A Fond Farewell

Capoeira Boulder – my how I will miss you. You taught me to stand on my head, to walk on my hands, to show gravity who’s da boss. You taught me that it is ok to wear white, to tuck in my shirt, and kick some major ass. Yes, how I will miss you.

I discovered one of my old leather bound journals as I was packing up my room yesterday. Thumbing through the well traveled pages, I came across this entry dated

July 24^th, 2001:

“…One of the best experiences I’ve had on this trip happened a few days ago when my half cousin Laurent took Alec, I, and a few of his friends to a jazz festival in Fribourg (Switzerland). The festival ended up being a kind of Brazilian themed street party, with tons of great music and food. I experienced my first Brazilian concert huddled in a mass of Europeans in the middle of the city square. For hours I danced and sang, listening to the rhythmic beat of Chico César. It was an experience I definitely want to relive.

…After the concert, I watched a group of Brazilians perform one of the most beautiful martial art forms I’ve ever seen. It is a kind of dance where the combatants mimic punches, kicks, and other various strikes—all driven by a dance like stance and accompanied by many gymnastic feats. Most of my free time is taken up with martial arts, and this form known as Capwayda (yes this is how I spelled it) is definitely the most beautiful and one I now feel inspired to learn.”

Amazing how things come back into your life. I completely forgot that I ever had this sentiment, and find myself – years later – living that tucked away desire. I fully admit to a love for this sport, and truly look forward to more rodinhas in the Black Rome of Brazil.

I Am

The personal life deeply lived always expands into truths beyond itself. This is my crux and cornerstone. I am a life lived with profundity and passion, a myriad of personas expanding free into this beautiful world. I am many things to many people, a shard of glass reflecting the color and complexity of the outside within the in. I am a lover and a poet—someone who enjoys the taste of creativity, and the muse that wakes it from its slumber. I am a warrior and a fighter, strength unwavered, a rock born solid in the torrent of the sea. I believe in the search for truth, and the humility to recognize that my path is not the only way. I believe in embracing my masculinity, without apology, and living up to the King that I am. I live what I love, seek that which I will, and expand to what is and what will be.

Stream of Thought

I am sprawled out on my bed in the basement of the Yale house. Winter is upon the Boulder community, and a hoodie, socks, and my thick roupas da cama are necessary to keep warm. I woke late into the morning today. There is something about a cold bedroom that keeps one huddled under the blankets, unwilling to face the present and ever so blistery looming day.

I am a tight little maelstrom of emotion. It feels odd to approach my departure date, to say goodbye to this little mountain town. In the year and a half that I have been here, I have met, cuddled, and produced a number of satisfying relationships. I have run the path of wild abandon – both animal and human – through mountain streams, flowered pastures, savoring little scenic delights of the Colorado countryside. I have discovered chai tea, Nepalese cuisine, Capoeira Angola. I have enjoyed a diverse form and function of living.

I am, albeit slight, a delicate vibration, a person conflicted. I am struck with two wayward directions—the desire to remain, to stay, to build; and the desire to go—to throw off my shackles of routine and stability, to see and taste and feel all of the world.
I know that my time looms to settle down, invest myself in one job, one profession, and one place. I know that for financial success, this is necessary.

But the time is not now. Not quite now. Half of me resides in another world. A world of palm trees and chaos, acarajé and vitality. The world is full of abundance, of culture and thought, and I am swept up in it. The walls are just too big to build my house.

On work….wow, how crazy it has been. I got a call yesterday morning that Aspen Grove – the online grocery business I have been employed for – is finally going under. I knew this was coming. The place is a quagmire of dysfunction. I have watched, grinning in puzzlement, the big cheese owner make one silly decision after another. I have watched a man, with years of higher business education, fail at the most basic business principle--connect with people. The guy is a social moron at best, with little personal or marketing skills. Not only was he incapable of properly connecting to our customer base, but he had an uncanny ability to drive away his employees as well. Really drives the point home that learning how to deal with people is the most valuable skill I can learn.

One benefit to the shutdown, free food, in abundance, on a level never heard of before. About a week ago our work freezer lost power and got up to 40 degrees. The food was not spoiled, but due to liability issues we were unable to sell. That means free food for me! In the last week, I have brought home over $5000 in gourmet steaks, Alaskan cod, salmon, fruit pies, organic frozen dinners, over 50 pizzas, etc. My brothers and I made an emergency hardware run, buying and filling two massive storage freezers in the garage. Friends, roommates, everyone stands to benefit. And the funny thing is, I get hardly ounce of it! I’m leaving in two weeks and will never even get a chance to sample all the food! Haha, oh well. At least its good to feel patrimonial.

So leaving. Yeah, I am excited. I dream of Brazil every night. I will be staying with a surfer, and look forward to a little romance with my favorite goddess of the sea when I arrive. I have been buying a number of educational materials on business, hoping to increase my vocabulary on the craft of making money. Brazil will indeed test these skills. I hope to get work in a language school or as a private English teacher. God knows that I am a verbal kind of guy. And wouldn’t it be nice to actually use a bit of my brain on a professional level again (menial labor bahhhhh. No more!).

And tattoos….oh the tattoos. Yes, I am in love with ink. Good ink. People that are smart, whose intelligence and creativity in this world are reflected in their tattoos. I believe that the more time you put into a project, the better it will come out. Quite a natural thing really. Most people put little time in their tattoos, and the quality reflects that. Each of my projects I have spent months on design, redesign, body placement and style planning. Like a good piece of writing (this one notwithstanding), it takes draft after draft to produce anything of value. Witness my next project, Borneo Tribal Dragons on my arms and upper pecks. Borneo Tribal Polynesian is my favored style. It is bold, simple, easy to maintain, and a testament to a remarkable indigenous craft. My next ink session starts in January, at Bingha tattoo in Brazil. God I can’t wait.

So enough of random thoughts.

Work in Oklahoma coming soon. Then Brazil. Then more life in all of its glorious splendor. Until then.

Ah minha cidade, here I come!

Pic This! -- Halloween and Michigan Treats

So I discovered something this year. Halloween--amazing! Somehow running around as an adult with eye makeup and red britches proved more fun than the childhood pursuit of candy. Witness a couple of pics of me as Papa Satan and my gang of little red devils.

Yale House, Party in Hell. We are getting big.

And limos. Mix with caffeine, olives, and vodka, and you've got a sure fire mix for a rockstar.

After Halloween, I finally took the much anticipated trip
back to Michigan--to see old friends and jump around the well
aged haunts yet again. The trip, on the whole, felt
rather surreal. Running around Plainwell, Kzoo, and
our favorite back country portals, I admit
to a strong and palpable stirring of remembrance,
fond or otherwise. It was an amazing venture,
to stare into the eyes of old ghosts and strengthen memories
before I leave for Brazil.

Bests friends since middle school, Eric and Jonathon, my forever companions.

And who could forget the woods, fertile playground for my youngest memories.

How nice to run around and remember. J-Dog and Me in the Daniels Woods.

The Gravel Pit. Nuf' Said.

Eric and I finished off the trip with our Green Top, Ol' Style, Drunk by noon day.

And so many lovely visitors. Liza and the rest.

Truly good show. And great way to say goodbye for a time. I remain
on the path of a unpredictable and unknown future. I continue to wander,
unbound and unbidden, a ghost explorer in this world.

Ring of Fire

Here’s one for the books.

So I hike up to my mountain cabin with my good friend Jessica last night. We both were happy to get away from the rat race for a day, and were looking forward to a night out in Dream Canyon. After running up and down the stream, and exploring bits and pieces of the property, we decided to settle in for the night. Struck with a bit of post supper munchies, we grabbed a pack of Ritz Southwestern Chips and started chowing down. A few minutes later, as we were sitting and talking in the loft, we both were struck by a strong burning sensation on our lips. Out of no where, Jessica suddenly screamed and grabbed her face with her hands. Something from the chips had gotten in her eyes. She started to freak out, and tried desperately to grope for the ladder leading down from the loft. I was taken aback by her hysterics, but helped her get outside and pour water into her eyes. She continued, for a good twenty minutes, to cry and scream and grab her face. I didn’t understand why she was freaking out the way she was and didn’t know what to do.

About fifteen minutes later, after things had calmed down, I too suddenly started to notice a burning sensation on my hands, my face, and in my eyes. I felt, almost instantly, that someone had hit me in the face with a bat. I suddenly lost my vision, couldn’t open my eyes because of the searing blinding pain, and grasped desperately trying to find my way outside. For twenty minutes, I poured over a gallon of water in my eyes. I literally was unable to see, and was panting from shortness of breath. The pain calmed down a bit, and we both sat back wondering what the hell had just happened. But before long, another round hit us and we ran outside again. This second burn was even worse from the first, and we both were incapacitated.

Finally, after a good 30 minutes, we decided to try and drive home and get in the shower. Waiting until I could see somewhat properly, we got in the car and whisked our asses back into Boulder. Parts of our body – our faces, hands, arms – continued to burn. Anywhere my hands had made contact with my skin started to turn red and swell up. When I got in the shower, the oil or whatever the substance was continued to spread and I fought another fitful round of burning and pain.

So yeah, true story. I woke up this morning with a nasty headache and parts of my body stilled burned. I have no idea what was in those chips, but it was certainly something beyond your everyday pepper. I wrote the company a quick email explaining our reaction to their product. Hopefully they will look into the matter. I can’t begin to imagine how a child would respond to this material.

And really, while I’m on the subject…

I swear to god, something is in the air this week. I got rejected by graduate school, got ousted by my soulless boss in trying to get Rockies tickets, and got seared and burned by a bag of chips. I’m starting to think that maybe I shouldn’t go outside.

Devil Chips -- "They're to die for!"

Whiplash

So wow. Yeah. Happy day. I just found out that my application to graduate school was rejected. After dropping a thousand in cash, and working my ass off for the last three months, all of my efforts were for not. I was stunned when I read the email today. I didn’t know what to think. I grabbed the phone and called the admissions director, and she proceeded to look through my materials. Oh, yes, she said, you have a much higher GPA than our other applicants. Oh, yes, your résumé looks nice with good recommendation letters. But, you are about 10 points short on your entrance exam score. Ten points. Ten points. If I had gotten like two more questions right, that would equal ten points. I mean, I knew that my GMAT score wasn’t stellar. I scored almost perfect on the essays, and high in verbal, but the math was for shit. That’s what happens when you ignore the subject for a decade. But still, yeah a low score, I still thought my other materials would balance it out. You know, the whole Magna Cum Laude bit, and top of the class thing. I was wrong.

So now. Now what. My plans are scattered. I could take the GMAT again, could reapply in April, but do I have the cash, the patience? I am going to Brazil, this I know, but minus the structure? Without school. I am already second guessing this whole business thing. An mba is quite useful in the corporate world, but will I ever go corporate. Is it more practical to learn this knowledge on my own, to apply my energies toward a money making enterprise, instead of dropping 3 years and 50 grand.

I don’t know. This one fucking hurt. Time to reevaluate. I’m so confused.

A Cold and Quiet Day

Not much to say here. Not today. Just enjoying the
quiet of the first snowy day. Been stuck inside
watching movies, working on my next tattoo,
relishing the energy storage of all things sedentary.
Many announcements coming soon. Michy trip, move
to Brazil, all of it. And until then, here are some random
pics from my central hub.

Scruffy Me.

Somehow, me and J trying to be socially potent with ab shots and obscene gestures.

Not sure how you made it onto my blog Lisa.

Gotcha Steph. (Yes, I realize I am not supplying context)

Sophistication. Wine, Europe, and Me.

Happy 80th gramps!!!!

Eric. Yeah. You too. Somehow slid into the blog. Don't we feel proud.

Summing it Up

Work......GMAT......Work.......GMAT......Essay
....GMAT....Work....BOO!

But who needs fun or sanity anyway. I mean really.

Eurolicious

Europe is old. Europe is a place full of layers and full of people. It is a rat maze of contrasting nationalities, born from the sweat of mediation, the ding of hammer and broadsword. During the summer season, it is a place swarming with tourists—at a glance wayfarer’s looking for the new and fresh piled on the old. From the stolen Egyptian monoliths of a Roman square, to the shiny steel glass fortresses of the post war city, it is a place worthy of wander, easy glances on hard stone, and reverent…restless…study.

My inner circle of dad, mom, and two brothers spent the last two weeks in this place of places. Now, upon my return, with graduate entrance exams now looming, I am hard pressed for time. Guilt reduces my free moments to a smoking pile of rubble, as all leisurely activities diminish into study.

As I adopt the creed “I cram therefore I am” (wow that’s terribly corny), this entry will have to follow the minimal labor clause (less words more pictures). So here then is a snippet of my trip, told through film, a thousand words packed into few, of heart and mind and all the rest.

* * *

Putt putting around in our lil' villa da Charmey

The family gathers to celebrate my grand parent's 80th birthdays.
All manner of nationalities are represented. French, Dutch, Portuguese,
and English--all battered around like the table helpings.

The secret to the magnificence of Swiss chocolate
and cream? Flowers. We pamper our high alpine cows
with fresh greenery and many of these little pretties.

The final product is a milk rich with taste, a real
taste bonanza reproduced by no other.

Consuming the consumables. A little smile pre-mealtime.

My god the beauty. What inspiration a hike through the Swiss
Alps can bring.

Small town Swiss German cemetery just a few miles
up the road from our village.The grave markers were all hand
carved and were designed to communicate the profession/hobby
of the deceased. Twas quite a beautiful patchwork of local color.

Jumped out to Scion for lunch with friends who
were staying at this mountain chalet, a deceivingly old structure
that dated back to the 1600's. Every piece and plank
of the house was hand wrought, and luminous with age.

I can honestly say I ate the most delicious tomatoes of my
life for lunch. There's something about good food and wine
which vaults one most contentedly into a little
explorative craziness.

My dad. Upside down cake.

My lovely white European family.

Even the second time around, Prague was freakin' awesome.
The city is cheap ($1.20 1000ml beers!) even during the
high season. A monument to what Europe would look like
if not for World War I & II, the city boasts an astonishing
array of medieval and renaissance structures. Shem and I
happened to stumble on a Tai massage place near the end of
our stay. I can honestly say there are few things more
stimulating than having a little Tai women crack my
bones and rub me down with oil. Much recommended
if anyone hasn't tried it.

This is the old Jewish cemetery in the Jewish Quarter.
Many of the headstones, allwritten in Hebrew, date back
to the 1200's. It is said that in most areas of the cemetery,
bodies are buried 12 deep.

Charles Bridge, Prague, Night Crawl.

Much of Europe consisted of meeting fellow hostelites
and breaking out into the city. Apparentlty, the sun never sets

on badass.

Ah yes, and maps. Walking. And lots of maps.

In my opinion the St. Vitus cathedral in Prague is one of
the most stunning churches in all of Europe. It took over
six centuries to build and exhibits the very pinnacle of my favored
Gothic style. Truly, words cannot describe.

Tower view.

When in Rome, do as the Leo's do. This includes walking
around for hours in the oppressive summer heat, eating
ridiculous amounts of pizza, and staring oh so lovingly at
the beautiful olive skinned women. Maybe throw in a few
unofficial pub crawls, hanging out with some Aussies, an Indian girl,
and hordes of roaming brits. All so much fun.

The Parthenon. Incredibly well preserved.

To drink and to think. Hard won glories at the Alessandro bar.

Some day companions.

And then there was Ireland and lots of Guinness. Frothy,
thick, and milky smooth. With a dash of danger of course.
Somehow we managed to land in podank Ireland, one
of the most notoriously criminal of cities, known as
Limerick or "stab city", because of all the knife fights.
I mostly ran into alcoholics, and a surprising amount of
unattractive overweight people. But what the hoo,
the beer was good.

Did I mention they have good beer.

This ends the dinner theater with Eurolicioius.
I hope you have enjoyed our little journey.

Ghostly Visitation

I had a bit of an unwelcome visitor last night, as I lay tossing in turning in my bed. Hit the hay around 10:30, falling asleep rather quickly despite the oppressive heat. Perhaps it was the pre-dusk movie premier of Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire that did it. The movie is a wash of dark and dramatic imagery, and tends to fill one's head with similar fictions.

Around midnight, I woke up dreary and disoriented by a sharp rapping at my door. Pulling my head off the mattress, I peered groggily towards the sound, watching to my confusion someone come in my room and sit at the chair by my desk. I couldn't see who it was, the figure appeared as a white haze in the darkness. I remember feeling no fear, thinking that it was my roommate Jeff wanting to use my computer.

Slightly annoyed by the intrusion I mumbled a rough and sleepy, "And who might you be?", as I slowly climbed out of bed--heading towards the light switch. There was no reply, and the seconds seemed to crawl, as I stumbled around in the dark.

Just as my fingers found the switch, the figure turned it's head and looked at me. And it was then that it suddenly dawned on me that this....thing was not my roommate. Feeling the tendrils of fear start to consume me, I hastily grabbed the switch and flipped it on. To my utter horror, no one sat in the chair at the far end of my bed. The figure that, but a moment before, was staring at me with greedy eyes, all but vanished.

I got up, stupefied and amazed, and went up stairs to tell one of my roommates. Slightly raddled, I realized that it was past midnight and that everyone in the house was asleep. Reluctantly, I returned to my bed downstairs and tried fitfully to get some shuteye--feeling all the while that I was being watched by someone...something.

Could of been the heat, a trick of the mind perhaps, but either way it freaked me the hell out.

A Little Change In The Air

Inside you may hear it, that earthly drawl, a weightless noise of space being filled, the din of leaf hitting leaf on a summer breeze. In its unseen complexity, a myriad of spirals crashing through the air, a dandelion seed will move. Birthed into the sky off its perch, it dances, stirs, brimming with the possibility of its newfound life as it sails through the air.

It is on this wind that the promise of change is fulfilled. Old hard won familiarities die off, leaving room for the green of a new season, and the sowing of a fresh and brilliant pasture.

* * *

I remember when I first came to Colorado, I wanted an escape from structure. I was a good seven months out of school at that point, a good seven months away from early morning classes, lengthy history exams, and the strict bureaucratic obstacle course of higher education. After four plus years of being in the system, it was nice to get out and breathe a little fresh air.

Brazil was a bit of that. Colorado, even more so. Landing in my little mountain town, I wanted to create that which alluded my not so single self in college—a rich and expansive social scene, with friends and parties, and parties and friends. An endless parade of human connectivity.

Well. With a few smiles, and trials, and shaking of hands, this was accomplished. My circle of self-affirming popularity has grown, extending ever deeper into the tendrils of Capoeira, motorcycle groups, Latin panoramas, work friends, dance friends, and so on. New people and new faces continue to announce themselves, rapping on the door like old “visitors, well wishers, or distant relations”.

All and all, this thick and diverse environment has kept me happy. I enjoy the company of others and love to play Caesar in my own little Rome. But as time progresses, I begin to pang for other things. The type A side of my personality continues to show its face, and the ever so meaningful job of delivering groceries can only keep a Caesar smiling for so long. While I certainly have filled my time here with many fun and interesting experiences, it has begun to feel like not enough. While my social world is off the charts my professional energies remain unused and wasted. I find myself trapped in a small little box, an underling foot snare with little chance of an occupational future. Despite my efforts to use my degree, working for the National Trust, and the local museum, few steps forward have been taken. This leaves me with chalk in hand finally ready to draft a new plan, and take a proactive stance on furthering my education.

So back to structure it is. Being in the “real world” outside of academia, I have come to realize a few important things about myself and the format of it all. First, I have come to realize that I, above all else, am a true dabbler. I enjoy the diversity of the human condition, loving to touch and play with many things in my field of vision. Focusing on one thing – be it a hobby, a place, an activity – is just not my style. While I think that I am settling down a bit with age, I still prefer to grab hold of something, study it, then move on to the next thing.

This has led me to the conclusion that, if I was to return to school, I should study something that opens the range of my vocational possibilities rather than defining and therefore limiting them. If I was to go back to school for anthropology, for example, I would be in essence digging in. I would be spending lots of money on an education that only provides a handful of directions for me to head into. The box would be too small and so to my entrapment within it.

So, [cue drum roll please] I have finally decided to return to school and pursue a Masters in Business Administration. Now, before people cry “sell out”, let me explain myself properly. I have been working in the non-profit world for sometime now. While I enjoy many of its rough corners, I kind of came to an epiphany one day realizing that if I was to work for non-profits, I would never really make a profit. Genius, I know.

Now, I wouldn’t consider myself the most materialistically centered individual, but money indeed is a factor in my future. Sounds traditional, but I want to have a family one day, and be the major bread winner of it. I don’t like the idea of being supported by other people, as it’s not very appropriate for a Caesar to do so. Best, in my opinion, to find a way to join my skills and passions with a bit of profit making, to have my cake and eat it too where possible.

Does this mean giving up my undergraduate training and love for exploring people and culture. Hell no. I see this as quite an asset despite where I end up in the working world. This is why I have decided to try my luck at attaining an online MBA, through a local well accredited university, and to do so in my oh-so-favorite foreign environment. I have decided to pick up and move to Brazil for a time, maybe 6 months or a year as I start my schooling.

There has been a very small constituency who has chided this idea, saying that a Brazil move is impractical and would be full of distractions. While there is something to be said for this, I know myself and my limitations. And I know that with focus I can make this happen.

To do so could be beneficial for so many reasons. First, I could work toward attaining my Portuguese fluency. This has been a major life goal of mine for some time. I truly desire to make my connections with this country a big part of my life, and not just an occasional holiday. Living in Brazil would provide me with many opportunities to make connections, to make business contacts, perhaps even to attain citizenship. My current academic focus is the Tourism and Hospitality industry, the third most profitable industry in the world mind you. I am interested in international business as it relates to adventure and cultural/heritage travel. I can see myself opening up my own travel/tour business someday, or perhaps working for a specialized niche-travel or tourism company (I have been in contact with just such a company already, and am hoping to make progress with them as I go along). With a degree in business, undergraduate training in anthropology, and an English and Portuguese fluency, I would be highly marketable. It would be great to end up working for an American company doing business in Brazil, with an American salary. If the dollar doesn’t keep dropping (thanks you friggin monkey of a president!), I could live like a king down there. And while staying here to get my degree would be easier, the road less traveled has the potential to be more fruitful for me in the end.

And saints be praised, the ball has already started moving. I have been in contact with the business school professors, and we are considering a specialized international business track for me. I have three separate people looking for cheap housing for me in Salvador, where I would like to move. Studying and taking the GMAT comes next, then there is readying for my trip and ohhhh so much else.

All and all, I am already starting to enjoy the shift back into structure, the preparation of new challenges, and the excitement that comes with a glimpse into the unknown. Clearly, the winds have begun to pick up, the dandelions remain perched, and I can feel the air bristling with change.