Climb Every Mountain (Even If You Hate It)

My grandpa had a saying: "I like banging my head against the wall because it feels so good when I stop." I always took it as a joke. Because you know what feels better than that? Not hitting your head in the first place.

Last weekend, some friends were climbing a mountain under the "full moon"* following several successive snowstorms. It's considered a relatively easy hike without snow, maybe 2 miles of switchbacks and nothing really steep. So I went along (I really like the moon).

But it was late, and overcast, and my companions' legs were about twice as long as mine, and the dog kept stepping on my snowshoes and knocking me over. Overall, it was kind of an ordeal.

At the top, someone shared their beverage with the rest of us, who had not thought to bring anything to drink. I was sweaty and out of breath, and that first sip tasted like sweet, delicious heaven.

That seemed to be the general reaction to this quenching of thirst, and a conversation arose about the merits of deprivation. Someone told a story about some guy who had been without food in the wilderness for days and when he arrived at his food supply, a chocolate bar made him weep with joy.

In the days that followed, I saw that mountain in the distance and thought about how nice it was to be doing whatever I was doing then instead of stumbling uphill in snow, silently cursing my fate. I still have not decided whether I'm glad I went, or whether I believe that hardship can be gratifying enough to seek it out on purpose. Life is hard enough. Or is it that, for some, it's not hard enough?

Haiku for a Difficult Climb

Sure, this sucks now, but
What is the point of comfort
If that's all you've known?

*It was two days after the full moon, but don't tell that to a certain hike organizer who didn't believe me.

Chip off the old block?

Either/Or

This post comes from longtime reader, first-time contributor Hunter James.

I had dinner with my dad the other day. It was nice to see him and catch up since I haven’t seen him since Christmas. We discussed how school was going for me and he regaled me with updates on his health. He lost his job that day. He seemed pretty sad about it. He’s probably also worried and scared, but we didn't touch on those feelings. Typical evening for us.

However, as we were leaving, he said he had to use the bathroom - as did I - so I said, that’s a good idea. He went into the men’s room and I was left conflicted - follow my dad into the men’s room or use the women’s room. I chose neither. When he came out, he asked if I had gone and I replied that I was having a hard time reconciling bathrooms lately. He made some comment about public bathrooms, completely missing my point. I didn't reply. I couldn't find the words to explain to him my feelings and so didn't. Then when we were saying our goodbyes, he called me by my old name; called me his girl. Again, I remained silent. Walking away, I beat myself up for missing this opportunity for self-advocacy and promised myself that next time I’d have some words to say.

Haiku for transition

A ghost of myself
Trapped between realities
Who am I again?

Pair of Hearts

You'd think, given my recent experience with re-watching Purple Rain, that I would go into watching Grease expecting some surprising revelations about how this favorite film from my formative years shaped who I am today.

But I was mostly too distracted by the overacting, overt misogyny, and disco influence on Travolta's dancing to notice much more than "Hey, those T-birds are some snappy dressers."

Until I got to this scene:

I don't know how I didn't make this connection before, but I almost have Kenickie's exact tattoo.

For the rest of the movie, I kept an eye out for what else I had internalized from time spent with Rydell High's inhabitants. Definitely the boys' fashion sense and not, thankfully, their contributions to rape culture. A sexual proclivity for hot rods and their drivers. A deep yearning for a date who can dance or at least strut.

And the lyrics to this song:

Haiku for Hopeless Devotion

My head is saying, 

"Fool, forget him." My heart is 

saying, "Don't let go."

One of Us

Before coming to this tiny New England town, I couldn't have guessed how welcoming and restorative it would be after more than a decade in major cities. As much as I can claim any geographic place of origin, it was rural and suburban Minnesota, which I experienced as oppressive and depressing. Cities provided the noise, distraction, and adrenaline I needed to feel safe and alive. But I still felt isolated, in love with something I was not a part of.

Friday night, after a screening of Rock-n-Roll High School, I helped lead a Ramones sing-a-long in a church-turned-theater, the pews filled with friends and assorted weirdos belting out "Sheena Is a Punk Rocker" at top volume. It was one moment of many over the last two years that have felt like my life come full-circle. You don't even know in how many ways.

I might grow restless here and find my way to broader horizons, but in a world where connection and community have been so hard to come by, I'm content for now to just soak up the love and wear a mullet wig at every opportunity.

Haiku for February 7, 2014

In a former church
I finally feel at home
Gabba gabba hey

Circa 2002, Chicago. Foreshadowing.

Played Out

So there's this game, and you probably know about it, and right on the box it says it's "for horrible people." But I've mostly played it with extremely lovely people who work hard to not hurt others with their words and actions. Is that what makes the game fun? Someone please explain.

Haiku for Game Night

Conscious queers playing
Cards Against Humanity:
Laughter and shame face

There are way worse examples than this. Way worse.

Rock/Stars

Last night I slept on the day bed (in case my mattress is what makes my shoulders hurt all the time), which is near a large window with a view of the town I live in, and the mountain that stands above it, and the sky above that. And in those long, lonely minutes before falling asleep, I had the following thought.

Haiku for February 3, 2014

Someday I will stop
Thinking about my damn self
And dream about stars.