CAMPING 2005

The higlights:

Setting Up Camp
We had three tents - one for me and John, one for King and Mark, and a little one for Pat. The first thing we did was set the tents up and build a fire.


Setting up one of the tree tents


John making a fire


Fixing other stuff


Getting ready for a night of kumbaya.


Exploring our surroundings
We walked to nearby Lake Welch, which had a man-made beach.


Me and John


Me and Pat


By the beach


By the boathouse

Everything seemed to be going pretty well. We could do this!


Abort Mission
Of course, that bubble of confidence didn't last very long. It burst as soon as the weather turned nasty on us. Instead of singing songs and telling ghost stories by the campfire and exploring the woods, we were forced to stay inside the tent if we wanted to keep dry. After the first two hours of playing cards and drinking beers and rum-and-cokes, we began feeling hunger pangs and muscle cramps.


Cooped up in the tent, waiting for the rain to pass

So at the first sign of the rain letting up, we all scampered outside and began setting up the grill. We lit the quick start charcoal, and started cooking the hotdogs and burgers and sausages. Everyone was really looking forward to a nice dinner.

The weather had other plans, of course. It started with a soft little drizzle. We stood our ground, telling each other it was just the wind shaking the water from the trees. We laughed and continued to monitor the cooking process. Then the drizzle got stronger, so we grabbed a garbage bag and made two of the guys hold it up over the food, while someone fanned the flames. Finally, the sky just fell down on us. Abort Mission! We piled the half-cooked food unto a plate and scampered back into one of the tents. It's a good thing King brought a tupperware of rice, a can of sardines, and a bottle of gourmet daing.


Bears?
At 9pm, the rain finally seemed to have REALLY stopped. We headed off to the bathrooms. And guess what? When we got there, fellow campers began telling us about a bear sighting! Apparenly, someone saw a BIG black bear somewhere near the campgrounds.

Crap. So we knew we were in Bear Mountain. So we saw all the posters warning us of bears and bear attacks. So we even read the pamphlets about what to do in case of a bear encounter. So what? We didn't think bears actually existed. Up until that point we were firmly convinced that bears were make-believe animals invented by humans to make children behave. You know, kind of like the boogeyman.

So we all decided to make a fire to discourage wildlife from straying too near our campsite, which, incidentally, was at the very edge of the campgrounds. Beyond us was unpatrolled forest. (I mean, hell, we even saw a couple of deer grazing about 30 feet from our tents!)



Stop and Shop
As the rain had gotten everything wet, there was no way we could just collect our own wood to burn. So off to Stop and Shop we went to buy some packed firewood! Fortunately for us, they were open until 11pm (it was already 10:45). We picked up a bag of wood, some smore sticks, a package of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and a flashlight.


Midnight Snacking
We built a fire, roasted some hotdogs, and made some smores! Yum. And yes, we were careful about putting everything that could attract animals back into the car.


Roasting some 'dogs.


And yummy smores!

For brunch the next day, we just had everything we were supposed to have for dinner - sausages, more hotdogs, and burgers.


Emerging from the tent after a long, cold, and wet night.


The Hike
We went up to Lake Mineweska in New Paltz to go hiking after brunch. Yes, we had to get off the well-marked trails. Yes, we almost got lost. Yes, we had to scale rocks and try to wend our way around a cliff. And yes, when we finally emerged out of the woods we found oursleves in the middle of private property, which of course we had to trespass. But it was all fun.


And in we go.


The rocks we had to find our way through


King and John posing by the lake.

I REALLY SHOULD KNOW BETTER

After the great hair distaters of years past, I really should have learned my lesson by now.

Yesterday my friends and I decided to go on a "Salon Day", because we felt that embarking on a new phase in our lives (joining the work force) merited a change in our various looks.

And stubborn stupid me, I wanted to put soft sexy waves in my long, naturally stick-straight hair. So I plopped excitedly unto my seat and showed the stylist a collage of silky sexy wavy tresses which I had culled from magazines just that morning. The sylist must have been high on acid. I ended up with a mess. A few lopsided little ringlets scattered here and there complimented my full head of frizz. I looked like I had wrestled with a crimping iron. I looked like I had just stuck a wet finger in an electric socket. I looked like an electrocuted monkey with a bizarre afro.

Yes, it was that bad.

So today I went to my friend's apartment to launch a Plan of Action (unlike other people who believe that suffering develops character and we should grin and bear our punishments for vanity, I am a problem-solver). It was time for Operation Tame the Wild Monkey.

Armed with a dozen protein packs, a repairing hair mask, a dozen bottles of conditioner, and a junior stylist from Williamsburg's Beehive Salon (the best for edgy hipster hair!), we set to work. Apparently, I had two choices. Meagan explained that perming basically means breaking your hair down chemically and then reshaping it. Since it takes a curl around 28-48 hours to set into hair, all we needed to do was help with the reshaping. We could put bigger rollers in my hair and hope they take and I get my desired waves; or we could halt the reshaping process, which, theoretically, could be done with a good wash and the methodical and liberal application of restructuring conditioner. Obviously there was no way for my hair to be the same as before, but at least I now had options and could look forward to rejoining the human race.

I opted to cut my losses. We washed my hair with a gentle shampoo and packed on the protein and the conditioners. We combed my hair as straight as it could go, then piled on more conditioners. A hot oil is recommended in the next few weeks.

Meagan says it will probably take a month for my hair to start "normalizing" and about 6 months for it to get back to where it used to be (sort of). In the meantime, I am to use a whole lot of protein packs and conditioners and treat my hair as gently as I can - no coloring, ironing, blowdrying, vigourous towelling, etc.

I am typing this entry in my friend's apartment, waiting for my hair to dry. It's about 75% of the way, and although it still looks a bit, err, weird, I am happy to note that I no longer look like an electrocuted Monkey.

WOOHOO

I got accepted to the NYC Teaching Fellows program!!!

That means that I will be a teacher come September and aside from getting a regular teacher's salary, I will also be getting a completely subsidized Master's in Education paid for by the State of New York. Woohoo!

The NYC Teaching Fellows pogram is an alternative certification program created to address the teacher shortage in New York City. They cater to career changers, new graduates, and basically everyone who feels that they ought to do more socially meaningful work. All applicants need to submit an application form with an attached statement of purpose, have a minimum GPA of 3.0, and if invited, go through a gruelling 4-hour interview session.

My interview was on April 30, one of the last sessions for the year. We were divided into groups of nine and each of us had to come up with a teaching sample, take an essay test, participate in an observed group discussion, and go through a 20 minute one-on-one interview. I was in what seemed to be a "writing" group. Most of my groupmates had degrees in Writing, English, Communication Arts, or Literature.

The interview itself wasn's so bad. My teaching sample went off without a hitch, much to my surprise. The essay was relatively easy and the group discussion went fairly well. There was one woman who kept on forcing the discussion to go off tangent, but I figured the observer would be objective enough not to hold her against everyone else. The individual interview was the only iffy part for me. The lead "Selector" was asking me all about challenges and personal triumphs, so I had no choice but to BS my way through it.

Even though I felt I did okay in the interview, I didn't think I'd get in because I applied so late in the game and this program is supposed to be very competitive. Haha. Further proof that I am God's spoiled little brat. Now all I need to do is wait for my school and region assignments AND pass the two state exams.

Hopefully they'll credit my MFA so I shoot up a couple of rungs in the payscale. Woohoo. Not only am I officially no longer a B-U-M, but I'm also set to embark on the pursuit of both career and another master's degree.

Taken from

DELAYING THE REAL WORLD: A Twenty Something's Guide to Seeking Adventure

In order to make a good decision today you don't have to know what you want to do twenty years from now.

Thou Shall Not Covet Thy Neighbor's Salary. Be willing to live on less and you'll buy yourself priceless freedom.

Don't think everything you do has to be neatly related to your background and future goals. Having a diverse array of experiences can be even more impressive than a perfectly coordinated resume. The earlier you diversify and dabble in a number of areas and jobs, the quicker you will find your way to what you really love. Once there, your previous stints will come in handy. You might bring to the table expertise that no one else in your venue can provide. Never hesitate to vary.

Blessed Are the Adventurous, They Will Stay That Way (and Then Inherit the Earth!). Don't underestimate the power of momentum. One pattern I've noticed among peers is that people who start off their twenties doing interesting things usually keep right on doing them. Do yourself a favor this year and it may just last for life. Most people who have interesting jobs got them by doing interesting things first.

A Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins with a Single Google Search.

If It Seems Like a Long Shot, Shoot Long. Have some balls and always reach farther than you think you can.

If Money Is Standing in Your Way, Plow it Down. If you are like most youngins' and don't have a penny to your name, you'll just have to search a bit harder, send out a dozen more applications or resumes, and log in more hours of grunt work before making your grand plans a reality. There is no adventure listed in this book, perhaps with the exception of the pricey trek up Mount Everest, that could not be financed through some hardcore minimum wage work or temping. Don't let money be your excuse to be lame; take it as a challenge.

Just. Do. It. The stories ahead illustrate how things have a tendency to fall in place once you take the first leap of faith. Make a promise to yourself first-write it down if you think it will help-then dive into the practical questions of how you are going to make it happen. Be ready to act before you know exactly what you are getting yourself into.

Redefine Real. In one way or another, every contributor to this book expressed that their adventures exposed them to a world more real than any fluorescent-lighted cubicle could have. They all swear by the value of what they pursued and insist they are fuller, more knowledgeable, worldlier people for doing something "a little different" than their peers. And lastly—the best test of a good decision—none of them have a regret to speak of. Neither will you.

Life Imitates a DISNEY movie and other things

Wired, the leading tech magazine in my immediate circle of, errr, friends, has a a nice little article that I think you guys should read. It's about four undocumented high school Mexican immigrants from the mean streets of Phoenix who took on the best of MIT and WON.

"Across campus, in a second-floor windowless room, four students huddle around an odd, 3-foot-tall frame constructed of PVC pipe. They have equipped it with propellers, cameras, lights, a laser, depth detectors, pumps, an underwater microphone, and an articulated pincer. At the top sits a black, waterproof briefcase containing a nest of hacked processors, minuscule fans, and LEDs. It's a cheap but astoundingly functional underwater robot capable of recording sonar pings and retrieving objects 50 feet below the surface. The four teenagers who built it are all undocumented Mexican immigrants who came to this country through tunnels or hidden in the backseats of cars. They live in sheds and rooms without electricity. But over three days last summer, these kids from the desert proved they are among the smartest young underwater engineers in the country."

Read the full article of La Vida Robot.

****

BTW, some guy said this (paraphrased a little to make sense) about New York:

This, in a way, sums up the New York experience for me. The city purposely cultivates its own image, one that's easy to buy into and identify with once you live there. But to the outsider who idealizes the city, it comes as a shock — even though it should be plainly obvious — to see that the people living in this glittering city are, with a very few exceptions, just as uninteresting as the majority of people you tune out every day in class.

I came to New York excited about the city. New York is supposed to be THE city of dreams, the city where strangeness and oddities are panegryized (my new word), individuality reverenced, talent exalted. When I first came here, I fancied myself drunk on its magic. I fancied it a place where I could belong, where I could stretch out and observe the great and artistic minds of the world huddle together, where I could be part of a force greater than myself, where I could be infected with even more passion, with even more insanity than ever before. I fancied New York my glorious second home.

I've only now realized that it's such a glorified city because the people who live in it have a habit of loudly glorifying themselves. Like every other city in the world, it is, by turns, quirky and smart and hopeless and stale. Where is the creative energy? Where is the artistic vibe that we keep on hearing about? Honestly, I've seen more fearlessly bizarre dressers in Hong Kong, gone to better poetry readings in Manila (don't even get me started on the Def Poetry Jam), listenned to better bands in holes in the wall along Anonas, waxed philosophical with more intelligent people at Padi's Point, and talked to more idealistic people in my high school's covered courts.

What I've found a lot of here in New York is greed, selfishness, and pretensions. Everyone has an image of herself, and everyone's playing up to that self-ascribed stereotype. Being real here means being real their way; being real means talking down, talking about poverty and money, seeing the practical side, "being a realist". Flat and two-dimensional. Nevermind that practicality is just one facet of the real world. And the dreaming. The dreams are all the same. It's a city of caricatures: people have become merely sad (and very poor) copies of the person they think they are.

Still, I do love New York, and I love the few "true" people I've met here. I love how this city has allowed me to grow in a way that's impossible anywhere else. I love how everything is easily accesible - feeling like you are in the center of the world. I love the way this city has given me license to explore the deep dark crevices in my personality. I love the quaint little cafes and bars, the hidden little restaurants, the parks, the independence.

But I know now that it's not quite home. This is not the place for me to grow old in. That place is still somewhere out there, still waiting for me.

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