Monthly Archives: March 2008

I was walking home last night, and found myself wanting to be far, far away from the endless glow of the city lights.  The orange/yellow glow, completely blotting out every single star in the sky, is like a sheet pulled over the eyes, preventing us from gazing into the sky that has captivated people since the dawn of humankind.  It shouldn’t be that way.

I think I would have enjoyed living in a simpler time, one where the simple pleasures – such as being able to see the stars at night – were not yet destroyed by the growing urge to accelerate life to unnecessary levels.  That’s really what the city glow is all about in retrospect – busy bees working and playing around the clock.  I’d much rather see all the lights turned out; all the cars parked; families, neighbors and communities gathering in parks around small campfires talking, pondering, discussing, and gazing upwards.

That’s one, among a countless number, of things I miss the most from Texas 4000.  Being able to stare at the stars in the company of people I loved.

I want to go to a place where the only light is provided by nature.  No disgusting orange streetlights, no neon signs, no ridiculously bright gas stations – just the sun, the moon, the stars, and burning wood as light sources.  If you know, tell me where I can find this place, and I’ll soon join you around the fire.

Too much caffeine, much too late in the day.  If you’ve gone through college, you’ve most likely been there before – exhausted but wide awake at late hours of the day.  I have a draft deadline tomorrow to meet, so I started drinking coffee around 8:00pm, and began writing.  I was incredibly focused and managed to tear through five pages of mindless jabber in about an hour and a half, although I sure most of it doesn’t make too much sense.  I don’t really like drafting essays anyways – for me, it’s a bit of a time waster, and tends to interrupt the creative flow of information – as I rather create final products from start to finish in one sitting.  Thus, I’ll probably trash most of my work from this evening; oh well, whatever makes the professors happy.

In other news, I must give a recommendation for one of my favorite coffeehouses in Austin – Clementine Coffeehouse on Manor Rd.  Not taking into account that it is extra nice for me because I live across the street from the place, they really do have an awesome atmosphere, with super friendly staff and good coffee/espresso.  I’ll usually drop by on Saturday/Sunday mornings for an espresso and scone before my cycling adventures, and a few times a week in the evenings for work-motivated coffee.  No matter the time of day, it’s always good.  That, and they have live music once or twice a week, and Live Oak beer on tap – does it get any better?  Definitely stop by if you’re in the area.

Do you ever get the feeling that you’re not at home, despite being at the place you call “home?” I’ve been working to wrap my head around this feeling for a few weeks now, and I think I’m finally beginning to understand what it means for me.

I’ve lived in Austin, Texas for nearly four years now. I moved here in 2004, from England, with next to nothing in the immediate area – no friends, no family, no bicycle, and limited possessions. In just a few weeks, Austin and the University of Texas took me in, giving me friends, entertainment, and a rough understanding of what I wanted to do in life. I changed so much in those first months – from a goofy looking kid to a slightly less goofy looking kid, I was forced into meeting new people and at times interacting with people I didn’t get along with, and I developed new likes/dislikes that I still have to some degree. I used to “run away” to the lake when I needed to think, or just cruise (slowly) around downtown on my mountain bike. I still run away – probably much more frequently now – and still love to cruise around downtown – although it’s a little faster and on a silky smooth fixie now days. I met a girl who picked my life up; she probably changed me more than anything else at that time. Our lives would diverge from each other down the road, and while that hurt for a long time, looking back that event had it’s positive points too.

I still enjoy living here; Austin provides me with nearly everything I enjoy in close reach. But it’s all physical now, and the emotional connections I cherished so fondly seem to escape me now. Sadly, I rarely talk to or see those friends from a few years ago, and I regret it. And even if the opportunity existed, I’m not sure I would even know what to say. This depresses me the most. I have new friends now, with new memories from Texas 4000, from bike racing, and everything else that interested me, without them. And now, I’m continuing to spiral in my own direction, while current connections spiral into theirs; it’s just a matter of time before we’ll spiral apart too. At times, it seems like there isn’t a path in the entire world that matches mine…

Maybe that’s just me; maybe that’s just how my life is going to be.  Older folks will tell me “you’re still young, just wait.”  But I’m not that young, and waiting only wastes the short amount of time we have.  At any rate, my heart and my home just don’t seem to match up anymore.  I’m ready for the second big move in my life, and it probably won’t be the last.  I just need a nomad to join me…

“In the hour break between seeing the two mushers, the moon was soon overshadowed by a brilliant display of the northern lights. Curtains of green light, mixed with violet and dabs of orange, danced across the sky for several minutes, which surely caught both mushers’ eyes. King described the auroral light show as ‘the most spectacular northern lights I’ve ever seen.’“  (Eye on the Trail)

I’m reading a bit of blog coverage from the 2008 Iditarod on this early Sunday afternoon.  For those not in the know, the Iditarod is the world’s longest dog sled race, going from Anchorage, AK to Nome, AK.  Racers left Anchorage a little over a week ago, and have around two weeks of chilly travel left until Nome.  When I was a child living in Anchorage, this race would pass through my “backyard” each year; we would always go out to see the dogs run by, wearing their little feet warmers.

The quote above however, brought me back to a more recent memory.  During my trip this past summer, everyone was anxious to see the Northern Lights; unfortunately, it is incredibly rare to see them in the summer months due to the extended sunlight.  Our best chance was in Tok, our northernmost point of the trip, but evening clouds ruined this chance too.

Much to my astonishment, four of us got incredibly lucky on the drive back to Austin, a week after our arrival in Anchorage.  We were, quite literally, driving nonstop from Anchorage to Ft. Collins, Colorado.  On the second night, around 2:00am, we were just outside Whitehorse, capitol of the Yukon Territory, when the sky lit up with the most spectacular Northern Lights display I’ve ever seen; which, given my six years in Alaska as a child, is saying a lot.  Vibrant greens and yellows arched across the entire sky, from the northern horizon to the south, dancing and flickering for almost an hour.  Magnifying this was the total lack of light pollution, with the exception of a very bright moon.  We pulled over to the side of the road and climbed on top of the van, sitting and watching the show for almost an hour.

And as remarkable as the northern lights were that night, even more remarkable was that I was able to share that moment with three of my best friends; it really was a once in a lifetime experience.