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Jul. 2nd, 2003
That not-so-fresh feeling?
Jul. 2nd, 2003 01:03 pmOk, before heading off into the guide to following one's bliss... another story.
Adrian, from colege, did a summer archeology dig in the Aleutians, with Lucy. (It has been my great regret that I didn't take Intro Anthro with her, since she was noted for demonstrating flint-napping in class.) Adrian recounts the story of being in the Aleutians for the summer, appparently not bathing much - out of modesty - and because the available water was Just Too Cold (and salty). After two weeks, her hair started looking good again - natural oils and all. When she had her first shower on the mainland, the white porcelain was blackened with her filth. Her mom didn't let her bring most of her dig clothing into the house. It went straight into the trash. She described this matter of factly, not horrified, because, in truth, she had a great time stranded on a remote Arctic island with a nutty professor. (Since her telling, I've been to Burning man, and China, and the primitive conditions are not nearly so squikful.)
The dig began shortly after an infamous campaign for some feminine hygiene product. Adrian recounts walking on the beach, during a frigid sunset, turning to the comparatively wisened-crone of Lucy: "Have you ever had that not-so-fresh feeling?"
RTO's use of the word "fresh" sparked this memory. A first step towards bliss is to break out of the routine of just trying to get through the day. Wear something different, walk down a new block. As an API trained (weekly) publisher, I've learned to vary my commute, see as much of my territory as possible when I'm not actually scouting for a story. Fits in fairly well with the lunchtime Artist seminar today, exhorting us to live in the present, keep senses receptive to new ideas.
Allow yourself pleasure. "Too much of a good thing is wonderful." RTO sorta skips explaining how life-maintenance duties become regularly novel a la Mae West. Perhaps her point is: start now, not after your chores are done.
Novel observation: I have found out where the fuzzy gray goslings went! They've developed sort of lower contrast goose coloring and grown enough to pass for small adult geese. Would I have noticed more than a blur of birds had traffic not been at a standstill yesterday?
Adrian, from colege, did a summer archeology dig in the Aleutians, with Lucy. (It has been my great regret that I didn't take Intro Anthro with her, since she was noted for demonstrating flint-napping in class.) Adrian recounts the story of being in the Aleutians for the summer, appparently not bathing much - out of modesty - and because the available water was Just Too Cold (and salty). After two weeks, her hair started looking good again - natural oils and all. When she had her first shower on the mainland, the white porcelain was blackened with her filth. Her mom didn't let her bring most of her dig clothing into the house. It went straight into the trash. She described this matter of factly, not horrified, because, in truth, she had a great time stranded on a remote Arctic island with a nutty professor. (Since her telling, I've been to Burning man, and China, and the primitive conditions are not nearly so squikful.)
The dig began shortly after an infamous campaign for some feminine hygiene product. Adrian recounts walking on the beach, during a frigid sunset, turning to the comparatively wisened-crone of Lucy: "Have you ever had that not-so-fresh feeling?"
RTO's use of the word "fresh" sparked this memory. A first step towards bliss is to break out of the routine of just trying to get through the day. Wear something different, walk down a new block. As an API trained (weekly) publisher, I've learned to vary my commute, see as much of my territory as possible when I'm not actually scouting for a story. Fits in fairly well with the lunchtime Artist seminar today, exhorting us to live in the present, keep senses receptive to new ideas.
Allow yourself pleasure. "Too much of a good thing is wonderful." RTO sorta skips explaining how life-maintenance duties become regularly novel a la Mae West. Perhaps her point is: start now, not after your chores are done.
Novel observation: I have found out where the fuzzy gray goslings went! They've developed sort of lower contrast goose coloring and grown enough to pass for small adult geese. Would I have noticed more than a blur of birds had traffic not been at a standstill yesterday?