Bukowski and Cleaning

My friend Kelly always teases me that she will never ever help me move again unless I get rid of some books. I don't know that I will be moving any time soon, but I have been attempting to downsize some of my belongings. Books are close to impossible to part with. If I do manage to find one I don't want (from one of my four bookshelves), I end up rationalizing buying four more.

I spend more time on Amazon than I do at the library. This weekend I decided that one entire bookshelf had to go. The shelf itself was an eyesore. It took an entire day. I managed to rid myself of about 3 whole books. But I took some baby steps. I reshuffled and decided that some books could be stacked neatly in one of my closets. I mean seriously, what are the chances of me ever rereading Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics or Nietzsche's Genealogy of Morals? I majored in philosophy for a year or so in undergrad and for some reason, I seem to think that I need these books forever.

And Bukowski. I thought he was a god when I was much much younger. I must have 20 0r more of his books. I still admire his infinite drive to write every day. There is something to say about coming home from a night out and hammering out three poems. I used to do that. Truthfully, those poems of mine need burned. It was a satisfying experience but nothing came out of it. I suppose it was a necessary stage in my early writing life, but in the end I had to distance myself from his work. His line breaks...I won't even get started.

I will never be able to write three poems in one night again. I'm ecstatic if I write three poems in a month. I can think about one line for hours, even days. My process is slow and neurotic.

As for Bukowski, well, I am not quite ready to part with his books, but all of them, except for one, are stacked in a closet. I imagine some day I will let go.

Lonely Ohio Winters

I made it to Brandywine on Saturday and managed to ride for a few hours before I became bored. These pictures are from the parking lot. I have learned the hard way to not put a camera in my pocket while snowboarding.

Just the other day my boyfriend asked me why I don't snowboard with anyone. I used to snowboard with my friend Bryan, but he moved to Colorado so he could ride seven or eight months of the year.

I tried to explain to my boyfriend that snowboarding is about me, the board, and the mountain...or in Ohio's case, the hill. When I attempted to discuss this with him, I meant what I said. Snowboarding is a lot like writing. The act is sacred sometimes, and it's all mine. I don't team write.

But I must admit, after going down Grizzly a dozen times this past Saturday- tumbling, jumping, giggling...I started feeling this pull in my gut.



Loneliness.

I must be cracking up or something. I have always been, "Oh, I love spending time with myself." And now, as I get older, I realize how much companionship means to me. Writer Jen spends enough time alone; snowboarder Jen may need a snowboarding buddy.

Or at least I need some more challenging terrain than Brandywine so I can spend less time being lonely and more time worrying about the artistry of snowboarding.

P.S. Thanks goes to my loyal Jeep. Recently I had been thinking about purchasing a vehicle that would be easier on the gas and such...but I must admit, never once in eight years has the Jeep been stuck. It's small and incredible-perfect for winter snow driving and summer convertible cruising.

I'm heading out

The roads are a mess. I know I am crazy.

Still, what can an Ohio snowboarder do? I normally despise Brandywine because it takes three seconds to get down the hill. I refuse to get step-in bindings so it is rather annoying to unstrap and restrap constantly. But with this powder, I'll deal with it.

Happy snowstorm everyone. I now put my faith in one 2001 Jeep.

No Found Poem at the Gym

I exercise at a place where people never stop talking. I want to scream. I have spent close to six months listening to their small talk. The trainers constantly ask yes/no questions. The people pretending to break a sweat complain about the weather or talk about past/present/future holidays.

Did everybody have a good day? Yes. It sure is cold out. Did anyone do anything fun on New Years? Yes. Did you make some resolutions? Yes. I don't want to slip on the ice. Are you happy the holidays are over? Yes. I have to take my Christmas decorations down. Is your heart rate okay?

The worst part about these questions is that if you are there long enough, you hear the same cycle of questions in the same day.

If your hate rate is not okay, are you really going to say something?

The older I get, the more I lose the gift of small talk. It's not like I can truly exercise and talk at the same time anyway.

I guess I too have comments on the weather. I can't wait until I get a snow day so that I can go snowboarding at Seven Springs. Or, I can't wait until it's warm enough that I can run outside and spend less time exercising indoors.