koen’s ride

I don’t know many other dumb-asses who would elect to visit family in Phoenix in the middle of July, but that just makes the plane less full for me anyway. Am I making any sense? Probably not - most people don’t really make any sense here. You can’t make too much sense living in the desert, and then all that heat soaks into you brain and you start acting a little slow and sloppy, just like me.

So far, I’ve especially enjoyed eating snacks (that are supposed to be for the party) like hummus and pita chips, green olives, and potato chips. I’ve loved seeing my wonderful aunts and my mom. I liked the part after the sun went down and I did some yoga on the back porch while my dad picked up turds. The wind blew the chimes melodically and either a) the sun has fried my brain, or b) it was a very personal, romantic moment.

I finished my first book from the library on the plane ride here this morning. I read Ender’s Game for the first time, and knew that I was partaking in a very excellent treat. I love books that are just good and make me think about stuff and also make me want to know what happens next. That was Ender’s Game.

Tomorrow is my cousin’s fifth birthday party and it’s sure to be wild. I’m really looking forward to the water slide and wearing my tank so I can show off all my very cool tattoos. I like being the weird kid at the family events.

It all started on my trip to D.C. Well, it actually started when I first knew I was going to D.C. Yeah, it was cool that I’d be attending the premier ColdFusion conference, staying in a hotel and eating out on the company’s dime, fraternizing with my buddies from work and a bunch of other nerdy types such as myself - I was pretty excited about all that. But the first thing that got me really juiced was the realization that I’d be spending seven hours on a plane. Both ways.

Why was I so thrilled, you may wonder, about the awkward and uncomfortable, stuffy and claustrophobia-inducing experience which is modern air travel? It’s simple, really. For the first time in many, many moons, I was going to have at least fourteen [mostly] uninterrupted hours of sweet, decadent, mind-expanding reading.

What is it about reading that fills me with such pleasure and satisfaction? Why do I crave these long sentences, luscious paragraphs, rich characters, unpredictable plot development, and thoughtful conclusions? How many times have chills run up my spine, through my skull, and caused tears to threaten my eyes at the final paragraph, sentence, or word on the last page of a pored over novel?

My loneliness is abated, my understanding is broadened, and my life is enriched by throwing myself into a worthy story.

Whatever my reasons, in case you’re not quite sure, I love to read very much. It’s been a long time since I’ve read consistently and I’d like to try again. Reading on my trip to D.C. only served to validate the longing I’ve always felt for a good book.

I got my first Multnomah County Library card last weekend while Agent waited outside with the bikes and the dogs. I revisited my account on Good Reads and added every single book I could possibly think of that I’ve ever read. I placed 15 books on hold via the Multnomah County Library website. I wait impatiently for the first book to arrive at my home library.

I’m excited to be reading again, and I’m also excited to write reviews on Good Reads. Writing book reports was always one of my favorite assignments in school.

Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson
My review
rating: 5 of 5 stars
Snow Crash was my favorite book for a long time. It was even the namesake of my very first email account. I loved this book because the premise was awesome: young guys living in a storage facility thanks to overpopulation and surfing the net via virtual reality (cool). It got a little slow toward the end but the setup was so worth it. I would definitely recommend this book to anyone who enjoys futuristic science fiction novels.
View all my reviews.

It’s hot in Portland these days. It’s no wonder, really, that I rode up to my house sticky and sweaty on my bicycle yesterday. I was feeling thirsty and a little light headed as I attached my bike to Agent’s engineered rack on the side of the house.

I ambled up the stairs to the front door and had removed one shoe when I noticed a bumblebee flying in large circles around me, just like a hungry shark, except a bit more bumbly. Agent and the dogs stood safely inside the house with the screen door closed. The bee’s arc swung closer to me until I was dodging and maneuvering all over the porch. I begged Agent to open the door and let me in, but she logically refused. She yelled at me to run down the stairs and confuse the bee, but I was too slow. Just as I was about to head off the porch, the bee flew into my hair.

Sidenote: In case you didn’t know, I’m attempting to grow out my hair. You can see a recent photo of me at http://www.myspace.com/koencidence. It could be that my hair is now longer than it has been since I was 19 years old. It feels real funny already, all this stuff on my head, without a bee attempting to fly around in it.

So I panicked a little. I started screaming and tried to roughly bat the buzzing creature out of my sweaty hair. I ran down the stairs, but it was too late. The bee was mad. It flew into my neck and let me have it.

Oh, the pain. And the bee continued to fly around! Still freaking out, I ripped off my teeshirt and started running around in front of the house in my sports bra and with only one sneaker on my feet. How embarrassing! By the time I finally got into the house, I was crying real tears. It’s been a long time since I was stung, and it hurt more than I remembered (in more ways than one). Ouch.

As it sometimes happens, I was visited by an ex-girlfriend in my dreams last night. I have a few past girlfriends who I don’t speak much to anymore (if at all), and my dreams are the only contact I have with them. I imagine it’s not quite the same as it would be if I actually saw them in person, but I appreciate the seeming air of intimacy that spreads over these dreams and that my ex and I never have to do any catching up. It’s as though we never lost touch with each other.

I’m always a little sad the next day, though. I’ll check out their latest photos on whatever social networking site and wish that we were still friends, cause I know we’d be the best friends ever. I miss them and long for their company and wonder about how time just messes everything up.

I get jealous, too. The photos of them with their new significant others (and their friends) makes my heart creak a little. It’s not fair, I think, that someone else gets to receive their attention and their love, while I’m just a fading memory, a lost object of their past.

I may be over it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t ache a little for what I’ve lost. If you’re reading this, long lost ex-girlfriend, I miss you. Let’s be friends when we’re 40, no excuses. How does that sound?