speaker

I think I've mentioned here before that Speaker for the Dead is probably my second favorite book. If I haven't, I'll say it now: Speaker for the Dead is probably my second favorite book. That said, nothing saddens me more than when I hear of people reading Ender's Game and they don't bother to read Speaker for the Dead. What saddens me more than that (even though I already said "nothing saddens me more") is when people do read Speaker for the Dead and they don't like it as much as Ender's Game, or worse, they just don't like it. What saddens me equally as much as the first thing that saddens me is when someone starts reading Ender's Game and a year later (give or take) they still haven't finished it (you know who you are).

Speaker continues the story of Ender's Game protagonist Andrew "Ender" Wiggin in his travels as Speaker for the Dead -- a type of humanistic 'preacher' who recounts the deeds and misdeeds of the deceased as a way for the departed's loved ones to find truth, understanding and reconciliation in the wake of death.

About a year ago I decided to put my neglected Audible.com subscription to good use by downloading the complete Ender Saga (there are nine novels and countless short stories that make up said saga). They're fantastically produced, and according to Orson Scott Card himself, having the stories read aloud to you is the optimal medium for experiencing these books. At the end of some of the books, OSC provides an ad-libbed afterword explaining how the book came to be and so on. I love what he says at the end of Speaker:

If you really understand someone well enough to speak for them when they’re dead, you will end up – probably – loving them. Now, that’s a pretty bold thing to say – because what if you had to speak for the death of Adolph Hitler or Joseph Stalin or somebody like that – but I really think that if you knew enough about them you could at least understand how they got set on the road that led to the terrible things they did. And you don’t pull any punches, you name their sins for what they were, you talk about their flaws, you talk about their horrible choices, the viciousness, the violence, whatever they did. But you also say, "But at one point, this was a child. At one point this was a kid who wept, or a kid who wanted to be loved, or a kid who tried to well at this or at that." You look at the war experiences that shaped Adolph Hitler, or you look at the deep hunger for influence or control that drove Joseph Stalin in his childhood, and it doesn’t excuse anything, but it makes the person comprehensible. [...] You don’t eradicate them, you don’t glorify them either, you just face them for what they were, good and bad – you understand how it is a human being could get to where they are.

It's impossible to have such a complete understanding of someone, even of those we love the most. But simply knowing that we can't understand everything, and knowing there is a motive behind each action, and believing that the majority of people are inherently good -- all that is the first step, and it's quite a large one.

how I live or die

Once every few months I wake up in the middle of the night and I can't get back to sleep. It's been one of those nights (well, it's almost 5:00 a.m., so I guess it's been one of those mornings). Usually, I'll wake up and then worry that I won't be able to fall back asleep -- and ironically, said worrying will keep me from sleeping. But tonight (this morning) there are three thoughts that are occupying my attention and keeping me from sleep -- only two of which are worth worrying about but probably not worth losing sleep over -- but alas, here I am unable to sleep. But this post is about none of those things.

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I wasn't born in Arizona but I proudly claim it as my home. The way I feel about Arizona is similar to how Texans feel about Texas. What others say about my state -- be it positive or negative -- I take personally.

This weekend some distant friends from my college days (I say that like they were so long ago) were in town visiting. It warmed my heart to hear them speak positively about this state I love so much.

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There's a saying in the church I belong to -- said mostly in jest -- that a single man aged 25 or older is a menace to society. The following is a tale of how six young men gave evidence to that theory.

A couple months ago -- I'm fairly sure it was back in October -- a few friends and I decided to take up a new hobby: model rocketry. At the time, I wasn't terribly close to any these guys. I had known most of them for a couple years but hadn't had the opportunity to bond with any of them on a deeper level. On this particular night we ended up launching rockets at one of the baseball fields at Mountain View High School.

After a good hour or two -- it had to be around 10:30 p.m. at this point -- we got a little bored with traditional rocket launching. We started launching off rocket engines by themselves, sans rocket. At one point, we duct taped two engines to a glow stick and attempted to ignite both engines simultaneously. We laughed in hearty delight at the result.

At this point we decided it was as good a time as any to call it a night (and we had just launched off our last rocket engine). As we were packing up and responsibly cleaning up our trash, we heard the rattle and clang of a chain link fence about a hundred yards away. I assumed it was another party who wanted to use the field for their own mischievous means and who was I to deny them so I ignored the noise and went back to my cleaning.

Seconds later we saw a dark figure approaching us at a run. The figure yelled, "Mesa Police! Get on the ground!"

If I could roll my eyes with my whole body, it was with that attitude that I took a seat on the grass. For the next hour four or five police officers (they all had nothing better to do) explained to us the nature of our wrongdoings. How model rocketry, while not expressly illegal, was nevertheless an unsavory hobby. How the school could press charges for our having apparently trespassed. How we as 'adults' should be ashamed of ourselves.

The school didn't press charges though I don't think I would've minded if they had -- you can't put a price on friendship and any fine I would've had to pay would've made the bond I formed that night with those guys that much deeper.

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It's hard to explain group dynamics and friendship. I've always been blessed with great friends (I'd like to cite the previous story as evidence). It's funny because as I kid I was more content to stay at home and play legos and watch cartoons on TV. Now I feel like I can't do anything alone.

It's strange how group dynamics change. You get close to people -- collectively and individually -- and then suddenly things are different. So-and-so starts dating someone and they don't come around as much. Someone gets a new job so they hang out less. Circumstances change and you just don't see a valued friend that much anymore. For the individual, these changes are usually for the better and I certainly don't begrudge the changes or the individual.

I feel like I live or die by my friends, be they far away or close by. It might seem weak to rely on other people so much. It's not that I don't believe in myself (though to be honest, I have my doubts more often that I'd like to admit). I guess the older I get the more I believe in mutual strength -- that strength comes from reaching out -- not from looking in. I'm trying really hard to act on that belief.

halvies, an encore

I ran a half marathon this weekend. Training for this one was tough. I injured my foot just over a year ago, and it took far too long to recover from that. Not long after the injury I got new orthotics and it's taken forever to get them properly adjusted (and they're still a little bit off). I was so scared of over-training (the cause of said injury) that I under-trained for this race.

Ice cream is hardly the best post-race recovery food, but after running 13.1 miles I felt justified in indulging.

I usually don't do races with friends -- not because I'm anti-social (OK, maybe I'm a tad anti-social), but because most of my friends don't run. For this race though, seven of us drove up to Sedona for the weekend; four of us did the Sedona Half Marathon, and three did the 10-K.

This was easily the hardest race I've done (which isn't saying much, I haven't done too many, and this was only my second half marathon). The race was mostly uphill or downhill, and having trained in Mesa, I definitely was not used to the hills -- especially going up. My time was 2:36:41, about half an hour slower than my first time -- I look forward to beating both times my next half marathon.

for my consideration

Recently I've considered doing the following:

1. Working only 20 to 30 hours a week and using the time off to bake. And cook. But mostly bake. I have a dream one day of starting my own bakery -- what's life for if not for following your dreams?

2. Quitting my job entirely and going to school somewhere gnarly (back East-ish?) for a master's degree in Literature. Then I can teach English at a community college or something (I'm not sure if I have the patience/ambition/general-scholarly-attitude to take the PhD/teach-at-a-University route).

I really like my job and I love the people I work with. But the job isn't really mine. I don't have a problem filling a position that someone else has created, but when my working life is over (which will probably be when I'm either dead or too senile/feeble to work), career-wise, I would like to have accomplished something that's mine.

On a far less weightier note, I'm considering selling my electric guitar, amp, and acoustic guitar and buying a new acoustic guitar (my current acoustic has some serious, possibly irreparable warping going on). I've also thought about buying a bass amp (as I already own a bass guitar), and I've even considered looking for a band that needs a bass player.

decent exposure

When I was in high school some friends and I used to think that a local park, Chaparral Park, was haunted. This belief came from my older brother claiming to have seen a ghost there as well as rumors of other ghastly manifestations. From time to time we visited the park late at night in hopes of witnessing such an apparition. A few times we scared ourselves into thinking we saw such supernatural phenomena, but looking back it was probably the old weird dude out walking his cat (which, admittedly, is pretty creepy).

I remember spending part of a late Saturday night at Chaparral Park with a group of a dozen friends, give or take. I was a junior in high school at that time. It turns out the park was a popular destination for other teenagers as another group of adolescents arrived at the park and began frolicking around the active sprinklers at the bottom of the basin in the park.

I can't remember what gave it away, but it was somewhat obvious that the guys in this new group of kids were trying to impress their female counterparts. I don't know who came up with the idea, but in no time me and two other guys in our group were running down the hill -- wearing nothing but our boxers -- toward the sprinklers where the other teens were hanging out.

We reached the other group and ran a couple laps around them, yelling at the top of our lungs. After a couple laps and laughs, my two friends started back up the hill toward our friends. I made to follow when I was overcome by a fit a spontaneity. Instead heading back to our group I began my final lap alone -- but this time, I removed my boxers and swung them wildly over my head.

I'm not sure how I did it, but I managed to get my boxers back on while running up the hill to where my friends were watching and waiting.

It doesn't hurt to do something absolutely outrageous. You'll know what to do, and you'll know exactly when the time is right.

A few weeks ago I was on the phone with my buddy Jeff who lives in the far away land of Washington. We were discussing a particular occurrence that had been troubling me for a couple weeks. From there our discussion turned to a more general topic and Jeff concluded by saying (paraphrase), "Myke, you're overthinking it. I don't think you gave it much thought when you went streaking through Chaparral Park." We both laughed, but he was right.

I am a chronic overthinker. There's nothing wrong with processing and drawing conclusions and trying to learn from a certain situation, but when thinking gets in the way of taking a necessary action, you have a problem. I hope I can catch myself overthinking, and I hope I can remember the time when I exposed myself -- albeit inappropriately -- at Chaparral Park.

And it is true what you said
That I live like a hermit in my own head
But when the sun shines again
I'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in

Thankfully, I happen to live where the sun shines 300 days a year.

Trevor's Monster

Trevor and I became friends in high school. At the time I was in a band called Scooch (wisely, we later changed our name to The Manhattan Project). We needed a bass player. Jeff, our singer/guitarist/half-time bass player, knew Trevor's older brother so we invited Trevor to come play bass for us.

In addition to clever bass lines, Trevor brought a certain je ne sais quoi to the band. It may have been his stage antics -- like hanging from the ceiling pipes at the Nile basement -- or it may have just been his overall energy, passion, and talent for music... whatever it was, adding him to the band awakened a similar gusto in the rest of us. I'll sum it up this way: some gnarly dude named Paul taught me how to play guitar, but Trevor taught me how to rock.


Along with two other great friends, Trevor and I later played in band called XYZebra, pictured here (my favorite band I've been in and one of my all-time favorite band names). Trevor is on drums. Yeah, he does it all.

In addition to fronting his own rock band today, Sun Ghost, Trevor maintains music-centric blog called I Have Created a Monster. This blog focuses on artists and bands who push the levels of creativity in music. This week Trevor has allowed me to guest-blog about one of my favorite bands, the Flaming Lips. My first post is up as of this morning. Please check it out and follow Trev's blog, not for my sake, but because it's a great blog.

a week late, but still

So yeah... I finally have my John Steinbeck blog up and running. Click here: Earthbound But Aspiring.

Although I want this blog to be my thing, I've toyed with the idea of having guest bloggers every now and then so if you're interested, let me know.

Please go read, comment, follow, share, etc. Thanks. Feedback is appreciated.

Word? Word.

Oh yeah, happy new year and stuff.