Don't Cheat The Experience!

After an excruciatingly steep hike up a mountain, I was on my way down when the pain started to hit. I knew then that it was time to bust out the antidote and make the trip down bearable. As I reached into my backpack pocket for the ibuprofen, I had a sudden thought...

Don't cheat the experience!

So, I withdrew my hand, closed up the zipper and hobbled my way down the mountain slowly taking an extra hour. Sometimes, pain would hit. Sometimes it wouldn't, but there I was in my full, mortal glory living as I was meant to live. No shortcuts. No easy way out. My team was on the field.

I was in a boring meeting the other day and I went to reach for my phone, but I caught myself knowing that there was no way out. The meeting must be experienced in its full dullness. I must pay attention to the subject matter as it was meant to be consumed. It did not matter that the person giving the meeting had no training in pop culture references or even had the common decency to throw out a dad joke or anything. I could not cheat the experience. I had to focus and listen.

I pulled out the Rubik's Cube yesterday. For 35 years now, the solution has eluded me. Everyone I know has learned how to solve it. I am stubborn. When I was a kid, I got three sides. I was so close. I refuse to give in. I do not want to cheat the experience of learning for myself how to get all six. Some foolish pride thinking that at some point I will be smart enough on my own.

We sat down to do a puzzle today. My daughter pulled out the box to look at the picture. I quickly put it away stating that we do not look at the box. We solve puzzles by not cheating the experience. We look at the pieces and work our way there blindly.

I took my dog for a walk tonight. I let him go where he wanted. I had no control. I let him sniff and sniff. We have ended up in a part of town I have never been to. I am a little scared. He does not know how to get home. He's a puppy. But heaven forbid I should cheat the experience...

Dogs Love Cages

My favourite cruel thing I do is locking our puppy away in a cage while we go to bed at night. 

I do not enjoy this because I am cruel or I want my dog to suffer. I enjoy it because of the justification I attach to it.

Well, you know, studies show that dogs like to be in enclosed, dark places by themselves without the ability to move. It is part of their ancestry. From the ancient wolves who used to dig themselves a little cage with a lock that only some superior animal could open. They would burrow in there and would be absolutely fine if they were left there to die. They totally thrive on that.

This really seems true too, especially when I wake up in the morning to let my dog out and he does not leave my side the whole morning. He is definitely yearning for that alone time locked in a casket with no way to move, use the bathroom, or even scratch himself.

Give me a break! The dog is dying in the cage. Every time I put him in there, he fights and claws not to go in. I can hear him too: 

"Please! Please don't put me in there! I promise I will be good! I promise that I won't chew up your shoes, your books, your magazines, your pictures, your boxes of food, your food, your cups, your kids' toys, your remote control, your lotion bottle, your DVDs, your albums, your plants, your clothes, your baskets, your decorations, your cords, your roller skates. I don't have interest in any of that. In fact, my intention is to find a nice, dark place that I can lock myself into while I contemplate the meaning of life."

It is almost like we have attached this belief that our dogs are werewolves and they know they are going to turn into a hideous, killing machine as soon as the moon goes up. So they voluntarily give themselves up each night to lock and key because it is for the good of everyone. My dog is not doing that. My dog will never do that. My dog lies on top of the air conditioner vent. He does not care if anyone else in the house gets cold air.

To me, these types of things like locking my dog in his special place just seem too convenient. Why can't people just admit that they are leaving their dog in a cage because they don't want him crapping all over the house? I don't want him sleeping in my bed. I don't want him going through my checkbook. Those sound like great reasons to me. Hopefully, the dog is okay with that. If not, oh well.

But no. We have to invent reasons. We have to do studies. We have to come up with whatever rationalization we can to justify our behavior. It is scientific! 

I'm looking forward to how enlightened my dog will be as he gets back to his roots.

In The Right Place

We were visiting a family friend the other day and while he was talking to my brother-in-law, I rudely interrupted and asked him to put on some Dr John. He jumped on it right away. And he put on In The Right Place. It was blasting and beautiful. I sat there and just listened. Music that I grew up with.

Let me back up. As I looked around this house that I had not seen since I was 5 or 6 years old, I was taking it all in. Framed art was all over the walls. Some that I remember from when I was young. And Some new. Many were painted by our family friend. 

On a wall, there were vinyl albums leaning against it on the floor. Five separate rows of albums leaning there with about 25 records per row. Lots of great music in there. Jeff Beck and Bob Dylan and Linda Ronstadt and Van Morrison. They were easy to get to and visible, but sort of had that look like they could be sent out with the trash at anytime. When I was young, there would have been shelves for albums. A whole entertainment system devoted to these large presentations of music.

But times have changed. With a whole collection and more able to be on our phones, we are continually trying to minimize. I can pull up Dr John's entire repertoire. I can listen to most of his music right now. Or most anywhere. Anytime.

At some point in my youth, I got my own turntable in my room. I had started my own collection of records and I would go in my room and listen to them. When I got a brand new one like I Just Can't Stop It by The English Beat, I would listen to the whole album. Both sides. And that became the method. Listen to the songs. Learn all the songs from the band. Some were good. Some not so good. When payday came around, go get another one. But that was the experience. I had a limited amount to work from.

With Apple Music and Spotify and Amazon and other music subscriptions, the album experience is gone. Looking at the album, focusing attention on the band and the artwork and the lyrics. It used to hold our attention. With so much available, our attention moves on so quickly. 

Being able to hold a record in my hand and carefully get it on the player, making sure not to scratch it was part of a ritual that most anyone could do. However, to do it with finesse, was something to take pride in. Take the paper jacket out of the cover. Remove the album from the jacket without ripping the jacket. Don't get your fingerprints all over the album, so handle it only on the edges with two hands. Slowly place the needle in just the right spot on the outer edge of the album. Crank up the volume because now you are in the zone!

But then, there is technology and all this other stuff to do. We have places to go, people to see, inventions to create, worlds to change, ideas to be shared. How could we have time to mess with vinyl?

I don't know about others, but I like slowing down. I like the peace. Even when the music is loud...

He Ain't Heavy. He's My Bottle

The other day I was scorned because of my water bottle. The small-mouthed Nalgene just doesn't cut it anymore when it comes to the early adopters. They are busy showing us all how it is done with their new water bottle. A big, heavy weaponized water bottle. Something early man would have used to club the heads over other early man for the rights to the pond. 

I took a look at this new kind of bottle and wondered: When did marketers decide that everyone needed to carry a thermos around with them everywhere? 

Nothing wrong with a good, old-fashioned thermos. They were fantastic in my great-grandfather's lunch when he was working as a ship-wright. He could pull it out and get his hot coffee or his iced tea. But it was a thermos. It was not a status symbol. He did not have stickers on it with the name of the tool brands he used on it. He did not pull it out and show his fellow workers how down he was with the times. He was getting something to drink because it was lunchtime.

Now we have something monstrous for everyone to carry around. But each of us have our own. That's important. Our own burden. Our own proverbial bag of rocks slung on our backs. The price we must pay... for cold water. 

I thought it was a funny joke when Doc Brown had that gigantic machine which ran for a couple minutes only to create a couple of ice cubes for iced tea. 

Imagine the accessories for this thermos. You can get a nice nylon, shoulder strap for carrying it in the desert. Extra stickers so everyone can see how hip you are with brands no one has ever heard of. Facial recognition so no stranger can open your thermos. Iodine compartments, cooling compartments. This is gonna be huge.

I thought the CamelBak concept was it! We can't get anymore streamlined than that. We are essentially drinking our own sweat because the bladder compartment is so close to our body. Throw the bladder in the fridge and there ya go. Cold water as you walk around.

But uh oh. Backpacks are not cool. Plastic is not cool. Heavy blunt objects are all the rage!

It just seems like we are going backwards in our quest to save the world. If plastic is so bad for the landfills, how are we solving the problem by having plastic but going heavier with more metal? 

These things get dented too. Sure that's added character, but so are scars.

Heavier. More metal. Carry it with your hands. Not easily stored. Would not work well on the space shuttle...

Ship it!

HOA - Hardly Object Anymore

I know a guy who has a tree on his park strip which looks awful. It has grown down so low that no one can park in front of his house. When someone asked him about it, he said that is the very reason he will not cut it. He does not want anyone parking in front of his house. Now, many would say that this is ridiculous. Some would challenge him by saying he has to cut it down. Some might even try to cut it in the middle of the night. Others would wish his neighborhood had an HOA (Home Owners Assocation) to take care of matters such as this.

An HOA! 

Really?! 

I cannot understand how people in the United States of America could agree to having HOAs. What is wrong with us? How could we let this happen in a country where we value individual freedom so much? Do people just need to have that kind of structure running their lives?! Somebody coming to their door to tack on notices that they: 

• have to cut their lawn a certain way? 
• have their Christmas lights a certain way? (Excuse me, Holiday lights. The HOA wouldn't approve of them using Christ in our naming.) 
• not park cars on the street. 
• have a functional garage door. 
• water their lawn. 
• not have lemonade stands! 
• not do fireworks after 2am! 
• not pee in my own backyard.

With this friend, I am glad he has the freedom to leave his tree like that. For no other reason than that he wants to do it. No committee is coming along to insist that he change. No outrage from people who have nothing better to do than come up with ways to nitpick each other. I love freedom. This is what it is all about.

The unyielding HOA scares me. When did we become so sheeplike that we would not only be willing to give up our freedom, but also pay for it? We are paying quite a lot of money for others to keep us in line. The government is bad enough...

I guess conforming is kind of a natural human tendency. We do it so that we can fit in. We want others to think like us and be like us. 

I have seen people actually excited about being in a house which is regulated by an HOA. They get all these benefits from it like: 

• Cable TV
• Internet
• Snow removal
• Lawn mowing
• Tree trimming
• Clubhouse
• Pool

I guess a community pool where everyone gets to cool off might almost be worth it. I get that those things have to be paid for, so I can understand a Clubhouse/Pool Fee. But when they start going after my own house and my own individuality, forget it!

.

Their argument is that our property values go up. I think it is interesting that the word value just showed up, because if an HOA is something you value, you have clearly lost your values. Your individual values. But how much property value is it if the value of your soul has been lost? 

I think a neighborhood would do well to advertise that they are Non HOA..

I really hope that this is something that starts to go away in the near future. These entities just want control. Any way that they can just put their thumb on someone else. It is just a local thing, but it is systemic. These are the things that creep in. And I live in a state that professes to believe so much in the country's freedom, the Constitution, and the founding. When it comes to HOAs, do they say: "Well, I don't want that much freedom!"?

I want a guy to be able to build a baseball field in the middle of his cornfield and have everyone go completely nuts about it, but not be able to do one thing about it. 

Now, I just need a cornfield.

The Unthinkable

There are some things you just don't do. You don't put toilet paper on the roll with the squares coming out the bottom. You don't take the last piece of gum when others are in the car. Most importantly, you don't pull through at Costco. Other stores, you can get away with pulling through. Not at Costco. There is an expectation. There are rules. 

Tonight, I decided to go to Costco to get some milk. Just milk. As I meandered through the parking lot in the car, I started to pull into a spot and suddenly saw the opportunity. The guy on the other side was backing out. He was going slow, so I thought maybe he was just taking awhile to park. 

But no! There was my opportunity! I jumped on it. I pulled through...

As I did so, suddenly chaos started to rear its ugly head. There was an SUV lined up to go in to the pulled through spot and I greedily took it away from him. Repenting of my mistake, I quickly tried to back into the spot I was originally going into, but another car was already there. I turned around and saw the SUV driver. I tried to say I was sorry, but he sped off two spaces down.

"Just breathe. It's okay," I tried to tell myself. It will be fine. I'll get the milk and then I will leave and hope that the space/time continuum that I disrupted will not be too far out of whack. Thoughts of finding another spot and parking correctly raced through my head as I quickly walked inside Costco. No. I can handle this.

I got my items. Milk and Apple Sauce. Costco wins this round.

When I arrived back at my car with my shopping cart, I was reminded of my huge mistake. What have I done?! How am I going to park the cart and easily put the items in my trunk? I was frantic. I thought I could put the items in the front seat but it wouldn't work. I would have to reach too far to get them when I got home. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

I was going to have to do two trips. This was a nightmare! I parked the cart hoping it would not roll away. I tried to keylessly open the trunk. It wouldn't budge! I had to open it manually! Oh no! Three trips! And then I would have to put the cart in the cart stall.

The cart stall was bad too. The guy who does the carts was there arranging them in his way. Here I am with another cart messing up his whole mojo. I pushed it over to him as he looked annoyed. Actually, he wasn't annoyed. He was friendly as all Costco employees are. But I knew. He was secretly angry because he saw that I was parked incorrectly. At Costco.

I got back to the car and pulled away hoping that the vortex would allow me back in...