Walk

Life is like a long walk.

When you start, there are endless possibilities of where you can go, which way to turn, which streets to cross. It's a long road, and you enjoy the experience. You don't want it to end, and when it does, it seems like you just started moments before.

At about midnight, I was bored and it was getting stuffy inside, since the windows have stayed closed the past few days because of all this damn smoke. So, I decided to take a walk.

It was going to be a short one, just a stroll around the block, my iPod and I. It was cold, in the low fifties, so I decided to bring a sweatshirt. The cool air was refreshing though, thick from the NorCal fires, but cool. I started walking.

I went around the block. But something in the way Bob Dylan was singing caused me to accidentally miss the turn to go back to my house on purpose. I figured I'd extend my escapade a few more blocks.

I always liked running because of the mysterious way that it erases your mind of all thought, simply allowing you to focus on how much your lungs feel like they're full of fiberglass and how your legs feel like rubber. Walking, on the other hand, gives you the time and concentration to think about things, about what you did during the day, about who you like, about life. It eases your emotions, loosens your muscles, and kind of lets you relax.

I began to realize all of this as I was finishing up my few extra blocks, and decided to add a few more. I walked all the way to Harvest Park. I sat there in the parking lot, orange light bleeding through the smoke and fog onto the pavement. The empty flag pole pointed starkly into the nothingness. I thought about the three years I spent there, watched the ghost of myself walk from the entrance gates to the bus stop. Those were good years, middle school. Good years.

I got up and continued down Valley, deciding to take a residential detour down Crestline. Detour to where, I have no idea. I didn't have any particular destination in mind, I was just moving, following my feet, which were in turn following the beat of the Moody Blues pouring through my headphones.

I took in the feeling radiated by the quaint little streets that could easily be pulled from the map of any suburban town in America. These evenly spaced little boxes, each with a cute mailbox and identical streetlight, lined up like soldiers. I walked past hundreds of cars, many with "'08 Grad", "Go Seniors," and "pen15," among other things, still scrawled on the windows from two weeks ago. I thought about the owners of those cars, people that I once knew, people I last saw at graduation and may never see again. Every fifteenth or twentieth house had the light on in one of the upstairs bedrooms, presumably another teenager up late watching a movie, texting friends, or getting knocked up by their boyfriend. I can see through walls. I know exactly how life is in these identical houses with identical soccer moms that drive identical SUVs. I live in one of them, I know.

There are only four sounds that can be heard at 1:30 in the morning in Pleasanton on any given day. Sprinklers, the occasional bird chirp, a stray car mumbling by, and the distant, constant drone of the freeways. Indeed, a nice change from the bombardment of noise pollution during the day, produced by the churn of suburban life. I even paused my music for a minute to absorb the soft symphony of the night.

Turning left at Greenwood, I meandered down the artery that carries the brunt of Birdlands kids to Amador and Harvest Park each day during the school year. Tonight it was just another empty summer lane, with the occasional baseball lying on the side, forgotten by the kids as they ran in for dinner. They were all sound asleep now, as I sauntered down the middle of the road, shadow revolving as the street lights surpassed me overhead.

The light was red as I advanced upon Valley. I ignored this, and strolled into the center of the junction, standing casually in the middle of what is usually a heavily used intersection. To the end of Greenwood now, past a group of youth, who scuttled back behind a house. Dancing with Mary Jane. That familiar, potent stench lazily overtook my nose. Stupid kids. Go find a parking lot.

Right on Mohr, left on Tanenger. I lay down in the grassy field behind the old Century House and stared up at the stars, or at least those that still shone through the amber haze of light pollution. The blades of green felt sharp against my back. It began to rain. Damn sprinklers.

Now slightly moist, I carried on out to Santa Rita, the aorta of Pleasanton. No cars, none. Just empty, ginger glow on lifeless pavement.

From there I turned onto Stoneridge. There is a bike lane on that road, with a long white line running down the shoulder to outline it. I walked the line. I followed the arrows down to the very end, where, on the enormous fence, there sits a sign that reads "END." Just in case you did not notice that the road turns into a dirt patch and then a stucco wall.

I turned around, and, seeing that it was close to two in the morning, decided that it was best to start heading home. I didn't feel tired, but my feet were beginning to argue with the relentless walking.

I walked down Dennis, a cold residential alley at the furthest edge of Pleasanton, crammed with tight housing and cobblestone driveways. It was here that I approached Mohr Elementary. This is where I found my place in this town, where I made most of my friends, where I began to develop myself as I am today. It was dark, no single ray of light leaked through the cross-hatched fence surrounding the school. I hopped the fence and walked the halls I once walked ten years ago. Ten years is a decade; a long time in the life of a human being. The echoes of past voices resounded through the empty walls of the campus; I swear I could hear them through the darkness, escaping the boundaries of time through the gateway of my memory. Sounds of children on the playground, children I knew. They are children no longer, nor am I. And I came to the realization that we never will be again.

I continued out over the blacktop and onto the grass, where I used to spend time playing capture the flag in P.E. with Mr. Maz. "Never smoke!" I heard it loud and clear. "Yes, sir!" Replied the P.E. class standing on the basketball court, each student on top of their own colored rubber dot. I still see them. I still hear them.

I walked down the path dividing the two fields, precisely the way I did as I left Mohr on the last day of fifth grade. That was 2001. A lot has changed since then: people have changed, some for better, some for worse. The twin towers fell. We've gone to war. And, most recently, we have all been released from the binds of high school into the real world.

Homeward bound. Winding through the roads of North Pleasanton. Down the home stretch, around the useless traffic circles, through the stop signs, home. I reflected on my journey, seven miles around Pleasanton. Two and a half hours. Good walk.

It was relaxing. I listened music. Sufjan Stevens. Coldplay. Bob Dylan. Dire Straits. Genesis. Moody Blues. Neil Young. Simon & Garfunkel. Vanessa Carlton. Tom Petty. In that order, and how I remember I don't even know. I ran through years of memories I've had here. I burned a couple calories.

If you ever have nothing better to do, or have some things on your mind…try it.

Walk.

Current Mood: Blank

Listening To: "The Voice" by The Moody Blues

Bitch Please...I'm From California

This is great--it's from the Facebook group "Bitch Please..........I'm From California!!!" Credit to Krystina Gillenwater at CSU Northridge for coming up with them, they're sooo true...

Feel free to comment & add to the list!
~

You know you're from California when...../Californians are better because............

Everyone hates cops

You live next door to mexicans

You say "like" and "for sure" and "right on" and "dude" and "totally" and "peace out" and "chill" and "tight" and "bro" and "hell of" and "hella"(Nor Cal only) and "faded" and "stoked" and "fo sho" and you say them often

You know what real cheese taste like.

All the porn you watch is made here, cause we fuck better and thats how it is.

You don't get snowdays off because theres only snow in Mammoth, Tahoe, Shasta, and Big Bear.

You can wear sandals all year long.

You go to the Beach - not "down to the shore."

You know 65 mph really means 100.

When someone cuts you off, they get the horn and the finger and high speed chase cuz we dont fuck around on the road.

The drinking age is 21 but everyone starts at 14 (legally 18 if you live close enough to the border).

Our governor can kick your governors ass.

You can go out at midnight.

You judge people based on what area code they live in, and when asked where you're from, you give your area code.

You might get looked at funny by locals when you're on vacation in their state, but when they find out you're from California you turn into a Greek GOD.

We don't stop at stop signs... we do a "california roll"
No cop no stop baby!

You can get fresh and REAL Mexican food 24 hours a day.

All the TV shows you "other" states watch get filmed here.

EVERYONE smokes weed. no exceptions.

We're the Golden State. Not the Cheese State. Not the Garden State.....GOLDEN!!!

We have In-N-Out (Arizona and Vegas are lucky we share that with them).

We have the most representation in the House of Representatives, which means our opinion means more than yours, which means we're better than you.

The best athletes come from here.

We got disneyland....wut now!

We have The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf which is way better than Starbucks.

We call it soda, not pop.

Oh, and no one from California calls it Cali... that's how we know you're not from around here.
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The fastest part of your commute is down your driveway.

You were born somewhere else.

Your sense of direction=Toward the ocean and away from the ocean.

You eat an In n Out burger at least once a week!!!

You know how to eat an artichoke.

The primary bugs that you worry about are electronic.

Your car has bullet-proof windows.

Left is right and right is wrong.

Your monthly house payments exceed your annual income.

You can't find your other earring because your son/brother is wearing it.

You drive to your neighborhood block party.

Your family tree contains "significant others."

You don't exterminate your roaches, you smoke them.

You see 25 lawyers chasing an ambulance.

More than clothes come out of the closets.

You go to a tanning salon before going to the beach.

More money is spent on facelifts than on diapers.

Smoking in your office is not optional.

You pack shorts and a T-shirt for skiing in the snow, and a sweater and a wetsuit for the beach.

When you can't schedule a meeting because you must "do lunch."

Your children learn to walk in Birkenstocks.

You'll reluctantly miss yoga class to wait for the hot tub repairman.

You consult your horoscope before planning your day.
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All highways into the state say: "no fruits."

All highways out of the state say: "Go back."

The Terminator is your governor

You can't remember . . . is pot illegal?

It's barely sprinkling rain and there's a report on every news station: "STORM WATCH"

You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from California.

Your coworker has 8 body piercings and none are visible.

You make over $300,000 and still can't afford a house.

You take a bus and are shocked at two people carrying on a conversation in English.

You don't care what race people are because you're too busy wondering what gender they are.

You have a very strong opinion about where your coffee beans are grown and can taste the difference between Sumatran and Ethiopian.

You know which restaurant serves the freshest arugula.

It's barely sprinkling rain outside, so you leave for work an hour early to avoid all the weather-related accidents.

A really great parking space can totally move you to tears.

A low speed police pursuit will interrupt ANY TV broadcast.

Gas costs $1.00 per gallon more than anywhere else in the U.S.

A man gets on the bus in full leather regalia and crotchless chaps. You don't even notice.

Unlike back home, the guy at 8:30 am at Starbucks wearing the baseball cap and sunglasses who looks like George Clooney IS George Clooney.

Your car insurance costs as much as your house payment.

The normal symbols on restrooms mean "people wearing pants" and "people wearing skirts".

Your hairdresser is straight, your plumber is gay, the woman who delivers your mail is into S &M, and your Mary Kay rep is a guy in drag.

Both you AND your dog have therapists.

You have to leave the big company meeting early because Billy Blanks himself is teaching the 4:00 PM Tae Bo class.

You pass an elementary school playground and the children are all busy with their cell phones or pagers.

The grass is green in the winter and brown in the summer.

Current Mood: Hot

Listening To: "What You Know" by T.I.

This Old Town

You know, through the years, people have always said that Pleasanton is a worthless, boring town. Worthless, certainly not. I am one of the few, I think, that understands the value in suburban America. Most people on this Earth would consider suburban America paradise, let alone Pleasanton.

But I will take you up on the boring part. I am bored as hell. It's only the end of the first week of Summer and I am ready to crack. Maybe that's because of a few other things, but having nothing to do is definitely contributing. I should really just shut up and appreciate the nothingness, because I know I'll wish I had nothing to do come the pile of Calculus, Physics, and Fluid Dynamics papers I'll have in the fall. Still, in the moment, I can barely stand it anymore, let alone another 90 days.

American suburbia is by far one of, if not the best place on Earth to start a family, raise your kids, work full-time, commute. It's a place where yuppies and adrenaline junkies like myself settle down after living hard in their younger years, to find true purpose in life. I'll be there someday, moving back to Pleasanton and wondering why I ever left.

But for now, it's not enough. I am ambitious, there's a hell of a lot more to this life than a single town with semi-aged trees lining the evenly paved streets. There's too much more to experience, and suburbia isn't cutting it anymore. So for now, I'll be a bold, headstrong, maybe even stupid little snot, and say I need to go very far way from this place. There's too much here I want to forget, and too little that I want to experience. Once the painful memories are gone and successes attained, I'll be back, without a doubt. But that's a long way off.

Pleasanton has been good to me, but now I need something more.

Current Mood: Sympathetic

Listening To: "Time To Move On" by Tom Petty

Failure. It's Good For You.

Every time you lose something, you gain something. Every time something falls to pieces, you can figure out what went wrong, leave the pieces behind in a neat little pile, and do it right from scratch. And every time your hopes and dreams are shattered on the floor, you can see the reflection of something, possibly something better, in the shards that remain.


It's the way life works. You can't get up until you fall. You can't fix something until it's broken. You have to learn from experience.


Experience life. Sometimes you will succeed. If you are lucky, more often than not. Sometimes you will fail. But remember, that from failure, from that blown ski jump, bombed test grade, destroyed relationship, will come the understanding and power that will allow you to further build yourself. Your being exists because of your past.

So regret nothing, and throw yourself into the pool of life's experiences. You'll feel pretty damn refreshed when you do. And make sure that you accept your failures, because without them...then you're just a perfect little motherfucker, aren't you?

Current Mood: Dazed & Confused

Listening To: "Take A Picture" by Filter

Summer

So if anybody wants to do ANYTHING interesting anytime this summer, CALL ME-- 699-7838.


If the whole summer is this boring, I...don't know what I'll do...but seriously I'm bored, so call...



Current Mood: Blank

Listening To: "Cliffs of Dover" by Eric Johnson

Tomorrow (Is the First Day of the Rest of Our Lives)

I stole some quotes, apologies in advance.

It's not quite as amusing as "Advice, Like Youth, Probably Just Wasted on the Young", better known as the "Sunscreen Speech," but I think you'll get my intentions.


Here we go…

So tomorrow is the day, the big day, graduation. I've been looking forward to this for a long time, and, concurrently, wishing it never had to come. It really has snuck up quickly, the first day of Freshman year seems like eons ago, yet it seems like yesterday. I'd always wanted to give tribute to the memories of the last four years, so here is my personal valediction, my own adieu. Forgive me for being so pensive, but this is a moment too important to brush aside as just another day.

The sun is setting on another day of life. Sunsets are beautiful, at least that's what I have always thought. They're worth watching, taking the time to stop for a few minutes to reflect on what you've left behind during the last few hours, thinking about what you'll do next. This sunset is no exception, except that the day is extended into years, the hours months, the minutes the days past. So take some time to consider what you have accomplished the past few years, your successes, failures, and most importantly, experiences. The knowledge of life cannot be taught, cannot be learned academically through books, lectures, or study. It must be achieved through experience. Experience life and you will learn much.

Listen to music, music you like to hear. Music expresses that which words cannot, it is a universal language, a language spoken and understood by the soul. It will amplify your emotions, break the dams of the mind and allow your thoughts to flow, or lift you up when all hope is lost. Listen to my profile song and you'll feel what I am trying my best to say.

Dance. Sing. Scream at the top of your lungs. Express yourself. The life within you is worthless if you cannot establish yourself as an individual with thought and passion. Feel, and unleash your feelings. Don't create your own prison; allow your emotions to mingle with those of others. Relationships are established and maintained through feeling. If you can submerge yourself fully in the emotion of life, you will have good friends and a meaningful experience.

Take chances. Not unnecessary risks, risks that have no true benefit, but chances that may contribute to your life. Being overcautious will restrain your ability to live life to the fullest. I should know, I used to be that way, but am no longer. If you see a once-in-a-lifetime chance, grasp it and pull it close. I don't care what you believe in, no one knows where we go after this life, so it is important to confront those chances with welcoming arms. I believe in the Nike slogan. Just do it. Buy a Harley. Jump out of a plane. Ask her/him out. Just do it. It sounds cynical, but you just might die tomorrow, and your résumé wont help you in "the next life." So why the hell not?

Remember your past. For some, this is easier than others. For some, the past is filled with happiness and love, for some it is filled only with pain. Either way, you simply cannot have a future without a past. What you have learned, what you have lived through will always be a part of you, even if unconsciously. Remember where you lived, what you liked to do, your family, your friends. They shaped you, you are a part of them and them a part of you. Forgetting them and their contributions to your life will open a void and you will become empty, lacking a past, and, consequently, a meaningful future. Never regret doing, saying, or otherwise experiencing anything, because at the time, it was exactly what you wanted.

Smile. Enjoy life. Nobody is sure of how life came about, but as far as I'm concerned, it was intended that we have a good time with it. Absorb every sensation and appreciate it. Look at the bright side of things, be an optimist. As Andy Rooney said once, "Happiness depends more on how life strikes you than on what happens." Be happy, and smile— "Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing." You will be a more beautiful person with it.

Love. Allow others to love you. Life is valueless if you cannot unite with others, be it emotionally, mentally, physically. It is a collective experience whether you damn like it or not. In the words of John Lennon, "A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality." Live and let live, love and let love.

The sun has broken the horizon. Tomorrow is a new day for all of us, a day of years—I hope it will be a day filled with the magnificence of life for all of you. The world will not change, the stars will still glow, the waves will break in their endless rhythm, the NYSE will open at 10:00AM Eastern. But we will be different, permanently. So now, we say goodbye, until fate decides to bring us together again. I will miss seeing you all around, even if I disliked you. I will remember you; remember me. You were part of my experience, I a part of yours. But it's time to move on. Keep your eyes open, and your head up, with your past memories tucked safely into your back pocket. Take my advice, or leave it. I don't care. But remember my words, just in case.



I'll see you all tomorrow at Graduation Commencement. Goodnight and good luck.



-Kevin L. Krakauer


"Closing time, every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
- Dan Wilson, Semisonic

©2008 Kevin L. Krakauer

Current Mood: Sad

Listening To: "Graduation" by Vitamin C

I'M LEGAL!

I'M EIGHTEEN!!

LEGAL!! YEAH!!

Now What?

Current Mood: Awake

Listening To: "18 Till I Die" by Bryan Adams

The Final Week of High School

It's the final week of high school. I'm starting to miss y'all already...

Now is the time for me to post this, I'm sure you've all heard or read it before, but it is by far one of my favorite pieces of writing on graduation, and life. Enjoy.


"Advice, like you, probably just wasted on the young."
By Mary Schmich, Chicago Tribune, 01 June 1997



Inside every adult lurks a graduation speaker dying to get out, some world-weary pundit eager to pontificate on life to young people who'd rather be Rollerblading. Most of us, alas, will never be invited to sow our words of wisdom among an audience of caps and gowns, but there's no reason we can't entertain ourselves by composing a Guide to Life for Graduates.

I encourage anyone over 26 to try this and thank you for indulging my attempt.

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '08:

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

Current Mood: Accomplished

Listening To: "Into The Great Wide Open" by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers

Another Quote

Another deep quote, one I really like.

From "Now is Forever" by Eiffel 65:

"We should think about,
what we got right now,
cause the good things are made up of time.
smile to your problems,
leave the past behind.
never forget this.
find the truth in your soul,
keeping you alive.
going on from minute to minute.
don't shade the future,
with all that's behind.
live for today."

Current Mood: Tired

Listening To: "Now Is Forever" by Eiffel 65

The Ballad of Jimmy Buffett

Something everybody should read, Jimmy Buffett's autobiography in four hundred words or less:


"In four hundred words or less, this is what happened form early adolescence until now: I broke out of the grip of Catholicism and made it through adolescence without killing myself in a car. I flunked out of college. I learned to play the guitar, lived on the beach, lived in the French Quarter, finally got laid, and didn't go to Viet Nam. I got back into school, started a band, got a job on Bourbon Street, graduated from college, flunked my draft physical, broke up my band, and went out on the road solo. I signed a record deal, got married, moved to Nashville, had my guitars stolen, bought a Mercedes, worked at Billboard Magazine, put out my first album, went broke, wrecked the Mercedes, got divorced, and moved to Key West. I sang and worked on a fishing boat, went totally crazy, did a lot of dope, met the right girl, made another record, had a hit, bought a boat, and sailed away to the Carribean. I started another band, worked the road, had my second and last hit, bought a house in Aspen, started spending summers in New England, got married, broke my leg three times in one year, had a baby girl, made more records, bought a bigger boat, and sailed away to St. Barts. I got seperated from the right girl, sold the boat, sold the house in Aspen, moved back to Key West, worked the road, and made more records. I rented an apartment in Paris, went to Brazil for Carnival, learned to fly, went into therapy, quit doing dope, bought my first seaplane, flew all over the Carribean, almost got a second divorce, moved to Malibu for more therapy, and got back with the right girl. I worked the road, moved back to Nashville, took off in an F-14 from an aircraft carrier, bought a summer home on Long Island, had another baby girl. I found the perfect seaplane and moved back to Florida. Cameron Marley joined me in the house of women. I built a home on Long Island, crashed the perfect seaplane, lived through it thanks to Navy training, tried to slow down a little, woke up one morning and I was looking at fifty, trying to figure what comes next. You have to take the best from whatever the situation is and go on. That's the whole point of the music to me. All through American history populist singers and humorists have served as the nation's tickle spot, people like Will Rogers and Mark Twain. I see myself in that vein and fulfilling that sort of responsibility. I give people a few shots. It's as much a satirical pinprick as anything else. You just have to remind people of the day-to-day funny things. When I write songs, I look for interesting little innuendoes or pieces of situations everybody has experienced."

Current Mood: Relaxed

Listening To: "Bama Breeze" by Jimmy Buffett