We're Only At Home...

Damn, what happened? Things actually seemed to work out well this time. I got my permanent team assignment yesterday, and I think I lucked out. The people that I'm working with are all intelligent, dedicated, and capable (far more so that I, but I digress); I did not get stuck with any of the people that I did my best to avoid during the first three weeks of training.

But that's only half of it. What I was really wondering about was my project assignment. After a bit of suspense-building by Carly (my team leader), she finally revealed it to us:

Habitat for Humanity, New Orleans.

NEW FUCKING ORLEANS. Even before I became familiar with AmeriCorps, that's where I wanted to go. The city is still in need of massive amounts of reconstruction and cleaning.

So when Carly mentioned Habitat, I figured I knew what we were supposed to do. The ten of us would work with a couple construction professionals to build and refurnish a house, right? Wrong

The ten of us would be in charge of over a thousand volunteers, mostly college students, coming down for Alternative Spring Break on not one, but ten different project sites. Each of us would handle a hundred people, and would be the second-in-command behind the site supervisor.

Holy shit. How the hell am I going to lead a hundred people to build a house when I can't even figure my own shit out?

...Is Better Than The Way We Had It

Ever live in the midst of an epidemic? It's no fun. Apparently, the Denver Health Department has declared that our campus is the focal point of an epidemic of flu. Almost 1/4 of our Corps is infected, and we've all gotten free flu shots and prescriptions of Tamiflu. I've avoided it thus far though, so hopefully my immune system (which typically resembles that of an AIDS patient) has finally come through. The worst part isn't the illness though; it's the quarantine. Everybody who's been diagnosed has been forced to remain in their rooms for five days. Without internet, TV, and with a limited supply of palatable books...I would get cabin fever quite quickly.

This in-depth training that we're getting from Americorps is beginning to wear. Intellectually I understand the necessity of it; in order to accomplish the tasks that we might encounter over the next ten months, we're going to need to learn our assignments inside and out. That being said, there's a big part of me that wants to just grab a hammer and head down to New Orleans. Probably my chronic wanderlust acting up again.

In the unlikely event that anybody reads this damned thing, I can only get online very occasionally at places with free WiFi, since TLHU hit its heyday around 1930 or so and has gone steadily downhill ever since. For some reason, my cellphone is also having trouble finding reception, so don't call me either.

And That Rocky Mountain Way...

The internet at TLHU is somewhat unreliable (by which I mean it doesn't work at all) so I'm here in a coffee shop in Englewood leeching off its free Wi-Fi. With any luck, the campus IT guys will get off their asses and fix the connection...but somehow I doubt it. Thus, it's quite possible that this is the only place I'll be able to access the internet. Curses.

It's been a long week. I've learned to play football on a sheet of ice, drive a 15-passenger van safely (an absolute 65-mph speed limit? Say it ain't so!) and find my way around Denver via bus and light rail.

Anyway. Yesterday we headed out to Boulder, Colorado. This might be one of the coolest towns I've ever been to. It sits right at the base of the Rocky Mountains (that's not an exaggeration either; a quarter-mile out of town and you're heading up through mountain passes) and is a popular destination for ski bums and all those who love strenuous physical activity. Naturally, we couldn't pass the opportunity by. We went hiking. Up a mountain.

Now I know what comes to mind when people who have never been out West hear that phrase. They picture a mildly exerting walk up rolling hills on dirt trails. Before this week, that's what I would've thought too. Not so much. Rather, it was a tough hike up through trails that were not only narrow, but rocky. With cliffs on one side. Oh, did I mention that they were covered with ice? Yep, it was dangerous and very tough.

And I loved it.

Me, of all people. Me, who has a fondness amounting to a passion for unhealthy food and beer. Me, who has been known to drive two blocks rather than walk. When I finally made it down from that mountain, my shoes were soaked through. My legs felt like rubber. Were it not for my buddy Nick's quick reflexes, I would've slid down one of the cliffs. I was more physically exhausted than at any time in the last couple years.

But goddamn, I was proud. I don't even know of what, precisely; it was only a three-mile round trip, and I accomplished it with no amount of grace or skill. For some reason though, that didn't matter. I had made it.

Here's hoping that trend continues.

Rocky Mountain High

February 6, 2008

Teikyo Loretta Heights University

Denver, CO

I have been in Denver for almost three days, but have seen almost nothing of the city itself. Apart from a brief excursion meant to certify us as drivers of Americorps’ 12- and 15-passenger vans, we have spent all of our time on campus getting trained to be Corps members. The campus we’re using, Teikyo Loretta Heights, was formerly a female Catholic college in the early part of the century. It was closed, then purchased by Japanese investors and converted as housing and education for Japanese transfer students. It is also the headquarters of Americorps’ Central Region, overseeing operations in fifteen states in the Midwest, as well as the Gulf Coast region.

So that’s what I’ve been doing: receiving instruction on the Americorps program and the ins and outs of full-time service. I’ve signed up to be interviewed regarding a position on the wildfire teams, which are deployed around the Midwest to combat and suppress the wildfires that are all too common…I’m not sure whether or not I want to do that yet.

Other than that, I’m truly amazed at the ease with which everybody is coming together as a group. I don’t know whether it’s the goal we have in common, or whether it is just good luck, but everybody that I’ve met so far is amazingly friendly and willing to talk. My typical quietness/shyness has yet to show its face, and it’s a pleasant surprise. Perhaps this is exactly what I needed to finish it off once and for all. Here’s hoping.

We went up to Red Rocks, the legendary amphitheater built by Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s National Conservation Corps (the predecessor to the program that I’m currently in). I think I did more physical activity sprinting up the many, many steps than I’ve done in the last three years…but it was a good feeling (after I was able to stop worrying about an impending coronary). It’s a spectacular venue, and I sincerely hope I’ll be able to see some good shows there this year (Rush?! Zeppelin?!). The gods of rock willing…

The Deep Breath Before The Plunge

Gate C-51

Pittsburgh International Airport

I love airports. Not every aspect of them, mind you; the security checkpoint is enough to make even the most patient of men entertain thoughts of violence and bloodshed. It doesn’t help that your average TSA employee is either way past the age of retirement or seemingly fresh from the halfway house. But I digress. I love airports, and always have. There’s just something that appeals to my sense of adventure and wanderlust when I read the departure boards and the signs at the gates. I mean, hell...from where I am right now I could board flights to Chicago, Phoenix, Baltimore (yeah, right), Washington DC…and those are only the destinations I saw on the way to my gate. The potential for adventure is endless; one or two connections and I could get to pretty much any civilized point in the world.

It never pays to be early. I learned that lesson this morning. Monday mornings tend to be among the busiest times to fly, so I figured that I’d get to the airport a good two hours early, giving me plenty of time to clear security, grab breakfast, do my customary lap around the concourses, and board. However, I was able to finish getting searched in ten minutes thanks to the alternate checkpoint across the street, plus my flight was delayed a half hour. Now I’m sitting at the gate typing this crap, trying to convince myself to start reading Kerouac, and looking askance at the heavy fog that is slowly creeping this way as we speak.

Everything hit me this morning as I was crawling out of bed. I should be surprised that it took me that long to really comprehend what I’m about to do…but I’m not. Here goes. I’m about to spend the next ten months out in the Midwest and Gulf Coast with 400 people that I’ve never met, almost all of whom are years older, more experienced, and more capable than I. I will be doing various service projects that require skills that I do not possess. To do this, I have given up three semesters of college (which, by the way, I have no clue where or how to make up) as well as ten months of my life.

As they say, it’s a bit too late to back out now. Here we go.

(Oh nice, airport WiFi. Great success.)

Wrapping Up

Some assorted things that I've been thinking about on my last night in Pittsburgh.

1) The Giants won the Super Bowl, and I CALLED THAT SHIT. They did it exactly how I predicted they would too: pressuring Tom Brady and avoiding mistakes by Eli Manning. I am a genius. Never thought the Patriots of all teams would become choke artists, but far be it from me to complain.

2) It's 11:10 PM, I have to be at the airport in seven hours and oddly enough I'm almost completely packed. One rather large duffel stuffed to the gills and a backpack...not too bad.

3) I really do want to keep up this journal thing throughout my term of service. Depending on where I am and what I'm doing, I might not always have Internet access. In that case, I'll type up entries and so forth on MS Word and then just copy-paste them into here. If that happens, what I shall do is create headings outlining the date and location when I actually do type them up, rather than the automatic heading on here. (Thus, depending on the situation, I might be uploading four or five entries on the same day, even though they span a week or two of real time.) Got it? Okay.

Right. Seven hours. Time to go to bed.

Regarding Guitars

And now for something completely different.

According to Rolling Stone, the average rock fan spends almost 5 hours per year in arguments relating to the best guitarist in history. There are many names that are invoked, and rightfully so: Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, Eddie Van Halen, and the rest. Many unbelieveable guitarists out there rarely have their names mentioned in such discussions. The reasons for this are varied, but I see no reason to stick with the status quo.

Thus, I present my list of the Top Five Underrated Guitarists

1) Alex Lifeson - Rush

2) Mark Knopfler - Dire Straits

3) Tom Scholz - Boston

4) Neil Schon - Journey/Santana

5) Leslie West - Mountain