The Depths

Happy Chinese New Year!

Writing is so difficult. It makes me depressed sometimes because I tend to gravitate toward in depth complaining about the way the world is today. Although I think about these things on my own, they don’t dominate my life as they do my writing. In reality, I walk around town with consideration of this and that, more in a “huh, isn’t that funny” style acknowledgement. Afterall, nothing of what I tend to think is of any use without a proper conversation with someone else, and usually a beer.

So I am trying to keep some ideas brief to avoid the mountainous prospect of delving into the depths, “the depths of hell,” as Larry David would say.

I injure myself playing basketball these days, not skateboarding. I grew up being raised under the notion that skateboarding would result in something bad, affecting the rest of the things I enjoy. Now, when I sprain my ankle on someone’s fat foot going for a layup, I fall to the ground, yell out a curse word and instantly think about how long it’s going to be until I can skateboard again. And that is depressing.

The term “terrorist” is somewhat irrelevant. It’s stupid to label things of such magnitude by a single word because these events become grouped together, sometimes rightfully so, sometimes not, and then turn out to be minimalized by that very association. It’s just one of a series. Insignificant on its own. We know that’s not true.

On the other hand, when hearing of the attack in Paris at Charlie Hebdo, one of my first reactions was “we in the US do this stuff to ourselves so often and refuse to do anything about it.” I am talking about school shootings. And nothing ever changes.

War is too easy on people these days. Take me for instance. Regardless of my opinions about going into a particular war or not, there is nothing I personally need to worry about. Sure, I have some friends who may volunteer to go, but I won’t because there is no draft. My taxes are unaffected; I live and work and consume only news about that war. Now imagine if I were a lawmaker helping actually make this decision. I have almost nothing to lose by declaring war. There needs to be more incentives to stay OUT of war.

And then there is school. I have to wake up each day this week at 715 and spend 6 whole hours in a classroom for five days straight. This is very intimidating to me at this moment in my life. I’m not so sure if I’m complaining or I’m subconsciously acknowledging that not working is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Timeless Stonehenge

Stonehenge, what a beast of a moment it was to approach that bad boy. These days, everyone has a phone, digital directions and an ETA so precise you’d assume you’re being watched. In a way, I guess you are, otherwise, how would your phone know? By doing so, the suspense builds when you know you’re going somewhere special. Sure the suspense is thrilling, but the surprise is lost. This is why, five minutes before the “arrival time,” we are speeding over a hill along the motorway (British) and taken back in time, when things just sort of happen, and Stonehenge appears on the side of the road for all to see.

Out in the open it sits, as it has been for so very long. There was frost on the ground, a crystal clear sky, and the sun in constant rise or set mode because winter in England doesn’t allow for a high noon. Shadows were perfect, it looked exactly like it does in every single picture you’ve ever seen.

What I find amazing is that regardless of how predictable it looks, being there, walking up to it, hearing the silent wind and confronting the work of very old people is precisely what impacts me. And it’s just so far out there, in the middle of nowhere, not waiting on you, but doing its own thing in its own time.

Who knows what it is really meant for? I assume it has something to do with tracking time. But something I can’t quite understand, is what is the real purpose of tracking time? It’s so precious to all of us, in our daily lives and counting down to the inevitable. But what does that do for us? Seasons come and go, the sun rises and falls, we grow grey and wrinkly; it’s not as if it could possibly pass us by without us knowing. Yet somehow, it still does, even after so much effort to track it down.

After our Stonehenge awe we checked out Salisbury and Bath.

All I can say is Bath certainly was not ever designed for cars. Such a beautiful town would remain more beautiful without them too. England is a much different place than London, and if you ever do visit, you owe it to yourself to see these smaller towns. This is where old living really makes you feel young, and brief.

Heaven – This Is It

Observation. Imagination. Creation. This must be the real circle of life, even if it’s got nothing to do with Simba. It certainly is the circle of my life, and in microcosm, skateboarding. Through skateboarding my childhood has become my adulthood.

Absorbing the words people speak, hearing a perfect song, or witnessing an overwhelming vision plants a seed in my mind. It’s not always something I can even identify, but it churns around for a while and develops into a dream. Oh how good it would be to visit Peru, or to live by the beach, or to stick a 5-0 across a perfectly smooth ledge.

But then you have to perform. It’s so easy to talk about things you want to do or dream about your dreams…but dreams are boring. “Nothing ever happens” in a fantasy, even if it’s so simple and meaningless. But when you get to create your thought, make it real, that’s an addiction.

Problem is it’s almost always frustrating. It never looks right, never sounds right, and it deserves constant improvement. The creation is fluid, birthing new observation, which sets in place the cycle that never ends. Until one day of course. Maybe. Who knows really?

In honor of my childhood, skateboarding, and its presence in my older self, I would like to present “Heaven.” It’s a collaboration with my brother, Nathanael, and my other semi-brother who isn’t a Roney but we like to treat him like one, Matthew. It’s a creation after many years of observation and imagination, and takes me straight back to the past, straight back to the present.

And it has a few bad words, so shield the ears of your little ones.

Drinking White Rum in a Portugal Bar

There are four ingredients that I have identified to making a city beautiful: terra cotta rooftops, colourful paint, lots of fun to show it off, and a view to actually see it. In a nutshell, this describes my experience in a recent trip to Portugal, Porto, Lisbon, and Sintra. It’s as if the cities were built knowing that down the road, several centuries down the road, people would need a good place to see it. And there I was, one of many, doing just that.

Above is about the extent of the clouds the entire weekend. There were a few things I couldn’t understand though. One is that smoking, indoors, is still allowed. I get freedom and all that, but it was surprising and something I haven’t been used to for quite a long time. I also am not sure how every Portuguese person is not fat from that delicious food and Port wine. My goodness, I had some francesinha (hope that is spelled correctly) and it had five types of meat stacked onto each other, with cheese, and bread, and some wildly good sauce. Pretty sure I moved up a weight class in that sitting.

And now Penny thinks she can box me.

This was taken atop a fairy tale style castle that apparently actually does exist in real life. Castles are a little bit strange to me. I always wonder how frightened these kings and queens must have gotten when those all around them started to collapse. From their mountain tops, they could see it coming from miles away, yet they position themselves on top. Where were they going to run to? I guess if you’ve gotta have a view though.

 

I will tell you this…the best part about traveling is traveling to places with people who are from there. It’s not so much about having a tour guide, but it’s the pride and thrill your hosts have in showing you around. Nothing compares to a host standing in front of a crowd of 130 some guests telling us how much he loves his country. Seeing that excitement is very impressive.

It really makes traveling addictive. You come back to London, hear the taxi cabs beep their horns and those piercing ambulance sirens. You see this bright blue sky and think, “Wow, spring is actually here!” And then, 20 minutes later, winter reappears. It’s the middle of May! No it isn’t, it’s the END of May, and summer is supposed to be almost here. The tease of Portugal puts you in a state of dreams for a few days, unfortunately for only a few days.

I could never be a travel writer. I could never really be a writer. It just never comes out right.

Portugal, “So easy to look at, so hard to define.”

An Essay on Virginia Tech

“Where did you go to school?” 

“Virginia Tech.”

Stumbles a bit…”I’m sorry, I can’t help it but there’s only one thing that pops into my mind when you tell me Virginia Tech.”

Trust me, I know too well. 

Two days ago, seven years ago, was the date that 32 people were murdered within a football field of where I was sitting. I heard it happen; I can’t imagine having to see it or even feel it as so many others did. 

It is a memory that does not disappear, one that is foggy and clear all the same and the subconscious foundation of all that I do and am. It is a conflict inside of me as it was certainly the worst day of my life, but with all humility in the world, is somehow a gift. I feel guilty for that.

I feel guilty because it is the basis of so much good that I’ve been able to surround myself with, but at the expense of 32 others who lost it all in the worst way possible. Since then, I’ve spent nearly every day deciding what is and what is not important in life, what and who it is that I want to be, and making sure I understand myself as completely as possible. It’s been extremely painful and gratifying, a rollercoaster unparalleled in physical life.

All of this self-discovery has led me to very important philosophies upon which I live. One is that everyone is a hypocrite. Two is that being selfish is not always a bad thing, as long as you know you deserve it. Three is that you should only bother surrounding yourself with people you enjoy. Four is that you have to find happiness from something inside of you because everything else can be taken away.

The truth is that everyone is alone on an island with their own brain to think and their own heart to feel. It’s frightening until you find the confidence to admit that being frightened is ok. Then all of the sudden, you have no fear.

It is a memory like the Virginia Tech tragedy that reminds me of the island I am on every single day it pops into my head. I understand how important it is to deal with it, respect it, and somehow make the loss of so many people worthwhile. I urge everyone to learn from others and to realize that your life is yours, and you should live it that way.

And then I try to write about it and, naturally, words will never suffice. 

Real Animals

If you walk down Oxford Street you come across one of the most famous department stories in London, possibly the world, as you pass by Selfridges. The windows display a surprising, part flattering, part disturbing array of skateboards. A Chocolate deck sandwiched between two branded by Jimmy Choo and Christian Louboutin. That’s like saying Keenan Milton between Sarah Jessica Parker and Paris Hilton. What?

Selfridges partnered with HTC to create a skateboard inside of the department store. I went to see it and followed two skateboarders go through the main entrance. A few steps into the mass of makeup, mirrors, and properly dressed saleswomen and the two guys turned right around. Surely the entrance to the skatepark wouldn’t be in THIS direction.

And it wasn’t. But no one could look at those two asking them what they were doing in there. All of the sudden they were in the proper place, a symbol of the awkward holes between grit and posh. The influence and respect have been recognised. It’s flattering, exciting, but really really weird and, in my opinion, worrying.

Skateboarding is only one of many cultures bred from rebellion or creativity. It is illegal, and therefore frowned upon. We are, by nature, put in a corner, divided from normal society. With Selfridges help, this division is blurring. I argue that’s a bad thing. Civilization needs the separation, the hints of distrust, and cynicism toward the status quo. We need dissension to keep moving forward. If we are harmonious, we all become extreme.

Information is all over the place these days. Technology companies read your emails, follow your patterns, and filter all of that information presenting to you only what you think you want to see. When people are fed only the things they already know, they become more extreme, less creative, less thoughtful, and less innovative. The result? Crazy people.

The division, as long as it’s peaceful, is critical for new ideas. People need to argue, they need to disagree, and they need to solve problems together. Those are not contradictory statements. A graffiti artist at Southbank wrote “Stand Up For Education.” Another tagged over it “Stand Up For Street Knowledge.” I’d love to know why no one has figured out that you can learn both.

Perhaps all those whiny Americans who can’t stand all of these Spanish speakers will one day realize that if they learn Spanish, there might be some real opportunity there. Just a thought.

And here is my skateboard video.

 

Sixto

“Hate is too powerful of an emotion to waste on someone you really don’t like.”

Rodriguez said that. I was so happy to finally get to see this guy when he came to London at the Hammersmith Apollo after many tales from my sister-in-law of playing with him.  There is something so fascinating about a weary old blind man being walked out onto stage. The bigger the legend, the more mythical a figure he becomes, the more pleasure I get as they walk out on stage, looking exactly how you’d expect. Sure enough, the mystical creature of an artist is right there, with some glow around him.

It happens with Willie, Bob, Mick, Keith, and again with Rodriguez. His voice was still buttery as it was in the early 70s without much beat lost. He didn’t seem to have much concern for a few random screams here and there nor did he hesitate to start a song even when no one else seemed ready to go. He does what he wants.

I am disappointed with the British audience though. Happily, he played his all known Sugar Man in the middle of the set. Everyone was shocked and most were probably on pee breaks. Afterward, they all started funnelling out. I just don’t understand the point in going to a show if you leave in the middle? That’s what the radio is for right?

Whatever floats your boat. He floated mine. I think I even tiptoed the line of potential teariness for a while when he started a few songs. Took me right back to my apartment in Darwin, high above the city overlooking the harbour to the backdrop of the sunset. Mmmm, so vivid.

Meanwhile, some magic happened in my refrigerator and this is the result. Haunted jelly?

Mushy Peas

As noted by one or two of my loyal followers, it’s been over three months since I’ve last blessed the public with my two cents. There are a few excuses I can conjure. One of which is the greyness that is London. It’s not the most inspiring sky color one could hope for.

But it’s not always grey. Sometimes it’s even darker. And then it rains.

But on rare occasions the sun does show itself. Even so, something about dead trees doesn’t quite stir up the creative corners of my brain.

But these are just excuses. I really think it comes down to the fact that I have not watched Seinfeld for over 6 months. This is a problem, a real problem and I don’t quite feel like myself. However I have been doing lots of things lately. One, I’ve accepted an internship for this “summer” in Sydney. I went from spending about eight straight summers to chasing a sequence of about eight straight winters. One day I will relive the seasons. I’ve also taken up basketball again, and skateboarding. This of course means I’ve taken up injuring, whining, and dreaming of a day when I can one day dunk again and/or put together a video part. Today I had a slam and a landed trick worthwhile. That’s as much success as I can ask for.

Christmas passed, I’ve turned a year older (not yet thirty for all you old people), and I spent another Valentine’s Day…with my mom. Somehow she sneaks in there. But I’ve restocked with Old Bay and have high hopes for the Orioles, so really my heart is still along the stinky shores of the Chesapeake Bay, despite seemingly running away from it at every chance.

London is a tricky place. There are so many people but it can be so quiet. It’s so pretty when the sun shines on the buildings but the sun never shines on the buildings. English pubs are the best, but they close at 11 and bangers and mash always look so much better until they add that side dish of mushy peas. Mushy peas? Baby food.

It is a city that feels like it’s part of no country. It’s part of the UK like NYC is part of New York or Hagerstown is a DC suburb. It’s its own thing, an experience all in itself. It’s so close to so many things of which I have not taken advantage. A shame, and I keep telling myself “next year” so I better stop saying that once next year starts.

The queen is still kicking, as am I. Despite my recent silence I aim to continue rambling about mostly things that don’t matter, with maybe a few jabs at things that do…like Ukraine and Russia, disappearing airplanes, or maybe the gigantic debt that awaits me after this life changing (it better be) education. I feel lucky every day, but equally intimidated.

And then the blue sky comes out again.

 

 

Let It Snow

The dog days of summer are alright with me. Being a student, it’s the dog days of any term that destroys my motivation. I’m increasingly less interested in preparing for exams than I am daydreaming about islands to visit when the sun decides to appear again, or even simpler things like when I can return to my skateboard and somehow film a new video part over the coming months. I’ve learned recently that skateboarding is very fun when you’re actually in shape to do it, and it becomes increasingly addictive once that bloods starts to pump.

London is treating me well. The biggest problem I have is that it is cold, but not cold enough for a winter storm yet. There is however, a winter wonderland in Hyde Park which serves some fantastic donuts. They are the closest to Krumpe’s that I have had, warm, soft liquid sugar. There are rides everywhere, the ones that would give me vertigo and make me throw up all over the place. Even watching people on them make me feel a bit nauseous. At least that’s the excuse I give in place of “I’m terrified and don’t feel like ruining my pants with pee accidents.

Another reason London is amazing…you literally stumble upon the best events you’d ever imagine. Bob Dylan isn’t having an iron works exhibition in Dallas or Darwin, nor would I ever get to see a vintage Rolling Stones photography collection by Gered Mankowitz with each print costing me a year’s worth of rent. And these are just little things, right around the corner.

Apparently Bob is now full of racism according to the French.

He still inspires me though. As do a lot of people. I will speak about Nelson Mandela now, perhaps the most influential human being on the planet up until a few days ago when he left it. There is always so much shock and sadness when someone like him dies, which is completely fair and understandable. I think it points to the reality that even the superhuman of us are not superhuman at all. They are just that, human, doing outrageous services to our population. Then there are us individuals, and we wonder how we can ever compare to such standards. Then, in my opinion, is the real choice. Do we submit to defeat, realising we cannot be that spectacular, become lazy and content with simplicity? Or do we see how much we can do, even if we are only one of seven-plus billion, and create something better than what we’re given?

Oxford  is nearby, and we took a day trip there recently. I felt like I was actually in Hogwarts at some moments. Unfortunately the weather was kind of miserable so I didn’t take many pictures, but I assure you it was a beautiful place. We went to a little pub nearby, which makes me wonder how many of the greatest minds to ever exist went to work in a pub. Beer, wine, and all of those other goodies are under appreciated for their contribution to society.

England is well known for its people driving on the wrong side, the left side, of the road. Yet somehow, you walk down the street and not a single person seems to walk on the left side of the footpath. I’ve reversed 25 years of instinct to accommodate my new living situation to no avail. It’s a free for all out there.

But at least I don’t have to walk like that every day.

Some People Are Gay, Get Over It

I’ve successfully managed my second update within two months! I am on a roll.

London has been keeping me much busier than I had ever imagined. I realize that I am perhaps a lazy person, most notably by the fact that we have four exams coming up this weekend and I have just slightly begun my preparation. Instead I’ve been dressing up like David Bowie and running around East Sussex along the southern coast of England. This place is quite amazing, and I’ve put into use my new coat, purchased from the famous Camden Markets, possibly the warmest and cosiest coat to ever be made.

There are few interesting things I’ve been noticing around town. First, I think it’s amazing how quickly and efficiently big cities get rid of trash. Every day there are markets, every day the street is covered in litter, and every day it gets cleaned up. Yet somehow, dog excrement is exempt from this mass clean up effort. It just sits there on the sidewalk, waiting for someone to step in it.

Second observation…now that the clocks have changed, the day feels like it never quite starts. The sun rises, and it takes about an hour to rise. From about 9 am onwards, it continues to set. All day feels like a sunset, and it’s never close to being over head. I need to get used to the dark.

This road trip we took was the first time I’ve really been in a car. Therefore I have now noticed exactly how little the roads and road signs make sense. Lanes are everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, road signs have random Xs and slashes through them, and then you get these “elderly people crossing” signs that look like cartoon stick figures being blown over by the wind. Good thing old mate has that cane to hold himself up!

It is a beautiful country, at least the bits that we saw. I’ll let the view speak for itself. I saw a few castles too! It actually is straight from a fairy tale, exactly like you’d imagine.

It was really windy.

Our class theme at LBS is sustainability. It’s all fine and dandy to call that your class theme, and I was quite excited when I heard about it being incorporated to our education. Obviously it should be, sustainability, aka survival, is an instinct in all of us. Yet, I am still waiting to hear something real that is driven by responsibility, rather than value for shareholders. There are lots of examples of do good businesses; they are usually the most successful ones too. But I am not convinced yet that it isn’t profitability that drives responsibility, and not the other way around. Maybe it doesn’t matter if the end game is the same. However, the word sustainability is too often thrown around to sound inspiring and to gather some soldiers behind you. 

Speaking of soldiers, I’m in the thick of The Wire again. It is the best show at least until Mad Men finishes. It makes me miss crabs and the Orioles, and hearing people say goin’ downyoshun. But I got my Old Bay fix here in London, so I’m all set.