Bachelor Party Backpacking Pics

Seven of us hiked up the Greyrock trail on Wednesday, May 26, 2010. We spent the night under the stars/clouds. The weather held after a rainy morning. It was a beautiful start to a long weekend of celebration leading up to Erik and Brianne's wedding. Above: Chris, Erik and Ryan during a water break on the way up.

The man of the hour/day/week, Erik Haagenson with beard, before he would, quote, "GQ it up a bit" before the wedding.

A lookout on the way up.

After we arrived at the campsite, we needed to find firewood. We set off to gather some up by any means possible. Hands, feet, medium-sized boulders, leverage and Kyle's hatchet. This hatchet probably wasn't the hatchet Gary Paulsen had in mind, nor were we the handlers of the hatchet that Paulsen likely imagined. We are large, fit, barrel-chested men, not scrawny, stranded boys. This hatchet could only last so long. Fittingly, Erik was the man using the hatchet when it broke, but it could have been any of us. Above: Matt uses the pathetic head of the hatchet to unsuccessfully split some firewood. Stem of broken hatchet seen in foreground. Broken. Useless. And, I think, plastic. That could have been the problem.

I probably got the best shot of all the group of Fort Collins, pictured above, just beyond the lowly, sunlit foothill. I did have the most powerful camera and the biggest lens. The guys were impressed when I turned my camera off and the lens automatically retracted into the body of the camera. It was a very powerful moment.

Erik and co-best man, Chris, pose near the eastern summit.

I don't mean to toot my own horn here, but I do. Above: Chris and Erik stare contemplatively at the horizon, making for a damn fine picture. When I look at this, I see their adventurous spirit, I feel our bond and I think of their history of climbing, camping and mountaineering together and the reverence they have for God's majestic creation. There isn't much else to capture.

Erik and I, trying to gameface.

Our campsite, just at the top of this pond, was picture perfect, flat, with pre-formed fire pit and accessible water. Chris can be seen climbing down from the rock outcropping in the lower-right corner of the shot.

Nearing sunset, taken from the eastern summit. This is my desktop background right now and it is destined to be blown up and on a wall soon.

Collecting firewood. Chris and Erik with a prized catch, a piece of wood which probably burnt up in five minutes later that evening.

The aforementioned hatchet buried in wood after throwing many a small to medium-sized boulder at it. No one will free this hatchet.

Facing west from the summit of Greyrock.

Wes facing westward.

Ryan and Chris with his significantly weaker camera.

Ryan, taking in the view, and Erik, thinking about being a runaway groom.

Ryan, still taking in the view, and Erik, with a reversal of mood, deciding to now go through with it and seeing the beauty in it all.

Chris proudly exhibiting his fascination with man, especially hairy-chested, New Belgium Ranger IPA-drinking man.

The morning after. I was first to wake. I felt very old and thus sat by the burned out campfire thinking about the other times I have felt much older than this group of friends while they slept on.

Sarge. He joined us for the trip. He's awesome, massive and a great hiker.

Our last stop before heading down to Fort Collins was our traditional cliff-jumping spot. Only three people jumped. Above: Erik jumps and begins his rotation for the gainer that he successfully and safely completed before plunging into the snowmelt.

Matt takes a leap into the frigid Poudre River, ending the festivities in the mountains.

Time For A Little Bromance

The man in the middle is getting married next week. I'll be driving out for the occasion. Leaving Sunday. Doing it in one shot. 1,045 miles to Fort Collins, a beautiful horizon, best friends and the wondrous outdoors, like only Colorado can deliver them.

I have four books on CD, Red Bulls and a case of New Glarus beer in the trunk for Mac. Bring on the open road.

It's Like AOL All Over Again

I saw this guy in Starbucks last weekend. He had a computer. I couldn't see what he was doing on it as I was sitting across the store from him, but he seemed to be having a lot of fun, even smirking at times with muffled laughter. I guess I believe the general population to be pretty perverted, whether accurate or not, because I sat there thinking to myself, he's looking at porn. No doubt. You see he was up against a wall so he was the only one that could see his computer screen. Perfect. He's in Starbucks, mooching some internet, looking at porn and there is nothing anyone can do. What a sicko. It makes it gross that he's in his 50s. Eww. Why is he smirking? Weird.

I leave. I come back today and see him again, with that same look, although this time I can see his computer screen. With one glance I instantly see the thing that this old man has discovered. This preoccupation, like a person seeing snow for the first time, utterly infatuated he sits and smiles and laughs. It's sort of still porn. It's Facebook. And he's chatting. Oh, how cute, Grandpa's discovered Facebook. Now, just don't get too excited.

Movies: North Face

North Face chronicles the attempts of Germans and Austrians to climb the Eiger in 1936. No man had climbed the north face, and this, among other crackpot goals of the Third Reich, was not acceptable to Hitler and his entourage. Thus, it was decided that summiting the Eiger would be the perfect way for Nazi Germany to jumpstart the 1936 Olympic Games.

A summit was encouraged and two of the climbers, Andreas Hinterstoisser and Toni Kurz, made an attempt in July of 1936, although, it is worth mentioning, not for the glory of Nazi Germany, which makes them much more likable in the movie. North Face focuses on their attempt, although other climbers weave in and out of the story. To be cliché, but accurate, it is an edge-of-your-seat thriller, which has received many positive reviews. I would also recommend it for its beautiful shots of the Alps and a window into the now extinct era of exploring, when you could say you were the first to summit the Eiger via its north face.

More Orwell

"Stamp-collectors are a strange silent fish-like breed, of all ages, but only of the male sex; women, apparently, fail to see the peculiar charm of gumming bits of coloured paper into albums." - "Bookshop Memories" - George Orwell

Sport as Warfare

With the World Cup nearly upon us, I find the following passage to be appropriate--almost necessary--to counteract all these lovely commercials on TV depicting football players and fans as cheery and peaceful. I love sports, but I have to agree with the following.

From George Orwell's essay, "The Sporting Spirit":

I am always amazed when I hear people saying that sport creates goodwill between the nations, and that if only the common peoples of the world could meet one another at football or cricket, they would have no inclination to meet on the battlefield. Even if one didn't know from concrete examples (the 1936 Olympic Games, for instance) that international sporting contests lead to orgies of hatred, one could deduce it from general principles.

...

Anyone who has played even in a school football match knows this. At the international level sport is frankly mimic warfare.

Random Vacation

Booked nine days in advance, Kate and I went to Cancun last week. It was originally a week that we had looked forward to for many reasons--all of which proved to be disastrous exercises in hope, following one's dreams, being adventurous, etc.--one of which buying our first house together and another, exploring our new, and hopefully exciting, hometown. As for the other one, you should know by now--and I am sorry if you don't--it ended miserably on April 5 when I received my tenth and final rejection letter in, what I had previously thought to be, my first and, as yet undecided, only attempt to get into grad school with all the factors in my favor: age (I am getting on in my years), maturity (personally, I think I've always been ahead of the curve here), connections (not many, but I figured good enough), and writing skill (which needs a lot of work and will never be perfected, I know this, but I thought it sufficient enough to get in, right?). Well, I was wrong, miserably, embarrassingly wrong. Chalk one up for the real world again. Another dream squashed and this trip, for me, was at least taken as an attempt to forget that, as I have said before on this blog, magnificent failure. I hope you enjoy the pictures.

The first site of Cancun. Caribbean beaches beckoning to us from the air.

All great beach resorts have a swim-up bar. We set up camp on the shores of this resort's swim-up bar on our first day, within lazily-wading distance of the bartender, Jesus.

The view from one of the restaurants.

A pier, owned by the hotel. The beach was great, the water as warm as a hot tub almost, the sand--superfine and white--was so soft underfoot.

Floating in the pool with diners in the background. Some tables were set out over the water so you could float right under people eating their lunch or dinner. That was sort of weird, but I liked it.

The view from our chairs one day. We liked staying up near the pool and then meandering down to the beach for a dip or a walk whenever we felt like it.

As with all resorts in the Yucatan, there were iguanas wandering around. This one actually jumped (I guess, can iguanas really jump?) onto some woman's chair. I zoomed in and took this picture from across the pool. This guy was at least forty feet away from us. It was funny when the owner of this chair walked up to it and finally saw the iguana. She shrieked and stood upright like a soldier.

The morning of our departure. We got up early to take some pictures of the resort and beach.

Wyoming pride, baby.

A busted pier. Actually, two shots of the same pier. One with the sun directly in the picture and one with it just out of the frame below. I prefer the above shot to the one below.

Looking back on the resort's pier as we stroll north on the beach.

The ubiquitous self-portrait with some other resort in the background.

The parting shot of Cancun, as seen from the exit row of the Boeing 737. AirTran, if you'd like to use the picture in an advertisement, please email me and we can negotiate a contract.

Cruising over Lake Michigan, almost home, and no land in sight. Our own little ocean.

Sullivan on Elena Kagan

"Her entire life seems to have been a closet - in the pursuit of a career." Read the rest here.

I am a little worried that the people who are supposed to do the research for us non-journalists can't even determine how a nominee for the Supreme Court would rule? What is she like? From the sound of it, being appointed to the court has been a life long goal. I don't think that's bad at all, but it seems to be mentioned more as a criticism then anything else. I suppose, if you wanted to be a justice on the highest court in the land, you would walk on eggshells for your entire life/career up until you actually find yourself on the court. This way, you could spend a vast portion of your life not sharing much of your opinions, and that is apparently what many people think she has done, for precisely this time, when the nomination has come and no one knows what to think about her. Well played, I say, if she is confirmed.

Tapping In

Writing to me now is a source of energy, a performance-enhancing drug. When I am swimming and I am in a tight race and I need some energy all I need to do is to think about writing, how it hasn’t done anything for me, how people think I am no good, I think of all of the schools standing on the other side of a doorway flipping me off and then the door shuts, and I pull from those darkest depths of disappointment and depression the reserves of energy and aggression that cannot be matched, that make me surge forward in the pool, or throw myself into the last turn on the track, or jump that extra three inches to block that guy’s shot. Writing is a drug right now that helps with anything but writing at the moment. I am indestructible when I think of it. I am the Hulk. I am Michael Phelps. I am Jordan. I am Usain Bolt. I am that blast of frigid air that spits snow in your face. I am a Category 5 storm. I am Arnold. Come with me if you want to live.

Volcano Pics

Via Sullivan at The Big Picture. Stunning images.

Volcano Video

Pretty amazing footage of the volcano in Iceland via The Guardian's blog on travel disruptions.

From The Onion Sports Section

Running down a list of memorable "Presidential First Pitches", The Onion writes about the highlights. My favorites:

1944: FDR laboriously rolls his wheelchair out to the pitching mound, then stuns the crowd with a 100 mph fastball.

1833: Although the popularization of baseball is still decades off, Andrew Jackson begins the tradition of welcoming in the spring by hurling things at Indians.

Quote of the Day

From Kate, last night, during the second half of the Butler v. Duke game commenting on the obsession among the commentators and Butler fans with the movie Hoosiers. She wasn't even watching it, but working in the kitchen. Mind you, we were already a little fired up for other reasons:

I'm getting tired of all these references to Hoosiers. Get over it. It was a goddamn movie.

From Satellites

The first full length album from Ask You In Gray is available to buy or download. This is the group my great friend Trey is half of. The music is electronica/dance, so not up everyone's alley, but it's seriously good if you like that stuff. Personal favorites: I Can't Dance, Reckless, Farlands, Elaborate Betrayal, Break It Down, and From Satellites. That is more than half the CD. If you like it, buy it or download it. It is super cheap and you will be supporting two great guys from Colorado, Chicago, and now Portland.

Listen to the music at askyouingray.com

Follow the links on that site to get your copy.

Get to the choppa!

The search is over. The best YouTube video ever.

No TV, No Problem

Parting with TV for Lent has been great. It isn't easy to say on here what exactly I did with the time I wasn't watching TV. I am sure I read more in the last 44 days than I would have. I am pretty sure that I wrote more too. And, I've had to rely on the internet and the newspaper even more than I previously had for staying up to date with current events. On the flip side of that, I felt delightfully out of touch with current events at times and it is hard to feel that way unless one is backpacking.

It has been very nice to not watch the NCAA tournament. I never really care who wins or goes far in the tournament, but if I watch I have the tendency to pick some favorites and then I get really upset when they lose. It is stupid. I am happy Duke has made it to the Final Four. I am also proud that Butler, a Horizon League (Milwaukee's conference) team, has made it to the Final Four, but since I haven't watched previous rounds of the tournament I am not nearly as invested in their outcome. Honestly, even though Lent ends today or ended on Thursday (I'm not exactly sure when Lent ends for Presbyterians), I don't plan on watching the games tonight. I might tune in to the last few minutes, but I don't even know if I'll have the TV on tonight.

The one show that I missed the most was The Daily Show. It gives me a substantial dose of humor and journalism (yes, I believe it does) before bed. It reminds me daily why I have become disillusioned with politics after having spent a summer working for a politician. It reminds me of how crazy the media is. It reminds me that it is best to stay moderate in political views, or at least independent of political factions, because the Democrats often don't have the balls to get anything done and the Republicans, in all seriousness, are freaking crazy right now. Of course, anyone who listens to Sarah Palin and thinks, now that's a great candidate for President of the United States of America, could be found medically to be insane. It also reminds me that I don't really connect to the Democrats either. I don't know if I have anything in common with Nancy Pelosi. I'm not exactly sure we are the same species. It's hard to tell after that plastic surgery, but I think we were both for health care reform.

That's about it probably.

The USA Today

I am about to finish up Bill Bryson’s Neither Here Nor There. I thought I would complete the book before pulling some of my favorite quotes and putting them up on the blog, but this one can’t wait. The following passage is from the chapter on his time in Austria:

An old boy, who was dressed more like a housepainter than a waiter, brought me a cup of coffee without asking if I wanted one and, upon realizing that I was an American, began gathering up copies of USA Today.

“Oh, no, please,” I said as he presented me with half a dozen, “put these on the fire and bring me some newspapers.”

God bless you, Bill Bryson.

The Return of Tiger

The cover story in last week’s NY Times Magazine was about Tiger’s return to the PGA. Jonathan Mahler wrote “The Tiger Bubble”, and you can find the article in its entirety here. There were some hilarious and informative passages, some of which I have included below.

Speaking of Tiger, Mahler writes, “The athlete who dominated a sport of discipline, focus and self-control—his father, an ex-military man, once compared him to Gandhi—was a sex junkie. Even as Wood’s sponsors quickly began to drop him, their advertisements lingered awkwardly throughout America: a life-size image of the world’s most famous philanderer greeted airport travelers over Accenture ad copy that read as if it had been written for the occasion: “Go on. Be a Tiger.””

The author reports a quote from Sean McManus, the president of CBS News and Sports, as saying, “I think the first tournament Tiger Woods plays again, wherever it is, will be the biggest media event other than the Obama inauguration in the past 10 to 15 years.” I’m not entirely sure of this. No doubt, the Masters, especially that first day, will be a huge event, but I think McManus assumes a lot to say only the Obama inauguration will overshadow this event in the timeline of the last 10 to 15 years. I have no knowledge about media events or what constitutes a media event, but wouldn’t the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics constitute a media event? Will that truly pale in comparison to Woods stepping onto the first tee? Maybe. I don’t know. I sort of don’t want it to. I wish it was just another Masters with Woods favored to win, but it is anything but that.

I learned a lot about the PGA season that I didn’t know before, like the first tournament televised by a major network is the Farmers Insurance Open at Torrey Pines. As everyone knows, Tiger wasn’t present this year, but some old friends showed up. “One afternoon, an airplane hired by a local strip club flew overhead, trailing a banner that read, “WE MISS YOU TOO, TIGER! DREAMGIRLS.”” Wow.

Much of the article focused on Tiger’s impact on the game, which has, for the most part, been immeasurable. But there are ways to measure some of the impact:

Over the course of Wood’s career, the tour aggressively raised the price of entry for corporate sponsors. In the process, purses grew by an average of 400 percent. A lot of money found its way into Wood’s pocket. Last year alone, he won $10.5 million, bringing his career total to about $93 million. But there was also a powerful trickle-down effect on his fellow golfers. In 1996, only nine players on the tour earned $1 million. In 2009, 91 golfers did.

And this stat about the PGA’s charitable donations:

Earlier this year, it [the PGA] rolled out a new marketing campaign to draw attention to golf’s charitable giving, which is considerable. All tournament profits are donated to charity; last year, the total came to $108 million, which dwarfs that given by other sports.

I would have never guessed that tournament profits always go to charity, that’s awesome, but also not feasible in some other professional leagues due to how they differ in structure compared with the PGA. But that is freaking sweet.

If you have any interest in sports or Tiger, I recommend clicking over to the article. It is free for now, and you may as well take advantage of that. I think the days of free NY Times are numbered.

Out West

Kate, happy to see her Scotty dogs. Max and Molly.

What do you do in Laramie on a Saturday? Well, you could go to see the peewee rodeo. This was fun, albeit quite smelly. Made even more fun if you bring a vegetarian along and they start crying.

The smallest cowboy I have ever seen. He is tying a string on the goat's tail.

A look across Prexy's Pasture.

A sculpture on Prexy's that looks like it is straight out of the movie version of Where The Wild Things Are.

War Memorial Stadium, currently under construction and on steroids.

Somewhere between Laramie and Fort Collins on highway 287. Beautiful.

Leftovers of the freak snow storm we had in Denver on Tuesday night.

Back West

And you know we are going to stop at the Rio...

Back in less than a week.

To Allen Drive

I threw it into Lake Michigan. It flew threw the air like a rock I was trying to skip and it may have skipped if it hadn’t turned vertical and entered the water without a splash. I had been saving it for some sort of closure, waiting to throw it into a body of water. I was thinking as soon as I brought my arm forward it would fly out of my left hand and like people do in the movies, I would instantly feel better about what took place and the hole in my heart would be covered up instantly. It wouldn’t be filled, that’s impossible. Just covered up so I can’t fall into it again and again.

For minutes before I threw it, I held the piece of metal in my hand, thinking of where I had taken it, of when I received it; of the times I used it. For ten and a half years I have had it on my being. It doesn’t necessarily look that old, but it feels older. The metal texturing, similar to sand paper, has been worn smooth at the center of its broad end where I grasped it so many times, often in the dark, fumbling around in the cold.

I looked at it resting in my palm, noticing the unnatural bend of the metal, something I gave to it months ago out of anger. I had bent it to a ninety-degree angle and then felt embarrassed about my anger and I bent it back, but there is a scar now. It isn’t perfectly straight like it once was and I wonder if I could still use it if I needed to. But I know I won’t need to. It can’t be used anymore, but it is the last physical object of that place I have, giving it meaning beyond its functionality, which is the reason I still have it, five months after it ceased to be useful.

But it was time to let it go. Just the sight of it over the last months has vexed me. I don’t need to keep it for its meaning, I don’t need another thing lying around the apartment that brings to mind that hurt and shock. That was why I was there, I guess, on a sunny, warm day on the shore of Lake Michigan, because there will always be that hurt and shock, regardless of whether or not I keep this metal. So as I brought my arm back I was tempted to curse once again the people and places that made this metal useless, but I didn’t. I tried to let go of some of the aggression and I flung it into the water, which was Caribbean blue that day, hoping that some of the anger sank to the bottom of Lake Michigan along with the key to 706. I can only hope.

Jesus Called

I am not a fan of bumper stickers. There are two designs I will allow to grace my car, the Wyoming bucking horse logo and the MxPx pokinatcha punk face. Currently, neither of these stickers are on my car. I feel like if I have something important to say, I want to say it, and not have people read it on the back of my car. These opening sentences are all part of a tangent to the story I originally wanted to share with this blog.

Now that I’ve established that I am above putting nearly all bumper stickers on my car, I want to say that I still admire a great bumper sticker. I saw one last week. It read: Jesus Called, He Wants His Religion Back.

You don’t read too many opinions (at least in the West) that posit a highjacking of the Christian faith for purposes of power, persuasion, war, etc. Most of the time it is the terrorists who are responsible for a highjacking of faith (Islam). But our gaze is too often external, and what I specifically like about this bumper sticker is that it makes you think internally, at least in terms of the Christian body. Something about “Jesus Called, He Wants His Religion Back” stings and I figured out what it is. It is the truth in the statement. There are as many people involved in Christian malpractice as there are people involved in Muslim malpractice. The results aren’t always the same, especially in terms of coverage in the news outlets.

Jesus’ teachings are pure, beautiful, inclusive, and non-violent. The religion that springs forth from those teachings isn’t always that. Bugger.

Dark, Quiet, and Cold

I think I woke up because of the quiet. Maybe it was the darkness. I can’t remember exactly. I knew, somehow, in my sleep that something was different. Coming into focus, my eyes stared at the VCR (yes, we still have a VCR). The current time in its familiar orange glow did not stare back. I rolled over and looked at the alarm clock. Blank. My cell phone was the nearest reliable clock. I picked it up and it’s small screen lit up the wall at the head of my bed like a flashlight. 3:22am.

“The power is out.” I had needlessly said. My wife had to work at 7 this morning. I asked her if her cell phone’s alarm clock was set. It was. I asked her if I should set mine too for her. Yes, 5:45am. Okay. I did. We rolled over and tried to fall back asleep, but every once in a while we would chime in about the power being out. She shared a story about she and her sisters trying to warm ham in a pan over a candle during a power outage in her childhood. That’s a very Bradley thing to do. The first concern: food. How are we going to eat?

We finally fell asleep. For a moment we woke up a little after 5 when the power switched on, humming in high and low keys for a few seconds and then off. Back to sleep and up at 5:45 when the cell phones went off. We got out of bed and lit candles in the bathroom and living area. I used a mini Maglite to light my way around the house. We first went downstairs to the garage to see if the door would open. It did. Very slowly it crept up onto the rails parallel to the ground. My wife was moving her car outside. She told me to lift to help the garage door up. It didn’t make a difference. It opened all the way and I got in the car and we drove to ground level and parked.

Back inside the apartment I lay on the bed and watched my wife move about the apartment by candlelight. Immortalized by the soft yellow glow of the light. I stared, changing my position every half-minute, alternating from eyes closed and head down to eyes open and head up watching to see if she was ready to leave.

I walked her out to her car. It is darker now in the morning, the night the clocks sprung forward, robbing us of an hour we won’t get back until the fall. We could see just fine. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but its glow lit up clouds thousands of feet above us which were now operating as mood lighting, an orange glow from the far-off sun and nearby city lights. But the buildings were dark. No exterior or interior lights on. The only sign of life or inhabitance being furniture on patios and different arrangements of the blinds. We arrived at her car. A kiss goodbye and I turned to walk back into the darkness.

Conference Championship Pictures

Swimming staff pre-400 Free Relay and conference champions celebration, hence the dry eyes of the coaches on the left half of the picture. I thought I would cry a little bit when victory finally arrived, but all I could do was smile, laugh, and yell.

The scoreboard. Beautiful.

Blurry chanting and celebrating.

Our retiring swimmers in a post-conference embrace.

A glance in Kate's direction during the pandemonium.

The pool. Devoid of bodies. Nearly quiet. And trying to calm its surface.

The coaches with most of the hardware from the victorious weekend. (3-14-10 - I realized I had already posted this picture. It's good enough to have up here twice.)

John Wooden + The Onion

A headline from this week’s Onion:

John Wooden, 99, Found Dea—Never Mind, False Alarm

It still has me laughing and I read it ten minutes ago.

Oscar's 'Kanye' Moment

About that interrupted acceptance speech. The NY Times has the scoop. Read here.

Oscar Predictions and Results

I broke my Lenten fast from TV to watch the Oscars last night. Call it cheating, whatever you want, I wanted to see them and I think watching one program in 40 days is still okay.

Anyway, let’s see how I did with my predictions. I started out okay, but then I hit a streak of three bad picks in a row. That’s okay. Those were all guesses.

16 Correct Picks. 8 Incorrect Picks.

Best Picture: The Hurt Locker – I was right. This movie was good, but had I seen all ten of the nominated films, I’m not sure I would have felt it was worthy of a win. Overall, I think the field seemed a little weak this year. I was left with a lot of feelings after watching The Hurt Locker, but not the feeling that I had just seen a movie worthy of Best Picture.

Best Director: Kathryn Bigelow – Right. Not much surprise here I think. Although, in my opinion, the movie she directed wasn’t downright amazing, the work that went into it had to be amazing. I mean, think of all the successful movies about the Iraq War. Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Best Actress: Sandra Bullock – Wrong. I went with Carey Mulligan, the underdog. After seeing how truly young she looked I knew I wasn’t going to get this one right. Bullock must put in a hell of a performance in The Blind Side because I have never thought of her as an actress that could beat out the likes of Helen Mirren and Meryl Streep. Odd.

Best Actor: Jeff Bridges – Right. Easy pick. I don’t think anyone was shocked. His acceptance speech was great, not necessarily the words, but the childlike giggles that came out of him in between sentences and natural pauses in his speech. You could see and hear his genuine happiness. Very cool.

Best Supporting Actress: Mo’Nique – Right. She said something about the Academy awarding the performance and not the politics and how she was very thankful about that. Well, I don’t really know what that means because in my recent memory most of the actors that did the best job were awarded the Oscar. She would probably disagree with this sentiment, but that’s the way I see it. She was awarded an Oscar because she deserved it and for no other reason.

Best Supporting Actor: Christoph Waltz – Right. Easiest pick of the night. I love his English. He sounds so damn proper.

Animated Feature: Up – Right. Also an easy pick. It is hard to dethrone the genius of Pixar.

Original Screenplay: The Hurt Locker – Right. You have to give the award to the writer who finally made an interesting movie about at least one of our current wars. All the rest, unless they were documentaries, have failed miserably.

Adapted Screenplay: Precious – Right. I just went with momentum here because Precious has it. Although, Up in the Air would not have been a bad pick.

Art Direction: Avatar – Right. Any surprise here? It would have been like snubbing Christoph Waltz. Just not going to happen.

Cinematography: Avatar – Right. This was a beautifully shot movie. Lots of long shots with little cutting to make you feel like you were in Pandora. It is hard to turn it down.

Film Editing: The Hurt Locker – Right. This movie, compared to the rest, seemed the most artfully cut with very little wiggle room. Meaning, if it was done just slightly different, it would have been a completely different movie.

Foreign Language Film: El Secreto de Sus Ojos – Wrong. I don’t know anything about these movies. Totally guessed. Totally wrong.

Original Score: Up – Wrong. I picked Avatar, but I did mention Up as a strong contender. I did think Avatar’s soundtrack was impressive. It wasn’t stale and over-the-top like it had a great danger of being. Just right.

Best Original Song: Weary Heart – Right. Jeff Bridges said this song helped make the movie. I went with his feeling.

Costume Design: The Young Victoria – Right. Rule #1: When making a prediction for the award for costume design, go with, when available, the movie made about the monarchy.

Best Documentary: The Cove – Wrong. I didn’t see any of these, but this movie looks depressing, which is often a good sign when you are in search of great documentaries.

Best Short Documentary: Music by Prudence – Wrong. I went with the GM movie. This was the acceptance speech where one of the people involved in the movie totally interrupted the winner’s acceptance speech. A weird moment. He didn’t look happy.

Best Short Film (Animated): Logorama – Wrong. Where does one see these movies is my question?

Best Short Film (Live Action): The New Tenants – Wrong. This was part of my bad streak last night.

Best Makeup: Star Trek – Right. Okay, back on track. Sort of easy to pick this winner.

Best Sound Editing: The Hurt Locker – Right. See what I wrote about the editing.

Best Sound Mixing: The Hurt Locker – Wrong. I went with Transformers. I wonder how often do the two big sound awards go to different movies?

Best Visual Effects: Avatar – Right. Surprise. Surprise.

Oscar Predictions

For what it is worth, I’ll take another shot at predicting those who will be victorious tomorrow at the Academy Awards.

Best Picture: The Hurt Locker

I think this is a much harder year to predict in some categories, best picture being the hardest. I could see the underdog, An Education, winning. Even Inglourious Basterds. But if I had to pick one movie that might usurp The Hurt Locker, it is Avatar. I am just not confident about The Hurt Locker’s chances, even though I feel it has all the momentum going into tomorrow even with considering the revelation that a producer emailed voters to tell them to vote for The Hurt Locker.

Actor in a Leading Role: Jeff Bridges, Crazy Heart

I haven’t seen the movie, but from what I have read and seen on TV about Bridges performance, this is his year. That’s great. I’ve always enjoyed his work.

Actor in a Supporting Role: Christoph Waltz, Inglourious Basterds

This is easily the most predictable category. If Waltz doesn’t win, I don’t know anything and neither do most of the top film critics out there. I had heard that his performance was outstanding, but after watching the movie a couple of weeks ago, I would say that outstanding is an understatement. He dominates every scene he is in. You hang on his every word and are awestruck at his humorous overtures and hand waving and then, once he has tricked you into liking him, he shows his dark side and he does it over and over again throughout the movie. Brilliant.

Actress in a Leading Role: Carey Mulligan, An Education

I haven’t seen the performance, but people are buzzing about it. Out of all the movies that are home to nominated performances, I most want to see An Education. It looks great and I saw the preview tonight when I watched The Damned United. (Great movie by the way!) Anyway, I wouldn’t be surprised by a win for Gibourey Sidibe here, but I think Mo’Nique will take the victory for Precious in the Supporting Role category. I would be surprised if Sandra Bullock won. Then I might actually have to see The Blind Side.

Actress in a Supporting Role: Mo’Nique, Precious

I wonder what her last name is? I haven’t seen the movie, but if I ever come out of obscurity and am famous for some reason I want to have one name. Any ideas?

Animated Feature Film: Up

The thing I remember most about this film is that Kate was crying 11 minutes into it. That’s an accomplishment. It is almost like that first eleven is a movie unto itself. Then you just end up watching the second movie to see what happens to the old man.

Art Direction: Avatar

It has got to start racking up awards sometime, right. Well, I think Avatar is a shoe-in for this one.

Cinematography: Avatar

I don’t think it is going to win best picture or best director, but it has to take home some statues.

Costume Design: The Young Victoria

The only reason I picked this film: because doing costumes for a movie set in 19^th century England seems harder than all the rest.

Directing: Kathryn Bigelow, The Hurt Locker

Bigelow beats out her ex. Does anyone else think James Cameron’s hairdo is awful?

Documentary: Food, Inc.

I haven’t seen this one either, but I’ve essentially read the books. See Michael Pollan.

Documentary Short: The Last Truck: Closing of a GM Plant

I’m totally guessing here. No clue. Probably wrong.

Film Editing: The Hurt Locker

Foreign Language Film: Ajami

Because I like the title. No other reason.

Makeup: Star Trek

Music (Original Score): Avatar

But if another movie wins, I think it will go to Up. Maybe I’ll be wrong on both.

Music (Original Song): “The Weary Kind (Theme from Crazy Heart)” by Ryan Bingham and T Bone Burnett

Short Film (Animated): A Matter of Loaf and Death

Again, because I like the title.

Short Film (Live Action): Kavi

Sound Editing: The Hurt Locker

Sound Mixing: Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen

Visual Effects: Avatar

No other movie deserves this award.

Writing (Adapted Screenplay): Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire

Writing (Original Screenplay): The Hurt Locker

With Regards

I read the words. I don’t read the sentence. I don’t get to the period. My eyes jump to the letterhead and I bore through the paper with my thoughts. I am not looking at the letter. The school’s signature and font merely screen thoughts of other schools from muddling this moment, the moment in which all my imagining of what getting an MFA from this specific school might have looked like—the move there, my commute, the surrounding city, the classes, the hours spent working on assignments, the time at the writer’s desk—is shattered. I don’t know why it is a wine glass, but it is, and it holds all of those hopes and my ambition and it is falling from a not so great height, because it doesn’t take a great height to break a wine glass, and it hits the ground and the thin stem folds under the weight of my future. It splits, breaking into sharp pieces of a dream that scatter along the floor into dark corners where sweeping won’t work.

I feel like there are ten of me. We each have a door in front of us representing a school I applied to. Four of us now are lying on the ground motionless. I should only be 4/10 less hopeful, but I feel 9/10 less hopeful.

The schools that have rejected me are erased from my memory. I grab each vision of a future there and throw it in the trash. I file the rejection letter away. I don’t know why I am keeping it. Maybe I will frame them all in the end, a testament to a magnificent failure. Something I like to think of as being wildly motivational, but really, it is just depressing, what I received in turn for dreaming, “I regret to inform you.”

2010 Horizon League Men's Swimming and Diving Champions

There will be a time to try to put into words the events and emotions of last week, but that is not now. Here are some select pictures from the 2010 Horizon League Swimming and Diving Championship Meet. Men: 1st. Women 2nd. In the above photo, a senior and captain lifts high the 2010 Men's Swimming and Diving Championship Trophy.

The sprinters (a.k.a. the Bonecrushers) and their coach.

Post-meet celebration. Going for a swim with the team. Watch the video here. For the official recap, you can go here.

Taking an extended dip in the pool with Belton.

Me and the 2010 Horizon League Men's Swimming Coach of the Year.

Bringing home some hardware. Belton (equipment manager, record keeper, meet scorer, Bryce's go-to-guy, pretentious punk), Me, Erica, and Kyle.

Midnight. Back at home. We cleared space on a display table in the athletics front office for all the trophies we brought back. Unbelievably great picture.