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
Friday, February 29, 2008
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
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