Thursday, March 23, 2006

To Beauty and Truth, 250 miles at a time

CDOT.

Doesn't mean much to you.

Colorado Department of Transportation.

They save our lives when it snows. They keep the I-70 corridor free of snow as much as humanly and snow plowly possible.

And they have a great logo:



It is based on the Colorado state flag:


You see, CDOT stands for Colorado Department of Transportation.

It's logo is based on the state flag.

The state flag is a "C" and a "Dot"!

Now that's self-reinforcement!

Now that's the kind of thoughts you get driving the I-70 corridor twice a week!

To Beauty, Dr. Zeger! To truth!

I'm going to be (Ctrl +) r ich

A suggestion:

"Ctrl + r " to refresh the page.

Another suggestion: No matter how vehemently my dad suggests the check for the royalties of the "Ctrl + r" usage should go to him because of his self proclaimed "creator" status, it shouldn't. The proof is in the fact that he thinks that a check is generated each time those buttons are pushed.

On Being Transient

I have been called elusive. Cheap. Fat. And Lazy.

And Brilliant.

When I returned to the Square State from Charm City, it was in the middle of the academic year. More problematic, I was intending to go right back to the City of Charm after 5 months of being back in the Square State. This would mean I would need to find some weird sub-lease or bite bullets to the tune of 800 dollars a month to rent a studio apartment with a sweet premium. The studio idea was manageable, but my business in Denver was only 3 days a week, and I wanted to spend a lot of time on the Western Slope and the I-70 corridor and the I-haven't-been-snowboarding-in-12-years slopes (and your hearts); and spending a lot of money to live somewhere for 3 days a week seemed ludicrous.

So, I went with an option so much more ludicrous that it just.

Might.

Work.



I decided to become a Transient whilst in Denver. In Grand Junction as well, I would not just stay with my parents but with friends as well. A couch crasher. And if the Mrs. Is willing, a home wrecker.

Before I left for Baltimore, I hatched a plan of being a couch crasher. I had a long list of friends that had roofs, heat, and showers that they'd be willing to share for 3 days or so, especially with a pal that just got back from a 6 month internship on the Eastern seaboard.

I was blessed (and condemned) when a professor of mine in Denver suggested housesitting for her while she was out of the country. Blessed, because it was a month of rent I didn't have to pay (or couch crash), and condemned because it made the amount of time to rent a place in Denver even more ludicrous (4 months...The place with the studio had 3 month leases and 5 month leases. Thanks, AMLI!).

Anyway, I sold my overheating Honda and invested in a Subaru Legacy Outback. A couple years newer, forty thousand miles fewer, an existent rear wiper, a Yakima RocketBox, two more doors, and air conditioning is the sum of the switch. I needed a vehicle that I could afford financially that itself could afford to have a bunch of miles put on it in a hurry: round trip each week is 500 miles, plus whatever driving I do while in town.

One protester of this plan proclaimed that it would be more expensive to do this than to just rent a place. Not so. I've done the calculations. Oil changes, new tires, OK GO! cds, gasoline (dinosaur bones, Mr. Cash), and grocery/meals for the host and hostess still comes to less than keeping a place.

Plus, it is a lot more sociable. This taciturn catepillar is slowly turning into a social butterfly.


I am learning about the great hospitality of my friends and gaining a little bit of solidarity with my transient brothers. I fully recognize I am not as bad off as many of them, since I am some bloated fat American white preppie that has a car, a lap-top, credit cards accepted by Chipotle and Wi-Fi friendly (free o' charge) Panera Bread Co., friends with showers, and a 24 hour gym membership that allows showers and mirror checks to preserve my vanity. I am closely monitoring my emotional state, as I have been advised that not having a home can cause identity crises and loss of bowel/bladder/sinus control.

Whoever I am just crapped/pissed/snotted on this public library keyboard.


-*-

I'll try to write up little observations of this life as I go along, but if I do not my saving grace is in Physics: we cannot know both the position and speed of certain particles because measuring one affects the other. So I cannot both record life and keep living it.

My friend Boston

I know 75% of the rescued. The other 25% I know was in the Army and earns a living ultimate fighting.

I love this story. There are so many little pot-shots. There are so many little gems. My favorite is the dad who steps in to save his son's political career with apologies and mula.

The ski-poles were borrowed. For crying out loud! This is journalism. These are the facts.

I will post soon two other favorite stories that demonstrate great journalism in a small town in a square state.