I've never fainted before, but I haven't eaten much in the last twelves hours and I feel light headed and nauseous. I imagine this is what it would feel like before one faints.
I want to etablish credit, so I'm getting a student credit card. I'm not going to use it much and definitely not until I'm working again. I filled out the application online today and literally two minutes after I had submitted it, I got a call to verify information.
I've applied all over town for a part time job. A few days a week at Lowes or Home Depot or Kirkland Village or St. Lukes and a couple a deja would be nice. I don't really want to do full time though.
I'm (maybe) going to Boston next weekend, so hiking is post-poned a bit. It'll nice to not need winter clothes, my pack should be significantly lighter. And I won't be bleeping freezing if I sleep in my hammock.
I'm not sure if I can do a show at WDIY about the Appalachain Trail with my limited experience. I might try to pitch a show on my terribly interesting life, but I would need to arrange an interesting life then. We'll see.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
So, change in plans, I have to come back home and do some paper work (prom season, tax season, and college entering season have all hit), so stretch of the trail in Pennsylvania will be delayed. I might try the week after next.
I've been writing my account of running down a mountain in a thunder storm, so as soon as thats finished it'll be posted. I started a new story, I'm not sure about the old one, I'll try to add on, but I think my goal of fifty chapters might be changed to fifty chapters of anything. I'll set a goal of before school started, but we'll see.
Shippensburg is about eight times larger than Hiawassee not counting student population, so I plan to have a look around the town today. Everyone is telling me theres nothing going on here, but my post-being-in-the-woods-for-a-week mind set is still excited about all the streets and cars and stuff.
I asked people on the Appalachian Trail why they were doing it and nobody had a real answer. I'm starting to realize I don't have reasons for doing much of what I do. Or maybe I have too many reasons to be able to explain them all coming together.
I've walked the width of the Appalachian Trail.
Andrew
I've been writing my account of running down a mountain in a thunder storm, so as soon as thats finished it'll be posted. I started a new story, I'm not sure about the old one, I'll try to add on, but I think my goal of fifty chapters might be changed to fifty chapters of anything. I'll set a goal of before school started, but we'll see.
Shippensburg is about eight times larger than Hiawassee not counting student population, so I plan to have a look around the town today. Everyone is telling me theres nothing going on here, but my post-being-in-the-woods-for-a-week mind set is still excited about all the streets and cars and stuff.
I asked people on the Appalachian Trail why they were doing it and nobody had a real answer. I'm starting to realize I don't have reasons for doing much of what I do. Or maybe I have too many reasons to be able to explain them all coming together.
I've walked the width of the Appalachian Trail.
Andrew
Friday, April 4, 2008
From the Trail Pt. 2
My friends,
New adventure. I was leaving my motel (the Hiawassee Inn) this morning to hitch to a town to catch a bus and all of the employees came out and started giving me advice and wishing me well. They supplied me with sign making materials (apparently its important when hitch hiking to make your destination clear) and while I was spelling out "Gainesville" in large bold letters the manager arranged to get me a ride to Atlanta tomorrow with other tenants.
I'm skipping ahead up to Pennsylvania where my buddy Brett has been kind enough to offer me his couch for a few days for my feet to heal up. I don't want to blow enough money for a week at the motel. The trail runs just west of his school, Shippensburg University, so I plan to hop on again there and walk back home.
I like hiking. I don't want to do it for months on end. I have time and a bit of money so I'll take another trip or two before I try to find a flexible job this summer (maybe I can pick up a couple days at Deja as well?). I'll do some section hiking, maybe meet up with some of my hiking group when they're coming through Pennsylvania.
Stories to come!
-Andrew "Mittens" Atkinson
New adventure. I was leaving my motel (the Hiawassee Inn) this morning to hitch to a town to catch a bus and all of the employees came out and started giving me advice and wishing me well. They supplied me with sign making materials (apparently its important when hitch hiking to make your destination clear) and while I was spelling out "Gainesville" in large bold letters the manager arranged to get me a ride to Atlanta tomorrow with other tenants.
I'm skipping ahead up to Pennsylvania where my buddy Brett has been kind enough to offer me his couch for a few days for my feet to heal up. I don't want to blow enough money for a week at the motel. The trail runs just west of his school, Shippensburg University, so I plan to hop on again there and walk back home.
I like hiking. I don't want to do it for months on end. I have time and a bit of money so I'll take another trip or two before I try to find a flexible job this summer (maybe I can pick up a couple days at Deja as well?). I'll do some section hiking, maybe meet up with some of my hiking group when they're coming through Pennsylvania.
Stories to come!
-Andrew "Mittens" Atkinson
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
From the Trail
Its been an experience. Good and Bad. Miserable and Fun. Tiring and Envigorating. The hiking has been harder than imagined and the people more friendly and helpful than I could have hoped for.
My mind set has drifted. I find looking at five to six months to thru-hike (any previous estimates were much too optimistic) to be too daunting of a task. A task that will be mentially and finantially draining beyond my means. Hiking has not given me the relaxation or time for comtemplation that I had imagined. I think I had romanticized it in my preparations. After eight days of trail life, I think I'll manage three more weeks. I'll re-group and set up some short term adventures with my money and supplies.
I have kept up with the best of them. Of the twelve or thirteen people I met the first night only three or four are ahead of me. I have passed a dozen more. This has cost me several layers of skin on both my heels. I have sores resembling the Hawaiian Islands on my left foot and a giant blister the size of Texas on my right. My feet are slowing me down and I will be hopping from shelter to shelter for the next week to give them a break.
Tomorrow I will spend my first "zero day" (a day where I hike zero miles) here in Hiawassee, Georgia. I will hopefully make it to the library to type up a few specific stories and descriptions of my time.
Special Thanks to Louisa, Jeff, Laura, Tom, Jon, Mom and Dad for setting me off with the needed gifts and support.
My mind set has drifted. I find looking at five to six months to thru-hike (any previous estimates were much too optimistic) to be too daunting of a task. A task that will be mentially and finantially draining beyond my means. Hiking has not given me the relaxation or time for comtemplation that I had imagined. I think I had romanticized it in my preparations. After eight days of trail life, I think I'll manage three more weeks. I'll re-group and set up some short term adventures with my money and supplies.
I have kept up with the best of them. Of the twelve or thirteen people I met the first night only three or four are ahead of me. I have passed a dozen more. This has cost me several layers of skin on both my heels. I have sores resembling the Hawaiian Islands on my left foot and a giant blister the size of Texas on my right. My feet are slowing me down and I will be hopping from shelter to shelter for the next week to give them a break.
Tomorrow I will spend my first "zero day" (a day where I hike zero miles) here in Hiawassee, Georgia. I will hopefully make it to the library to type up a few specific stories and descriptions of my time.
Special Thanks to Louisa, Jeff, Laura, Tom, Jon, Mom and Dad for setting me off with the needed gifts and support.
Friday, March 14, 2008
HEY!
The new chapter is dull, I know, I'm working on four which seems a bit better.
I have an appointment next Wednesday at WDIY about my potential radio project. I'm not sure what they are interested in doing. I could do one of two options:
1) I write a diary on the trail and every week or so I send in exerpts or have them record me reading exerpts over the phone. Then they'd do a short little segment with it. Or...
2) I write some stuff on the trail and condense it, to do in a larger format later this summer after I have finished hiking.
I think the best of both worlds would have me sending in my bit every week while I'm gone. Then, when I come back I could be interviewed and maybe have people call in and ask me stuff. I don't really know how any of this works though. I'm just blindly speculating.
P.S.
SPRING BREAK! WOOOOOOO!
I have an appointment next Wednesday at WDIY about my potential radio project. I'm not sure what they are interested in doing. I could do one of two options:
1) I write a diary on the trail and every week or so I send in exerpts or have them record me reading exerpts over the phone. Then they'd do a short little segment with it. Or...
2) I write some stuff on the trail and condense it, to do in a larger format later this summer after I have finished hiking.
I think the best of both worlds would have me sending in my bit every week while I'm gone. Then, when I come back I could be interviewed and maybe have people call in and ask me stuff. I don't really know how any of this works though. I'm just blindly speculating.
P.S.
SPRING BREAK! WOOOOOOO!
The Good Book, Chapter 3
Here's the new chapter, since its been so long I've included chapters one and two:
Chapter 1
Its supposed to snow tonight into tomorrow, the weatherman predicted up to twelve inches. I don’t get to play in snow enough to enjoy it anymore. I have to wake up an extra thirty minutes early to shovel, get hot and sweaty, then go to work. I walk to work and most people aren’t conscientious enough to have their walks shoveled. I don’t like snow.
My thoughts flow and I can’t figure out what to write about. Its frustrating, mainly because I’d like to be a writer. A writer of books and things, not so much news articles and other things. Maybe I should look at what sells and be a blockbuster writer like James Patterson. I’m sure its not as easy as his books make it seem.
Plot, thought, twist, dialogue, punctuation. I should think plot though, or is it character(s)? Font, wit, wisdom, mystery, romance. Coffee, definitely coffee. Then maybe a cigarette?
Coffee’s warm, it’ll keep me up. The shades are up and the light’s on, its dark outside so the windows are like mirrors. I can see the blankness on my face and faintly snow flakes falling outside. Snow’s sticking. My eyes lose track of the flakes, extra examination proves the snow is still falling.
Its late, maybe early. I don’t think the day starts until the sun rises, so its late for me. I should get sleep, I have to work in the morning. Work might be closed for the snow. I don’t know. I’m a professional sandwich maker. We’re like mailmen. We work rain, snow, sleet, and shine; we work in a climate controlled building.
I’m up late and not getting anything done. I’m wasting sleep time and I like sleep. I like dreaming more. Dreams are fun, they’re most often filled with sex and violence. I don’t think that idea needs further explanation. Its still fucking snowing.
My music library is really lopsided. Its frontloaded, over half my songs are by artists with names beginning with A or B. Its not planned. I’m not trying to conquer music one letter at a time. I have discographies from the following artists: Aesop Rock, Afroman, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, Billy Joel, Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, Bright Eyes and Busdriver. Its starting to annoy me. Maybe I have an unnatural attraction to the letter B (and less so A).
The sky’s brightening up. I’ll have a cigarette. I smoke Winstons, they like to advertise that they’re made without additives. I say they’ll give me additive-free cancer. I don’t like the smell of cigarettes so I smoke on my front porch and walk out to the street to flick the butt. There’s a little kid running down the sidewalk. Since the snow is up to his knees he isn’t really running, but he’s giving it a go. Not anymore. He fell. He’s a house and a half away and not getting up. I should’ve gone over sooner.
I get over to him; his cheeks are bright red, his nose is running, tears are in his eyes, his hands shoot up toward me. He wants to be picked up. I hoist him and plop him on my shoulders and begin to walk following his trail in the snow.
“What are you doing out here buddy? I’m going to take you home, back to mommy and daddy, ok?” Shit, what if the kid‘s from a broken family? “You know where you live?” Nothing. So he’s a mute or really cold and miserable and weirded out by this guy who came along and picked him up and is taking him in the opposite direction of where he was clearly trying to go.
Its light enough to see visibility is down to a block or two. Snow’s up to eight or ten inches and not stopping. I’m ill-equipped for this mission. My slippers are filling with snow with every step. The snow is willing to compromise with my body heat and turn to slush in my slippers. I’m pretty sure my toes are purple. I really don’t like snow. The kid’s path is filling in, “I could use some help finding your house, bud.” Maybe he’s physically capable of speech but just doesn’t know how.
There’s a battle in my head. I can go back to my place get out of the cold and call the police or child services and risk seeming to be on the pedophilia side of creepy or I can keep trying to follow a faint trail and risk losing my toes and therefore my ability to walk and therefore my ability to lead a happy fulfilling life. I’m stacking the deck for option #1.
Chapter 2
I took off my slippers when I got back and the little guy’s coat and shoes. He was asleep before I got back with the afghans (for him) and a pair of thick wool socks (for me).
So here’s a story idea. A guy finds a little kid alone in a snowstorm. What next? He’s sleeping on the couch across the room from my table/desk. Afghans are piled high, his face is serene. I need more material. I’m worn out.
I get up and go into my bathroom/kitchen. Why the architect designed the bathroom and kitchen to share a room I’ll never fucking know. Its given me bad habits, when I go anywhere you wouldn’t believe the strange looks I get bringing food into bathrooms.
The phone book is in a low cupboard near the toilet. I look up the number for child services in the phonebook and give them a ring. It rings through, there’s a message about being closed for inclement weather, beeeep. “Hey, I found this little boy running outside of my house this morning, well, I saw him fall when he was running. He was all by himself in the deep snow. I couldn’t figure out where he’d come from. I didn’t see anyone else around and I took him in. So, get back to me, he’s sleeping here now, um, this is Jim Carlyle, that’s c-a-r-l-y-l-e, at 4-8-4, 2-2-6, 5-3, 7-4...thanks.”
There wasn’t anything in his pockets, but he’s too young to be carrying a wallet. I should call the police or something. Are they the ones to call? Did I put the phonebook back? I don’t think this deserves a 9-1-1. Maybe his parents will come looking. I don’t want to get them in trouble. They deserve it though for letting their little boy out in a blizzard, but maybe it was an accident. He could’ve walked out of an unlocked front door. They must be worried sick or happy that they got rid of the little shit. He’s been agreeable though for me. What if the parents aren’t found?
I feel asleep. Five hours, I was asleep. Its still snowing out, there’s three or four feet. There isn’t a little boy in my house. I’m looking and there isn’t a little boy. I sure as shit don’t need your condemnation.
I have a good memory but I never trust it, I’m sure there was a boy though. He isn’t here, not anywhere where he could fit. I need to call the police. There should be tracks in the snow. There’s nothing. No clues. All the old shoe prints are most of the way filled in. From the back doorway I see a solid sheet of snow across the yard-- no tracks. Shit, shit, shit. What happened? The windows are locked from the inside and there is a pile of afghans on the couch and his coat and shoes are gone.
9-1-1, *ring*, “Hello, 9-1-1 emergency assistance, how may I direct your call?”
“I found a little boy in the blizzard and took him in and he’s gone and his coat and shoes are still here and I’ve looked all over my house, I can’t find him, and there aren’t any tracks in the snow …m-my doors were locked … I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll transfer you to the police department, please hold while I redirect your call.”
I retold my story, somewhat more level-headed. They said they’d dispatch a car. I pour a cup of coffee and sit next to it. It seems less likely that a police car will make it here than a little boy being able to leave on foot.
I can’t do anything. There aren’t any leads. I could go out in the storm, but I don’t know where to look. I’m still tired. I don’t want coffee. He has to be in the house.
Several hours later I reiterate my point to the police. They tell me that they’ll be in touch. I take a shower and go to bed.
Chapter 1
Its supposed to snow tonight into tomorrow, the weatherman predicted up to twelve inches. I don’t get to play in snow enough to enjoy it anymore. I have to wake up an extra thirty minutes early to shovel, get hot and sweaty, then go to work. I walk to work and most people aren’t conscientious enough to have their walks shoveled. I don’t like snow.
My thoughts flow and I can’t figure out what to write about. Its frustrating, mainly because I’d like to be a writer. A writer of books and things, not so much news articles and other things. Maybe I should look at what sells and be a blockbuster writer like James Patterson. I’m sure its not as easy as his books make it seem.
Plot, thought, twist, dialogue, punctuation. I should think plot though, or is it character(s)? Font, wit, wisdom, mystery, romance. Coffee, definitely coffee. Then maybe a cigarette?
Coffee’s warm, it’ll keep me up. The shades are up and the light’s on, its dark outside so the windows are like mirrors. I can see the blankness on my face and faintly snow flakes falling outside. Snow’s sticking. My eyes lose track of the flakes, extra examination proves the snow is still falling.
Its late, maybe early. I don’t think the day starts until the sun rises, so its late for me. I should get sleep, I have to work in the morning. Work might be closed for the snow. I don’t know. I’m a professional sandwich maker. We’re like mailmen. We work rain, snow, sleet, and shine; we work in a climate controlled building.
I’m up late and not getting anything done. I’m wasting sleep time and I like sleep. I like dreaming more. Dreams are fun, they’re most often filled with sex and violence. I don’t think that idea needs further explanation. Its still fucking snowing.
My music library is really lopsided. Its frontloaded, over half my songs are by artists with names beginning with A or B. Its not planned. I’m not trying to conquer music one letter at a time. I have discographies from the following artists: Aesop Rock, Afroman, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, Billy Joel, Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, Bright Eyes and Busdriver. Its starting to annoy me. Maybe I have an unnatural attraction to the letter B (and less so A).
The sky’s brightening up. I’ll have a cigarette. I smoke Winstons, they like to advertise that they’re made without additives. I say they’ll give me additive-free cancer. I don’t like the smell of cigarettes so I smoke on my front porch and walk out to the street to flick the butt. There’s a little kid running down the sidewalk. Since the snow is up to his knees he isn’t really running, but he’s giving it a go. Not anymore. He fell. He’s a house and a half away and not getting up. I should’ve gone over sooner.
I get over to him; his cheeks are bright red, his nose is running, tears are in his eyes, his hands shoot up toward me. He wants to be picked up. I hoist him and plop him on my shoulders and begin to walk following his trail in the snow.
“What are you doing out here buddy? I’m going to take you home, back to mommy and daddy, ok?” Shit, what if the kid‘s from a broken family? “You know where you live?” Nothing. So he’s a mute or really cold and miserable and weirded out by this guy who came along and picked him up and is taking him in the opposite direction of where he was clearly trying to go.
Its light enough to see visibility is down to a block or two. Snow’s up to eight or ten inches and not stopping. I’m ill-equipped for this mission. My slippers are filling with snow with every step. The snow is willing to compromise with my body heat and turn to slush in my slippers. I’m pretty sure my toes are purple. I really don’t like snow. The kid’s path is filling in, “I could use some help finding your house, bud.” Maybe he’s physically capable of speech but just doesn’t know how.
There’s a battle in my head. I can go back to my place get out of the cold and call the police or child services and risk seeming to be on the pedophilia side of creepy or I can keep trying to follow a faint trail and risk losing my toes and therefore my ability to walk and therefore my ability to lead a happy fulfilling life. I’m stacking the deck for option #1.
Chapter 2
I took off my slippers when I got back and the little guy’s coat and shoes. He was asleep before I got back with the afghans (for him) and a pair of thick wool socks (for me).
So here’s a story idea. A guy finds a little kid alone in a snowstorm. What next? He’s sleeping on the couch across the room from my table/desk. Afghans are piled high, his face is serene. I need more material. I’m worn out.
I get up and go into my bathroom/kitchen. Why the architect designed the bathroom and kitchen to share a room I’ll never fucking know. Its given me bad habits, when I go anywhere you wouldn’t believe the strange looks I get bringing food into bathrooms.
The phone book is in a low cupboard near the toilet. I look up the number for child services in the phonebook and give them a ring. It rings through, there’s a message about being closed for inclement weather, beeeep. “Hey, I found this little boy running outside of my house this morning, well, I saw him fall when he was running. He was all by himself in the deep snow. I couldn’t figure out where he’d come from. I didn’t see anyone else around and I took him in. So, get back to me, he’s sleeping here now, um, this is Jim Carlyle, that’s c-a-r-l-y-l-e, at 4-8-4, 2-2-6, 5-3, 7-4...thanks.”
There wasn’t anything in his pockets, but he’s too young to be carrying a wallet. I should call the police or something. Are they the ones to call? Did I put the phonebook back? I don’t think this deserves a 9-1-1. Maybe his parents will come looking. I don’t want to get them in trouble. They deserve it though for letting their little boy out in a blizzard, but maybe it was an accident. He could’ve walked out of an unlocked front door. They must be worried sick or happy that they got rid of the little shit. He’s been agreeable though for me. What if the parents aren’t found?
***Chapter 3***
I have a good memory but I never trust it, I’m sure there was a boy though. He isn’t here, not anywhere where he could fit. I need to call the police. There should be tracks in the snow. There’s nothing. No clues. All the old shoe prints are most of the way filled in. From the back doorway I see a solid sheet of snow across the yard-- no tracks. Shit, shit, shit. What happened? The windows are locked from the inside and there is a pile of afghans on the couch and his coat and shoes are gone.
9-1-1, *ring*, “Hello, 9-1-1 emergency assistance, how may I direct your call?”
“I found a little boy in the blizzard and took him in and he’s gone and his coat and shoes are still here and I’ve looked all over my house, I can’t find him, and there aren’t any tracks in the snow …m-my doors were locked … I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll transfer you to the police department, please hold while I redirect your call.”
I retold my story, somewhat more level-headed. They said they’d dispatch a car. I pour a cup of coffee and sit next to it. It seems less likely that a police car will make it here than a little boy being able to leave on foot.
I can’t do anything. There aren’t any leads. I could go out in the storm, but I don’t know where to look. I’m still tired. I don’t want coffee. He has to be in the house.
Several hours later I reiterate my point to the police. They tell me that they’ll be in touch. I take a shower and go to bed.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Here we go again...
22 days
Thats the countdown til departure. I need to order a couple things and have the maps come in, but for the most part I'm ready. I think I'll be getting a ride with my dad. I have couple people who have legitimately talked to me about walking a few days, I'd like some more (*wink, exaggerated wink*).
The book is going slowly. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten ahead of myself and called it a book. I'm always like this, I can write a few pages and then nothing. Usually because I think that its no longer any good, but this time I actually like it. I like it so much I want the rest of it to live up the the beginning. Chapter 3 is underway. I'm going to set a preliminary goal of 50 chapters, no matter how bad it gets. Given the pace that'll take over a year, but I want that to pick up. I imagine I'll have a lot of free time on the trail.
I'm feeling muddled. Today isn't a day for insiteful Andrew or opinionated Andrew, today was a day where my goal was to update the blog. Now I did. Peace.
Thats the countdown til departure. I need to order a couple things and have the maps come in, but for the most part I'm ready. I think I'll be getting a ride with my dad. I have couple people who have legitimately talked to me about walking a few days, I'd like some more (*wink, exaggerated wink*).
The book is going slowly. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten ahead of myself and called it a book. I'm always like this, I can write a few pages and then nothing. Usually because I think that its no longer any good, but this time I actually like it. I like it so much I want the rest of it to live up the the beginning. Chapter 3 is underway. I'm going to set a preliminary goal of 50 chapters, no matter how bad it gets. Given the pace that'll take over a year, but I want that to pick up. I imagine I'll have a lot of free time on the trail.
I'm feeling muddled. Today isn't a day for insiteful Andrew or opinionated Andrew, today was a day where my goal was to update the blog. Now I did. Peace.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
I'm Leaving...
It’s strange to be making a choice to leave my life behind. I can't shake some sadness and regret. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to prepare; am I supposed to act like everything is normal?
It seems dishonest to try to get involved in on-going commitments. I won't be around. Everything is going to go on. Without me.
Maybe I felt like this when I moved here from Virginia, but I don't remember. I was hoping to think through to some realization while writing, I didn't.
It seems dishonest to try to get involved in on-going commitments. I won't be around. Everything is going to go on. Without me.
Maybe I felt like this when I moved here from Virginia, but I don't remember. I was hoping to think through to some realization while writing, I didn't.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Blurb
I got my license, I got into Penn State and those haven't even been the best parts of the last couple days. I'll write more when I'm feeling more miserable.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Thanks
Thanks all you readers, I'm encroaching on 200 page view and that is awesome. I could say I'd have never imagined this day in my wildest dreams, but that wouldn't be true. I appreciate your readership, but 200 views is well with-in the boundaries of my imagination. Maybe it shouldn't be if i keep leaving you guys hanging between posts for so long.
Not much has happened on the AT front, I'm still waiting for those all important maps.
As many of you may know I will be trying to take my driver's test tomorrow. This attempt is after I had two cancelled on me last week (one in Allentown and one in Hazelton; yes, the Hazelton that is an hour away; yes, I drove through the snow at great personal risk and got a half day off of work to find out it was cancelled after I got there; no, neither dmv re-scheduled me; yes, that means I have to go to the back of the line for driver's tests; yes, that is why I have to go all the way to Wilkes-Barre) Yes, I'm bitter, you'll hear more if I'm driving for three hours tomorrow and fail the test.
The next chapter will be out this week and I promise I'll update more often.
Go in peace to love and serve the world.
Not much has happened on the AT front, I'm still waiting for those all important maps.
As many of you may know I will be trying to take my driver's test tomorrow. This attempt is after I had two cancelled on me last week (one in Allentown and one in Hazelton; yes, the Hazelton that is an hour away; yes, I drove through the snow at great personal risk and got a half day off of work to find out it was cancelled after I got there; no, neither dmv re-scheduled me; yes, that means I have to go to the back of the line for driver's tests; yes, that is why I have to go all the way to Wilkes-Barre) Yes, I'm bitter, you'll hear more if I'm driving for three hours tomorrow and fail the test.
The next chapter will be out this week and I promise I'll update more often.
Go in peace to love and serve the world.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Eclecticism
I went to L.L. Bean the other day and got this jacket. Its pretty sweet and was origionally $180, but I got it for half off the sale price of $130 (that is I got it for $65). And considering the zip out lining, abundance of pockets, hood, head covering, and attached hankerchief I think its a pretty sweet coat. Unfourtunately you have to travel out to the Promenade to peruse through L.L. Bean's steeply discounted winter wear. There's a lot of overpriced boring crap, but the employees are very friendly.
I found a mini-flashlight that has three bright white LEDs on the front powered by a fold-in crank. Its small light weight and requires no batteries, so its perfect for my trip. One minute of cranking is like 15 minutes of light, its working well for bedtime reading.
P.S. L.L. Bean's urinal is awesome. I know like I now seem like I have a strange fasination with urinals but hear me out. There is no water. None at all. The pee just disappears into the edges of this ring (no urinal cake either). AND it seems like it stays clean because it doesn't smell like pee. Its probably great for the enviroment and that, but the no water thing boggles my mind.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Political Rant
I don't like this post. I don't I back up my arguements enough so I'm getting rid of it. Time magazine had a good article about the narrowing of the spectrum of cases the supreme court was hearing so if you're interested I could try to find my copy for you. Basically I was saying that strict constructionist justices are not doing their jobs because they take the law too literally and don't look for the intent.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Check List
WHOOOOOOOOO! Over 100 page hits, thats awesome, even though half of them are probably me. Thanks for taking the time to read my rambling.
I need:
more warm wicking undergarments
more water purification stuff
a jacket
rain gear
food
an mp3 player with a ludicrously long battery life
have backordered maps delivered
I think I'm almost ready to do this.
I have a problem with getting ahead of myself, but I was thinking what I'd do with my blog and facebook group after this hiking thing is over. I think I'll just have a new goal. I'm debating between biking across the country, kayaking the Mississippi, or running a marathon in the next couple of years. I might get fed up with these kind of ideas too. Thoughts?
I need:
more warm wicking undergarments
more water purification stuff
a jacket
rain gear
food
an mp3 player with a ludicrously long battery life
have backordered maps delivered
I think I'm almost ready to do this.
I have a problem with getting ahead of myself, but I was thinking what I'd do with my blog and facebook group after this hiking thing is over. I think I'll just have a new goal. I'm debating between biking across the country, kayaking the Mississippi, or running a marathon in the next couple of years. I might get fed up with these kind of ideas too. Thoughts?
Here's the first draft of Chapter 2 (And the first sentence of chapter 3):
Chapter 2
I took off my slippers when I got back and the little guy’s coat and shoes. He was asleep before I got back with the afghans (for him) and a pair of thick wool socks (for me).
So here’s a story idea. A guy finds a little kid alone in a snowstorm. What next? He’s sleeping on the couch across the room from my table/desk. Afghans are piled high, his face is serene. I need more material. I’m worn out.
I get up and go into my bathroom/kitchen. Why the architect designed the bathroom and kitchen to share a room I’ll never fucking know. Its given me bad habits, when I go anywhere you wouldn’t believe the strange looks I get bringing food into bathrooms.
The phone book is in a low cupboard near the toilet. I look up the number for child services in the phonebook and give them a ring. It rings through, there’s a message about being closed for inclement weather, beeeep. “Hey, I found this little boy running outside of my house this morning, well, I saw him fall when he was running. He was all by himself in the deep snow. I couldn’t figure out where he’d come from. I didn’t see anyone else around and I took him in. So, get back to me, he’s sleeping here now, um, this is Jim Carlyle, that’s c-a-r-l-y-l-e, at 4-8-4, 2-2-6, 5-3, 7-4...thanks.”
There wasn’t anything in his pockets, but he’s too young to be carrying a wallet. I should call the police or something. Are they the ones to call? Did I put the phonebook back? I don’t think this deserves a 9-1-1. Maybe his parents will come looking. I don’t want to get them in trouble. They deserve it though for letting their little boy out in a blizzard, but maybe it was an accident. He could’ve walked out of an unlocked front door. They must be worried sick or happy that they got rid of the little shit. He’s been agreeable though for me. What if the parents aren’t found?
Chapter 3
I feel asleep.
The End (for now)
What'dya think?
Thursday, January 31, 2008
So I've been told I need to update...
So, I noticed I start a lot of my posts with "So, ..."
I was busing tables after the lunch rush at Deja the other day and friend-of-the-blog Laura was eating lunch with another lady. To make a short story even shorter, Laura introduced me to this woman who turned out to be the executive director of the local npr station. So, I'm stoked, if all goes well I'll be doing some kind of program for WDIY. I like the radio, maybe I'll be able to channel some Garrison Keillor.
Ummmm, the maps I'm missing are back ordered and they'll be getting coming in 3 to 5 weeks.
I don't think I let go of things so much as I forget about them, maybe its the same thing.
I'm suck on this story I started writing. I was pretty ambitious when I began writing so I began by writing "Chapter 1". I wanted to do a book or novella or something, something longish, but I'm stuck on the very top of page three. Let me know if you like it/ have any ideas where to go with it.
Chapter 1
Its supposed to snow tonight into tomorrow, the weatherman predicted up to twelve inches. I don’t get to play in snow enough to enjoy it anymore. I have to wake up an extra thirty minutes early to shovel, get hot and sweaty, then go to work. I walk to work and most people aren’t conscientious enough to have their walks shoveled. I don’t like snow.
My thoughts flow and I can’t figure out what to write about. Its frustrating, mainly because I’d like to be a writer. A writer of books and things, not so much news articles and other things. Maybe I should look at what sells and be a blockbuster writer like James Patterson. I’m sure its not as easy as his books make it seem.
Plot, thought, twist, dialogue, punctuation. I should think plot though, or is it character(s)? Font, wit, wisdom, mystery, romance. Coffee, definitely coffee. Then maybe a cigarette?
Coffee’s warm, it’ll keep me up. The shades are up and the light’s on, its dark outside so the windows are like mirrors. I can see the blankness on my face and faintly snow flakes falling outside. Snow’s sticking. My eyes lose track of the flakes, extra examination proves the snow is still falling.
Its late, maybe early. I don’t think the day starts until the sun rises, so its late for me. I should get sleep I have to work in the morning. Work might be closed for the snow. I don’t know. I’m a professional sandwich maker. We’re like mailmen. We work rain, snow, sleet, and shine; we work in a climate controlled building.
I’m up late and not getting anything done. I’m wasting sleep time and I like sleep. I like dreaming more. Dreams are fun, they’re most often filled with sex and violence. I don’t think that idea needs further explanation. Its still snowing.
My music library is really lopsided. Its frontloaded, over half my songs are by artists with names beginning with A or B. Its not planned. I’m not trying to conquer music one letter at a time. I have discographies from the following artists: Aesop Rock, Afroman, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, Billy Joel, Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, Bright Eyes and Busdriver. Its starting to annoy me. Maybe I have an unnatural attraction to the letter B (and less so A).
The sky’s brightening up. I’ll have a cigarette. I smoke Winstons, they like to advertise that they’re made without additives. I say they’ll give me additive-free cancer. I don’t like the smell of cigarettes so I smoke on my front porch and walk out to the street to flick the butt. There’s a little kid running down the sidewalk. Since the snow is up to his knees he isn’t really running, but he’s giving it a go. Not anymore. He fell. He’s a house and a half away and not getting up. I should’ve gone over sooner.
I get over to him; his cheeks are bright red, his nose is running, tears are in his eyes, his hands shoot up toward me. He wants to be picked up. I hoist him and plop him on my shoulders and begin to walk following his trail in the snow.
“What are you doing out here buddy? I’m going to take you home, back to mommy and daddy, ok?” Shit, what if the kid‘s from a broken family? “You know where you live?” Nothing. So he’s a mute or really cold and miserable and weirded out by this guy who came along and picked him up and is taking him in the opposite direction of where he was clearly trying to go.
Its light enough to see visibility is down to a block or two. Snow’s up to eight or ten inches and not stopping. I’m ill-equipped for this mission. My slippers are filling with snow with every step. The snow is willing to compromise with my body heat and turn to slush in my slippers. I’m pretty sure my toes are purple. I really don’t like snow. The kid’s path is filling in, “I could use some help finding your house, bud.” Maybe he’s physically capable of speech but just doesn’t know how.
There’s a battle in my head. I can go back to my place get out of the cold and call the police or child services and risk seeming to be on the pedophilia side of creepy or I can keep trying to follow a faint trail and risk losing my toes and therefore my ability to walk and therefore my ability to lead a happy fulfilling life. I’m stacking the deck for option #1.
Chapter 2
So here’s a story idea. A guy finds a little kid alone in a snowstorm. What next? He’s sleeping on the couch across the room from my table/desk. Afghans are piled high, his face is serene. I need more material.
The End (for now)
P.S. I'll allow (and this counts retroactively) the first ten different people that post a comment to write on one piece of paper "I O U $1" or "I owe you one dollar" or anything equivalent and then sign my name "Andrew Atkinson". I won't even sue you for forging my signature. I have imbued worth upon these scraps of paper. They can be traded amongst yourselves. See who can collect the most of them. They are as good as currency. Keep in mind I don't want them, I have real money.
I was busing tables after the lunch rush at Deja the other day and friend-of-the-blog Laura was eating lunch with another lady. To make a short story even shorter, Laura introduced me to this woman who turned out to be the executive director of the local npr station. So, I'm stoked, if all goes well I'll be doing some kind of program for WDIY. I like the radio, maybe I'll be able to channel some Garrison Keillor.
Ummmm, the maps I'm missing are back ordered and they'll be getting coming in 3 to 5 weeks.
I don't think I let go of things so much as I forget about them, maybe its the same thing.
I'm suck on this story I started writing. I was pretty ambitious when I began writing so I began by writing "Chapter 1". I wanted to do a book or novella or something, something longish, but I'm stuck on the very top of page three. Let me know if you like it/ have any ideas where to go with it.
Chapter 1
Its supposed to snow tonight into tomorrow, the weatherman predicted up to twelve inches. I don’t get to play in snow enough to enjoy it anymore. I have to wake up an extra thirty minutes early to shovel, get hot and sweaty, then go to work. I walk to work and most people aren’t conscientious enough to have their walks shoveled. I don’t like snow.
My thoughts flow and I can’t figure out what to write about. Its frustrating, mainly because I’d like to be a writer. A writer of books and things, not so much news articles and other things. Maybe I should look at what sells and be a blockbuster writer like James Patterson. I’m sure its not as easy as his books make it seem.
Plot, thought, twist, dialogue, punctuation. I should think plot though, or is it character(s)? Font, wit, wisdom, mystery, romance. Coffee, definitely coffee. Then maybe a cigarette?
Coffee’s warm, it’ll keep me up. The shades are up and the light’s on, its dark outside so the windows are like mirrors. I can see the blankness on my face and faintly snow flakes falling outside. Snow’s sticking. My eyes lose track of the flakes, extra examination proves the snow is still falling.
Its late, maybe early. I don’t think the day starts until the sun rises, so its late for me. I should get sleep I have to work in the morning. Work might be closed for the snow. I don’t know. I’m a professional sandwich maker. We’re like mailmen. We work rain, snow, sleet, and shine; we work in a climate controlled building.
I’m up late and not getting anything done. I’m wasting sleep time and I like sleep. I like dreaming more. Dreams are fun, they’re most often filled with sex and violence. I don’t think that idea needs further explanation. Its still snowing.
My music library is really lopsided. Its frontloaded, over half my songs are by artists with names beginning with A or B. Its not planned. I’m not trying to conquer music one letter at a time. I have discographies from the following artists: Aesop Rock, Afroman, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, Billy Joel, Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, Bright Eyes and Busdriver. Its starting to annoy me. Maybe I have an unnatural attraction to the letter B (and less so A).
The sky’s brightening up. I’ll have a cigarette. I smoke Winstons, they like to advertise that they’re made without additives. I say they’ll give me additive-free cancer. I don’t like the smell of cigarettes so I smoke on my front porch and walk out to the street to flick the butt. There’s a little kid running down the sidewalk. Since the snow is up to his knees he isn’t really running, but he’s giving it a go. Not anymore. He fell. He’s a house and a half away and not getting up. I should’ve gone over sooner.
I get over to him; his cheeks are bright red, his nose is running, tears are in his eyes, his hands shoot up toward me. He wants to be picked up. I hoist him and plop him on my shoulders and begin to walk following his trail in the snow.
“What are you doing out here buddy? I’m going to take you home, back to mommy and daddy, ok?” Shit, what if the kid‘s from a broken family? “You know where you live?” Nothing. So he’s a mute or really cold and miserable and weirded out by this guy who came along and picked him up and is taking him in the opposite direction of where he was clearly trying to go.
Its light enough to see visibility is down to a block or two. Snow’s up to eight or ten inches and not stopping. I’m ill-equipped for this mission. My slippers are filling with snow with every step. The snow is willing to compromise with my body heat and turn to slush in my slippers. I’m pretty sure my toes are purple. I really don’t like snow. The kid’s path is filling in, “I could use some help finding your house, bud.” Maybe he’s physically capable of speech but just doesn’t know how.
There’s a battle in my head. I can go back to my place get out of the cold and call the police or child services and risk seeming to be on the pedophilia side of creepy or I can keep trying to follow a faint trail and risk losing my toes and therefore my ability to walk and therefore my ability to lead a happy fulfilling life. I’m stacking the deck for option #1.
Chapter 2
So here’s a story idea. A guy finds a little kid alone in a snowstorm. What next? He’s sleeping on the couch across the room from my table/desk. Afghans are piled high, his face is serene. I need more material.
The End (for now)
P.S. I'll allow (and this counts retroactively) the first ten different people that post a comment to write on one piece of paper "I O U $1" or "I owe you one dollar" or anything equivalent and then sign my name "Andrew Atkinson". I won't even sue you for forging my signature. I have imbued worth upon these scraps of paper. They can be traded amongst yourselves. See who can collect the most of them. They are as good as currency. Keep in mind I don't want them, I have real money.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
So in my last post Blogger decided that the single spacing between thoughts was like a quarter of a page. We'll see if it does it again.
I hate when I get a zit in the middle of my forehead. It makes me look like a--well I guess dot head isn't PC-- ummm Hindu I think?
There are two kinds of drivers.
The first can do no wrong. I have complete confidence in their ability to drive. Every movement is natural and I feel safe in their car.
The other kind can be doing 35 on a straight road and it seems like a series of happy accidents are the only thing keeping the car (and me in it) from plowing into on coming traffic or parked cars or telephone poles or anything else that could mean near certain death. I kinda feel like I'm in the second category, but I'm getting better.
I was at the gym today. I don't like the locker rooms, because I think modesty is dead. I get it, its a locker room, there are guys going to and from showering or swimming or the sauna they'll be in various stages of nakedness. What’s bugs me are these guys that revel in it. Unless they leave the room they are butt-ass-naked. They stand around talking or reading or sitting on the couch, the fabric covered couch that has nothing between their butt juices and the absorbent upholstery (I swear to God I have never and will never lay my ass upon that disgusting piece of furniture). Every time I look around I see old wrinkled fat asses (and other assorted bits and pieces). I really don't need to see all that EVERYWHERE, put on some boxers or wrap a goddamn towel around your waist.
Oh, there has been a single comment in four posts now. I'd be great if I could confirm that more than one person is reading. Tell me what you think: Am I entertaining you? Does it suck? Let me know.
I hate when I get a zit in the middle of my forehead. It makes me look like a--well I guess dot head isn't PC-- ummm Hindu I think?
There are two kinds of drivers.
The first can do no wrong. I have complete confidence in their ability to drive. Every movement is natural and I feel safe in their car.
The other kind can be doing 35 on a straight road and it seems like a series of happy accidents are the only thing keeping the car (and me in it) from plowing into on coming traffic or parked cars or telephone poles or anything else that could mean near certain death. I kinda feel like I'm in the second category, but I'm getting better.
I was at the gym today. I don't like the locker rooms, because I think modesty is dead. I get it, its a locker room, there are guys going to and from showering or swimming or the sauna they'll be in various stages of nakedness. What’s bugs me are these guys that revel in it. Unless they leave the room they are butt-ass-naked. They stand around talking or reading or sitting on the couch, the fabric covered couch that has nothing between their butt juices and the absorbent upholstery (I swear to God I have never and will never lay my ass upon that disgusting piece of furniture). Every time I look around I see old wrinkled fat asses (and other assorted bits and pieces). I really don't need to see all that EVERYWHERE, put on some boxers or wrap a goddamn towel around your waist.
Oh, there has been a single comment in four posts now. I'd be great if I could confirm that more than one person is reading. Tell me what you think: Am I entertaining you? Does it suck? Let me know.
Monday, January 21, 2008
So I just don't have enough to write about regarding the trail right now. There's been a mistake in my guide book/map order where I'm missing information for three large chunks of what I'm supposed to be walking (including the first hundred and fifty or so miles in Georgia). I'm starting to feel some anxiety.
I think I might just write some day to day post about my life and thoughts. I think that's called blogging.
I think City View Diner on MacArthur Road has the single best smelling urinal cakes I've ever smelled. Most smell like a cross between hand soap and Lysol, but this one had a very sweet cherry aroma (or maybe it was all the cherry coke). Check it out.
It was garbage day a couple days ago and I realized I don't think I've ever seen a garbage woman. Have you? Is it sexism or do women have higher standards? Maybe there are garbage women and they're just incredibly androgynous?
P.S. I've had twenty-something hits on this blog. For ads (see bottom of page) like "Super Sack by BAG Corp" and "Oriental Trading Company"(Are the people like pokemon or something?) that amount of traffic is impressive. I'm looking at you 'AdSense by Google' to start mailing those checks. Maybe this blog will start paying for itself.
I think I might just write some day to day post about my life and thoughts. I think that's called blogging.
I think City View Diner on MacArthur Road has the single best smelling urinal cakes I've ever smelled. Most smell like a cross between hand soap and Lysol, but this one had a very sweet cherry aroma (or maybe it was all the cherry coke). Check it out.
It was garbage day a couple days ago and I realized I don't think I've ever seen a garbage woman. Have you? Is it sexism or do women have higher standards? Maybe there are garbage women and they're just incredibly androgynous?
P.S. I've had twenty-something hits on this blog. For ads (see bottom of page) like "Super Sack by BAG Corp" and "Oriental Trading Company"(Are the people like pokemon or something?) that amount of traffic is impressive. I'm looking at you 'AdSense by Google' to start mailing those checks. Maybe this blog will start paying for itself.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Nature
So I'm beginning to realize that planning to be outside for a solid four months makes it seem like I'm a nature freak. I'm not an ardent environmentalist. I take obscenely long showers wasting drinkable water that would be more appreciated anywhere else on the planet (or by me while I‘m hiking); I prefer plastic grocery bags, they're easier to carry than paper and if they get dirty I can just toss them out, unlike a canvass tote; compact fluorescent bulbs piss me off because they aren't as bright right away; I could go on. I don't dislike nature though. I was a boy scout for a couple years. I've been camping occasionally, I think its all very fun, but my career plans don't involve turning into Bear Grylls (or working at a coffee shop for the rest of my days, despite how much I enjoy it).
I want to clarify my motives. I'm walking the Appalachian Trail because it gives me something different and interesting to do for four months. I get bored. I find my life to be monotonous right now. I'll get to test my mettle against all sorts of situations.
Unless I go to the gym I'm never worn out. I'll go to bed at night not feeling tired mentally or physically, I go to sleep because I'm bored. I'm excited to walk ten or twenty miles and be worn out and get in really good shape.
I want to get away from my normal distractions like the internet and TV and videogames. I want to get back to reading and writing more, I mean, I won't have much else to do for leisure.
I think it will be a new experience in self reliance. I like being responsible for myself. I'll buy and cook all my food; make all the necessary plans; do all of my laundry; and make any and all decisions regarding my well being. I think that’s fun. I also liked that game The Sims; you didn't have to do laundry in the game.
I want to meet a bunch of nut-jobs who decided to walk for 2000 miles.
P.S. I was thinking that at some point I probably won't see people for a day or more. I think that’s unprecedented in my life. I can't remember a day when I didn't see anyone else. I thought that thought was interesting.
I want to clarify my motives. I'm walking the Appalachian Trail because it gives me something different and interesting to do for four months. I get bored. I find my life to be monotonous right now. I'll get to test my mettle against all sorts of situations.
Unless I go to the gym I'm never worn out. I'll go to bed at night not feeling tired mentally or physically, I go to sleep because I'm bored. I'm excited to walk ten or twenty miles and be worn out and get in really good shape.
I want to get away from my normal distractions like the internet and TV and videogames. I want to get back to reading and writing more, I mean, I won't have much else to do for leisure.
I think it will be a new experience in self reliance. I like being responsible for myself. I'll buy and cook all my food; make all the necessary plans; do all of my laundry; and make any and all decisions regarding my well being. I think that’s fun. I also liked that game The Sims; you didn't have to do laundry in the game.
I want to meet a bunch of nut-jobs who decided to walk for 2000 miles.
P.S. I was thinking that at some point I probably won't see people for a day or more. I think that’s unprecedented in my life. I can't remember a day when I didn't see anyone else. I thought that thought was interesting.
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