Dear Friends,
It was 9:30 Monday morning when the lights went out under a clear, cloudless sky. There was a loud pop from my speakers before my computer shut down in a whir of spinning fans. A few seconds later, everything in my apartment connected to an electrical outlet was well and truly dead. I had already looked outside, but I looked again: no rain, no clouds. A power line might have gone down, but such things are rare in Florida, what with the lack of twisty turny roads and slippery slushy snow. Circling the building, my suspicions were confirmed: the power wasn't out; my power was out.
To make a long story short, it turns out that, though I've been paying an electric bill for quite some time now, I never actually performed the necessary steps to transfer the electricity into my name. And so it was that, eight months after I moved in, the electric company decided to turn off my electric despite the fact that I have paid my bill punctually for the duration of my stay, and furthermore opted to alert me of their dissatisfaction by ensuring that every meat and dairy product I owned would be spoiled and discarded.
Oh well. The milk was at its expiration date, anyway.
Irritation aside, I must admit that their tactics were effective. Within an hour of learning what had happened, I had transferred the electricity into my name and paid a sizable deposit, the purpose of which still eludes me. The nice lady on the telephone assured me that my electricity would be reconnected within forty-eight hours. I wanted to ask her what century she thought we were in; forty-eight hours without electricity? Instead, I thanked her and hung up. Thankfully, the company that provides my water is not as troublesome, and so I poured myself a glass and read a book until I was ready to go to work.
I returned that night to a pitch-dark apartment. I'm used to using candles, so light wasn't an issue, but I wasn't able to cook, either. I ordered Chinese and read by flashlight until I fell asleep. In the morning, I woke in a position that somehow restricted blood flow to both my arms. I sat up in bad and twisted my body to swings my limbs into positions that (presumable) would revive them. Soon both arms were being stabbed with hot needles, but I hardly minded, since I've always had a minor phobia of one night breaking a limb in my sleep and not knowing because the blood is cut off. The hot needles were more than welcome.
Refrigerators do not work without electricity; neither do water heaters. I was reminded of being in Haiti, compulsively glancing at unlit digital clocks and bathing with a washcloth and a bucket of lukewarm water. At that moment, I had a very strange realization. You see, when I talk to people about Haiti, it's not uncommon for me to describe it (somewhat reverently) as a "once-in-a-lifetime experience." Oddly, the first question I am asked is, frequently, "do you want to go back?" And at that point, I think to myself: what about "once-in-a-lifetime" did they not understand? Typically I offer a non-committal affirmative, maybe because I feel that's the answer expected of me. But really, how should I know? It wasn't exactly recreational.
So I was trying to reach the middle of my back with a washcloth, reliving any number of Haitian moments, when I realized: yes, I want to go back. Yes, I love that land, that people. And I was surprised by how happy that made me.
I got home tonight and the electricity was back on. I threw out half the contents of my refrigerator and checked my e-mail. But no matter how I try, I can't quite bring myself to regret the experience; after all, learning something about yourself is worth any amount of rotten eggs and uncooked chicken breast.
------
See pictures of my apartment and of work. (Look for the album labeled "Apt #1614" and "Poker Room," respectively.)
View the FUN Archives.You can contact me by replying to this e-mail. To send letters or packages, use the following address:
Dan Kaschel
4747 W Waters Ave., Apt #1614
Tampa, FL 33614
My phone number is 813-313-6573.
Peace,
Dan
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Friday, February 29, 2008
FUN Update, February 29, 2008 - Making the Leap
Dear Friends,
I watched The Devil Wears Prada last night--chick flicks are the junk food of movies, and lately I've been on a bland diet of mediocre classic films--and the thing that drew my attention most was... the steak that Andy brings Miranda. It looked... amazing. Best-looking steak I've ever seen. So when I did my shopping today, I went to that little section of butchered red meat wrapped in white foam and saran wrap. I stay away from red meat except for ground beef--I love hamburgers, and neither concern for my health nor moral compunction has ever trumped that--but this time I strode with purpose to the rows of steaks. If such a steak as I had seen could be found here, I was determined not to miss it to save a dollar or two. I searched the labels for the highest price, and finally I found rib eye steaks for twelve bucks a pound, more than twice what the rest was selling for. Perfect. I threw twenty-dollars worth of meat on my cart, wondering how I was planning on eating three steaks before it went bad.
I cooked it up tonight with some mashed potatoes and garlic toast. It was... not bad. I mean, it was good. But not $12/lb good. It wasn't exceptionally juicy or particularly flavorful. Disappointment is too strong a word, but I won't be buying any more steaks. My red-meat quota will continue to be met by the occasional burger. Perhaps it's for the best.
I sure needed the protein, though. I was in the climbing competition tonight, and it could not have gone worse without breaking something. Halfway through, my right forearm went AWOL and I couldn't pull off a hand-foot match with a heel hook to save my life--a technique that just happened to be used on at least two of the routes I was trying to get. ...Frustrating. I did, however, have an epiphany while climbing a particularly troublesome route on an overhang.
I was half-way through the route, and I had made my way through the initial difficult section to a solid hold with decent footing. The next move was a long reach to a poor hold several feet to the left, and the chances of recovery from a failed attempt were pretty slim. I waited there for a few seconds, weighing my options and basically stalling, then suddenly realized that I felt very comfortable where I was. In fact, I felt so good about the hold I was on, why even move? Of course, there's not much purpose or direction to hanging around in the middle of a route, but at least I wouldn't topple off the wall in an uncontrolled fall in front of twenty onlookers.
I found a high foot, extended my body to the left, and dropped solidly into the crimp. It was a perfect move. A balance-y foot switch, a high mantle, and the route was done. Full points. I dropped down and moved on. But in retrospect, the moment seems very symbolic: I feel very comfortable in my life right now, but I'm not really going anywhere. It's probably time to take the move.
So I'm starting to take a few risks. I'm thinking about going back to school in the Fall. I've submitted a manuscript of poetry to be considered for publication. I'm looking into finally recording that CD of piano music I've always meant to make. We'll see what happens. I am, however, sure of one thing: succeed or fail, it's bound to be interesting.
------
See pictures of my apartment and of work. (Look for the album labeled "Apt #1614" and "Poker Room," respectively.)
View the FUN Archives.You can contact me by replying to this e-mail. To send letters or packages, use the following address:
Dan Kaschel
4747 W Waters Ave., Apt #1614
Tampa, FL 33614
My phone number is 813-313-6573.
Peace,
Dan
I watched The Devil Wears Prada last night--chick flicks are the junk food of movies, and lately I've been on a bland diet of mediocre classic films--and the thing that drew my attention most was... the steak that Andy brings Miranda. It looked... amazing. Best-looking steak I've ever seen. So when I did my shopping today, I went to that little section of butchered red meat wrapped in white foam and saran wrap. I stay away from red meat except for ground beef--I love hamburgers, and neither concern for my health nor moral compunction has ever trumped that--but this time I strode with purpose to the rows of steaks. If such a steak as I had seen could be found here, I was determined not to miss it to save a dollar or two. I searched the labels for the highest price, and finally I found rib eye steaks for twelve bucks a pound, more than twice what the rest was selling for. Perfect. I threw twenty-dollars worth of meat on my cart, wondering how I was planning on eating three steaks before it went bad.
I cooked it up tonight with some mashed potatoes and garlic toast. It was... not bad. I mean, it was good. But not $12/lb good. It wasn't exceptionally juicy or particularly flavorful. Disappointment is too strong a word, but I won't be buying any more steaks. My red-meat quota will continue to be met by the occasional burger. Perhaps it's for the best.
I sure needed the protein, though. I was in the climbing competition tonight, and it could not have gone worse without breaking something. Halfway through, my right forearm went AWOL and I couldn't pull off a hand-foot match with a heel hook to save my life--a technique that just happened to be used on at least two of the routes I was trying to get. ...Frustrating. I did, however, have an epiphany while climbing a particularly troublesome route on an overhang.
I was half-way through the route, and I had made my way through the initial difficult section to a solid hold with decent footing. The next move was a long reach to a poor hold several feet to the left, and the chances of recovery from a failed attempt were pretty slim. I waited there for a few seconds, weighing my options and basically stalling, then suddenly realized that I felt very comfortable where I was. In fact, I felt so good about the hold I was on, why even move? Of course, there's not much purpose or direction to hanging around in the middle of a route, but at least I wouldn't topple off the wall in an uncontrolled fall in front of twenty onlookers.
I found a high foot, extended my body to the left, and dropped solidly into the crimp. It was a perfect move. A balance-y foot switch, a high mantle, and the route was done. Full points. I dropped down and moved on. But in retrospect, the moment seems very symbolic: I feel very comfortable in my life right now, but I'm not really going anywhere. It's probably time to take the move.
So I'm starting to take a few risks. I'm thinking about going back to school in the Fall. I've submitted a manuscript of poetry to be considered for publication. I'm looking into finally recording that CD of piano music I've always meant to make. We'll see what happens. I am, however, sure of one thing: succeed or fail, it's bound to be interesting.
------
See pictures of my apartment and of work. (Look for the album labeled "Apt #1614" and "Poker Room," respectively.)
View the FUN Archives.You can contact me by replying to this e-mail. To send letters or packages, use the following address:
Dan Kaschel
4747 W Waters Ave., Apt #1614
Tampa, FL 33614
My phone number is 813-313-6573.
Peace,
Dan
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
FUN Update, February 13, 2008 - Being Happy
Dear Friends,
Eventually, you stop buying frozen pizzas in favor of long heavy tubes of ground beef and five-pound bags of chicken breast. You start eying expensive cooking implements with envy. You starting asking questions like, "does this trip to Publix constitute a complete nutritional palette?" and "will this box of Honey Nut Cheerios go stale before I finish it?" A moment of silence, my dear friends, for our lost innocence. May we all once again subsist, in some happy future, on pureed carrots and unsweetened applesauce.
On a similar (but less relatable) note, I've stopped using electric lights. Borrowing from the wisdom of my Haitian friends, I bought a handful of cheap candle holders and a couple pounds of dinner candles. I don't know if it saves me money, but a) I love lighting matches, and b) it's easier to focus when you can only see objects within a couple feet of the light source. There a mini chandelier in my dining room, and all the light bulbs are partially unscrewed except one so that it's not too bright when I turn it on. I'd find a similar solution for the kitchen, but my knives are too sharp for that.
Sometimes it's all I can do to survive. No matter how easy or difficult my life has been, there have always been times I have had to... maintain. Take a moment, breathe, wait for the next moment. Sometimes it helps to be equipped for those moments; I keep my dining table equipped with candles, a sketchpad, and a variety of drawing implements (though I'm a terrible artist). My computer has a Mellow playlist when I feel like moping to Iron and Wine and Sigur Rós. I keep myself stocked with comedies and chocolate chip cookies (various of my friends can attest to the magic of frozen homemade cookies).
While I acknowledge that life is wont to hover just North of bearable, I'm also starting to glimpse my own capacity for contentedness. My daily routine glows with a thousand joys, from a favorite song strumming from my beloved set of speakers to that five pound bag of chicken breast waiting for an oven, a sprinkle of lemon juice, and baby potatoes. There are times when I think the unthinkable: that if this were all there were to life... maybe it would be okay.
"Misery loves company," as they say; but maybe that's just because it's so easy to find. Draw a deep breath, smile painfully, and tell any stranger that life is complex. That love sucks. That boys are smelly. Your odds of getting a commiserating nod (except for the last, which might only work with the "Hello Kitty" demography) are high. But what if you were to say, "isn't life wonderful?" Suddenly you're just lucky and/or naïve. I think being happy and alone is hard to manage.
But possible, by the grace of God. I hope y'all are doing well (look at me, talkin' like a southerner); I am.
---------------------------------------------------
I'm working on a poetry anthology. Read and comment so I don't look like an idiot when I submit it!
See pictures of my apartment and of work. (Look for the album labeled "Apt #1614" and "Poker Room," respectively.)
View the FUN Archives.You can contact me by replying to this e-mail. To send letters or packages, use the following address:
Dan Kaschel
4747 W Waters Ave., Apt #1614
Tampa, FL 33614
My phone number is 813-313-6573.
Peace,
Dan
Eventually, you stop buying frozen pizzas in favor of long heavy tubes of ground beef and five-pound bags of chicken breast. You start eying expensive cooking implements with envy. You starting asking questions like, "does this trip to Publix constitute a complete nutritional palette?" and "will this box of Honey Nut Cheerios go stale before I finish it?" A moment of silence, my dear friends, for our lost innocence. May we all once again subsist, in some happy future, on pureed carrots and unsweetened applesauce.
On a similar (but less relatable) note, I've stopped using electric lights. Borrowing from the wisdom of my Haitian friends, I bought a handful of cheap candle holders and a couple pounds of dinner candles. I don't know if it saves me money, but a) I love lighting matches, and b) it's easier to focus when you can only see objects within a couple feet of the light source. There a mini chandelier in my dining room, and all the light bulbs are partially unscrewed except one so that it's not too bright when I turn it on. I'd find a similar solution for the kitchen, but my knives are too sharp for that.
Sometimes it's all I can do to survive. No matter how easy or difficult my life has been, there have always been times I have had to... maintain. Take a moment, breathe, wait for the next moment. Sometimes it helps to be equipped for those moments; I keep my dining table equipped with candles, a sketchpad, and a variety of drawing implements (though I'm a terrible artist). My computer has a Mellow playlist when I feel like moping to Iron and Wine and Sigur Rós. I keep myself stocked with comedies and chocolate chip cookies (various of my friends can attest to the magic of frozen homemade cookies).
While I acknowledge that life is wont to hover just North of bearable, I'm also starting to glimpse my own capacity for contentedness. My daily routine glows with a thousand joys, from a favorite song strumming from my beloved set of speakers to that five pound bag of chicken breast waiting for an oven, a sprinkle of lemon juice, and baby potatoes. There are times when I think the unthinkable: that if this were all there were to life... maybe it would be okay.
"Misery loves company," as they say; but maybe that's just because it's so easy to find. Draw a deep breath, smile painfully, and tell any stranger that life is complex. That love sucks. That boys are smelly. Your odds of getting a commiserating nod (except for the last, which might only work with the "Hello Kitty" demography) are high. But what if you were to say, "isn't life wonderful?" Suddenly you're just lucky and/or naïve. I think being happy and alone is hard to manage.
But possible, by the grace of God. I hope y'all are doing well (look at me, talkin' like a southerner); I am.
---------------------------------------------------
I'm working on a poetry anthology. Read and comment so I don't look like an idiot when I submit it!
See pictures of my apartment and of work. (Look for the album labeled "Apt #1614" and "Poker Room," respectively.)
View the FUN Archives.You can contact me by replying to this e-mail. To send letters or packages, use the following address:
Dan Kaschel
4747 W Waters Ave., Apt #1614
Tampa, FL 33614
My phone number is 813-313-6573.
Peace,
Dan
Friday, January 11, 2008
FUN Update, January 11, 2008 - Onward
Dear Friends,
It's been almost two months since you've heard from me. I thought of it many times, but not with the blend of motivation and inspiration that results in an update. News in my life is never very complicated, though, so let me give you the overview: my bike was stolen, I bought a new bike, I got run over by a car while on the bike (I'm fine), I fixed the bike, the bike got stolen, I went home for Christmas and had a great time, and I got a couple more shifts at work. So I'm basically in the same place as you last found me. I'm making more money (the extra shifts are brand new; my first extra shift was on Tuesday), but I don't have a bike so no doubt it will all be spent on the occasional necessity of taxi fares. Well, hopefully not all of it.
Oh, and I managed to get Sundays off, which is nice both because no buses run on Sundays (hence taxis both ways) and because I'd like to start going to church. I now work Friday, Saturday, Monday and Tuesday, with doubles on Monday and Tuesday. That's a promotion just in the sense of having more hours, but it also qualifies me for medical and dental benefits. I feel pretty good about the situation.
I've always figured that once the various problems in my life got sorted out--once I have enough money, once I get the girl, once I have a car (or get a new one that doesn't break), once I find a good community--that I would thrive. That I'd work toward an ideal situation, and that sooner or later I'd get there and do wonderful things. I guess that just goes to show how young I am.
See, the last year of my life has been pretty rough on me. I've lost a lot of confidence--mostly the confidence to which I had no right from the beginning. I've been broken enough times--that's a Christian term, I guess, but what I mean is that I have encountered situations that were simply beyond my capacity to handle--that I am no longer so eager to test my strength against the world. I have been isolated continually, deprived of the constant support of fellowship so that I always feel a little precarious. On top of that, God has systematically challenged every baseless belief and prejudice I have ever had--or if He hasn't, I'm sure whatever's left will be challenged soon. I hardly know up from down anymore.
I think the bottom line is that the money problems aren't going to stop; they'll change, but never stop. Relationships will never get less complicated, and I will never reach a point of perfect understanding. And since I've always wanted to do things with my life, I am left with one choice: to stop waiting; to move forward in spite of uncertainty and weakness.
Who knows, maybe I have it wrong, and in a year or so I'll send out an e-mail that says, "I have a perfect life! I have lots of money, I know what to do with it, my relationships are perfect, and I know everything!"
But probably not.
---------------------------------------------------
See pictures of my apartment and of work. (Look for the album labeled "Apt #1614" and "Poker Room," respectively.)
View the FUN Archives.You can contact me by replying to this e-mail. To send letters or packages, use the following address:
Dan Kaschel
4747 W Waters Ave., Apt #1614
Tampa, FL 33614
My phone number is 813-313-6573.
Peace,
Dan
It's been almost two months since you've heard from me. I thought of it many times, but not with the blend of motivation and inspiration that results in an update. News in my life is never very complicated, though, so let me give you the overview: my bike was stolen, I bought a new bike, I got run over by a car while on the bike (I'm fine), I fixed the bike, the bike got stolen, I went home for Christmas and had a great time, and I got a couple more shifts at work. So I'm basically in the same place as you last found me. I'm making more money (the extra shifts are brand new; my first extra shift was on Tuesday), but I don't have a bike so no doubt it will all be spent on the occasional necessity of taxi fares. Well, hopefully not all of it.
Oh, and I managed to get Sundays off, which is nice both because no buses run on Sundays (hence taxis both ways) and because I'd like to start going to church. I now work Friday, Saturday, Monday and Tuesday, with doubles on Monday and Tuesday. That's a promotion just in the sense of having more hours, but it also qualifies me for medical and dental benefits. I feel pretty good about the situation.
I've always figured that once the various problems in my life got sorted out--once I have enough money, once I get the girl, once I have a car (or get a new one that doesn't break), once I find a good community--that I would thrive. That I'd work toward an ideal situation, and that sooner or later I'd get there and do wonderful things. I guess that just goes to show how young I am.
See, the last year of my life has been pretty rough on me. I've lost a lot of confidence--mostly the confidence to which I had no right from the beginning. I've been broken enough times--that's a Christian term, I guess, but what I mean is that I have encountered situations that were simply beyond my capacity to handle--that I am no longer so eager to test my strength against the world. I have been isolated continually, deprived of the constant support of fellowship so that I always feel a little precarious. On top of that, God has systematically challenged every baseless belief and prejudice I have ever had--or if He hasn't, I'm sure whatever's left will be challenged soon. I hardly know up from down anymore.
I think the bottom line is that the money problems aren't going to stop; they'll change, but never stop. Relationships will never get less complicated, and I will never reach a point of perfect understanding. And since I've always wanted to do things with my life, I am left with one choice: to stop waiting; to move forward in spite of uncertainty and weakness.
Who knows, maybe I have it wrong, and in a year or so I'll send out an e-mail that says, "I have a perfect life! I have lots of money, I know what to do with it, my relationships are perfect, and I know everything!"
But probably not.
---------------------------------------------------
See pictures of my apartment and of work. (Look for the album labeled "Apt #1614" and "Poker Room," respectively.)
View the FUN Archives.You can contact me by replying to this e-mail. To send letters or packages, use the following address:
Dan Kaschel
4747 W Waters Ave., Apt #1614
Tampa, FL 33614
My phone number is 813-313-6573.
Peace,
Dan
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