Fun with my Scanner: At the Beach with Dad

I am about at the lowest level novice on Photoshop Elements. I can work some basic stuff, but I am very limited. A few weeks ago I was messing around with an old photo of my Dad and I and I thought it the end result was pretty cool.

Here was the first one:

Obviously the color was awful, and while it's a nice photo, the more I looked at it the more unsightly I found that pole on the right. Although I am quite sure I used the wrong and harder method, I finally removed it and this is how it came out: 

I also zoomed in because that kid's head was giving me issues. I really like how that sailboat now sticks out a little more and adds a splash of color to the photo. 

Today, I found out a childhood friend's father died unexpectedly this morning. He was a few years older than my dad but he wasn't obese or obviously unhealthy. He was a gruff guy and my most lasting memory of him was that he would eat shrimp tales, just cause.  I lost touch with my friend during high school, so it's not like I was close to him or his dad. 

Even still it got me thinking about my parents and especially my dad. My dad and I don't always see eye to eye on a lot of things (what father and son do?) but he's my dad and I love him. I would like to think we're more different than similar but I don't know how true that really is. We share the same laugh, the same charming sarcasm (just enough but not too much) and the same laid back approach to  life. He was the template on which I built the first version of me. So, here's to my dad. I hope he doesn't die anytime soon. 

Also, the shirt he has on in this photo is awesome. 

The Wonder Years: Junior Year: 1993-1994

This is the third of the four posts on my high school year. I have dubbed it "The Wonder Years" series. Here is my post on my sophomore year.

After a topsy-turvey freshmen year and nightmarish sophomore year, I might have expected another dose of insanity, but instead just the opposite happened.  If I were forced to name this year, it would be One Year in Purgatory.

Although I am sure there was the day-to-day daily drama of being in high school, there just weren't many lasting memories from this academic year.

As previously covered in lovingly horrifying fashion, my lunch periods from my first two years in high school were terrible. Finally, regression to the norm occurred my junior year. I finally could eat lunch with friends. I had two good friends  (Philip and Jeff) and another pal (Matt) to share lunch with!  Our usual spot was outside on one of the concrete tables. I have lots of good memories of eating and fooling around. Our school would frequently sell slushies and I would buy them all the time. Loved me some sugar.

What Was Wrong With Me Anyway? 

Speaking of love, my love life was a non-existent. At the start of my junior year I still hadn't had my first date or a girlfriend. The last success I had was my freshman year (A girl had agreed to go out on a date with me but I never followed through to take her out). My last kiss had been when I was in elementary school for Pete's sake!  It was that bad. I felt depressed about it and it became a source of embarrassment and shame every time I thought about it.

Here are the top four reasons I think this happened.

1. Overly high-standards 

This makes no sense in retrospect given that I am not a good looking guy by most women's standards. There was a time in 8th grade that I didn't "ask out" a girl because I was afraid of what my friends would think. She was kinda geeky but I thought she was kinda cute too.  I wasn't even popular so why should I have cared about what people thought? It feels like I am talking about a different person, but it was definitely me.

It's not like I was aiming for cheerleaders but I over thought the entire process. I was overly concerned with what others thought.

2. No confidence 

When I write "No" I mean none, zero, zilch. I had zero self worth at this point in high school. It all makes sense though. I made average and sub-par grades. I wasn't good at sports and I was very average looking and self conscious of my looks. Of course I had crushes but I didn't believe any one would really want to date me. That 8th grade opportunity that I felt was possibly there - by 1994 it looked liked a golden opportunity that I should have taken. Everything was amplified by my failure to act.

I felt kind like this guy except completely aware I was a loser and had no confidence. And I didn't date rape anyone either (we all missed that in the rape culture of the 80's).

3. Afraid of rejection

Zero confidence wasn't enough. I was also terrified of rejection. I didn't want to feel embarrassed by getting rejected. I just couldn't handle it. I felt like a fragile piece of art, an ugly piece of art, at that.

4. Bad luck 

I am pretty sure that there were some (a few? one?) young ladies out there that would have given me a chance at a date but sometimes, life just kicks ya in the groin. Besides, you have to make your own luck sometimes (at least when it comes to romance).

However, there was always hope.

The Odds Were Against Me 

I had shifted my attention to a girl at church named Tiffany. I could just never get a handle on her though. She was super quiet and kinda a "tom boy". Some days I thought she looked cute, other days I didn't find her attractive at all. She went to another school but she was around on Sundays, so she gave me someone to dream about asking out.  I don't believe I even told anyone mainly because it was more like a fantasy than a thing that could actually happen.

There was also Dani, a senior that sat in front of me in my Business class. I hated the class, but I also had a major crush on her. We talked a lot but I never thought she would think of me as a actual person to date. She was the first girl that I liked that was what I would call "cool". Most of the girls I were interested in were the "girl next door" type. But Dani was a little different. She was into the alternative scene, wore hip clothes, just carried herself with a different air than the rest of the girls I was around. We had a little friendship but I could just never scrounge up the courage to ask her out.

I am sure there were other girls I had crushes on but it doesn't really matter because I didn't act on any of them. Life moves on and you forget a lot.

History Repeats Itself (Every Week) 

One great thing about my junior year was that one of my best friends Philip and I had World History together. He even sat right in front of me.  Our teacher, Mr. Borchers had obviously been teaching the same lessons for at least three decades. He had a weekly schedule that was rarely deviated from.  It was so ingrained in my soul I actually remember it.

Monday: Go over last Friday's exam, begin lecture for this Friday's exam
Tuesday: More lecture
Wednesday: Finish up lecture, begin classwork
Thursday: Finish up classwork, review for exam
Friday: Exam, once finished, start reading the chapter for next week

It might have been slightly different but this was pretty much it. It was a boring class and delivered in even more boring style and this is coming from someone who loved history! Although boring, Mr. Borchers actually inspired me.

I kinda agree but not in this history class. Besides, I needed a picture or something here to break up the text. 

Mr. Borchers inspired me to be the opposite of what he was. Once I figured out I was going to be history teacher or professor he was my starting point of what not to be: stale, boring, lecture driven and tradition-bound. This isn't to say I'm the world's greatest teacher, but I'm sure I am not a "Mr. Borchers" either.

Despite being boring, Philip and I had a blast during this class. On really boring days we would have a drawing challenge and pick a student in the class to draw. The person had to guess who it was before the other person could draw the next student. We would also help each other out on the classwork, which amounted to 6-7 pages of worksheets (in the trade they call it "busy work"). We would split up the work with another student, Kevin and be done as quickly as possible.

It was cheating but it felt more like community. Besides, Mr. Borchers was barely paying attention. This was before the internet so I have no idea what Mr. Borchers was doing at his desk. He simply never walked around to see what the students were doing.  It wasn't all bad, Philip, Kevin and I would compete for the highest exam grade. We usually got A's or high B's, so I had to be on my game for the week (no, we didn't cheat on those).

El Cheato (Part II) 

The other class where I consistently cheated in was Spanish I. At the time, I hated this class with a passion. I didn't feel "good" at it and I thought the teacher was awful.

When I look back on the teachers I had in  high school it was pretty bad. If I were to break it down, it might look something like this:

Burnt out/Don't give a Poop: 5%
Angry/Mean: 4%
Eh/Passable: 40%
Good/Great:15%
Bad: 10%
Horrible: 8%
Can't Remember: Whatever number is left over.

Maybe I'm being overly harsh. Maybe I was a little jerk at the time too. Besides, I took a few remedial classes and all "regular" courses. So, there were some bad examples in my class and I definitely became influenced by their example.

Anyway, back to Spanish, Senora Beck was our teacher. She was in her mid-30's and in a weird way, I found her attractive (then again at 16 I found most women that were alive attractive). She had little control of the class, she yelled a lot and the class felt chaotic.  I also hated getting up in front of people and talking Spanish. So, I resented her for that (which is pretty stupid because that's how you learn).

I sat in front of sophomore named Trent. We would joke and usually be partners for our activities. I felt like an older brother to him as I was an upperclassman and he was short and small. In reality I am sure we were like 9 months apart. We were always coming up with ideas on how to cheat. We cheated on daily work and cheated on tests. Anything written in that class was pretty much a combo job from the both of us.

We came up with an ingenious way to cheat on the exam, I am sure it's well worn trick but felt like it was special at the time.  One of us  had one of those pens with a tiny tip, and would write almost all of our vocabulary words around the pencil.  Even from 2 ft. away it just looked like a design because it was written so small. At some point, usually he or I would drop the pencil or ask to borrow it because our "pencil broke" and he would give me the pencil with a knowing smile. Sometimes we would have two pencils and trade it covertly mid-exam.

One day fooling around in my book I discovered I could erase the ink from our book. So, being an all-around jerk, I started erasing vocabulary words that were around the pictures. I remember specifically starting with the picture of the zoo (you could see the picture of the monkey but I had erased "Mono"). By the end of the year, I had erased every single page number. It was pure evil but I found the whole thing hilarious. I have no defense other than I was a weird, sad teenager who did dumb things. That's all there is to it.

But I still find it pretty funny.

The Dancer's Test 

One day they announced juniors could take the ASVAB test for the military. The test was sold as a "must" for students who were either interested in joining the military or students who didn't know what the wanted to do. Ya know, the losers.

I KID, I KID

Anyway, you also got to get out of class and I figured this was a great way to "skip" class officially. Because it was un-timed, I took as much time as possible, including staying until 5th period (Spanish) was almost over even though I had been done for two hours.

I also really didn't know what I wanted to do, so I figured maybe this test would actually help me figure it out. The test had a series of questions about my personality and I remember questions like:

Do you like physical work?

Do you like math?

Do you like shooting people?

Do you like to learn about how machines or computers work? 

Do you like speaking in front of others?

 I made up one of those. I think you can figure it out. 

Anyway, most of my answers were like, no, no, no, NO.

 I don't like working. I don't like exerting myself. I don't like standing up in front of people and talking. I AM IN HIGH SCHOOL. I ended up revealing that I liked art, music, etc. ya know, teenager stuff.

Then the actual exam began and it had all the typical reading, math, logic, spatial reasoning, etc. While I wasted time on the test, I really did try my best on the exam. After all, I had no clue what I wanted to "be" when I grew up.

Months went by and I kinda forgot about the whole thing until I got the results in the mail. I was actually a little excited to find out what this ASVAB thought I could be. I opened the colorful results to find my recommended career field was:

Professional Dancer

Yes, that's right. PROFESSIONAL DANCER

I usually do this every morning most days anyway. So maybe I could have been a dancer....

Maybe this is only funny if you know me but me as a professional dancer makes about as much sense as me as a solider. At that point in my life, I had never even danced in public.

It made sense though in a weird way.  I was bad at math, I told them I didn't like hard work, or that I never took apart computers or put together model airplanes, I liked to play basketball, enjoyed reading and the arts. Wa-la, must be a DANCER.

I was pissed. The even funnier part is the US military would send me recruitment materials for years afterwards. I think it had to deal with the great Navy shortage of dancers in the late 90's.

Vroom Vroom

My junior year my friends started getting their driver's licences. Maybe it was because of a lack of maturity or a clinging to my childhood but I was not motivated to take driver's ed.

I still remember our first Friday I went out with a friend in a car. Philip came over to pick me up at some ridiculously early time I think it must have been 7:20. We drive through the drive-thru at Burger King. Why? I have no earthly idea. I vaguely remember thinking we felt rushed, so we ate in the car or maybe it was just me eating and Burger King was on the way. I dunno but I remember mayonnaise was on my burger and that ANGERED me at the time.

Then we went to Pear Apple County Fair, a huge arcade, mini-golf type place where tons of kids went to. A girl asked me if I had a lighter and I felt so cool. It felt so dangerous. I think we were back home before 10:00.

We would later learn to leave later in the evening to feel like our night was more eventful.

Driver's Ed with Larry 

In the spring I finally decided to take driver's ed with my friend Eric (who was a sophomore).  Eric went to church with me and while it took awhile for us to warm up to each other, by the spring of 1994 we were starting to become best friends. We shared a warped sense of humor and we just got each other. He's the brother I never had. We would become each other's best man at our weddings.

Anyway, we had a blast in driver's ed together. Our class instructor was super boring and had a Texan drawl that could put you to sleep. He brought up the same stories over and over, including one about a young man that was "6"4, 240" he would say this in such a way that it just sounded like a thing into itself (6-4 240). It became an instant inside joke for us.  Ya see that guy over there? He's probably about "6-4 240"? I know, hilarious...but you have to hear it and you had to be there.

Our actual driving instructor was so gross. His name was Larry and he had the worst reputation. He was a such a prev. He had to be pushing 40 but he seemed to be interested in all the girls at the driving school. I remember him just checking them out, right in front of the other guys. Granted, he was a decent teacher for us. He treated us like men and young men eat that kinda of stuff up. So, we tried to sign up for Larry every time we had hours to drive.  Larry was just a gross guy. I remember sharing fart jokes with him (when we first introduced the idea of "Pizza Happy"). We actually looked up to him.

We had heard rumors that if you signed up for the late shift, he would eat with you at Hooters. We had signed up for the late shift one time but nothing had happened, until later that night.

Larry: (casually)  "You guys heard of Hooters?"

Both: "Yeah."

Larry: "Next time you guys sign up at 9;00, we'll drive down to Hooters, hang out and I'll give you credit for driving."

Both: (in hushed awe) "Ok."

So, the next time around we drove down to the nearby Hooters (which was new to our area). We felt like such rebels and we were so excited. We were getting away with something!!! All the Hooters girls knew Larry and he introduced us. "Woah!"

I think we had a couple of sodas and Larry ordered fries.  It all felt so scandalous. For a 16-year-old, Hooters did not disappoint. Given that 16-year-old's have the internet today, I don't think the impact could be properly understood by anyone under 30.

I remember thinking our "final" was pretty cool. He just told us he had to get to the airport, on a certain airline at a particular time for a flight. He did not tell us how to get there either, it had to be by memory and we just had to work it out (we were a couple of dopes that had never been to the airport so, we felt sufficiently challenged).

So that just about covers it, my junior year left me with enough hope of what was to come. I was right to be hopeful, as 1994-1995 was one of the best years of my life and easily my favorite school year. All the hard times were going to be paid off for one magical senior year.... .

Thought of the Day

Genius is often untidy.

- from one of my old notebooks (pretty sure I wasn't referencing myself here even though my default inclination is "untidy"). 

Peru Fragments: Part VII: The End of the Road

In the summer of 2014, I taught a short-term study abroad in Peru. Here are the fragments. Part VII can be found here.

What would be my last meaningful leg of the journey was going to take us to Puno and Lake Titicaca. We loaded up at the bus station in Cuzco early in the morning and settled in for an all-day bus trip.

The bus was nice enough and they had an "active" itinerary for us. With 3-4 stops along the way to give us a chance to stretch our feet. I appreciated the intent, it gave us something to see, something to do, etc. but on the last stop at a tiny museum,  I was just ready to get to our destination.  Nonetheless here are few photos from some of the sites:

I dunno, a window of an ancient structure.  If you've followed the Peru series by now, you know I am pretty much obsessed with shots like this. 

I liked this green example of pareidolia, especially the eyes.

Some old church in some small town, somewhere in Peru.

We finally arrived in Puno after a 9 hours of traveling. Puno itself isn't much to look at. The main attraction is of course, the highest elevated navigable lake in the world (and one of the best named lakes in the world) Lake Titicaca. We drove straight to the hotel (Eco Inn) and had dinner at the hotel (pretty decent). After a decent breakfast, we were off to the dock to explore the lake.

The water of Lake Titicaca was the bluest blue I have ever seen.

The water was so calm, our slow motorboat trip was so peaceful, you could forget you were even on the water.

Our guide for the next few days was pretty tripin'. Up until this point our guides had been friendly but pretty standard fare. Our guide for Lake Titicaca was much more open than our other guides and was more personal with us. We found out how she occasionally washed her hair in her own urine. Later on she told us about how she found out her future from someone who read coca leaves for her. She also told us that to find out what was wrong with a health problem, she had a guinea pig lay on her while she slept (I guess it was in a container of some kind), and then in the morning, they killed it to "read" its guts and tell her what was wrong with her. She was the real deal.

Our first stop was to the Uros islands. These are man-made islands that people actually live on! They've lived there so long they have their own unique culture (one that now is dependent on tourists coming to take photos of their unique living circumstances). It was cool to be there but it felt a little too "touristy" for me. The actual island is made up from reeds that grow in the lake "tortas" and it felt a little mushy, but strong. Apparently, they have to slowly but constantly rebuild it as the reeds rot underwater. Cool, but in retrospect, it was cooler in my imagination.

Then we headed over to the Llachón peninsula. I thought our plan was to stay at a local family's home but it was more of a B-n-B that was locally owned.  There were 3-4 unheated rooms with 2 beds each and an outhouse-like bathroom. There was no shower or bath for visitors. It was close to the lake and very quiet. 

We had a home cooked fish lunch that hit the spot and then we were ready to party. 

Yes, party. 

Our guide let us know there was party going on in town celebrating one of the saint's days. We had been to a few events that were set-up just for tourist but this time, the celebration was authentic and that was nice for a change. We were the only tourists there and we made for quite a sight.  Before we had left our "hotel", our host and guide and encouraged us to dress in the traditional grab before we went to the fiesta. I found this a little silly like if you should wear a cowboy hat because you're visiting in Texas. 

I felt a little ridiculous, but whatever, when in Rome...I also felt so cheap and trendy with the record amounts of selfies I was taking at this point. My quarters were behind me to the left, right after the archway. 

 We watched a local dancing celebration for about an hour. Some of the show was quite humorous, while we found other aspects baffling but it was a good time. The locals pretty much stayed clear of us, I didn't know how exactly how to take that....

After the celebration, we took in sunset on the shores of Lake Titicaca. It was a pretty nice moment. It was a good to be alive. 

A female sheep herder brought her flock down to the shore for one last drink before the day was over. 

That night we had another solid home cooked dinner and our hosts (a mother and her son) sang some tunes with us. Then, came the main event. Because our students at inquired at the mention, our guide had found someone to "read" our fortunes or answer questions by reading coca leaves for us.  He was called (and forgive me but this is going to sound made up) a "ya titty". I tried googling this to no avail, but just saying "Ya Titty" got way too many chuckles and laughs from one of our students and I. 

Anyway, our "ya titty" was almost toothless and looked like he'd had a rough day. We sat around the dinner table and an actual hush came over the table. Even I felt like I needed to speak in hushed tones suddenly but remember our questions were going to be answered by an old man dropping and swirling coca leaves on a table. Two of our female students asked about their romantic relationships or partners (they actually asked for us to leave the room as privacy was offered and taken). Our new age hippie student, asked about what college he should be transferring to. When it came to my colleague, he asked if he should go to law school or more graduate school in philosophy. Surprisingly he didn't really answer the question but the ya titty did tell him he would have a daughter in the next year. This made both C and I laugh as our guide, some of students and definitely the ya titty didn't know that this was a very unlikely event to occur. My colleague, C is gay male and while he is in a long-term relationship, they are not looking to adopt any time soon.

I didn't want to partake at all. First of all, at least 4 of the 5 students, some what college-educated students (two of them actual "Adults")  were taking this "ceremony" way too seriously. They sat around really watching the leaves as if this was a real reading of their future. I had a hard time keeping my mouth shut as it was all so dreadfully stupid.  My colleague ended up talking me into asking a silly question about work (long story) but I didn't get the answer I was looking for either!

Later, we came to find out our female student's questions had gotten very negative answers. They actually seemed annoyed and bothered by it, but I told it them it was crazy b.s. and that they were in control of their own futures (as much as humanly possible) not some coca leaves.

It was time for bed and as we paired off to our rooms, our host gave us a heated water bottle. I was a little perplexed but our guide told us, this was to heat up our beds.  Our rooms were unheated and it was cold night on the shore of the lake. The water bottle was a life-saver and it kept the bed warm well into the night. I remember that night I felt like I had a deep sleep. Restful and ready for what I felt like anything. It was last restful night I had for a long time.

The next morning we got up and left for Taquile Island, which was about an hour away. First we had one last hike in Peru. This time it was about a 30 minute hike at a fast pace up a very steep hill face. I tried to keep up with our male student F (pictures below) but couldn't do it. One more challenge but the sight of the lake below and Bolivia made it worth it.

 

I had been told Taquile island wasn't authentic but on further review, I thought it kinda was. First thing you notice is the archway to the path and the archway right before town. It was built by the community, not contractors. Second, the agency takes you to the pre-determined location for lunch. It's determined by the island government, so that everyone partakes in the money from the tourists equally. It's not about competition and letting the free market reign but balance and fairness. That's as foreign as you get compared to America's values.

The restaurants have pretty much the same food. Notice the rococo peppers on the fish. This was a nice lunch. Later a kitty came by and some of my students fed it some of their fish. 

We did some minimal shopping but the prices were very high and I think all of us were tired of shopping at this point in the trip. We hiked back down the other side of the island. It was downhill but still a good work out.

If you've read any of this Peru series you know I love windows, doors and archways. The archways on Taquile were really cool because they had those heads on the ends. It reminded me of Gothic churches in Europe but a toned down, simple, Peruvian style. 

When I hiked I usually went at my own pace. It was great to sneak in alone time and have space for my own thoughts.  On the way down I discovered this little lost lamb bleating out for his mother. I tried to console him to no avail but he still followed me. Eventually, I saw his reunification with this mother. It was a nice moment.

Finally, we made the long trip back to Puno. It was a peaceful trip and at least half our crew slept in the warm boat but I couldn't sleep a wink. We got back to our hotel and cleaned up for dinner. We planned on going out to a nice place where they had dancers and finally get to eating some cuy again. The time before I had been feeling ill and only had one bite. I was looking forward to a nice night out. But that wasn't going to happen.

I was sharing a room with my colleague C and our student F. F was on his phone texting and while I was sending photos of our trip out from the lake to my wife. We had been offline for a few days and I was eager to check in on the fam.  C was in the shower getting ready for dinner. Then I received a series of texts from my wife that changed our lives forever.

My wife was on her way to visit her brother and his family in Austin. It was supposed to be an informal "pop in" visit for a few hours and then she was supposed to head home after a long trip with her family and the kids from Wisconsin.

When she texted me, she was outside of his house. Police cars were there and her dad who had been riding with her went in to see what was going on. They had found out on the way that her brother had stormed out of the house with a gun after a fight with his wife. He had been struggling with alcoholism for the past several years and today he had been drunk when he came home. She was in the car with all three of our kids, just waiting on pins and needles to find out what was happening.

Then she texted me the news. He was gone. He had killed himself two hours or so earlier. The pain was primal, almost physical. I hurt for my wife, his wife and two young sons and my in-laws. My worst fear from traveling had come true - I was hopelessly far away and something tragic had occurred.

I instantly started bawling and my poor student didn't know what was happening. He was a sweet kid about it, said the right things and largely staying silent. I imagine it was a pretty big shock to see his professor crying like a baby. I swore like a sailor, especially cursing guns and the gun industry that sells fear and paranoia but the stats tell us hand guns are much more likely to be used for suicide than any other use. More than homicide and more than defending your house against someone breaking in.
My colleague C stepped out of the shower to hear me crying. Both C and F were so great they offered to stay with me in the room the rest of the night but I just wanted to be alone. I told them to go to dinner and that I actually wanted to be alone to think through this.  I had many details to learn,  phone calls to make and tears to cry.  It was a nightmare and I felt guilty for being so far away from the love of my life in her darkest hour. I failed to be there for her and there was nothing I could do.

Our plane was leaving Puno at 6:00 the next morning to Lima.  The Puno airport was being renovated and somehow, they couldn't heat the airport. It was freezing cold inside the airport. It was an all-around horrible experience. Cold and sad. The original plan was for us to spend two days in Lima but I wanted to get home ASAP. After our arrival to Lima and a torturous phone call with United Airlines the best I could do was fly out at near midnight that evening. I would be arriving home a day early, so it was better than nothing.

That meant I still had to be in Lima the whole day just waiting to get home. It was a horrible day. We didn't do much, lunch at as sub par restaurant, went to a museum and went walking around town. It was a cloudy day and fit with my mood. I just wanted to go home. I said a hasty set of good byes to the students and my colleague got me a taxi to take me to the airport. He insisted on riding with us, just to ensure everything went well. He really didn't need to do that but he's a great guy and close friend. He insisted on paying for the taxi as well (it wasn't cheap).

It was odd coming home alone. It equally strange to come down from such an amazing high to the lowest of lows. A dream had come true and a nightmare had started. I suppose it's life in a nutshell. The healing process is still going on for our family but at least we have each other. That's all you can ask for.

So, those our my fragments from my study abroad to Peru. It will always linked to this tragedy and yet, I can't forget it was an amazing trip.

The Art of the Mix Tape or My Summer Love Mix-Tape of '97

This past summer, during the Epic Re-Flooring of 2015, I came across one of my old poetry notebooks from 1996-1999.  Everything was going in boxes or being thrown out and I was tempted to throw this bad boy of bad poetry into the recycle bin.

Something stopped me though. I felt that if I threw the notebook away, it would have been a rejection of a part of me. Sure, that aspect of me is long gone but it felt wrong and I wasn't ready to let it go. At least not yet. Well, months later and I am still organizing my bookshelf and I found that old notebook of poetry again.

The notebook has more than just poetry, it has thousands of doodles, notes, script ideas for my summer film projects, and to-do lists, etc. To my delight I discovered an old mix tape track-list that I had made for my girlfriend Marie in the summer of 1997.  We had gotten together in May of 1997 and it was the first time I had experienced love. I was head over heels and having the time of my life. So, what's a guy in the 90's supposed to do for the girl he loves? Yep, make a mix-tape.

This was one of my first experiments in making a mix-tape. I might have made one for Mikey but it was all so long ago, it's hard to remember. I would later become an expert at pacing my track list and adding surprising or funny content to add to the listener's experience.

Here's a clip from High Fidelity about the rules of making a mix tape, also I wanted to include it because it's a great movie.

I ended up seeing High Fidelity with Marie and it was kinda weird because we were in a in-between spot when we saw it and the subtext for us was just hanging over us once the movie ended.  

Before we get to the track list, I have to set up a little more of my background.

First, I was pretty new to rock music in general.  All the time in high school I should have been discovering rock history and listening to the Beatles and Pink Floyd I spent listening to awful country music and being generally un-musical. So, my knowledge base of rock music was shallow to say the least. I was into "alternative" but it was mainstream alternative. I simply wasn't aware of the depth and richness in alternative, punk, indie,  you name it, etc. If this had been two years later (after being a college radio DJ) my track listing would be much more expansive and include some curve balls.

Also, Marie wasn't into rock music either, so I wasn't going to go too crazy here. I remember thinking it was going to be basic and straight forward.  I spent hours coming up with the track list. Looking at the track list today it's hard to see where I was going with this. Was it an introduction to stuff I liked and hoped she would like? Was I sending her any messages? I'm not even sure I knew at the time. Anyhoo, here's the track list with my additional content.

1. "Dill Pickle Intro"
2.  Smashing Pumpkins - "Today"
3.  Beck - "Hot Wax"
4.  "Talk Intro"
5.  Weezer - "No Other One"
6.   Bush - "Comedown"
7.  "Helicopter intro" - Nirvana - "Lithium"
8.   Dean Martin - "You're Nobody till Somebody Loves You"
9.   "DJ Speak"
10. Foo Fighters - "Big Me"
11. James Taylor - "You've Got A Friend"
12. Blur - "Song 2"
13. "Rocket Intro" - Rentals - "Friends of P"
14. Smashing Pumpkins - "Galapagos"
15. "Yoda Scene"
16. Pearl Jam - "Better Man"

I have to say this track list is full of rookie mistakes. There is no overall theme and the selections are haphazard (James Taylor to "Song 2"?) I also hate the fact that Bush is on this list...why did I include Bush?  I also am perplexed as to why I didn't end with "Galapagos" as it's a love song and it would have been better than the oddly placed "Better Man".

I have no idea what the "Dill Pickle" intro is nor what I talked about at tracks 4 and 9. Maybe "Dill Pickle" was an inside joke but the world will never know.

I used an old pair of earphones as my microphone. I remember it sounding better than you might expect. I thought the fact that I had discovered how to record my voice on a standard stereo pretty awesome. To achieve my sound effect introductions (I overlapped sound effects over the beginning of tracks 7 and 13), I would run the sound effects CD on a second CD player while holding the mic up the speakers as I recorded the music from the actual attached CD player. It was creative and I think it gave the mix tape a feeling "what will he come up with next"?   I believe the "Yoda Scene" on track 15 was the whole "There is no try" speech from Empire, although Marie probably had no idea where that was from and why this character was speaking in such a weird voice.

I'm not sure if this was one side or maybe just a sixty minute tape. I thought about adding up the times but I don't care all that much.  I remember spending hours  on the creation of my mix tapes. I would try to squeeze the perfect fit of songs so that each side was balanced and the listener wasn't left with 45 seconds of silence before the end of one of the sides. It really is a lost art form.

My wife had a little fun at my expense as I told her the topic of this blog. I was lamenting the loss of the mix tape and she laughed and said, "I wouldn't say it's sad, people are still sharing music".

"Yeah, but not like I did it!"

Of course she replied, "Everything has a purpose for you". And that's true enough.  As the years went by my mix tapes would morph into mix CD's but the same effort was there, including snippets from TV or movies, adding vocal tracks to introduce songs or share something crazy or funny. It was a way of sharing who I was, whether it was my love interest at the time or just a friend. It was also a lot of fun.

I suppose you could put together a YouTube playlist but it just wouldn't be the same for me.

I have a warm memory of how I delivered this tape to Marie. It was one of those wonderful youthful summer days, when there wasn't much to do. I had finished the tape that afternoon and I just couldn't wait to give it to her. She was working at a local diner and I drove down to see her and give her the tape. I remember it was early evening and the sun was just starting it's descent as I drove to the diner. I was wearing my Kurt Cobain shirt and she said she liked it, although I think she was just being nice. I gave her the tape and sat on the bar stool for awhile, watching her work and making small talk, as time allowed.

I went home probably listening to one of the many mix tapes I put together for myself. There might not be very many mix tapes any more, but at least they're missed.

I found another track list - so, here's another blog post on another mix-tape!