on to confused classmates.

This Monday’s reflection complete, I have many hours of devoted study and training to complete.

“…And miles to go before I sleep.”

The idea is that before we begin investing in this alternative form of energy, we evaluate all the things it can do to our environment. Will this machinery break more than it fixes or is it actually a sound idea? There are many people who have dredged up some of this information before, but every year that goes by, more studies come out, everyone has different information needs and agendas, blah blah blah.

As I opened the file of a meta review and began reading, I was amazed. (1)There is a whole lot of thought and method that goes into a good research project (2)The mathematical models they were using were the same topic and model of problems I was dealing with in a textbook last spring. (I thank the scientists it was one of the fish problems, not a soda can problem.)

The amount of comfort I have with these papers is not through the roof, but I’m developing a more appreciative attention to detail with my paper reading skills. Right now, I’m a little overwhelmed by the task of translating this information into a form that is actually useful…which is something that I’ve been struggling with as a daily event outside of this project.  Every day I am going to seek a higher degree of lucidity, and though each action may seem trivial I have faith that it will build up to something worthwhile.

There are a of interesting designs for these hydrokinetic generators! What are your thoughts on any and all of it?

All this to tell you that I found myself scribbling odd notes as I read about the compact nature of DNA. ” If you wish to recall the direction which a DNA strand wraps around a histone, look at the curls in your hair, which always twirl left-counterclockwise-against time.” But then, further examining my hair I began thinking how does one tell what direction left or right is? Do you start looking at the curl from the top or the bottom of your hair’s strand? (actually, it does not matter. flipping a curl over still reveals a counterclockwise spiral) That related to the DNA which seemingly has no “top” or bottom since a double strand is a paired 3′ and 5′ end-respectively both a top and bottom end of a strand.

So images used to aid in remembrance can be tricky, poets are apt to exaggeration and misinterpretation as are scientists…yet Bjork says “Never trust a poet.” Remember to question your narrator.

Questions, comments, corrections?

The more you study, the less you know.

I am going back to reading my books.

Last night I dreamt of climbing silks again, visiting friends, wood stoves, being an apprentice of a traveling circus in Japan and tying down artificial turf on a football field with purple ribbons. I dreamed most vividly of running through the Northwest rainforest, through a cavelike system and having one thought that popped into my head about the way I should be seeing things. I stopped and turned around, and there perched up in an alcove was a jaguar watching the world go by. I stared at it, it let out a low tone growl about my potential interest,  shifted my gaze, it calmed, I turned and ran away to catch up with a friend.

I watched a movie the other night called “Queen to Play” it’s a beautiful French film about a maid who learns how to play chess, and how her passion for it effects her life.