Peace in the Valle

This painting is of a real place in the southern Rockies.

Today, another snow day - our first full snow day of the season. We don't get as many scheduled holidays as I did at my old job in Texas, but I think we make up for it in snow days. In a way they're better than scheduled holidays because they pop up randomly throughout the cool months like little treats.

I haven't seen an official total, but there's over two feet on the ground outside and it's supposed to continue snowing all day. I've got plenty of chai.

Snow Day

We had our first snow day today. The lab closed at noon. I didn't get out until after 1PM because I had to conduct an interview with a candidate who'd already flown in. Tempted as I was to tell him to come back next week, I did the right thing.

On the way home I stopped off at one of my favorite hiking trails and did some snowshoeing (without snowshoes) in thigh deep snow for about an hour. There's nothing quite like Colorado snow. It's like walking through fairy dust.

Now I'm settled in with my favorite flannel PJ bottoms, a hot cup of chai, a crackling fire and no reason to leave the house for at least the next two days. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Blast from the Past

Yep. That feels real good.

Everything's Amazing and Nobody's Happy

I could be this guy.

Texans

There's something different about Texans, especially Austinites. I don't know what, I don't know why, but there is.

This week I was talking to someone about the differences between my current job in Colorado and my last job in Texas. Despite the fact that my old job was mind-numbingly boring, dead-end and thankless, I had an awesome group of friends there. Aside from the actual work aspect of the job, it was a really fun place to be. In fact, at every job I ever had in Texas, I now realize, there was a certain level of fitting in that just came naturally. I never realized it (and how could I?) until I worked in a place that made me feel alien.

From the beginning I noticed that I'm different from my current set of co-workers. People where I work rarely take breaks or lunches, and when they do, it's an honest to goodness fifteen minute (or less) break. They may or may not seek the company of others, and if they do, they just make small talk and then it's right back to the grindstone. It's a good work ethic I suppose, but unless you've been in Texas long enough, you probably have no idea what I'm getting at. If you're from Texas, especially Austin, you know exactly what I'm getting at. I think Texas (at least Austin) has a work ethic more in common with Europe than that of America. We're not workaholics, and we see more value in having plenty of social time during the day than slaving away, always trying to maximize production. This has been true of every place I've ever worked, except for my current job. Before now I've only ever worked in Texas, and all of my professional jobs have been in Austin. The kicker is that my co-workers mention from time to time how they love the slow paced, relaxed work environment as compared to the world of private industry. Ah. I've never worked for private industry in my professional life. Only government agencies. Only Texas state agencies, for that matter. Maybe that explains things. If my current job is "easy" compared to the corporate world, then I can assure you that is a place I shall never, ever work. I will never be a corporate puppet, a production machine grinding away to make some fat cat richer.

But I do think that the kinds of people I work with today - extremely educated, career driven individuals who love number crunching - also has something to do with their weirdness (relative to my weirdness.) A lot of my Colorado (ie Boulder) friends fit that same category. With one exception, everyone I've befriended here is a scientist, professor, engineer or works in high-tech. Frankly, I don't like it. They're different. Nice, yes. They're very pleasant, intelligent, progressive. But you have to plan dinner, even a beer, three weeks in advance. You don't just pick up the phone and say, "Hey buddy, meet me down at the Mountain Sun for a beer in ten minutes." Then of course the evening is usually over by 8PM, and the conversation never gets to the point where you're laughing so hard you can't breathe. And God forbid you ever talk about anything crude or pointless. It's all very controlled, very pleasant, very politically correct, very benign, very predictable. Remember that episode of Seinfeld where Elaine met the "other" Jerry, George and Kramer? They were all like perfect versions of her actual friends. That's what it's like. That's not to say my Austin friends aren't intelligent or educated or pleasant. They are. They just don't take themselves too seriously, and they're not above any topic of conversation, no matter how crude or pointless. And they aren't all goddam vegans. I like my original friends better, if for no other reason than I feel like I'm one of them.

Yesterday two friends from Texas came to town. They were just casual acquaintances of mine back in Austin, but they were friends of Gerard which is why they came to visit. I didn't want them to leave. We hung out, showed them around Boulder, took in some brews at the Mountain Sun. Gerard and I discussed afterward how familiar it felt hanging out and laughing with them, and we both agreed that Austinites are just different people - people we love. We've not found any friendships here like we had in Texas. There's just something different about the culture or the kinds of people who live in Austin that suits us. There are days when I think I wouldn't mind trading my job for my old one, just to be with the old Three Martini Break Group again. Of course I wouldn't. I really hated that job. But I think it says a lot for my old friends that their pull is such that I at least entertain the thought sometimes.

Keeping the Peace

It's hard. It's so f-ing hard.

I guess he'd rather be in Colorado
He'd rather spend his time out where the sky looks like a pearl after a rain
Once again I see him walkin'

Once again I hear him talkin'

To the stars he makes and asking them for bus fare

I guess he'd rather be in Colorado
He'd rather play his banjo in the morning when the moon is scarcely gone
In the dawn the subways comin'

In the dawn I hear him hummin'
Some old song he wrote of love in Boulder Canyon

I guess he'd rather be in Colorado
I guess he'd rather work out where the only thing you earn is what you spend
In the end up in his office
In the end a quiet cough

Is all he has to show he lives in New York City

Another Week

One morning this week I was standing at the bus stop when a lady walked up to me and said, "That hat looks great on you!"

I smiled and said thanks, and that seemed to be it. To my amazement she actually turned and walked on. But then she stopped, turned around, and asked...wait for it...waaaaaaaaaaait for it....

Are you a cowboy?

Well hell, you really can't blame people for asking I suppose.

It snowed most of the day today, there was a troublesome bear near my home that the Colorado Division of Wildlife spent most of the day yesterday trying to persuade to leave town, and Apple unveiled a new super cool mouse to replace that P.O.S. they've been making for the last couple of years. That's all I know today.

I'm going to have some apple pie and hit the sack.

Peace

I've finally made peace with myself about some things.

Between the revelations I had working with the farrier (much of which I haven't blogged about), and a subsequent heart to heart with an old friend, I seem to have quieted my mind about a great many issues. So much so that I really don't even feel the need to expound upon the subject. I just want to tie up a few loose ends.

First, grad school. A far cry from my first day of class, I've actually come to enjoy my classes. I've got A's in both. Some things have occurred recently, or perhaps they've just been visible to me now that my eyes aren't clouded by a single-minded obsession, that have softened me - even drawn me back in - to the good things in life that aren't necessarily only to be found high in the mountains or on a remote ranch.

No, nothing has been resolved. No mysteries of the Universe have been revealed. My desires, hopes and dreams, concerns and wishes haven't changed. I've just decided to take off the war paint for the time being and drift with the current. Maybe I'm just a sell-out. Maybe I'm just tired. But I know that there is little if anything in this world that doesn't have an up side and a down side, a light side and a dark side. My problem is that I'm always trying to figure out the one "right" answer (though it's highly unlikely that even exists), and sometimes I can't see the yang for the yin.

Last weekend's trip to the museum left me feeling good - excited even - and a bit sad, longing for the hopeful dreams and abundant optimism I had in my younger days. Last night I went to the Fisk Planetarium in Boulder, and then today I went to the Earth Sciences Library for the first time to check out some books I needed for one of my classes. These places just compounded the effect of the museum experience last weekend. The Earth Sciences Library was the most amazing and beautiful library I've ever been in. It was almost as much museum as library, and you should see their collection of geography materials and maps. By the checkout desk, there is a full size replica of a massive adult Stegosaurus skeleton that was found recently in Colorado - the most complete Stegosaur skeleton ever found. The college I got my undergrad from had nothing - nothing at all - that remotely compared to this.

I also did some cool stuff at work this week. I finished a new geothermal resource map of the US. I didn't just map it. I did all of the analysis behind it, and after months of work this has become our lab's newest official geothermal resource map of the US. It'll be on Obama's desk soon. I also created a volumetric rendering of the temperatures below the surface of the lower 48 states that the boss and our geothermal team was quite impressed with. It felt good.

Life is full of good things. Maybe I'm not a rancher or a mountain man or a farrier, and maybe I will or won't be any of those things in the due course of time. But today, right now, I'm a GIS analyst and a cartographer, and I'm flirting with an old love of mine - earth science. So as I figure it, until the time comes that I'm a farrier or a mountain man or something else entirely, I might as well be the best damned analyst, map maker and scientist I can possibly be. There's plenty of joy to be found in it, just so long as I don't let the yin block my view of the yang.

Ghost Rider

This is my 100th blog post. On blogger, anyway.

I went out for lunch today. There was a woman who kept staring at me. When I was paying at the register, she came up beside me.

"Are you a cowboy?" she asked.

I pulled out my wallet and flipped through some bills. Without looking up I calmly asked, "What's a cowboy?"

"Well it's...do you...um...are you...well I don't know!" she gasped.

Nobody ever knows.

There was an awkward silence. Then the lady at the register pointed to my belt buckle and said, "He's from Texas!"

The woman, apparently satisfied with that definition, said, "Oh!" and smiled. She stood there looking at me a bit longer, apparently just completely amused. I paid, smiled and then bid them both good day.

I didn't have my hat with me. I wasn't wearing anything by Rockmount. Hell I even managed to get all the way through lunch without letting out a rip-roarin' YEEEEEHAWWWW!!!!! I thought I was pretty inconspicuous. Must've been the boots and the belt.

I still don't get it. Not once in 33 years of living in Texas was I ever asked if I was a cowboy, "real" or otherwise. Once there was a guy I came across at a parade in downtown Austin who wanted to fight me just because he thought that that's what men with cowboy hats did, but that was something else altogether.

Of course there were stretches, sometimes several years, when I'd retire the hat and boots to the closet and dress like I'm supposed to - you know, wear the current fashion that everyone else is wearing. One such time was during my last year of college and a couple of years right after. I was sitting in class one day and a professor (who was not a Texan) started raging against cowboys, and especially cowboy hats.

"I don't understand why people still wear those things. It's stupid! Nobody needs to wear a cowboy hat. The Old West is dead and gone!"

Needless to say it pissed me off royally. But it also drove home a thought I'd already been kicking around: that I was about to graduate and become a "professional" and should probably start dressing like a cubicle bunny.

I remember the day I moved to Austin. I was renting a room in College Station and I was so ready to get out of that one horse town. I came home and announced I was leaving. I loaded up my belongings, all of which I fit in my pickup in one trip, and headed for the Big A. I was cruising down that Texas highway wearing a cheap black cowboy hat that never quite fit right (it was all I could afford at the time) with the windows down and Redneck Girl blasting on the stereo. I had stickers of the American flag and the Rebel flag on my bumper, and I was as happy as I could be. I had no job, no home and only one friend in the whole city, but I knew there was opportunity. Life was going to start anew. I ended up crashing on my friend's couch until I got things figured out, and the first thing I did when I got my first paycheck was buy that salad plate-sized belt buckle with the Texas seal on it, the same one the cashier pointed at today. That was over ten years ago.

But I digress. After graduation from college I went to the Men's Wearhouse and bought one pair of slacks, one nice button up, one nice black belt with a very fashionable, ultra-modern tiny silver buckle that didn't actually fasten but instead used friction to keep itself closed (some of the time), and a pair of polished black leather dress shoes with a square toe - apparently a statement that said, "I'm professional, but still laid back." It was just enough to outfit me for job interviews. When I landed my first job I bought a few more pieces, but eventually the slacks gave way to Levis, though I still wore the button ups most of the time.

Side note: I was not wearing my hat the day Professor Anderson went on her anti-cowboy tirade. If fact she'd never even seen me in my hat. It felt like being secretly gay and having to endure some small minded anti-gay ranting. The fool never realized who she was unloading on. And frankly I'm surprised she could get away with that in Texas. It may be true that the "old west" is gone. Even most modern ranchers use pickup trucks, four-wheelers and even helicopters to round up cattle and wild horses because they're just a lot faster, stronger, more dependable and less dangerous than horses. But cowboy hats, aside from being particularly useful and comfortable in snow, rain and harsh sun, are part of the cultural heritage of the United States, particularly the Western states, and most especially Texas where virtually all cattle drives originated and where that greatest of all American icons, the cowboy, was born. Texas, more than any other state, has clung to this cultural heritage and embraced it. It has always had a presence in my life and I have always cherished it. I may not be roaming the plains and roping cattle, but I'm fascinated by the fact and the fantasy of the old west. I have a special place in my heart for Texas and all that she is, good and bad. And I have an obsession with the lands west of the Mississippi and all of the truth and myth contained by this mysterious, rugged and insanely beautiful place.

Soon after college I found myself dissatisfied with the professional life of a cube dweller and started dreaming hardcore about heading west. WAY out west, which is what ultimately brought me to Colorado. And here, surrounded by a serious western wilderness and living so close to my fantasies of a rustic mountain life, it was only a matter of time before the hat and boots made their comeback in my life. I tried dressing like a professional cube bunny at my current job, but most people I work with don't bother with anything other than typical street wear. So I resurrected my Wranglers, my Texas belt buckle and treated myself to a closet full of new Rockmount shirts which I wear pressed and starched. And to top it off, last summer I bought my dream cowboy hat from Texas Hatters, the official hatter for the state of Texas: 100% top-quality beaver felt, hand crafted by a master hatter, perfectly tailored to my head. I toured his shop and he showed me all of his equipment, much of it over 100 years old. He helped me select just the right felt blank that would become my hat. It took him a week to make it, and then it had to be adjusted and readjusted until the fit and shape were exceptional. Then he sewed a natural leather band in it, hand tooled with my name, and fitted it with a custom leather hat band which I designed. I left that shop just as proud as you please. I don't give a rat's ass what anyone else thinks about it. I love it. And now when I go to work I may not look like a cubicle bunny but I'm damn sure dressed better than anyone else. (There is one other guy who wears a cowboy hat - he's a retired rodeo cowboy who, after a series of debilitating injuries, decided that an office job would be better for his health. He also dresses pretty sharp.)

I can't explain it, though I've tried many times. It just feels right. I'm happy when I'm walking in the rain or the snow, wearing that hat and my boots and my coat and looking out across a gorgeous mountain landscape - no one to keep me company but the lonesome howl of a chilly wind. I'm happy when I'm cruising the back roads in my pickup on a gorgeous summer day - windows down, music up and jaw-dropping scenery all around; with nobody to bug me or ask if I'm a cowboy. I'm happy sitting in the tall grass of a Rocky Mountain meadow in Autumn, watching herds of elk bugling among golden aspen groves, with no human close enough to be more than a speck in the distance.

The sad thing is I really don't want to be alone, at least not all the time. I just want to be with people who understand me. But I guess that's asking too much, considering I don't even understand myself half the time.

A Day in Denver

When I was a kid I was obsessed with dinosaurs. One of my favorite things to do was visit the Houston Museum of Natural Science, or "dinosaur museum" as I called it. After I started driving, I'd frequently go by myself if I couldn't find anyone to go with me.

Today Gerard and I braved the snow and spent the entire day at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. This is our second attempt, but even when we're there open to close we can't take the whole thing in. It's really top-notch and they've got some of the best displays and collections I've seen.

Afterward we stopped by the well-to-do Cherry Creek area and walked around a bit. And just because they're something of a novelty to us anymore, we stopped in the Cherry Creek Mall. And can you believe that Gerard got me 1. into a mall and 2. into an Abercrombie and Fitch and I didn't have one negative thing to say? I just decided what the hell. The world is what it is, and me being mister uptight and negative about all the millions of things I have no control over just doesn't put good energy into the world. Gerard sampled cologne, I got a kick out of the moose head, the canoe and the rumpled plaid shirts while the store blasted gay fabulous dance music, and we both oogled over the young suburban eye-candy.