I've Been Away, pt. 1

As many of you may be aware, I spent some time away recently.

As all of you are now aware, I spent some time away recently. Where? Well hold onto those proverbial horses and butts and I’ll tell you!

This summer, I had the privilege of taking part in a program called The DREAM Project. In short, the DREAM Project is an organization that provides greater educational opportunities for underprivileged youth in the Dominican Republic. I had an amazing time and learned so much. Would you like to hear about it?! Seeing as how I can’t hear you, and by the time you read this it will have already been written, I’ll tell you how it’s going to be:  I’ll be writing a 3-part series on my experience with mi gente in the DR.

PART 1:  Adventure Time

The Dominican Republic is well-known for being a locale chock-full of tourist attractions. This seems appropriate, because there are plenty of attractive things with which to fill a chock. And while I wasn’t there for touristic purposes, I still found many of these destinations quite attractive. During evenings and on the weekends, we were free to roam. Roam I did, and I got the opportunity to do some amazing things.

The only issue is that, sometimes, when you’re doing amazing things, you’re not documenting amazing things. O sea, when your hands are full of adventure, your hands are not full of a camera. Whether it was because I was alone, just too focused on other things, or because of activity-specific circumstances, I wasn’t able to get pictures of myself doing a lot of the fun things I did while there. But, ne’er to be outdone by a chain of actual events, I turned to the world of fantasy. Below, I have listed some of the fun and touristy things I got to do while on my trip. Along with each activity, I have a short description, along with some pictures.  While not necessarily historically accurate, the pictures are representative of the experiences in every other way imaginable, and can give you an idea of what happened throughout history.

Let’s start off with a bang. Probably the coolest adventuresome thing I got to do was tour los 27 charcos de Damajagua. 27 charcos is a series of natural pools that have been carved out of limestone by the Río Damajagua in the mountains of the Northern Dominican Republic. Each of these pools is connected by said río. Because of the nature of the rock, there were bunches and bunches of natural water slides and waterfalls. Our tour, then, consisted of traveling down the mountain by way of the río, often having to do so by sliding down the water slides, cliff jumping, and swimming down corridors of natural limestone formations. So cool:

If that doesn’t do it justice, there are plenty of videos on YouTube of people who filmed it.

Near our hotel, there were some caves that led to underground pools. After being led into the jungle by a man I’d never met before and climbing through a small hole into pitch blackness, we climbed down a rusty unsafe ladder into an underground cave. There was a small landing surrounded by crystal clear, cool water. The clearness actually made it a little creepy, as you could see faint shadows and forms at the bottom of the ~10 foot deep pool. So many things could have been living in there. So many things... But we all survived and I don't have any diseases yet. Despite it being midday, we had to light candles while down in the cave to be able to see. Romantic underground swims by candlelight: So hot right now.

As one might expect, the beaches were amazing. They made good for several activities. At beautiful Sosua beach, some diving and exploration was done, in the fashion of snorkeling. Even when the water was about 40 feet deep, the ocean floor could be seen clearly from the surface.

We also stuck around for some gorgeous sunsets.

At another nearby beach, I got to try surfing for the first time. I got up on my first attempt, with the help of a muscular Dominican man who did all the work for me.

At our local beach, every Thursday night, there was a volleyball tournament; my roommate and I and some random beach tarts won exactly once.

And beaches are always good for long walks and introspection.

But it wasn’t just the beaches that would take your breath away. A short drive from the coastline, there were rolling mountains, covered in palm trees. Drives and walks in the countryside also made for majestic serenity.

For our final dinner, we drove down to where a prominent river in the DR meets the Atlantic Ocean. From there, we took a boat ride up the river at sunset to a local eatery thing.

Upon arrival, there was a dance competition, in which I participated. Despite our strongest efforts, my partner and I did not win.

I also made time for intellectual and cultural pursuits.  I was able to visit the Colonial Zone of Santo Domingo, which is where some of the first settlements of the New World were made. This is a picture of Catedral Primada de América, the first church built in the Western Hemisphere.

We visited a museum in Santiago, where we were able to analyze great works of art.

And monuments.

A lot of my time was spent in and in between cities.  Most traveling was done in guaguas, which were always very crowded.

I also rode my very first motoconcho [after camp was over, of course, in case management is reading ;) ]

For longer trips, I chose the comfort of Caribe Tours.

...unless it was too long, or over water, as was the case when I left the country. First was a layover in Puerto Rico.

Then, my favorite Mariners just happened to be playing in Florida about the time I was headed back, so I stopped at Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg to catch a game before eventually heading back to good old Washington.

Adventure after adventure, ad nauseum. Such nauseum. Such a good time. And again, although that wasn’t the reason I was there, I got to participate in some pretty amazing activities and I’m grateful to have been able to go.

Speaking of why I was actually there: next up in the series will be a recap of some of the more meaningful things I got to do while I was there. While seemingly not as adventurous, there were plenty of adventures to be had. And oh, I had them.

Y26

They say things grow better with age. As I am with age, I thought I would look into said claim by said ‘they.’ I found this:

http://www.oprah.com/blogs/A-Few-Things-That-Get-Better-with-Age

This made me feel a little better—as Oprah always does—, but I was still slightly uneasy about one fact: I am nowhere to be found on this list. Not even referenced. I started to worry a little bit. As I reviewed the list, I noticed that it does just say a few things that get better with age. And George Clooney is on the list. And people tell me I’m basically George Clooney all the time. Maybe I’m implied. So I calmed my fragile heart and decided to look into it for myself. I found one of those automatic picture aging things on the internet, which are obviously scientifically accurate. Have a look:

Fate is a cruel mistress. But Oprah is a kind and lovely mistress, and she has helped to ease my pain. On her list, she mentioned that sense of self gets better with age. Having spent plenty of time with myself has given me a sense that I exist—1 out of 1 René Descartes agree. This sense of self (among other things), coupled with experience, has engendered wisdom, of sorts. My birthday passed recently, and I have a tradition of writing a birthday post on my blog, which is what you’re reading. Surprise! Don’t leave! These birthday posts consist of summations of major lessons I have learned throughout the last year, mostly due to experiences I have had. I have done it exactly twice:  Y24 Y25. I do it again, right before your very eyes:

Living in the moment

I tend to wax nostalgic. Wax in this case is not a transitive verb. I enjoy people, places, moments, and people in places at moments. Having thus enjoyed these things, it is natural for one to think fondly on them. It is not, however, natural to get stuck therein. In my head lives an analytical mind. I never gave him permission, but there he sits, analyzing. One astute conclusion he has made is that, generally, good times are good. This can be a nostalgic realization, as one is wont to want good times. The past is tried and true; one knows the outcome. The present is trying, it’s true; one never knows the outcome. Here are my thoughts on the matter, much more eloquently and succinctly expressed by one Jeffrey R. Holland:

“The past is to be learned from but not lived in. We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not the ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead, we remember that faith is always pointed toward the future.”

Things change. Even returning to an exact place/etc can only produce similar results because the circumstance will never be the same—after all, time is a part of circumstance. Time has passed and has taken with it the exact circumstance that produced the results we so loved/cherished. Learn to recognize and appreciate what you have in the very moment you have it, and things for what they really are. Learn to cherish the good about these things and show that appreciation—especially when it comes to people and relationships.

PS:  This doesn’t in any way condone living in a frivolous way—just the opposite in fact. This encourages awareness, thoughtfulness, mindfulness, etc., which are absent in frivolousness by definition.

RebmembeRing

Somewhat the same as ‘living in the moment’ is remembering. Or maybe they’re opposites. Once one learns to recognize a great thing for its great qualities, one has substance worth remembering. Remembering keeps good times alive and vibrant. It keeps hard times from having simply been torture. Remembering helps us be humble and grateful, which leads to a more purpose-laden, fulfilling, and mindful life.

A recent experience drove me to want to keep a journal. It being rather special (the experience), I came across a lot of things that I didn’t want to forget. The knowledge that I would be writing in my journal later caused me to focus more throughout each day. An increased focus and awareness helped me to capture significance and moments that I might have missed otherwise. And now I have those moments, complete with attached emotions and details, vividly recorded forever. Even the intent to remember drove me to live more fully, and this type of living led to experiences that I will be proud to remember. .RebmembeR. Revisit. Renew. Ricola.

Goalfullness

If you’re not progressing, you’re digressing; steady progression is much easier than playing catch up. Live actively, purposefully. This requires being aware of the life one is living and the direction one wants it to head. This requires openly considering what activities will get one there, and whether the activities in which one is currently engaged fit the bill. This requires making plans and making sacrifices. This requires setting and achieving goals.

As wisely stated by Charles A. Didier:  “Goals are the means by which values and dreams are translated into reality. Happiness does not just happen. It has to be earned by thinking, planning, and the constant pursuit of values—both in work and in love—over the course of a lifetime.”

This also requires recognizing and avoiding distractions. There are so many and they’re so available.  It takes a truly conscientious effort to avoid them. A life without goals turns drab and stagnant quite fast.

When you have the ability to help or make a difference, do it

It’s highly unlikely that you’ll ever regret having done so. And you get to make a difference for someone else. And, not that it should be the main motivation, but it’s always nice to:

“Remember that when you help another up a mountain, you are a little nearer the top yourself.” - Thomas S. Monson

And don’t merely accept these opportunities when they are handed to you.  Create your own.

And I like avocados

Here’s to another great year.  I guess at this point, I will just settle for another year.

Bucket List

I recently completed an item on my bucket list. And by this I mean I recently did something I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve never actually compiled a bucket list. Thinking about all of the things that would make my life better but I've never accomplished depresses and discourages me. And even if that weren't the case, I wouldn’t call a conglomerate of my hopes and aspirations a bucket list. My dreams have nothing to do with buckets, unless those buckets are full of guacamole or cinnamon rolls or gold doubloons. Buckets also remind me of death and vomit, neither of which is included in my aspirations, unless the vomit or death is induced by buckets full of guacamole or cinnamon rolls.

Nevertheless, in light of my recent triumph, I have lightly pondered on a bunch of things that would be supes the best. I've also pondered on a bucket list, which I decided to finally compile. And thus it is written:

An ice Bucket

A water bucket

I can only assume that this is a kool-aid bucket

A mop bucket

A bucket seat

A photobucket

This scoopy excavator attachment is called a bucket, I guess

When a basketball goes through a designated hoop, it is called a bucket. It is a hilarious type of bucket when accompanied by faces like these:

Buckets are a way of brigading people into cohesive forces to work towards the greater good (not physically, I think)

http://www.bucketbrigades.com/

A brain bucket is slang for a helmet

or it's this

A scumbucket is a less than kind individual, a bucket of scum, or this sexy intelligent band of old men

This is a banana bucket

This is a Buckethead

Buckets are cat currency

Here is a bucket full of heart disease

This is a Luke Buckett.  He and his entire family are different types of buckett

This is an attempt to buck it

This is a goat bucket

I hope this was informative. It may be the most comprehensive bucket list on the internet. As it were, most types of bucket remain true to their definition: cylindrical things you put things in. But these cylinders come in all shapes and sizes and can hold all shapes and sizes of stuff. Diversity is something that is celebrated in our society and who knew buckets could be so diverse? In celebration, I've also compiled a list of all of the things that you can put in buckets:

Almost everything

Who knew? So handy dandy.

Sapling

I recently graduated from college. An actual university has deemed my scholastic shenanigans worthy of accreditation. I view this as both an accomplishment and a successful pulling of wool over eyes.

The more time that passes, the more opportunity there is for occurrences to occur. I started college a while ago. Therefore, it could be (correctly) assumed that a lot has occurred since I started college. The impending ending of my college career has caused me to reflect on these occurrences. This process culminated on the last day of finals:  It was a beautiful day that began with my last trip to the testing center—a joyous occasion, until I got the score for my test. This reminded me why it was such a joyous occasion, and my joy forcefully poked my disappointment in the bum and asked it to leave. I then began the finishing touches on my final assignment as an undergraduate, a paper that simply needed to be turned in by the end of the day. I made quick (read not quick) work of the assignment, printed it off, stapled the crap out of it, put on my backpack, and jaunted down the stairs and out the door of my place of employment. Exhaustion and relief swarmed over me, but I was too exhausted to feel the relief, so exhaustion ultimately swarmed over me and my relief.

Per assignment, I headed toward the building wherein my destiny lie. Although I felt no need or desire to think, the significance of the moment was not lost on me—I was on my way to put the proverbial cherry on top of my non-proverbial undergraduate work. It had been a week of lasts, and, being a sucker for sentimental drivel, I had given due thought to each one that I had experienced to that point. This was likely the last of the lasts, and I gave it (more than) its due thought. For every building I passed, I took a moment to reflect on any memories I might’ve had there. There were a lot. I finally arrived at the building in question, got lost for 45 minutes looking for my professor’s office, lost my student ID card somehow, and dropped off my paper. Microcosms, chiasmi, etc.  Needless to say, this was a needlessly emotional experience for me. College over.

I have had the nostalgic experience of working near my Freshman dorm for the last 3 and a half years.  Most of the time, I didn’t think too much about it—the building was not in my direct path, so out of sight, out of mind.  It did become much more apparent, however, when the option of passing by was no longer available.  Recently, my university began the process of building new dorms, as the old ones had more than done their time.  I didn’t get long to be sentimental, though, as my old apartment building was one of the first they knocked down.  It was mildly sad when it happened.  But, with so many other things to think about, it quickly got pushed to the back of my mind.  However, it has begun to creep back to the forefront as of late.  And this because they have finally gotten around to building a new building in the exact location where the former stood. And this means construction. 

I love passing by construction sites; construction has always fascinated me. It’s fun for me to think about all of the possibilities of what that new structure or project could be. I imagine what it’s going to look like, what purpose it will serve, and how it will affect the surrounding area. After tickling my mind with all of the possibilities, I love watching the projects progress—the care in laying the foundation and the different strategies employed in sequentially completing each respective stage. And then the finished product is achieved and establishes itself in the collective stream of consciousness. Eventually, it stops being something new and exciting and it becomes a ‘permanent’ and regular fixture—after a while, it just becomes normal. You begin to forget that things weren’t always that way, and remembering back to when they weren’t takes progressively more effort.

I find a bit of significance in the timing of this new dorm. Said significance may not exist inherently, but Jung says that if I find significance, then it’s significant, and he’s famous, so there. In the process of reminiscing upon times past and younger days, I have continually been reminded that things are different now than they were then. It has become increasingly obvious that I am one of the things that is different. The more time that passes, the more opportunity there is for occurrences to occur. Therefore, it could be (correctly) assumed that a lot has occurred since I started college. Much that has occurred has played into my growth. Using the transitive property (I think. I don’t go to college), it can (also correctly) be assumed that I’ve grown a lot in and as a result of my time here. I myself have been a construction site, of sorts. Each new year, with its distinct twists and turns, has completed a new phase of the project that is me. I have yet to become a finished product (I hope), but my mind seemed to have forgotten some of the earlier stages of Project Me©. A perpetually interesting possibility when looking backwards is seeing how far we’ve come. Sometimes, this distance eludes us as we are wont to presently acknowledge only the aspects of ourselves which are most present—those which have become (and therefore have not always been) our norm. Looking back reminds us that often times they haven't always been the norm, and hopefully helps foster within us both appreciation for these changes and the process by which they’ve come about, as well as faith that we are capable of continuing similar processes in the future.

Maybe I’m just being a bit too sappy with all of this, as I am wont to be.  Maybe I’m just being a sapling.

These are pictures of saplings. I included the first one because it’s coming from an egg and that doesn’t make sense. I included the second one because it’s a sapling. Originally, I wrote sapling as a hilarious play on other words. Sap begets sappiness which is what I was demonstrating. Therefore, one who demonstrates sappiness would naturally be a sapling. I’ll give you a moment to stop laughing.  But upon further examination, sapling became the perfect word to describe much of my recent experience.  A sapling is a young tree or person. I’m not (particularly) young anymore, but I have been looking back on times when I was. Unpleasant and fecal as it may sound, I've been pruned and dunged and fertilized and have grown and been the better for it. There’s also the cyclical process of a new beginning stemming from any given end. This is the first time in a while that I haven’t had my immediate future planned out for me. I can do (almost) whatever I want. This is an extremely humbling and vulnerable thought. But vulnerability leads to tickling, which is always fun. And once I allow myself to get past the crippling fear of uncertainty, the prospects are extremely exciting. Life begins anew, so to speak, and the possibilities are endless. So I’m not too worried.  Another reason I chose the second picture above is because I found it significant that the sapling is gently held and supported by a pair of dutiful hands. I am and have been in the best of hands, and if I adhere to what I’ve learned through my experience (especially outside the classroom), nothing will go so wrong that it can’t eventually end up right. I can’t adequately express how grateful I am to all of those who have been a part of this experience, so here’s a picture of a dog on stilts:

And thus ends an era. As my old but meaningful building has crumbled and the construction of a new one has begun, one meaningful stage of life has ended and a new one has begun. I am but a mere sapling in the spice garden of life. The possibilities are endless and are currently tickling and crippling the crap out of my brain. Not literally, thankfully. Let’s see if I can’t make like Jurassic Park and turn this fortunate sap into something great.

Math, Joy of Man's Desiring (Sporadically)

Another déjà vu I experienced recently was actually the opposite of a déjà vu.  It was a not yet vu.  Sorry vu.  You may remember this post, in which I lamented math, maybe calling it a cruel hussy, maybe not.  Either way, math seems to never be on my side. ...until now.

Everyone has had experiences with tests.  If you haven’t, why not?  Is it because:  

a.) I speak for the trees

b.) I tested out of tests

c.) World peace

d.)  All of the above

Guess what.  There was no right answer.  You see, that was a test.  Now relate to me.  

In the ancient post, I whined about not getting my way.  Then I hypothesized about getting my way.  Kameron, I thought to myself in the third person, you’re a moderate looking guy.  If you guess on a bunch of questions on a test, you’re bound to get maybe some right.  More often than not, statistics and my third person prove to be incorrect.  However, more often than not is not not. Therefore, despite my moderate looks, if I guess on a bunch of questions on a test, every so often, I’m bound to get definitely some right.  And maybe even more.  Like, a bunch of them right.  Or even (foreshadowingly) all of them.  

On any given test, there are easier questions and harder questions.  These can also be viewed as questions I am sure/mostly sure about and ones that I am severely unsure about.  Generally, I will go through and do all of the ones I’m mostly sure about and come back to those that I’m unsure about.  Sometimes, I will predict my grade in the middle of taking my test.  This I do by figuring out how many I’m sure of, subtracting a few on account of dumb, and adding one or two on account of dumb luck.  Usually I’m wrong and should have spent that time actually thinking about the questions.  Usually I’m wrong in the direction that I wouldn’t like to be.

On a test I took a few weeks ago, I had finished the fer shore answers and calculated my speculative multiple choice grade.  Being satisfied, I ‘educatedly’ guessed on the remaining questions and turned in my test.  I moseyed on downstairs to check my score on the monitors.  It refreshed once.  Not yet.  Refreshed twice.  Not yet.  Third time’s the charm, and what a charming charm it was.  My number popped up.  My score popped up.  My eyebrows popped up.  My jaw popped down.  The sides of my mouth popped up.  100%.  I got a perfect score.  And to express my perfect score were the words “Perfect Score!” off to the side of my perfect score.  Never before had I achieved such a perfect score.  I couldn’t believe it.  I scrolled my eyeballs down the number list again to make sure I was claiming the right one.  I was.  I checked again.  Still yes, which is good because I quickly became attached and would have stolen it and stealing is bad.  I felt giddy.  Usually I feel ungiddy when I leave the testing center.  I just wanted... to sing....

So this is your math lesson for the day:  For all of the tests you have horribly bad guessing on, you will have one good one in your entire 9 year college career.  It doesn’t make sense according to math, but hey.  You’ve been in college for 9 years.  You’re bad at math so it’s bad at you.  I, for one, will take what I can get in most anything except diseases.

*;( pt. 2

This month, I've been reliving a lot of past experiences. This is an opportunity that a lot of people would kill for. If they were to actually kill someone for the chance to live an experience over again, that decision would likely become one of the experiences they would like to relive. Nostalgia and regret are not strong justifications for murder.

If you have followed my blog for a while, wow. Okay. You may also remember this little ditty. If not, there once was a ditty. I was walking on campus, made eye contact with a dude, and in that moment a snowflake hit one of my eyes, creating a wink. I winked at a dude. This was not my greatest moment or even in my top 10. It being less than positive, one would hope it doesn't even approach the top 10. But, notwithstanding its ranking, this was an experience I got to live over again.

Here's a little ditty. The other day, I was walking on campus with some friends. It was a cloudy and cold day, being that it was still winter. Despite these factors, it wasn't very snowy. A light snow had fallen earlier that week, but it was no longer fresh. I'll tell you what was fresh, though. This dude walking towards us. He was a dapper looking fellow, dressed in a fly suit. He was a bit older, but sauntered towards us with some spring in his step. As he drew near, I made eye contact, as is my custom. But unbeknownst to me was a snowflake, also looking to make eye contact. Physically. Drift on down it did. From where? No one knows. To where? My eye.  

My eye recoiled in horror, writhing and hissing, shrieking and moaning. My eyelids clenched down on the snowflake, crushing it ‘neath their wrath. My eye opened again, victorious in the wake of its enemy's demise. But all that fly guy saw was a wink.

We both kept walking, moving on physically, but perhaps not emotionally. I don't know what my wink meant to that man. It might have changed his perspective on everything. He didn't know it was an accident. All he knows is how it made him feel, which was either good or weird or any other emotion.  But we shared a moment.  And that’s not something he can change or deny.  I have forever become a part of this man’s history, and he mine.  That probably means annual Christmas cards will be exchanged.  But even if not, you’re welcome for the wink.  It wasn’t intentional, but I think we’re both glad it happened.  Ish.