2010, a revisit

how can one quantify life? the number of cheeseburgers eaten? how many friends you have? the ease of living?

I always subscribed to the idea that we are built of our experiences. Our souls are shaped by the experiences of life. As Lisa Simpson once told Bart, "nobody is born with a soul [it must be] earn[ed] through suffering and thought and love."


Looking back over the past year is an enormous endeavor. On the first, I entered 2011 much as I entered the world: sick, naked, confused and uncomfortable. Since then, my home was filled memoriums from the past. Reminiscing over shared experiences has brought our Ghosts - souls- closer together. Sharing the new events in our lives and creating even newer ones.

To stretch the growth analogy further, much as life most likely originated on the rock shores of the primordial sea. This year starts in the tumultuous turmoil of uncertain, war, economic and political strife. Yet, even now society evolves legs, lungs, eyes. Maybe it will develop means to communicate and work together with it's dissenting parts.

By title, you expected some sorta list of greatest and worst moments. At the very least a fictionalization of 2010 to reminisce about in 2011.Well, you thought wrong. Actually, I was going to. But I'm way to lazy for that... so enjoy this picture instead

Also, if you haven't already, you should vote down below (it's on the side bar). I'll update on Sunday based on the responses.
-love and peace, Marcus Miranti

A day in the life of Marcus

Oct. 28 2010

Today I participated in a psychological study!
For this particular study involved an EEG. for those not in the know, EEG stands for electroencephalogram. Not being proficient in greek (or is it latin?) I looked it up and was surprised to find it means exactly what I expected: A tool that records and measures the electrical activity in the brain through carefully placed electrodes.
Despite how it looks, the EEG cap is, in fact, not very comfortable. In order for the electrodes to detect the minute, split-second actions of your synapses, a specialized goo is placed between the electrode and where it contacts your head. After having my head thoroughly slathered with dielectric grease, I got to sit in front of a computer monitor and be recorded as I "played" some "games." I mean to use ironic quotes, because the "games" consisted of counting  and "played" refers to typing one of four keys. But thats not important.

I hardly felt much during the test, though at times I felt ...lightheaded? no, like when you get a whole bunch of hair cut off after having a shaggy do for awhile. A lightness around my scalp but offset by the presence of the cap. It was how imagined it would feel to have your mind read. A numb probe at the threshold of your perception like an evasive thought playing hide-n-seek in your mind.

Later, after the tests, the researcher took me to a place where I could shampoo the gel out. A nice young lady. thick brown curls peeking out from her red knit Cyclone hat.  She wants to study Biological Psychology which she attempted to explain to me in too short a time in too brief a conversation. While we walked and talked I felt the presence of the gel more. To me, I felt like my cognitive abilities, my thoughts where more subdued than usual. A short, if you will. Perhaps it is my active imagination, but I think that gel was interfering with my thinking. I cleaned my head and walked home (actually I biked, but walking sounds better). Once cleared of goo, I felt normalized.

...until this evening. You see, I made the mistake of scheduling this participation on the same day as my Psych Exam. Fortunately, the two events were, like, 10 hours apart so... no worries. I only mention this because during my exam I felt a familiar pang. The jab of electrodes. This time hot like a fresh bruise. These pangs weren't accompanied with that numb, airy feeling. No. Now separated from the grease, the ghostly electrodes pushed tangibly against my cranium. It was very distracting.

thanks for reading
-W. Marcus Miranti

Good day!

firstly, the good news.
The rives peaked at 19.88ft and 18.13ft yestermorning just under record for the Skunk and Squaw respectively (20.93 and 18.54).  Inversely, the lowest the river(s) have very been recorded was 1.60ft for the skunk and .38ft for the squaw. I'm certain a drought would be worse.
Unfortunately, the local water tower and the water treatment plant are still offline. (i guess the water tower emptied itself out of fear when the flood hit) So I've only hydrostatic pressure for fausets and the city strongly recommends boiling water for consumption. Only thing is that Friday predicts more rain. I took a meterology class in highschool which i draw on now. The Barimetric pressure seems to be stable but humidity and tempature continue to steadily climb. I don't know what more rain could bring.

Flood day

People running frantically around town, in desperate search for a river crossing. Cars. It's all cars now. Very little foot traffic. the pedestians find it easy to effect a fording. Their reliance is on their cars. Combustion powered, reinforced suspention, variable speed transmission with no-slip traction control that automaticly adjusts wheel speed to maintain optimal control. all shyed from water-bound bridges.

Ok, it's less a failure of technology or people's interface, rather the authorities closed roots to civilian traffic just the same. Ames, my current home town, underwent a deluge. Rain, Rain ever several days. Rain on the road, rain on the river, rain all over the place.  The river spilled it's banks and ran ashore. I dominated the landscape (waterscape) today. It continues to rise. And for the sake of safety authority ristricked access to the major downtowny areas.

I wasn't able to snap dramatic pictures like this one. Most of the pictures from the local paper are quite dramatic. They depict only the most affected areas. But what else should one suspect. All the dry places, people and homes are not the worry or interest. Ames has two rivers that collide into one, just north a few, short block from the above picture. Squaw Creek runs into the west Skunk river where they become the north Skunk River as they run through Des Moines. 

As a rule, one should be wary of build at the confluence of rivers.

But the real issue here is the failure of Ames Munisiple. Waste water is running into the water treatment plant. The Ames Power plant is centrally located in the middle of town.

there.
If it goes underwater, we'll most likely lose power.
Or not.
As American has this thing called a power grid. Where electricities are linked in series such that if one fails or needs to be brought off line the area can maintain power. or something like that. I wouldn't say "failure" either, I'm sure a day or two will see water treatment reactivated. Since i can boil water with or without electricity, I won't worry about me. The Only misfortune of this event I've suffered is not being able to play with the kittens at the local animal shelter.

I don't think i've ever seen someone portage a bike before

'till tomorrow.
-marcus
 

words of wisdom

Looking for someplace to masturbate. -Ancient proverb meaning "spiritually lost"

Daily

It was brought to my attention t'other day that prehaps i wasn't posting on my blog 'oft enough. THANK YOU, Ruby! for the insperational encouragement (hows the choir going?)

Anyhoo, I guess i'm well under my mark for promised posts. thats for sure. By my count i'm only 8 behind schedule after this post.

i suppose i should practice my fictional writings. But their sooooo bleedin' hard. that i thought i'd post my feelings, questions and concerns (san the "s")

Feeling:
afraid and unsure.
my fortune cookie said:

"you find beuaty in ordenary things. do not lose this ablity in bed."

makes me ever so much more ponderant.
also i'm very distracti-

Question:
Have you ever done something that you thought:

"this is a bad idea"

and asked what does it have to do with where i am now in life?
Could it really be called bad?

Concern:
I fear I have an affinity to erasure. everything i do is seemingly plagued by incompleteness and hasty editing. however, i feel that it is also a strength. I can remain conceptually attached to writings and expression during and post revision despite drastic changes both with the style and word (or other hard-to-name devises). hmm. I guess i'll simply need to erase my eraser.

tomarrow: MUNCHAUSEN (a revisial)

-marcus

Adventures in a time of Marc

Aloha, faithful readers. Sorry about the infrequence of posts these days; (as with all days) My life has been interesting the last couple, so i hope the populus will forgive me.

-the following post has been posted on the fly; as such it is incomplete. stay tuned-

I wasn't going to post the life and time of my world here upon this page, rather i'd plan to post some more scribblings. However this correspondence will, assuredly, be fantastic reading (with the bombastic entrance concluded).

Wednesday was fun. I started that day by opening my first shift at a local, delicious bakery. All well and good. regular, early, if few, hours compared to my older job as a cook at the bistro, Monica's. the contrast of the two eatries are as different as the hours. From long and irregular night and weekend shifts (monica's) to early and ridged shifts (bagels). the later lacked regulation, perfering the empolyed to mange the bistro as it pleased. lose codes of conduct and an air of recreation unique to private establishments. The bakery, like a dove to a magpie, is rigulously formulatic. exactly eight hour shifts with a clear distinction between 'freetime' and work time. Yet, greater organization means more effectency, more opprotunities for an apt worker to be compencated.

What waits in store for our hero? next time on Ninja Chef Marcus: A Tale of Two Roles or Watch Out, Papika!

So that brings us to thursday which was spent stressed and agiated about the choices that brought our fair traveller to the rocky crests of Michigan. (which is a boring story)

moving on,

the weekend brought, for me, fun and friends as i watched two dear one enter the legal tradition of matrimony.