So, I don't usually remember my dreams, at least not for the last few years.  They say you need to make a conscious effort to do so, since your dreams are in your subconscious and you need to transfer them to your conscious memory.  I don't really give myself a chance to do that, since I typically wake up 10 minutes before I intend to leave for work.  I don't know if this dream was particularly impactful or if I remember it solely because I could never quite fall fully asleep last night.  Of course, I know I had other dreams last night, but this is the only one I was able to remember - in that it's-a-dream-so-it-doesn't-make-complete-sense kinda way.

So, I live in some kind of apartment building/dorm-style building.  I don't know why, but I leave my room to wander the halls and I come across a girl I used to go to school with.  You probably don't know her, but I do.  Anyways, she pulls me into her room and we start going at it.  At some point I decide I need to grab something from my room.  I have no clothes on, but my room isn't that far away.  Just up the stairs and down the hall.  Well, I start to stroll up the stairs when I realize I've gone too far.  I try to find my way back to my room - of course, I can't just go back the way I came.  I have to keep going until I find another staircase.

At this point, I start to see other people wandering the halls.  But remember - I'm buck naked.  Now, oddly enough, I'm not ashamed of my indecency; I only cover myself for the sake of others' shame at seeing a naked man.  Anyways, I continue to try to navigate back to my room, but I am only becoming more and more confused.  I climb into an elevator with another girl.  You probably don't know her, but I do.  It is at about this point when I wake up - having never found my room.

So, I know there are all kinds of aspects of this dream which can be analyzed.  This is the only dream I can remember where I am in the buff and not ashamed of that fact, nor do I spend my time searching for something to cover myself with.  Rather than looking for clothes or a blanket, I spend most of my time searching for my room, which could indicate that I don't quite feel at home where I'm at.

Anyways, I just thought I'd share my dream.  I apologize if the imagery of my naked body has scarred you in any way.

I live in a state of perpetual sleep-deprivation.  It's not that I don't want to sleep.  It just seems that lately my mind has been a jumbled mess of thought.  The one truth I've always found is that I can't sleep when I have things on the mind.  It seems like every day I become more and more distracted.  The only time I really feel like I'm focused is when I'm at work (and there's work to be done).  Sometimes people will tell me things of some importance, and I'm so lost in my mind that it all goes right over my head (I swear I'm not hard of hearing).  The other day when I was driving to work at the Rancho San Diego Target, instead of staying on the 94 East, I hopped onto the 125 North . . . and didn't even notice until right before it ended.

So what is it I think about?  Well, my life is going through an interesting stretch right now.  Between weddings and Target remodeling and reopening (all of which I'm involved in), I have plenty to work through.  And all of this is on top of the usuals - life, love, work.

I try to bring my life outside more, but plans to go to the beach fall through too often and mountain biking is less attractive after a night of drinking.  I've been to the beach only a handful of times and mountain biking even less since I've moved out here.  Whatever tan I pick up one those rare times I get outside fades before my next trip into the light.

My job search has stalled . . . many times.  Sometimes I think I'm selling myself short on my skills (or maybe I just need to list that skill section on my resume).  I have a decent background in computer science (though you wouldn't know it from my resume) and now have a good knowledge of the world of entertainment.  I'm a great writer (minus the occasional garbled thought), at least, according to some of my English professors - and this includes both grammar and content (I didn't win that award for nothin').  But how do you convey that particular skill to a potential employer?

I can say with all honesty that I'm ready for the next challenge.  Part of the reason I'm still at Target was for the challenge of being the Entertainment Specialist, and now I feel like I excel at that.  And my recent experience working with others like me at Rancho have only further inflated my ego in that regard.  I can find more challenges elsewhere, and for far more pay - if only I could get that elusive job.  And no one seems to care when you say "I learn quickly and more thoroughly what others may come into the job already knowing."  Hell, 95% of what I know at Target I had to learn on the job, usually by myself.  I kind of feel like I need to go back to school to learn these skills that I could just as easily learn with a week on the job.

Anyways, I just felt like blogging - and maybe focusing my thoughts a bit more than they have been in a while.

I have to be at work in three hours, yet here I am blogging because I can't sleep.  I know I should, since I've been trying to kick a cold for the last week, but between my after-work nap and the insane heat, it's tough to get any.  Instead all I can do is think about random things that I've already thought to death about.

The last few weeks at work have been a little crazy.  A few weeks ago the District lead for my area (the area I essentially have sole responsibility for - that's movies, music and books, in case you didn't know) came by to rate the job we're doing (a rating which directly reflects the job I'm doing).  She was so impressed that she decided she wanted to bring the Regional people by in a couple of weeks (i.e. last week) when they were visiting.  Sounds cool enough.  So, of course, our District Manager wanted to swing by the week before (so, essentially, I had three visits in three weeks from the big whigs) to make sure everything was good.  Anyways, that visit went well - the only criticism being the dustiness of my area (an admitted deficiency - probably the only real one I have).  And when the regional peeps all showed up, it seemed like they were pretty impressed with the whole operation.  They said my book section was the best they'd seen in three months.

Now, if only I could relax, because there are some major changes going on in my department.  And by major, I mean only one significant change that will involve me trying to learn a little bit of Spanish so I can keep our new Latin music section alphabetized.  Seriously, if you don't know a lick of Spanish, how are you gonna know that La Quinta Estacion is filed under F?  That is, unless you know that they're also listed as La 5ta Estacion, i.e. under 5, and therefore Five.  And this is when I look to who stocks my CDs when I'm not around and wonder how they'll possibly manage it when they sometimes can't even get English names filed under the right letter.

So, by now, I'm sure you realize that I think I'm pretty fucking amazing.  Well, it wasn't until recently that the execs at my store started to realize that.  I came to the conclusion that they don't see it because they don't have any experience with anyone else at my position.  The only execs who appreciated my work before were the one who's been at this store the longest (the last one standing, really) and the one who just came over from another store after having years of experience presiding over the area in which I work.

Anyways, I know that I need to get away from Target, but I kind of feel like my best opportunity for a better job lies within rather than without.  I certainly have the credentials for it (really, it seems like all you need is a college degree and a lick of intelligence - though the latter is sometimes in question).  I think part of the reason I haven't looked as hard for a new job as I could have lies with both the comfort factor of working for Target and the challenge of my current position.  I think I've accomplished all I can, and while I love doing what I do (there are always new challenges) the responsibilities and the pay of my position do not add up.  Especially when they choose not to reflect my performance in my review (or more importantly, my pay raise).

To add to the pressure of big whig visits, I've been fighting my review for the last month.  After going to the district level, they were finally forced to revisit it, but who knows how it will turn out.  It's supposed to be based on my performance last year, but, of course, I was only there for the last four months of the year.  Yet, the review scores for my area were essentially capped by what we scored for that year.  Nevermind that sales were up after I took over.  Nevermind that our store was one of the few to exceed expectations for the year.  Nevermind that I took over only a few weeks before the insanity of Black Friday and the ensuing month-long holiday rush.  Nevermind that I was trained by someone more interested in the help I provided him than training me.  And nevermind the fact that the person who wrote my review has had next to no contact with me the entire time I've been at this store.

We'll see what happens - if they stick to their wildly inaccurate review of me (oh, by the way, they rated me somewhere between Effective and Ineffective) or if they realize how much of an asset I really am and pony up to a better score.

Anyways, that's the end of my rant.  I'm gonna try to get some sleep.

So, it's really been over a year since my last blog?  Certainly, a lot has happened since my day trip to Chicago.  How can I really sum up over a year's worth of life in one blog?

Well, as some of you may have noticed, I've moved to California.  On a whim.  Last August, I loaded up my car, grabbed Annie and took off for sunny San Diego.  The drive (25 hours of pure driving) took us five days.  Mostly we took the scenic route to get there.  My parents lent me a book of the most scenic (pt. 2) drives in America and we chose the ones that weren't too far out of the way.  We wound up stopping in Nebraska and Colorado to visit various members of Annie's family.  Once we hit Denver, we took a day trip to explore the mountain drives.  From there is when we really started with the scenic drives.  We drove down to the southwest corner of Colorado, into Utah, down to Arizona and through to California.

I originally intended to quit Target completely when I came out, but I told myself it would be smarter to have a job initially coming out until I found that better job.  But instead of finding that better job, I got a modest promotion at Target, to Entertainment Specialist, where I do way more than I get paid for.  I've been screwed twice now on pay - for not getting any kind of pay bump for cost of living and now after my crappy review (the argument against this bullshit is enough to fill out another blog, so I'm gonna skip it for now).  Seriously, placing me between Ineffective and merely Effective when some regard me as the best the store's ever had at my position?  Anyways, I really need to just quit and find a new job.  Then they'd realize how good I really am at the job.  I only really feel like one of the execs appreciates what I do - coincidentally he's the only one who has known anyone other than me at the position.

I spent my first six or seven months bumming off my brother.  Which was way more time than he bargained for, and sadly, longer than I should have stayed.  I am glad, though, to have had the chance to hang out with him more.  He gets outside more often to do things, like snorkel or mountain bike (which may be a result of the San Diego weather) than I've really done in the past, though I've always wanted to.  Of course, I wish we could get out more often to go mountain biking or go to the beach, but what can you do?  Maybe as the Summer really gets started, that'll come.

I finally did find my own place and moved out at the end of April.  The place is nice - the room is kind of small, but the place is really taken care of and it's in a nice neighborhood, as far as I can tell.  My roommates are pretty cool, too, though I only really talk to one of them on a consistent basis.

Lately I've been playing beer pong pretty regularly;  every Thursday one of my coworkers (and a couple of former coworkers) host it.  It's a nice excuse to get out and just hang out.  I certainly don't go because I'm all that great at it or anything.  Before that I'd really only go out with my brother or when another of my coworkers threw one of her semi-regular parties (though she hasn't thrown one lately - oddly, they stopped right about the time I started with the beer pong).  I dated a girl for a while, but things didn't really go anywhere, as much as I wanted them to.  I realize now that I'm letting myself be blinded by the thought of what might be instead of seeing things for what they really are.

Anyways, that's all I've really got.  Maybe it won't take me another year to write another!

Today I spent most of my time on the road. It was an interesting drive to O'Hare Airport, but a more mind-provoking one on the way back - at least, for me. An interesting end to an interesting three-day weekend.


Easter Weekend

My weekend, and my roadtripping, started early Saturday morning, right after my donation (i.e. selling) of my plasma. Logan and I loaded up for our drive to central Iowa (Carlisle for Logan and Ankeny for me) for Easter. I let Logan drive my car so that my arm had time to heal from the donation. He had to do some last minute errands before his flight to Paris on Monday. But finally (about half an hour after we had intended) we got on the road towards Des Moines.

About an hour into our trip we hit our first bump. Traffic had come to a stand-still. Logan had to call his family to tell them he was going to be late. After about 20 minutes (and sadly 2 miles) we came the cause of our delay; a semi had been run off the road and lay in the median. We saw no truck (not a complete one, anyways) but the trailer was spread across the median on its side. Logan said it looked like it had been knocked over (rather than fallen over). Regardless, we were past the mess and back on our trip. After a brief stop in Altoona to drop Logan off (he asked his dad to pick him up there so I wouldn't have to drive out of my way), I finished my drive alone.

I had reached my first destination, but my trip was not done yet. After spending my afternoon napping and watching sports, I gathered myself together and drove to Ames. This day was the restart of the Victorian-age Vampire LARP, and I wanted to be there for it. I wanted to make sure I started it off right, which it did. I wanted to know what my character's background was going to look like (dependent on the people in charge). And I wanted to know what position my character would hold on his return (dependent on another player, who didn't show up). Ultimately, though, her lack of presence resulted in my favor, anyways. Well, after the game a group of us went out to Perkins to eat, where we shared entertaining conversation about conversations Malkavians might have (a particularly insane clan - individually and as a whole). Finally, though, I returned to Ankeny to rest.

The next morning was Easter morning (and luckily the 'rents hadn't made me wake up for church, likely because of my presence last weekend at the Easter Cantata). The day really started when people began arriving for Easter dinner, which was more like a lunch due to the 1pm feeding time. The feasters were comprised of the 'rents, my brother Matt and his "special friend" Jessica, brother Grant and his new girlfriend Zara and myself. Afterwards my mother suggested we play Killer Bunnies - which I brought home just for that purpose. What's the fun of Easter without bunnies killing each other for a magic carrot?

Two by two we left, having satisfactorily (is that a word?) found the magic carrot. Finally, it was my turn to round up Logan and leave. We said our goodbyes to our respective families, gathered our Easter baskets and drove back to Coralville. We were less than a day from beginning Logan's trek to Paris. In preparation for this, he wanted to spend as little time sleeping as possible. So we invited Jay over to play some midnight frisbee. Two of my favorite activities - playing frisbee and staying up all hours of the night. We ended the night watching Galaxy Quest.


Trip to Chicago

The day had finally arrived - the day Logan and I left for Chicago. He gathered his luggage and we headed for the gas station for some roadtrip munchies. Then, we were off. Our first detour came at the border - our chosen route into Illinois was not recommended. So, we took a trip South and into the state from there. Of course, this affected our entire trip plan, resulting in Logan searching through his map for an alternate route. As we drove into Chicago, we hit a snare - a tollroad. It was only 30 cents, but I only had 50, which I paid, thinking that was that. Unfortunately, there was also a toll to get off the road (to get off the damn road!) of 80 cents - what a rip off. Logan and I could only muster 65, so we threw that in and drove off, wondering if I'd get a fine for a lowly 15 cents. But eventually, we did make it through Chicago and to O'Hare International Airport. I dropped Logan off at his terminal, wished him luck and drove off.

After finding my way out of the airport, I stopped at a gas station to buy some more food and prepare myself for further tollroads. When I returned to my car and started playing my iPod, I heard a strange noise - not coming from the speakers. It was music; Logan had left his phone in my car! So, I backtracked to the airport, wondering how I was ever going to find him in that huge airport. I searched desperately for some short-term parking, finally finding it by the International Terminal. Wonderful, I thought, Logan's flight should be leaving from here! Wrong.

At this time, I received a call from Jeff - apparently the only number Logan could remember that had a chance of getting a hold of me. He told me to turn around and go back to the airport (ha!). I explained the situation to him as I walked through the terminal. We sorted out where Logan was and I began my way towards him. As I passed through the terminal to the transit to the rest of the terminals, I though about the last time I was there - wearing the same shirt I had on (my green one for the INSTAP Study Center on Crete) an probably the same pants, as well. I thought back to my flight from there to Zurich, waiting for 8 hours between flights, playing war and eating a meal of McDonalds.

I hopped on the transit and made my way to Logan's Terminal and eventually caught up with him, returning his phone. Realizing that I now was paying for parking, I decided that I might as well stay and keep him company while he waited to go through security. He told me it was a little calming to have me there with him. He also told me he could survive without his phone, but he couldn't survive Jen without his phone. Then, for a second time, we said our goodbyes, wishing each other a safe journey.


The Return Home

A second time I made my way out of the airport and this time out of Chicago. I hit another tollroad and this time, or so I thought, I was prepared. In fact, I was for this one, but not for the ones following it. After the third stop to pay for this one road ($2 frickin bucks, no less! er, 10 cents less) I decided it was time to find another way back to Iowa. I hopped onto a southbound highway towards the Interstate we had initially drove in on. But at this time, my gas light finally came on and I was in the mode of finding a gas station.

One exit passed with no indication of gas. And another. And another. Finally, I sent a prayer up and just got off, heading hopefully towards a town. Which apparently didn't exist. Now I was heading down the backroads of Illinois, in the middle of nowhere, and was that a frickin weight station? My God! They have a fucking weight station out in the middle of nowhere but no fucking gas station?!

Ten more miles and still nothing. I'm getting desperate, so I turned towards a town called Lee Center. My hopes were lifted a little when I saw signs of civilization (aside from the random farmer), then are quickly dashed as I saw the end of town coming up. So I turned back around and parked, looking for an inviting door to knock on and ask for directions to the nearest gas station. As luck would have it, a guy drove out of his driveway on a bike. I didn't make it to him in time, but I did find a couple of his friends (family?) in the garage. All of them had the typical Hell's Angels look - tattooes, armless shirts, full beards and bandanas on their heads. But despite their looks they were more than happy to help me. "About four miles south" they told me. "Good," I replied. "That's about how much I think I have left in the tank."

With a newfound hope I made the drive down to the Casey's at Sublette, praying I wouldn't run out of gas before then. I didn't, but after gassing up I realized how close I had come. I filled an 11 gallon tank with 10.985 gallons of gas. Smiling at my close call (and a little at the attractive young woman smoking outside the store), I climbed back into my car and made my way back to the backroad I was on before Lee Center and directed myself back towards Iowa.

At this time the sun was setting. It didn't look much different from the backroads in Iowa at sunset. I felt perfectly content imagining what would have been if only I had talked to that pretty girl and admiring the sunset.

It's been awhile since I last blogged, so I thought I'd write something . . .


My experience at Target makes me believe I'm meant for so much more.  Well, life in general makes me believe I'm meant for so much more, but let's stick with the Target angle.  In the three months I've worked at the Coralville store, I've been nominated twice for Great Team Hero (i.e. Employee of the Month).  If I can manage that at a place I don't plan on working too much longer, imagine what I could do someplance I intend to stay at for the rest of my life.

If I fail at something, it is for lack of trying.

Those who know me know what I'm like playing video games.  In my defense, I'm not exactly jumping up and grabbing the controller.  I only play because of extreme peer pressure.  You know what you're getting when you invite me to play.

Wow, I really miss having PMN.

I'm not the kind of person that can have just a casual relationship.  When I'm with a girl, I want to be with only her.

There are times when I wish I had done something bad to someone just so their anger towards me would be justified.  But then I think if I ever did that I wouldn't be able to respect myself, and I respect myself too much to do something that mean to me.

I have told people I don't have regrets in my life.  That's not true.  I regret missed opportunities.  But I'm not going to lament them until I find myself facedown in a gutter.  I'm in a good place right now, so why would I want to change that?

I want to be a world traveler.  I also want some of my friends to be world travelers so we can share the experience.  I also want them to be able to keep up with me ;-)

So, I was looking through the journal I kept in Greece, looking for inspiration, when I came across a story I wrote after visiting Samaria Gorge.  Anyways, here it is.

The Valley of Nuik Shuk
June 25, 2006

Friday after Center several of us set out on our grand journey to the mythical land of Chania on the west side of Crete. From there the eight of us planned to travel to the legendary Samaria Gorge in search of the much talked-about Valley of Nuik Shuk. Little did we know that we would be met by some other adventurers from a land near our own - Kavousi. After our arrival we had to find a place to rest - the grand inn of Orio, part of Iphiginia fame. Weary from our travels, we fell fast asleep.

A strange sensation pleased our ears in the morning - silence. No goats, no roosters. Just complete silence. After our pleasant rest, our two groups met at the station and journeyed to the start of the gorge. A feeling of dread descended on us as we approached the entrance - the kind of dread felt by more religious types, a mixture of fear and awe. Fear at the daunting task ahead of us, yet awe at the incredible beauty of the gorge. We took the first step towards Nuik Shuk, descending down Xyloskalo.

Not an hour into our journey we made a small discovery - a wheelbarrow and a large pick (a kasma, to be sure). Someone had been here and that someone was obviously an archaeologist. Why else would they need those tools? Two questions entered my mind: What were they here to excavate? and where were they now? We set the tools down and continued our trek.

The rest of our hike down the wooden stairs was uneventful. That is, unless you consider the trees which attacked me. I was merely looking for a walking stick when they lashed out at me, but I managed to escape with mere cuts and bruises.

So, stickless, we continued down. At this point our group had diverged and dispersed. I was all alone, save for a couple here and there. I fear they may have been lost to the green water seen at the next checkpoint of our trip. The brilliant, lime green was enchanting and rather quite remarkable. It was easy to get lost in its lime glow, like a siren calling sailors out to the ocean. But like Odysseus, I heard the siren's song and was able to escape unscathed. How many others can say that, I don't know, but my best guess is not many. Now utterly alone I pushed on. I was close, and every little pile of rocks I saw increased my anxiety and anticipation.

Something completely unexpected occurred - I encountered a couple of my former companions. As if in a daze, they built Nuik Shuks. Could it be that they had been overtaken by the need to shuk nuiks?

"Each of those nuik shuks represents someone who has died in the gorge," I warily warned them, keeping my distance. "No one has died today."

My heart sunk as I noticed the other piles nearby - fourteen at first count. The same as our party at the onset. One of the two responded, "Nuik Shuk." I knew they had been taken. I had no choice but to abandon them to their fate and continue on - and hopefully escape the wrath of the gorge.

It hit me like a fall off Kastro - over the next hill was a valley of nuik shuks. This is what we had ventured here for. The fabled Valley of Nuik Shuk. Now that I was here, I knew not what to think. It filled me with dread to think of all the souls trapped here. Thousands upon thousands.

It was invigorating, yet in a way which left me chilled. I could almost feel them surrounding me, lending me their dark, dead energy. I wondered what possible interest I could have had in this foreboding place. I made my retreat.

My next stop was in the ghost town of Samaria. I wandered the buildings, searching for any sign of humanity, but all I found were kri-kri. Just as I had started to lose hope, my eyes spied life. Not just life, but two of my companions. I cautiously approached them and after a short discussion of the horrid and wondrous valley, I determined that they had been left unaffected by its power.

What followed was a race against time; the last ferry from this dreaded place was set to leave mere hours from then and we had half the gorge to hike. We took our leave from Samaria Village and raced through the river bed - dried from the summer heat, but it would not have shocked me to see a storm come through, trapping us in this valley of death.

The walls seemed to be closing in on us as we ran, trying to hinder our flight. The river began to flow seemingly out of nowhere, limiting our escape path to one side of the river. The sides of the gorge towered over us like two colossi, warning us off. Yet still we trudged on, holding on to the hope of making the last ferry.

Through the iron gates of Sideroportes we ran. A small darkness seemed to lift from my heart as I passed through. Could this be the extent of Nuik Shuk's power? I could feel the burden lifting with each step. Pace by pace the darkness left - as did the energy it provided. We began to slow down, but I knew we had to keep pushing our pace if we were to escape its grasp completely.

Finally we had made the last gate - the furthest extent of the gorge. "Almost there," I gasped, but it was too late. One of my companions fell. The other stopped to check him, but he was too far gone. Saddened by this turn and weary from the ordeal, we stepped through the gate and limped to the ferry, catching it mere moments from its departure.

The ferry was full of refugees from the gorge, each as beaten and battered as the two of us. Nuik Shuk had affected each and every one - I could see it on their faces. I could feel it in my very soul. There was no doubt in my mind.

My observation was interrupted by the presence of a woman, not much older than myself.

"Have you seen my trench assistants? I sent them to fetch a wheelbarrow and a kasma, but they haven't returned yet."

I glanced at my companion and the truth dawned on me. We were not part of the fourteen nuik shuks - they were.

The rest of the ferry ride passed in silence.

WARNING:  This blog was written primarily for myself and may be a bit difficult to read, both with its style and its meaning.  Feel free to read if you wish, and if you're curious to know about anything, just leave me a comment.

 

The Resume.  A chance to show the world what you've got.  To show the workforce what you're working with.  A way to put your best foot forward without worrying if your second step is straight into the pothole.  A way to reflect on the best parts of your prior life.

The name.  Your identity.  Who are you?  Where are you from?  Does your email say you're the cookie cutter adickinson@college.edu?  Or does it reveal, or perhaps belie, your true self?

The Objective.  What do I want in life?  That is always changing.  My first ambition was to be a writer.  Memories of Alias Acron, my first story, flash through my mind.  An entire world different from our own, inhabited by monsters and beasts.  One of which made in construction paper on the cover of my hand-made book.  Yellow bits of paper glued to the front, jagged teeth drawn in pen.  A house launching into the air in the background.

Education.  Too many memories to count.  My first class ever - Latin, unless you count the Spanish class I accidently walked in on.  I almost dropped that class.  But if not for that class, I would have never been in my last class, would have never found myself in Greece, would never have had the best time of my life.  The first final (and thankfully last) I ever overslept for - running to the other side of campus.  My first aced test (Calc II) and my first failed one (Intro to Comp (what?!), I blame the Zodiac for this one).  Arguing the traits of a good rock.  The classes I remember the most (Creative Writing, Devils, Demons and Damnation) and the ones I slept through (Astronomy and Rocks for Jocks) yet still managed to get As in.

Work Experience.  Working for the dad after the '93 flood.  Acquiring mass quantities of notepads which were otherwise being thrown away.  Still using those notepads, 13 years later.  Building warehouses for Acey.  Staring into the cloudy sky after a night of rain.  Walking on beams twenty feet in the air.  Following a hard day of work with a day at the Indianola pool.  Joining the red and khaki army.  Finding great friends to share the college life with.

Volunteer Work.  Church.  Wearing what was essentially a diaper and lubing up in baby oil and serving as a Roman guard for the Crucifixion scene.  Driving to Kansas City for a mission trip with a youth leader who's more like us than high and mighty; "The thing I like about redheads is that they're either real attractive or . . . " he howls to the sky.  Staying one hot, sweaty night after another at a welcoming church there.  Getting eight holes-in-one in putt-putt only to finish with a +14 score.

Extra-Curriculars.  In high school, many.  In college, none.  The sports.  Playing my best and worst baseball at the Johnston fields.  The impossible play.  Dropping two minutes from my mile time in two years.  Doing well on my fitness tests (top 5% of my class overall).  All the music - all the honor bands and choirs.  Bandmaster's association.  Playing solo in a packed football stadium.  Ten seconds of silence.  Carnegie Hall - the shush fake-out, the pause in music filled with a perfect echo, the standing O, the experience of New York so soon after 9/11.

Honors.  The first time in college I made Dean's List, rewarding my decision to change my major.  Debating my final story in class.  Offers to join honor societies.  Missing my opportunity to become a member of Sigma Tau Delta (hehe, STD).  Winning my Critical Writing Award for a paper I really enjoyed writing.

Hobbies.  United Planets - inspiration for my first web page and origin of my email address (for those who are curious).  The many card games I wasted money and time on.  The massive collection of movies I have acquired from the Dollar Spot.  Losing myself in books and the sadness of a story finished.

Well, as some of you might have noticed, I'm not in Canada like I had planned a month ago (and for those not in the know, I was planning to go to Toronto).  Well, plans fell through and now I'm left in Ankeny to toil away yet another week of my life.  No satisfaction, working day in and day out in the red and khaki army.  This is a huge letdown for me.  For weeks, I have been anticipating this trip, hoping to see friends, making my first to our northern neighbor, seeing about a girl.  And if nothing else, it was going to be an escape from life after college.  But things didn't work . . . Jeff, who was going to go with me, doesn't have the money for it and the girl - well, you can imagine.

Now, I was fully prepared to go by myself.  I wasn't sure what to expect with the girl, so I prepared myself if not for the worst, than at least something I could forsee happen (which it did).  And then Jeff's money problems.  If any one of these things had happened, I would have still gone.  I can enjoy myself either way, but both happening just made the trip not worth it.

So thus ends another chapter in my life, and it seems I have writer's block.  What do I do now?  I had a plan before this all happened to me.  Grad school, become a famous writer, make lots of money.  But before that it was move to somewhere nice - Colorado or California, maybe - and find a job there, rational thought be damned.  Greece came, and the first plan was back on the table.  And now, no longer.

And I'm left jumping from future to future, not knowing what I really want.  It seems that my best bet is grad school, except I haven't really acted like it since I've been back.  I know I need to get back to writing and get some good stories to send in, but my writing has consisted solely of blogging, and this is only the second one in two months.  I need to collect some references from old professors, secondly, which requires me to actually get up and contact them.

But is this really my life?  Is this really what it has come down to?  I think I know what I want, but haven't acted on it.  I still work at the same old get-through-college job working the same type of hours I'd expect from summer break.  Most of my friends are still in school or have real jobs, leaving me in the position of being alone most days.  You'd think that I'd find some time to write with all that free time, yet I don't.

Maybe it's time I get a life . . .

I know this is a long time in coming, but I hope I can do it justice a month after it happened.

So last I wrote, I had stayed the night in Kavousi and then caught a ride to the center in the morning.  Monday was lackluster but Tuesday night was quite an adventure.  Tuesday was the day of my Trench Dinner.  All of us who were still around (British Matt left early to attend a wedding in London) had planned on meeting at Zorbas for dinner, then to head to the bar for drinks.

Well, Matt (the one I threw off Kastro) (not really, he fell on his own) and I needed money, so we asked if Joe could take us to Ierapetra to hit up the ATM.  He had to drop off his rental car, so we had to find our own way back - the latest bus I could take and still get back on time was the 7:30.  Joe showed up at 7:15 to drive us there and it's usually a 20 minute drive.  But, this is Joe we're talking about, so we got there at 7:29.  Matt and I jumped out of the car and rushed to the nearest ATM only to find out . . . where is it?  I swear it was right here.  Are we on the right street?

As we later found out, it was there, but for some reason it was sealed off for some reason - the bank where it resided was all barred off.  The next bus - 9:00.  After a few calls, I informed Anastasia (my trenchmaster) that I was going to be an hour late.  Matt and I then proceeded to entertain ourselves at the internet cafe.  It was at this time that I wrote my last blog/email - and I wasn't willing to miss the last bus out of Ierapetra to relate this story.  So, I made it back to PA in time to join the ladies (being the last remaining male in my trench) for drinks at the bar.

On Wednesday Matt and I had planned to trek to the Kavousi beach after Center; Matt had never been there and I wanted to swim in safe water one last time before leaving Greece.  It was nice (and I wish I had thought to take a picture of it before I left).  Afterwards we showered at Marika's (the hotel where the Kavousi guys stayed) and joined the Kavousi crowd for dinner at the Tholos.  The night ended with Matt and I making the walk from Kavousi to Pachea Ammos in the middle of the night - I love the walk.  It's so dark there you can see every star and even the Milky Way!

Thursday was, interestingly, my last day at the Center.  Even though I was supposed to be there Friday, people were needed on site for wall conservation and I was volunteered (by Peggy - how could I argue?).  It was also the last day everyone would be around - several people were leaving Friday right after Site/Center and one even left in the morning.  So, one last hurrah at the bar - and I was convinced to go to Kavousi one last time to stay the night (by Karen, and no, I had nothing to drink that night).  During the walk back, we found ourselves alone, discussing those blobs in the sky (constellations) when I decided to make my move.  What did I have to lose, being only days away from leaving Crete?  I asked her out.

We set our date for Saturday - lunch in Pachea Ammos.  Mere minutes away from Kavousi (it's an hour walk), a car stopped to pick us up.  Funny - we weren't trying to hitch a ride.  So we walked to the car and out pops the head of Anastasia.  "Get in," she demanded, so we did.  Having made it to Kavousi, we parted ways - Karen to Sophia's and myself to Marika's.

The morning got off to a rough start.  Apparently no one's alarm went off in the morning, so it was a mad dash to get to the trucks for the trip to the site.  We didn't really have time to grab lunch, but Gypsy told us to get something anyway.  So, we grabbed some snacks from Sophia's (it doubles as a restaurant - delicious chicken fillets), which also had some prepackaged food, and ran to the trucks.  I began the day worried that I would be sweeping dirt around for the duration (I hate sweeping), but after lugging a 50 pound sandbag up the mountain I was pulled aside by Anastasia.  She had to do final elevations for our trenches and needed help doing it.  I was more than happy to get out of sweeping.

Four hours later and we had taken around 100 elevations for our various trenches, calculations and all (71 of them myself, since I'm good with the math).  After lunch, though, I couldn't avoid sweeping any longer.  And that's exactly what I did the rest of my time on site.  What a farewell.

When I returned to PA, Matt and I took a bus to Agios to do one last bit of souvenir shopping.  When we got back, we prepared ourselves for that one last celebration with at least some of the dig participants.  There also happened to be a concert going on - a group playing some modern Greek folk music.  It seems that they like to start late (11:00) and play well into the night.  Suffice it to say, my night didn't end until after 4am.

I woke up at 9 to do my packing and did not finish until after noon - just in time for my date to be arriving.  So, I took a quick nap and waited for Karen to arrive.  Afterwards we saw off the first group of people to leave.  Matt and I (and possibly Nikki, depending on whether her mother was on the bus) were the only ones taking the later bus to Iraklio - Karen was part of the Azoria staff and was needed for another couple of weeks.  But, she joined us on the bus for its stop in Agios, where she was meeting the few people who were staying - who also happened to be on that bus.

After some quick goodbyes at the Agios stop, we continued on our way to Iraklio and the ferry.  I would talk about the ferry ride, but I was asleep for most of it (sliding around on the deck kinda takes it out of ya).  When we got into Piraeus, all us Iowa kids met up, took the metro back to the Athens airport and dropped our baggage off there.

What else was left to do in Athens?  Some of us had already been there a week and exhausted our list of sites to see.  But I could still think of a few.  Some of them were more of a hike than we wanted to make before, but what else was there to do?  Our first stop after lunch was at the Benaki Museum - and I am glad that I made it there.  They had everything there, from jewelry to paintings to pottery.  And it wasn't just an archaeological museum - it had relics from days ancient up to mere decades ago.  Relics from ancient Greece and Rome, relics from the heyday of the Catholic Church, relics from the world wars.  It was very fascinating, but we had far too little time to explore it all.  It seemed to also be the biggest museum we had visited thus far and we gave ourselves only half an hour to explore it.

I wanted to make it to the Museum of Cycladic Art (next door), but apparently it was closed on Sundays, so it was a bust.  After a couple hours of wandering, we met up with another group of Azoria people and made one last trek up to the Monument of Philoppapus (which Joe and I had already visited twice when we were in Athens before).  From there we headed to dinner and when I finally got back I discovered that Brad and Matt had already left for the airport.  So there I was, running short on money (Matt owed me 80 euros and I really didn't want to withdraw any more money) and without my bag (I left it in their room so I wouldn't have to carry it with me).  I had no option left but to head to the airport and hope to catch them.

When I arrived, I could not find them . . . for a couple hours.  So I toiled - napping in a chair for a while, then searching the grounds, then napping again.  Unable to do anything more, I explored beyond the ground level and visited the tiny museum on the second floor.  It was up there that I spotted them - waiting and resting as far away from the airport action as possible.  And thankfully my bag was with them.

And after retrieving our baggage and getting our passports stamped, we had officially left Greece.

 

My first Greece pictures are online, so check them out!