from the house…

“Sometimes… I just don’t want to hug people. And sometimes, I just haven’t hugged anyone in a while, and I don’t want them to feel special.” ~Andrew

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21 Club No More

No… I’m not unexpectedly turning 22 tomorrow. Actually, I’m rather fond of being 21. I think I’m going to stay 21 for a while… at least if I have anything to do with it.

Rather, what I’m referring to is me, getting ready to do the first sensible thing I’ve done all fall: drop a freaking class!

Of course, I’ll feel like a drop out. Everyone else in my house is taking 21 credit hours. The two others I’m doing Econ 301 with are taking 20+ credit hours. I think Katy’s actually taking 22. I mean, what kind of slacker takes less than 20 credit hours? I tell ya, I’m not getting my money’s worth. But … I’ve got to sleep. Some time. This is my second or third NSS (no-sleep-Sunday) in three weeks of school. I hate to complain but … wait … no, no. That’s a lie.

So that’s that: I’m dropping out. Droppin’ like a Conservative from Drama class. Droppin’ like it’s my job. Droppin’ like its hot … drop-droppin’ like its hot.

Oh lord. Refer to … two paragraphs ago.

So, bid farewell: So long, Stats. Buh-bye, Mr. 217. Calculate that, punks: what’s the p-value of “asta la vista”? The t-test statistic of the number of more classes I’m going to attend. Tell me, do I reject the null hypothesis, where H0: u = drop 217 like a red-headed stepchild? Ha. Not on your life!

Wow. Good timing, too: looks like today (it’s been today for all of an hour and some, now…) is the last day to drop a class without a grade.

Huh. I feel better, already.

Time to go tackle that 5″ (literally… ug!) stack of Econ papers to grade. Mmm!

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Ten Things I Hate About MS(U)

Since this isn’t likely to ever see the light of day in print form, I guess I’ll go ahead and put it here. That’s what I have this silly thing (er … blog) for, anyway, right?

(The Best and Worst of MSU Campus Culture)

1. In an interview that didn’t really happen, Jane C Anystudent had this to say about campus culture: “Yeah. So, we totally stand around sometimes on the mall, by what’s it called? Admin Hall? Over there by Reid? Anyhow, so we stand around and talk, and sometimes someone like Jimmy will come ride up on his bike and, like, join our circle for a while before saying something chill like ‘hey, guys, I’ll check ya later. I gotta pedal on.'”

2. Of course, there IS the conspicuous lack of parking garages on campus. As a perspective student, I was skeptical: what kind of college campus doesn’t have a large, ugly and expensive parking garage dominating some part of lower campus? What’s with all these damn hippies, riding their bikes and taking the bus? What about carbon emissions? What about Bozeman’s needy and deserving contractors?

3. Amidst my tirade, however, I should take a moment to compliment MSU on its pointed absence of a campus-wide recycling program. You would think, with all these hippies and ski-bums, Montana Hall would have kowtowed to popular demand and done the socially responsible thing. But not so! In addition to steely resolve, the administration dodges and demurs with the skillful craft of, say, our current national administration. Besides, we have Mountains and Minds! Mountains to mine and minds to mine ‘em! Mountains to bury mountains of trash! It takes guts for MSU to stand against conservation. But bravo, sir: you’ve stood your ground with admirable (if negligent) tenacity thus far! MSU has its priorities right: football stadiums! research buildings! We’re blue and gold-—not green, silly!

4. (omitted)

5. Speaking of culture, MSU has quite a vibrant online community. Expectedly, the new MyPortal system has been an astonishing success. In another interview that didn’t really happen, John H. Liesalot had nothing but good to say about MyPortal: “it’s wonderful, really, that the university provides such a great service. As a matter of fact, I think it’s the best email system I’ve ever used. And, I mean, I’ve used a lot!”

In a series of interviews that DID actually happen, I collected some somewhat different responses: “No. I use Gmail. It didn’t work and I stopped trying to access it.” “Um. Not very much… I’m glad we can forward our mail.” “Still setting it up here. Can’t get it to work.” “My profs use different things.” “I probably should, but I don’t.” In fact, in a half dozen interviews, I didn’t manage to find anyone who used MyPortal. I’m sure there’s a vibrant community there, though—-at least among MSU’s most persistent and patient.

6. And where would campus culture be without living on campus? ResLife deserves applause for having managed, despite incredible odds, to create an ideal campus living situation for misanthropes, the wealthy but non-discriminating, and those with an abounding love for over-reaching authority. When asked about RA presence in the Quads, Katie Let’s-Leave-It-At-Katie was direct: “Oh god. It was incredibly overbearing. To the point of being absurd.” Katie, I’m sure, is an exception: after all, who wouldn’t want omnipresent pseudo-authority figures in our dorms (oh, I’m sorry, “residence halls”) to remind us of good old Mom and Dad?

7. Of course, there’s plenty to praise that doesn’t require sarcasm. Like SRO, for instance. If not writing this, I’d be standing across from the bookstore, gettin’ a steamin’-hot cup o’ joe, served quick with a smile. An, oh, it’s deliciously cheap: especially between 4:30 and 6:00 (“happy hour-and-a-half”, as it were), when drinks are half-price. If not for SRO, I doubt I’d ever make it through afternoon Business Law without that rude (but sometimes necessary) mid-day nap.

8. Speaking of naps, MSU has some respectable napping destinations. Before noon, scope out Leigh Lounge for big stuffed chairs and cozy couches (and dreams of Brad Pitt!). When Leigh Lounge fills up, make for the couches in the Library, 3rd Floor, South-East corner. Put an open book on your lap (to blend in, of course) and enjoy. You deserve that nap.

9. And though MSU may not have the school-spirit of Hollywood’s Animal House clichés, the demonstrations on the Mall show that we’re not passive or indifferent. Be it the radically pro-life or slightly mis-informed (but heartfelt) opponents of the War in Iraq, the Mall keeps us lively and engaged. And, here’s a tip: the lawn behind Montana Hall is perfect to catch a sun set. Then, if you stay late, the Mall becomes a playground for MSU’s gnarly-suspension-ed, wheelie-riding, eight-inch-lift mountain-bike subculture. I dig it.

10. Little known fact: the Ministry of Silly Walks has a degree program at MSU. Its students are often seen walking on air around Romney Circle. Those who haven’t quite mastered thin air use webbing stretched between two trees. But watch for the ones without webbing! (By-the-by: come now, gentlemen: I don’t care if you and the trees are going steady: use protection. A little bit of cardboard between your webbing and that big, wood, tree-trunk will keep the trees unscarred.)

11. When not loitering on the top floor of Hedges (another story altogether), MSU’s perennial feathered friends prefer the resort environment of the hot-spring-heated Duck Pond. Bringing a loaf of bread is fun, but cliché; for a good time, donate Daffy (et al) a fifth of Malibu.

12. And who says that we’re a bunch of philistines? (–-aside from the Director of the Exit Gallery, that is.) A visit to the Copeland Gallery (Haynes Hall, second floor), the Exit Gallery (SUB 106e) or the architecture Lower Gallery (Cheever Hall) reveals a delightfully active art community at Montana’s best (ag/engineering, *ahem*) university.

13. And if you’re looking for something a little more bizarre–a little taxidermy, perhaps–seek out Lewis Hall’s sizeable collection of stuffed birds (and bobcats)! After Lewis, cross the mall to Sherrick Hall, to see MSU’s only statuary: a bust of Anna Pearl Sherrick, the 1937 founder of MSU’s College of Nursing. She looks stern, but, ah, has a heart of gold (or bronze, in this case).

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Movie Pirate!

Yaar! The Procrastinator Theatre works! If the PIT continues to generate revenue like it has this weekend, it should more than double last year’s revenue! I just need to learn to curb my pop-corn making impulses… tonight is the second night in a row that we’ve discarded a huge amount of popcorn… mostly because I’m over-eager to make it! Oh, but it’s so easy, and such a pleasure. Tonight, our concessions stand made more money than we made on ticket sales! As it should be! Hurrah!

On a different note, some retrospection has once again reminded me that I’ve made a tremendous ass of myself to a number of people. If you haven’t already received a personal apology from me for such occasions… just remind me, next time I see you, to provide such an apology. I don’t mean to. It’s just that, some times, I loose my sense of perspective, and so juvenile and punitive things. It’s not that I have an excuse; I don’t. But, all the same, it happens from time to time, and I know I owe some apologies.

So, I’ve effectively blown off the first week of school. But, fortunately, there’s still time to redeem myself, as the Procrastinator settles in to a more established rhythm.

Anyhow. I might as well say that I’m thrilled with the Procrastinator: it resembles something of a bona-fide second run theater, at present. I feel I’ve hired some solid staff, and I think it’s going to be a great year. God, and everything has gone smoothly. I can’t believe how smoothly it’s gone… But, again, I’m thrilled by it. Thrilled.

Well, that’s all for tonight. It’s approaching 4:00, which means it’s time for bed. Tomorrow’s another exciting day!

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An angsty oblivion…

Gaa! My classes this semester SUCK! I have one good professor (or maybe I have a few good profs, and one great prof). One. Yaar! I mean, most of them are pretty accomplished (books published, one former CEO of FedEx Asia, one adjunct professor at Berkley…) but … I mean, maybe they would be better if my classmates were better … could teach the classes at a higher level … something. I guess I am at Montana State University, but…

I’ve realized over the last few days that the Procrastinator (shiny new website: montana.edu/procrastinator (put together by Carter)) is my top priority for the coming school year. But it’s also my second top priority. (In the past four days, for example, I’ve given the PIT a sixteen hour day, a thirteen hour day, and today a twelve hour day…) Then school settles in somewhere around third priority. There’s NO reason for me to not get a solid 4.0 this semester. Then recreation / the house / Green Club / dating fills somewhere in the fourth priority area…

Ha. As an amusing side note, I’ve dated two girls in my 21 years of life … and I have classes with both of them this semester. Heh. Go figure.

Nyaar.

Did I mention? Before I left for the Winds / Tetons, I got my motorcycle working? And, did I mention, that before I left for the Winds / Tetons, it broke again? I don’t even know what could be wrong. I haven’t had the heart (much less the time) to investigate. I think I’m just going to winterize it, and think about it next spring. Then probably spend all of next summer fixing it again… hopefully fixing it right, this time… Why didn’t I just buy a Honda? Talk about a source of angst. Angst!

Two … two two two. (Sorry … internal train of thought, there.)

I almost told someone to have a good weekend today. Today, being Tuesday. I guess, somehow, in the back of my mind, it feels like it’s almost the weekend… Maybe that’s just the result of two eighteen hour days on campus…

Well, I think I’m going to go to bed. And I’ll probably set my alarm for late. If I sleep through Econ 302… who cares? And if I keep sleeping, and don’t make it to Econ 301… who cares? We’re just doing math review right now (not that my math couldn’t use a little review, but…).

That’s all. I can’t even think or something funny to add in conclusion So I’ll just let my words trail off to an angsty oblivion…

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How to start out a semester…

Ah. First day of classes. Mmm. I’ve been on campus since 8:00 a.m. this morning … and it’s 2:30 now … a.m., that is. This damn Procrastinator Theatre is consuming my life! Yaar!

On the positive side, though, I certainly fleshed out my knowledge of residential and commercial wiring systems … 120v … 240v … single-phase … three-phase … L14-30R plugs vs 5-15R plugs. You know. The usual. Oh, and I built a really sweet shelf / counter thing, out of the wood that my popper was shipped in (yeah… my popper came on a wooden pallet, in a crate. Had to get facility services to come pick it up from the SUB and drive it across campus, right down the middle of the mall, with a Gradall. It’s like a 200lb popper… retails for something like $4,000 and draws an obscene amount of power. Finally figured out how to power it, though (by splitting a 50amp 240v outlet). Just need to go to ACE tomorrow (ah, they know me by name!) and buy more obscenely overpriced connectors ($20-$30 for just a silly little connector!) tomorrow morning (say around 7:00 a.m.).

Oh, and on another positive side, I’m almost done hiring staff for the coming year. I’m really excited about the group of guys I’m going to have working for me: they’re all (seemingly) solid and bright. And they’re all film students, too, which I think is appropriate.

Anyhow. I’m going to go home tonight and sleep for a couple hours.

Because that’s how I like to start out a semester: pulling an almost-all-night-er on the first day of classes.

Rock it.

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Class Pirate

Not a classy pirate, mind you…

Yaar! First day of class… going to be a long semester. One, possibly two interesting classes … must motivate self to go. Do it, Mark. Get up in the morning. Go to class. Do it to it. er…

Spent some time in retrospection yesterday and realized: Damn, it was one great summer. From first to last, the summer’s been full of fun and laughs and adventures and activities. I’m really quite glad that I didn’t do anything worthwhile this summer. It was a wasted summer, yes, but as Berty (can I call Bertrand Russel … Berty? Sure!) points out: time one enjoys wasting isn’t wasted at all…

So yeah. Now I’m back in class. And blogging, because it’s really quite boring (don’t you HATE how the first day of class is always a waste … let me show you pictures of my dog … tell you about the time I spent teaching in Beijing … blah blah you-probably-can’t-read, so I’ll read-the-syllabus-for-you blah. I hate it… don’t waste my time. I’m paying for this. Don’t give a shit about your dog. Yaar…)

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Firey Photos

Driving back to Bozeman tonight, I came across a forest fire, outside of Sheridan. Like any rational person, I drove straight toward the fire. The result are some rather colorful photos.

By the time I made it half-way to the fire, though, my battery died, and I discovered that I didn’t have my spare. Yaar!

From north of Sheridan, looking back in the pitch-dark, the hillside looked like the fires of Mordor–glowing yellow and red in the night, billowing smoke, flaring as though to fill and consume the sky…

Feel free to browse through them at
http://picasaweb.google.com/markegge/20080812FireyPhotos

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Granite Peak

Last weekend, Sagar, Carter, Pat and I summited Granite Peak. The Beartooths–running from central Montana down into central Wyoming–are beautiful, certainly, but I’ve never been in a more awe-inspiring mountain range.

Departing Bozeman around 7:00 a.m., we arrived at the West Rosebud Trailhead by 10:00 a.m. on Saturday — packs packed, bottles filled, and eager for the trail.

By 10:30 we had crossed in to the Absoraka-Beartooth Wilderness, and by 12:00 we crested the view of Mystic Lake–an agrandized version of a once smaller lake, thanks to the 1920s era Mysic Lake Hydroelectric Dam (still pumping out 11 megawatts, 80 years later). Along the trail, I was thrilled to find a wild raspberry or two, growing here and there. (No one else in the group seemed as thrilled as I, but how fun! — not only to find food growing in the wild, but to find such tasty food, too!) We dug out the gorp (good ol’ raisins and peanuts … a.k.a. trail mix) on a sandy stretch along the lake and rested before the switchbacks.

Two hours later we bid farewell to trees and crested the Froze to Death plateau. We had lunch by some running water and put on our rain-gear for our four-mile trek across plateau. The rain started around 3:00, and stayed with us the rest of the day, making for a cold and grey afternoon. We pitched our tent in one of many rock bivouacs on the plateau, near the start of the summit trail. We ate dinner, huddled in Sagar’s tent. I retired for the evening with a few pages of Ayn Rand, and drifted off to fitful sleep.

We awoke to a breathtaking tundra dawn in the company of Froze-to-Death’s perennial mountain goats. We left camp just after 7:00 a.m.; the sun quickly melted away the morning chill.

Leaving the plateau, we descended some 1,300 feet to the crest of the saddle between Tempest Peak and Granite. The “trail” (usually marked only by the occasional cairn) was a treacherous slope of jutting talus and granite, making me glad for my sturdy hiking boots.


The ascent includes four or five pitches of Class Five–“technical”–climbing. The climbing gear we had with us proved unneeded, but I understand why it was recommended to have.

We summited just after 10:00 a.m.. The morning sun had driven away the clouds in the Western sky, and we were greeted with what might be one of the nicest mornings every recorded on the peak– warm, sunny, and amazingly calm.

Despite the haze (from forest fires in Idaho and Utah, primarily), the view from the top was humbling. “Beautiful” would be the wrong adjective; we were surrounded, as far as the eye could see, in a 360 degree panorama, by a terrain of rugged, jutting, and harsh rock, glacier and alpine lakes– a testament of geological forces and stupifying violence. Standing there, I found myself in awe of the forces that could form such an immensely forceful and violent landscape.

Coming down, we rappelled two or three pitches, and down-climbed the rest. By 2:00 p.m., we were back at “base camp”. Another group of mountain goats joined us for lunch along with a marmot or two. Pat left ahead of us, wanting to make it back in time for work the next day.

Having accomplished that which we set out to accomplish (pardon me, that…), we elected to hike out the same day, rather than stay another night. We crossed the tundra, and began our descent back to the 6,500′ elevation of the parking lot.

The trip out, invariably, seems somehow longer than the trip in. Conversation is exhausted and feet are weary. Nevertheless, we descended as dusk settled over the plateau, the lake, and the valley.

We stopped for a beer in Roscoe at the famous Grizzly Bar–dirty, smelling of sweat, but with that bright-eyed air of accomplishment–and, at last, drove through the cool night air back to Bozeman.

Pictures:
http://picasaweb.google.com/markegge/20070730GranitePeak
http://picasaweb.google.com/patrick.dyess/2007_07_29

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Plateau Pirate

Yaar. Yaar! And huzzah! It’s another day in paradise.

In the absence of something more witty, I suppose I ought to at least plug in a little about my life, as of late.

First: being 21 rocks. It’s not even the ability to buy alcohol, to go to bars, whatever. It’s just the simple fact of being 21. It’s a comforting feeling. Maybe it’s just the lack of restriction, suddenly. The absence of “no”– from restaurants that could serve me beer; from cops that tell me what I can and can not do; the bringing to light something that’s been long repressed. Yeah. That’s probably it. The sudden withdrawal of authority (authority being something that I really enjoy). No more fear. No more hiding. No more “you can get me in trouble”. Huzzah!

(There was an interesting in the paper this morning (that I read while eating tasty bagels with Sagar and Carter on their way out of town) about people injuring themselves jumping off cliffs. Cliffs like this one:
But, actually, not “like” that one. That one. The one that Sagar, Carter and I jumped off a couple days ago. Never-mind this incomplete thought…)

Pizza escort service no more. THAT is exciting. I really fouled up this summer, in terms of employment. Working at Papa Johns this summer was profoundly awful. The only point that mitigates the awfulness of working with a bunch of dead-beats and underachiviers was the exiting realization of “never again…”. Never again will I have to work a dead-end job. A spikey, thorny, ow! dead-end, at that.

While working my dead-end job, though, I’ve been enjoying teaching myself some low value skills. Like how to to use a torque wrench. Or how to use a breaker bar. Or repair lawn mowers. Things that, in a few short years, the opportunity-cost of my time will be sufficiently high that it’ll never make sense for me to apply those skills. But somehow it’s good. In a if-I-ever-get-stranded-on-a-desert-island sort of way.

On a more melancholy note, Ingmar Bergman–one of the best, and most important, directors in the history of cinema–died yesterday. It’s melancholy, except for the fact that his output as a film-maker basically ended in the eighties. And I get the sense that he ended his life with as much dignity as he ended his career. n

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