let's date this thing

One of the things I reckon I should be doing in keeping this blog is not merely rattling on about myself, but tossing a few current events in here and there to inform readers (present or future) and date this blog for future reference. In other words, I have a feeling that this blog, should it survive until my death at the ripe old age of 89 in 2075 or early 2076 (or even longer), would be more enlightening and stimulating for its future readers if it contained some hint of the historically significant things were going on in the world or nearby at the time that I wrote it. So! To that end, I'll be trying to include bits of news in future posts, should something strike me as being significant. Right now, as I write these words, the Station Fire is raging some miles west of here in the Los Angeles National Forest between Acton and Altadena, all over Mount Wilson and the surrounding hills. It's slowly creeping down the slopes toward settlements in the valleys. Some homes have already been lost. Worse, the fire has already killed two firefighters; their car rolled down a hill. The Station Fire has grown steadily from 13,000 to more than 30,000 square acres in just two days. Yesterday's news reports said that the fire was only 5% contained; but the L.A. Times this morning has stated that the fire doubled in size last night. It's called the Station Fire because it started near a fire station. Even this distance away (my parents' house sits on the most extreme eastern fringe of Apple Valley, halfway between that principality and the tiny burg of Lucerne Valley to the east, in the foothills of the San Bernardino Mountains), I can look out my window and see the effects of the fire. For the past two days the entire valley, horizon to horizon, has been coated with the yellowish-brown haze of drifting, dissolved smoke. You can smell it in the air. The gigantic plume of smoke obscured the western sky at first, three days ago, then spread out and covered the area thinly but definitely. It weighs on the spirits like a cloudy day, not just from the sickened appearance it imparts to the countryside, but the knowledge of its origin: the devastation it has wreaked and is still wreaking among the plants, animals and people of the national forest to the west. Just a few days ago, Senator Edward "Ted" Kennedy died at age 77. His funeral was all over the news networks for two days. Though I was no fan of his political views, nor his history with women, I still did not wish for his death. The Democrats have done two things in the wake of Senator Kennedy's passing: they have either mourned it as the passing of "Camelot," as the Kennedy Administration in the 1960s was known (Ted was the last living member of the immediate Kennedy family, a dynasty that has been active in American politics for decades)...or they have tried to parley his death into a sales pitch for "Obamacare," as Obama's much-hyped and controversial health care plan has come to be called. Some senators insist that "this is what Senator Kennedy would have wanted," while the conservatives and even some in the media blast them for using Kennedy's death for political agenda advancement. Judge as you see fit. I'm just glad the media has made as big a stink over Senator Kennedy's death as they did over Michael Jackson's death a few months back. I don't deem anything regarding Michael Jackson fit to print here, so we'll move on. There remains little to tell that is not old news. Some months ago former president Bill Clinton flew to North Korea in a surprise visit to that totalitarian nation's martinet of a dictator, Kim Jong-Il, to negotiate for the release of the two Korean-American journalists, Euna Lee and Laura Ling, who were captured near the Korean-Chinese border five months before. (Which side of the border they were on remains the topic of much debate.) Even more surprisingly, Clinton negotiated successfully and quickly, and the two journalists were flown back to the States and reunited with their families within the week. I was most intensely relieved to hear this. I shudder to think of what the two women could have been in for (they had been sentenced to twelve years' hard labor for entering the country illegally and "malicious acts against the state"). I was glad that they had been rescued. I'm no fan of Bill Clinton but I applauded him for this. There were some, though, who blasted him for stooping to negotiate with a belligerent tyrant like Kim (and I can definitely see their point), but the main thing was just to get those two American civilians home. The only really big thing that I can think of that's happened recently is that Barack Obama was elected president back in November of 2008; but that was five months before I started keeping this blog, so we'll let that one go.

cocktail review no. 10 - Rocky's Dilemma

Lo and behold! A good cocktail with a mere two ingredients!

• 1½ ounces vodka
• ½ ounces Grand Marnier

In a mixing glass half-filled with ice cubes, combine the vodka and Grand Marnier. Stir well. As you might very well expect, this tastes mostly like Grand Marnier. Still and all, there's a frosty hint of the vodka underneath that refined blend of Cognacs. The drink itself is a flavorful digestif and fine sipping. It's not as strong as you might think, either. And you don't have to like vodka to appreciate it.

working for the newspaper

Well, I got a job. Tuesday I was in town to see an old friend, Beth. We met up at the Grind (a popular, or, I should perhaps say, populist coffee shop down by Jess Ranch in Apple Valley), and spent two hours happily catching up and discussing our literary pursuits. She has about twenty or so science fiction stories which she's trying to spin into full-length novels. I, of course, am working on my overweening epic of an allegorical, science-fiction-cum-historical-fiction series. We both expressed genuine interest in each other's ideas and encouraged one another to continue writing. It was a lovely way to spend a morning. I sipped green tea while she told me about her successful ascent of Mount Whitney; I briefed her on my time in Korea. We also discussed dreams at length. She, fortunately, has a memory which allows her to remember the somnolent vagaries of her subconscious. I, cursed with a stringently photographic memory, can remember perhaps five or so dreams I've had in my entire life, and even then only flashes and images. Following this, however, I did errands, one of which entailed an exhaustive battle through traffic into Victorville to stop by the office of the newspaper which services the tri-city area, and even distant subscribers in Barstow and Phelan. I wanted to say hello to Ron, the editor. You know, clue him in that I was back in town, see how things were going around the vicinity, et cetera. Earlier in the month I'd submitted an application for an open reporter's position. My errand that Tuesday morning turned out to be fortuitous, as Ron had not received my application. (It must've gotten lost in cyberspace.) He encouraged me to send it with all dispatch, so I sent it in later that day. Wednesday at eleven I got a call on my cell phone. Ron said that he might "have something for me." That didn't sound much like my old reporter internship, but I decided to go with the flow; no other opportunities were forthcoming. Ron said he'd place a call to staffing service to sign some forms. A little while later I received a call from them and was asked to come in later that afternoon. I did, signed all the forms (which took an hour; everything from a skills list to a W-4), and went to work that very same day. I said earlier that I got "a job" instead of "the job" because I didn't get my old job back, as it turns out. It's something a little different this time around. It's a sort of clerical-cum-journalistic position. You see, one of the paper's copywriters is on leave. So, the editorial assistant, Mark, is filling in for him on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So, therefore, I am filling in for Mark on those days. Wednesdays I am a sort of general assignment reporter. And that's my job: 8:30 to 5:30 on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. Oh well, it's worked out pretty well so far. On that first day (when I was in for just three hours, from two to five-thirty) I just got some basic training in how to do obituaries and letters to the editor, typing up a few of each and submitting them. Yesterday I did some bigger stuff. I created a feature story on a member of the Order of St. John of God who won the St. Mary Foundation's 2009 Samaritan of the Year Award, including an interview. He was a willing interviewee, but I was a bit nervous. I haven't done this in years, you know. Jim, the head photographer, was cool as heck, calmly snapping pictures while I fumbled with my notebook and staggered my way through my questions. Today was a bit rougher. I didn't know this, but apparently I'm expected to be churning out short stories for the newspaper on a daily basis. Makes sense, I suppose; but I thought I was just filling in. I got a rude awakening today, somewhere between working on three different stories at once (a piece on the volunteer network that the mayor of Hesperia is trying to get started, a follow-up on an aerial geological survey that was conducted a month or so back, and something about a fake-check scam that happened in Apple Valley in May to a frame-store owner) and being reminded by a serious yet kindly Ron that I was taking far too long to collect information. All my phone calls to sources ought to be finished up by two, or even before, you see. Otherwise people go to lunch. It's Friday to boot, what Ron calls "Bureaucrat Friday" when government personnel can't honestly be expected to be available or even cogent. (If you're wondering why I was in on a Friday, Ron called me in to churn out those stories for the weekend edition.) Anyway, all day it was rush rush rush, go go go. Not that I'm complaining, mind. It's a daily newspaper. That's how things are sometimes. But it's been a while since I was in that kind of environment, and it was a tad stressful, especially since I'm trying to conjure up all this old knowledge that I'd half forgotten: AP style, confidence in telephoning a complete stranger for information, and the like. I was working on multiple projects, and never seemed to get a minute to breath, constantly worried about letting Ron down or blowing this one chance I'd been given. Foolish woes of a first- (or second-) timer, eh? But they were no less real for that. By the end of the day (which came at four; I wouldn't be in on Saturday, so after deadline there wasn't much left for me to do) I was drained. I was only too glad to loll lazily back home, change clothes, and loll into my armchair in front of my laptop for a long evening's vegetation, succored by the thought of Saturday on the morrow. And that's the job I've got, and shall have for the next three months. Whaddya think?

title/makeover

As you may have noticed, we've been cycling through some major design changes here in this blog. I've also been fiddling with the name, which I'd just like to apologize for right here and now. I realize some of you may be (or have been) devoted fans of "the Journal" which is what this blog was originally named. Realizing that I was in dire need of something a little less pedestrian, I changed the name of the blog to "the Journal of a Pretentious Blowhard" a couple of weeks back. However, the blog still seemed to lack pizazz. (Moreover, the phrase pretentious blowhard gets tossed around in the media, or in reference to the media, far too often these days.) So I have now changed the name of this blog to "the Sententious Vaunter," named after your humble self-deprecating blogger, yours truly. Sententious is a word that means self-righteous, given to holier-than-thou moralizing, and vaunter is another word for a braggart, or a blowhard. So there you have it, I'm the pretentious blowhard, or the ostentatious braggart, or the sententious vaunter or whatever you want to call it. The design of the blog, templates and colors in particular, have been undergoing some changes as well, as you may have noticed. I started with the fairly standard "Rounders" template, and stuck with the original colors. Around the time I overhauled the title for the first time (changing it to "the Journal of a Pretentious Blowhard"), I switched around all the colors as well. But I didn't stay happy with that for long. The background was dark green and the text was bright turquoise. Things couldn't progress like that forever. I also realized finally that the "Rounders" template wasted too much space, especially on my wide-screen laptop. So, a couple of days ago, I changed the template to "Stretch Denim" (occupying more breadth) and also switched up the colors to something more coordinated and less tacky. I hope this ice-blue sort of color theme I've got going works. If it doesn't, please let me know. I'm a little concerned that the vibrant blue is making all of the formerly blue skies in my posted photographs look dull and drab and tarnished by comparison. If this color scheme (or design) doesn't suit you in any way, drop me a line and clue me in, and I'll try something else. I've already half a mind to. Finally, the central, defining image of the blog at the top of the page (a feature I intend to keep no matter what other changes I may make) has also undergone some mutations. In the beginning, it was a Grumman Albatross (a large flying boat I'm rather fond of); secondly, and for the longest duration, it was a Fairchild C-123 Provider (the same type of plane, though not in the same livery, as used in the movie Con Air); thirdly and briefly it was one of my very own snapshots from Korea, the jungle room in Yeomiji Botanical Garden; and the current image is a shot of what appears to be Alaska or some similar region in the frozen Northwest, which is also the inspiration for the aforementioned ice-blue color theme. I'm currently contemplating changing this, too, however. Once again, I invite feedback. Otherwise I might do something even worse than the green-turquoise combo, people...

cocktail review no. 9 - Jamaican Fizz

One of the first tropical drinks I've ever made..."tropical drink" delineating a cocktail that reminds you of the tropics, has a certain amount of rum and/or pineapple juice in it, and cannot be mixed by anyone not wearing a Hawaiian shirt.

• 2½ ounces dark rum
• 1½ ounces pineapple juice
• 1 teaspoon superfine sugar
• 4 ounces club soda

In a shaker half-filled with ice cubes, combine the rum, pineapple juice, and sugar. Shake well, then strain into a collins glass also half-filled with ice. Top with the club soda. I've complained (not in this blog, but elsewhere) about drinks that have a poor booze-to-juice ratio, where the flavor of the liquor is obscured by the fruit. As you might be able to tell from the above ingredient list, there's absolutely no problem with that in this drink. There's way more rum than pineapple juice, and it comes through in the heady but not at all unpleasant flavor of the end result. The fizz really helps too. This is an ideal summer drink, a real cool-down, and I'd recommend it to anybody who's fed up with sex on the beach. (Heh heh...)

and so, the long-awaited cabin fever sets in

It's 102 degrees outside. The Internet wasn't working until 10:30 a.m. because I went over the bandwidth limit yesterday downloading the Anniversary Edition of Ad-Aware. I'm having a homemade fruit smoothie every day. The most exciting thing I have to look forward to tomorrow is getting up at 7:00 to paint the shed, which I am actually looking forward to. I dug through at least four hundred article titles on the Demand Studios website, and I only found one that I thought I could successfully do ("Advantages of Renting a Car"). I've got a lopsided, half-deflated blister on my right heel that I desperately want to pop. I've run out of fresh reading material; what I do have are somewhat dense books like Keith Sinclair's A History of New Zealand and a load of self-help books regarding writing. My resolution to quit picking my nose, sworn in my parents' hammock under a sparkling canopy of stars late last night, lasted barely eighteen hours. And, oh yes! I've got five weeks until I find out whether I can leave for Alaska or not. I love my parents and it's nice being back in the States, but man...I've got to get out of here.

random travel destinations - Namibia

I rather like doing these installment thingies. Recommended reading covers whatever literature I'm perusing at the moment; writing updates deals with the literature I'm creating; and I'm reviewing cocktails semi-regularly on this blog as well. I was also doing a series about Korean history (Korean History 101) but I finished that, unfortunately. I don't think there are nearly enough evocative images on this blog, so what I think I'll start doing is posting a picture of some far-flung spot on the globe on a regular basis. (Let's say every week or so, maybe.) I'll try to make them as far-flung as possible. There'll be none of these "common tourist destinations" like Paris or Disneyland or anything like that. We'll see how it works. The first one is...the Namib Desert, Southwest Africa!

writing updates, 8/17/2009

I promised that this blog would also cover literature, didn't I, but so far I've only been talking about what I've been reading and not what I've been writing. For good reason: I haven't stopped writing, per se, but it has fallen by the wayside, sort of. 

First of all, I believe I told you that one of my articles finally got accepted for publication some months ago, correct? Yes, my article about the Seoul-for-Seolnar jaunt got accepted at Real Travel Adventures, a free online e-zine (www.realtraveladventures.com). It's a small publication, but its articles never fail to be interesting: I've read some fascinating stories of people biking the length of South America, and taking wine-tasting barge cruises up and down the Seine in France. It got my foot in the door. 

Shortly after this, another one of my articles was accepted (with recompense) at In the Know Traveler, a sort of online travel database (www.intheknowtraveler.com). It was a little piece concerning Gohyeon and Geoje Island, where I spent my tenure as an expatriate English teacher. I've been trying to keep track of it and find it when it's published on their website, but I haven't had much luck. If you see it, let me know, will you? ITKT pays on publication, and I haven't received payment yet, so I can only assume that the article hasn't been published on the site yet. I might send a message to the editor and check its status, in fact... 

Finally, I may have mentioned that I was accepted as a freelance writer for Demand Studios, an information broker out of the L.A. Basin. Here's how it works: you get accepted as a writer, you choose what assignments you want (there are hundreds), "claim" them, write them up according to the formatting rules, and submit them. If they're approved, you get paid $5-$15 apiece for them. You can take on as many or as few as you want. Immediately after hearing the news that I was accepted, I logged on and claimed an article titled "Tips on Learning to Play the Piano." I wrote it, formatted it and submitted it, and received word that it had been accepted. I've gotten my payment through PayPal and am $15 richer. Neat-o! 

Anyway, that's all I've done professionally so far. I've really got to get to work here (especially since I'm doing nothing, not even job hunting anymore; I'm waiting to see if I have any bites) and write up some more stuff and submit it. In the meantime, though, I'm really trying to get back to work on my novel. I've let it sit for awhile since getting back from Korea, and every comic book I read or adventure novel I peruse gets me itching to finish mine. I've just been plagued by uncertainty and self-doubt (I have a real problem with that). 

So, to lug myself out of the rut, I purchased a book called How to Write a Damn Good Novel by James N. Frey, a professor at Berkeley. So far it's been very helpful. Frey has a hard-hitting, no-nonsense, you-can-do-it style that is reassuring and didactic at the same time. His first chapter, concerning character, was just what the doctor ordered. Last night I got down to business and completed character bios for my two main protagonists, and now feel familiar enough with my two main characters to get on with writing. (That's very important, according to Frey; you should know your characters as well as you know your best friend or brother, including their stance on politics, religion, family, relationships, and whatever else might influence their behavior. Getting to know my protagonists has taken a long, long time and is basically what's holding up the show.) After completing them, I sat down and banged out two more pages of the book, quite a bit more than I've done at one sitting in a long while. I think I can actually see the end in sight...the plot of the book, including the denouement and the more nebulous parts of Act II, have been gradually coalescing in my mind. I think with a few more nights of solid work I can get this thing drafted. Then comes the rewriting process...we'll see if Frey can help me with that. Stephen King sure did. (On Writing is another book that I highly recommend for people who desire to write a book but don't think they could.) 

Wish me luck. I'll keep you posted.

Hunter, Maggie, and Princess Eugenie

I hate to keep posting an endless torrent of these personal updates, on the chance that my suspicions are correct and nobody out there truly cares, or even notices what I'm putting on here. Be that as it may, I feel the need to once again declare how I am. I think my plans and aspirations have finally evened out and some form of order has coalesced. Previously I was all in a turmoil. Australia? The Virgin Islands? Colorado? Idaho? Alaska? Japan or the Orient again? Or stay here in California and work for a year to save up some dough? It's like this, currently. If I find somebody to go to Australia to me, we'll go. Australia takes priority. But it all hinges on finding a travel buddy. I've had it with roaming alone, for now at least. Thus far I haven't had any definite interest. Virginia and John, both two of my best friends from high school, said they could go...in a year or so. Johnnie wants to finish his degree and Virge wants to give her current job with Hesperia Parks & Recreation at least a year and a half or so. I can't blame either of them for that. (Yeah, right! What a couple of squares!) But then...the day before yesterday another old high school friend, Hunter, dropped me a line on Facebook. He said he was interested in seeing me again and talking over this Australia gig. So I went down to meet him at The Grind yesterday evening. (The Grind's a new coffee shop down by Jess Ranch on Bear Valley Road in Apple Valley...pretty hip, with some good atmosphere. As a result, however, it attracts every hippie and freak for miles around.) Over a couple of oddly-named, trendy coffee drinks, we caught up on each other's doings. He'd graduated from the University of California at Santa Barbara in June 2008, just about the same time I'd left for Korea. He hadn't had much luck after that. No jobs to be had...everybody knows how the market's been lately. He came back here to live with his folks, similar to yours truly. He was working as a substitute teacher for about $120 a day...not a bad engagement. But he wanted something more. He'd just come out of a long-term relationship and was without prospects of more than one kind. So he was interested in traveling for a bit, and this Australia thing caught his eye. I filled him in, describing both that program and my Korean sojourn in all the florid glow I could muster. When I'd finished, he told me that he was vacillating between bugging out with me and trying to patch things up with his ex-girlfriend. I told him to do what he thought he needed to do, but think it over. He promised he would, and I sent him the URL concerning the working holiday in Australia (http://www.liveinaustralia.com/working-visa/, if you want to know) as soon as I got home. We'll see what he says. So supposing he doesn't spring for it (which I wouldn't blame him for, either, I guess), my plans become more concrete. I'll bum around my folks' place until the end of August, possibly early September, and wait and see if I've got any bites on any of the reporter's positions I've applied for around the country (Colorado, New Mexico, Idaho, Alaska, the Virgin Islands, D.C., and a few others). If I do, I'll decide whether to go for them or not. If I don't, then my decision becomes even easier: head straight for Alaska. I'm still technically mulling over whether or not to stay here a year and work to save money (which is why I might wait here until mid-September: to see whether or not I got my old job at the newspaper). But in my heart I sense that I've already decided to head off for the Great North. The drive will be fantastic. I'll be going up Interstate 15, through the Mojave Desert, the northwestern tip of Arizona (and the Virgin River Canyon), Las Vegas, Salt Lake City, Butte, and then into Alberta, Canada...thence to Calgary, Edmonton, the northeastern corner of British Columbia, the Yukon Territory, and then into Alaska itself and balmy Anchorage! I don't care if I bankrupt myself, really. That's worst-case scenario. I don't care about finding my dream job right off the bat either. I'll work in a smoke shop, or drive a cab (I've always thought the latter would be really neat). Just being up there would be enough. Once I've secured some kind of gainful employment (any kind) then I can focus on finding ideal and optimum employment, like a talk show host on a radio station. And then I can start taking flying lessons again, and maybe eventually start up an airline...and there you have it. Either way, the wanderlust is kicking in bad. I love my parents, and it's swell living in their house with their generous hospitality, and seeing all my friends from high school again, and kicking around this old desert town...but I've got a rocket in my pocket. It's time to be off for a new horizon. A few quick things before I sign off: one, my mom purchased a new dog to take the place of dear old Molly, her Belgian sheepdog, who perished a few months before they moved away from Wyoming. The new dog is a purebred six-year-old collie mix. She's quite beautiful, tri-colored and tractable. She seems to have an unusually large amount of Borzoi blood in her...her snout is quite long and tapered, even for a collie. We've named her Maggie. We got her last week. Mom took her to the vet today and found out she has a nasty case of gingivitis, which will cost $500 to fix. Oh well. She's so nice and friendly that we don't mind spending the money on her. Two, I just found out that Princess Eugenie Victoria Helena Mountbatten-Windsor of York has a blog! Holy smoke! Why wasn't I informed about this? I've always thought she was pretty, and was intrigued by her list of personal interests on the Royal Family's website (she likes computer games and hot dogs and Desperate Housewives, among other things), but she blogs, too! Like she said in that article in the Daily Mail back in 2007, she and her relations try to lead as normal lives as possible. Zowie, how about that, eh? A princess's blog! I've got to see if I can find it. I'll be honest, I've fantasized a little about meeting her someday. Okay, I'll be totally honest: I've fantasized about bumping into her under thrilling circumstances in some foreign country, rescuing her from terrorists or something, whisking her to safety in my souped-up cargo plane, and having a whirlwind romance of some sort or another with her à la every action movie ever made. I'm sounding kind of silly and lovesick here, aren't I? Okay, I'll stop. Goodbye. If you're reading this, Your Highness, please forgive me.

cocktail review no. 8 - Kamikaze

Dad and I managed to procure a ridiculously inexpensive one-liter bottle of Smirnoff at Albertson's the other day, so now the whole section in the Bartender's Bible concerning vodka drinks is open to me. And here's a particular favorite of mine, and an absolute classic:

• 1½ ounces vodka
• ½ ounces Cointreau or triple sec
• 2 teaspoons Rose's lime juice

Pour the vodka, the triple sec and the lime juice into a mixing glass half-filled with ice cubes. Stir well and serve. This is the more refined recipe. The original called for a shot of Stolichnaya vodka and a bit of lime juice, and was supposed to be gulped in one go. It was designed to get a person drunk but quick. This version turned the Kamikaze into a sipping drink. 'Course, my bottle of Rose's lime juice is probably about 18 months old now, so it's a little past its prime. It's turning yellow and has a slightly fermented flavor. Nonetheless it did the trick. This drink is flavorful, smooth and eminently sippable (is that a word?). The taste is something akin to limeade; subsequently this cocktail makes a great summer drink. A lot of people, including yours truly, complain about vodka as being flavorless and nondescript. As Gary Regan so wisely noted, however, that is part of the real beauty of vodka: it allows you to flavor it to your heart's content.

momentous decisions: an addendum

As an addendum to that last post: My folks have been pressing me lately to stay here in Apple Valley. This is not because they're clingy (although they wouldn't mind having me around). Mom figures I could stay at the house (and pay monthly rent), work in the valley (perhaps at my old job at the paper) and save up oodles of money. If I stuck around for a year, I could rack up a sizable amount. Plus, that would then give me time to bug my friends about coming to Australia with me, and also give them time to finish whatever they need to get done beforehand. If I go to Alaska now, Mom says, without prospects or patience, I'll burn up another huge chunk of what I saved in Korea, one-quarter of which has been sunk into my new car and all the related maintenance and insurance fees. This is true. I've given myself three or four months to find a job up there before I quit and return to the lower 48, and if I'm unsuccessful, that'll be three or four thousand dollars gone, not including food and expenses. Here, I have friends. Here, I have contacts. Here, I have cheap accommodation. Mom and Dad's suggestion is a sound one; I could save a lot, have plenty to spend on an Australian or European sabbatical (Jeff and I had talked about meeting up in England in the summer of 2010, six months before Adam and Elaine's wedding)...and, well, what-have-you. The only problem I have with that is it means that I'll have to wait to go to Alaska. I'll have to wait on flying...I'm not sure if they give flight lessons at the dinky little Apple Valley airport. I'll have a journalism job, perhaps (if I move fast), but I sense that I'll be unhappy doing it. I've worked there before and I know how hectic it is, even for an intern or an entry-level reporter. Perhaps most dismaying, however, is that I'll be living in my parents' house. I love them, and it's nice and easy and fun to live there, but my pride and independent spirit are niggling at me. How come you're sitting on your tucus in your nice parents' cushy house when you could be out gallivanting around the Arctic after a week of driving through the Western United States and Canada? Why are you still sitting here when there's sheep waiting to be herded and beautiful thirsty chicks waiting to be served cocktails in Australia? What's with you sticking around in Apple Valley when there are dozens of open teaching jobs in Japan and Greater Asia? I know I'm sounding like a stupid, flaky whiner, but those niggling feelings are undeniable. Running off to Alaska without carefully laid plans (or abundant capital) somehow just seems like the thing to do. I'm letting my heart rule my head here, yessir. But there've been people throughout history who have done that and made it big, haven't they? Give me a few minutes to think about it.

momentous decisions and humdrum stuff

I sit here, in the easy chair in my old room in my folks' house in Apple Valley, in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, on this gorgeous night. It's in the 60s out there...amazing for August...a southwest wind directly off the Pacific Ocean blew up last night and it's cooled the ensuing day off by about 20 degrees. I'm lovin' it. Having downed a couple of daiquiris and popped my James Brown CD into my laptop (currently playing, "Funky President," a.k.a "People It's Bad," which has a frightening amount of relevance and resonance with this new Obama administration, no racism intended: "stock market goin' up, jobs goin' down/there ain't no funkin' jobs to be found"), I think it's about time I gave you a few updates about my status and condition here. First of all, Mom adopted a collie at the animal shelter today. It's a purebred, for certain; the shelter staff insisted she was a smooth collie, but she looks more like a rough. She's six years old and quite beautiful, though today she was a little shell-shocked from being spayed an hour or so before we picked her up. We're still deciding on a name; or rather, we're hotly debating it. The dog herself is currently resting in a big dog carrier in the front room; we reckon she won't snap out of the anesthesia until tomorrow morning. Then we'll see how she does. Second, I've been spending some time with some of my old friends from around here. I finally met up with Virginia, whom I've known since I was 15 (and I'm nearly 23 now), who recently finished up a degree in theater and stage production at Occidental University and is now working for Hesperia Parks & Recreation. We met up at Red Robin (a burger joint) and caught up. Tuesday we went to see Public Enemies at the new Cinemark theater they built down at Jess Ranch since we've been gone. (Despite being about as historically accurate as 300, it was a pretty good film, plenty of action and some drama.) The film was good, but the theater itself was lousy; the screen kept flickering, and even cut out altogether a few times, especially during the final dramatic sequence of the movie. Needless to say, that caused some consternation in the audience, and the theater staff unsurprisingly gave everybody a free movie pass as we exited. Splendid, maybe I'll change my stance and go see this sixth Harry Potter flick. I've heard it's not so bad as its predecessors. Either way, it was awful nice to see good ol' Virge again. Third, and most portentous, I've made up my mind about where I'm going. I'm saving Japan and the United Arab Emirates for a rainy day. Australia I'm putting on hold until after I get my pilot's license. I'm going to wait around here in California until the end of August (when all these job openings for reporters I've applied to finally close) and see if I've got a bird in the hand in the lower 48. If I haven't, then I'm off to Alaska: a 3,600-mile road trip up Interstate 15 through Arizona, Nevada, Utah, Idaho, Montana, Alberta, British Columbia, the Yukon, and finally Alaska. (MapQuest estimates my fuel costs will be about $600 or so; not so bad.) Once I'm there I'll get some accommodation and throw all my energies into acquiring a writing position with the papers or (better yet) an on-air job at one of the grassroots radio stations. I'm truthfully leaning more toward radio than print media at this point, though I'll be glad of whatever opportunities present themselves. I'll give myself three to four months in Alaska to find a job; if I haven't secured gainful employment in that time (whatever it may be; heck, I'll drive a cab if I have to, I've always wanted to try that), I'll quit on the business and go to Australia or Japan then. Fourth, after having gotten some maintenance done on my new Jeep (new or refurbished brake rotors, and a repaired blower for the A/C system), Pop and I plan to flush the coolant tomorrow as well as top up the tires, check the oil and wash the windows. We'll give my beloved Cherokee a good going-over and then it'll be all road-ready. Finally, I just want to let you know that, yes, I have finally begun uploading all the photos I took from Jeju and Gwangju, my last two weeks in Korea, to Blogger. See my related posts. Postman out.

micro-level prerequisites for world peace

The question is often asked: "Why can't we all just get along?"

I've bloviated elsewhere about the answer to this trite-yet-apt query. I believe the problem to be due, simply, to a lack of perspective. Unable to sympathize with others or step into their shoes, some folk are thereby unable to compromise or maintain a peaceful demeanor, resulting in disagreements and even wars. (Not that I don't believe there's such a thing as righteous war; ho yes, it exists.)

Beyond perspective (or lack thereof) there might also be some more minor, superficial problems which form the roots of this planet's deplorable lack of peacefulness. Hot-headedness and over-aggressiveness might be one such problem. Some folks are just wound up tight. And what are people when they aren't relaxed? That's right, tense. Disagreeable. Surly. Sullen. Perhaps even bellicose and belligerent.

Another difficulty is ignorance. Humanity has always feared and mistrusted what it doesn't know and understand. Increased global knowledge and "worldliness" might indeed be the key to creating more international and interpersonal harmony and minimizing discord. The phrase "know your enemy" takes on a whole new meaning here; it might herald a peaceful end to conflict.

So, to that end, I have conceived a plan for instigating world peace on a micro-level...that is, on an individual basis. If everybody on the planet (or a vast majority) would just shut up and DO these three things, then we might all soon be leaving in a happier, quieter, more sane world.

Number 1 : Take some time every day to kick back, relax, and listen to some beautiful music. This is the simplest one of the bunch. It can be any kind of music, so long as it's laid-back, slow, and most importantly, melodic. It doesn't even have to be John Lennon (although that does help; that man made some of the most lovely music in the history of the world, not even including lyrics). It can be classical (Strauss or Mozart or even some Beethoven works well, but the real masters here are Tchaikovsky and Rossini, I think), contemporary (take your pick, there's plenty of artists out there who make some of the most awe-inspiring, mellifluous rhythms and harmonies you could wish for), or whatever. Heck, listen to the sound of rainfall or beaches if that's what cools you down. Everybody just needs some time to stretch out prone, immerse themselves in the divine art of sound, and introspect for a spell. If nothing else, it's marvelous stress relief. It can be used as a preventative measure (say, before going to work) or in a remedial capacity (say, AFTER work). Any way you like, you can listen, that's the best thing.

Number 2 : Go up in the SR-71 Blackbird or the space shuttle and experience the Overview Effect. "The Overview Effect" is the term (coined by Frank White in his book The Overview Effect) for the feeling of anthropic admiration, love, peacefulness and unity that almost never fails to impinge itself upon the consciousness of human beings who have ascended far enough above the Earth's surface to see it in all its glory...and smallness in comparison with the rest of the Universe. As far as I know, it's never failed: once astronauts go up in space, or some TV documentary host hitches a ride on a high-flying airplane, and these tiny, fragile human beings catch a glimpse of our planet stretched out in all its majesty and uniqueness and beauty, an ineffable sense of awe comes over them. Things given such importance and precedence on the ground (political standpoint, nationality, religious differences, what have you) drop away with the atmosphere and leave the viewer humbled, wiser, perhaps slightly ashamed of his or her own prejudices. Perhaps most tellingly, however, all of these people who have gone up and experienced the Overview Effect come back with a more profound concern for human cooperation ("world peace," if you want to call it that). Now, it seems, in full knowledge of the scope of human existence and achievement after their heavens-scraping ride, these fortunate humans have realized how insignificant most people's disputes, problems and disagreements are. It's impossible to do this in front of your TV set, however. You have to physically be up there and experience it. If everybody in the world had the chance to do this—to go upstairs and get a look at Starship Earth—maybe we'd all bit a little more eager to quit squabbling, get along, and accomplish something great.

Number 3 : Hit the books. I'm no political scientist, historian, anthropologist, or economist, but I would venture to suggest that half this world's problems are caused by ignorance. Ignorance of a thing is bad enough; ignorance of each other is unforgivable. If people would stop focusing on themselves, their culture, or their own traditions so much and took the time to learn about others', I don't think I'm far off the mark by saying (as so many others before me have said) that the world would be a better place. If those damn Muslim extremists weren't so brainwashed from birth with the Koran and Mohammed and Allah, and they took a time-out to actually get to know a few Jews in the corner bar over a few drinks, I highly doubt that even a spirited religious debate could get in the way of friendships being made. There's a reason they call it a "heart-to-heart." You open up to people on a deeply fundamental level that transcends beliefs and perceptions, and truly communicate. When that happens, people connect. And those connections can't be forgotten or severed or withered. And those connections are worth more to this world than all the gold that's buried in it, or all the kingdoms and empires that have passed upon it. Even if you just open up a book about the other side and read about what they do, it can only help you to learn more and understand (and perhaps stop disliking). Going over there and visiting is even better.

I knew nothing about Korea before I went there, except the name of the capital and the fact that the U.S. had had a war there. I actually kind of disliked Korea; I wasn't sure if the name sounded right rolling off the tongue. Boy, was I mistaken about it. I loved the place and still do. Its government is democratic, its outlook is conservative but fun-loving, the food is healthy AND delicious, and the people...well, most of the people there are worth their weight in gold. I met many dear friends, and I'll never forget the friendships and camaraderie I forged with the children (some of whom learned a thing or two about Westerners while I was around, too!). When I got there I was awkward, nervous, suspicious, scared; so were the children. But we opened up to each other. Classes went from silent to boisterous. I went from having kids veer out of my way to having them clamber all over me when I walked in the door. Even now I'm misting up thinking about it.

I'm not sure why I wrote this. Maybe it's because I'm listening to Coldplay right now (speaking of beautiful music). Maybe it's because I'm reading all this stuff on FoxNews.com about women having their babies cut out of them, and suicide bombings in the Middle East, and harsh words being exchanged between North Korea and the U.S.A., and I'm sick to death of it all (it doesn't have to be like this, folks; it might've been different). Maybe it's because I love flying and I've experienced a tiny bit of that Overview Effect myself, and firmly believe in its sociopolitical healing powers. Maybe I'm just a sentimental fool who's preaching too loudly to no one. All I ask, as always, is that you consider it. I wouldn't mind if the world considered it, either.