vietnam updates

Current news will be on www.vietnamtyler.blogspot.com

I may still post on this blog once in a while, if inspiration strikes.

a year in a bag

Tuesday the packing began and was finished. It didn't look like much when it was all laid out on the bed--and some of it I think I'll be mailing back from LA before I go to Vietnam. I have the feeling that it isn't really possible to pack for a year. I'll simply have to wait and see how it works out. At least I know I won't have overpacked.

out on the country

At almost 8 o'clock tonight I cast a glance outside to the dimming light, and felt the stagnant air come through the window, and felt a sudden urge to go cycling. So I followed it, as isn't always the case. But Mom and Dad were headed out for the evening, and Grandma and Grandpa were occupied on the internet (peering at the screen so cautiously, like grandparents do), and I felt free and unneeded.

Off to the east, pedaling up Morgan Horse Farm Road I saw the Green Mountains' ridgeline, stationary and buried in a blue haze, beyond the pasture and the greenest hedgerow I've seen. Only a few cars passed. I went left on Hamilton Road, facing a pink sky, and felt a few countable raindrops. The farmland smelled like farmland, with the narrow road draped across the shallow hills, lined with fenceposts which were gray and weathered, and the hayfields freshly cut.

I went left on a dirt connecting road, passing a pen of sheep behind a row of brush and fence. The sheepdog saw me and barked up and down the row until he was sure I wasn't going to stop. I wasn't.

Around the next corner I saw a crouching cat first, then the two rabbits it was hunting, who were paused in the road ahead. The cat changed its posture but eyed me with accusation anyway, and the rabbits darted and weaved in front of my wheels before plunging into the underbrush.

Further the road swarmed with blackbirds and more rabbits. And the farmhouses stood squarely and quietly, and the light continued to fade.

I wondered to myself why calm cycles weren't a part of my routine; but it always seems that giving myself the license to pedal off would steal my mind from the things directly at hand. In reality, it focused my mind on the things that are really important. I understood again why some people are so committed to their jogs or walks or workouts. In my mind, anway, the means are the excuse to remove oneself from the busy world.

As I coasted down the last hill on Route 23, I thought I saw headlights over my left shoulder. I craned and looked, but it was only the sunset lighting up a patch of yellow sky.

deconstructing construction talk

I just finished my first week as a full-fledged construction worker. ie- a hardhat, coffee in the job trailer at morning break, and porta-poties. It's a large enough job that walking through the building I pass different crews about their own work--the drywallers, the electricians, the plumbers, the carpenters--with their own zones of radio stations and chit-chat. On breaks they stand outside the gate and smoke, or sit in their trucks with their crews and eat. And smoke.
It's been an ear opening week. I thought I'd jot down a few notes about what I've heard.

Vague use of pronouns: "put it right to it" for instance, might mean, "apply a considerable amount of force to that fastener with the screw gun." The context is everything.

Excessive vulgarity: Substituted for any part of speech. It adds credibility, I guess.

Femeninity of nouns: Usually refers to tools or building materials. "Set her down over there."

Second-person voice: When two are working together, the ownership falls on the person receiving the commands, ie, "hold it to your line"; "give me your sheet"; "line it up with your stud." That way, if anything goes wrong, it's your fault.

In general, the contruction worker's speech tells that he (or she...hypothetically) has authority over his domain, a casual but hardened attitude, and a fashionable distaste for the work week.


But seriously, I've had an interesting and thoughtful week. I'm starting to see why people care so much about getting good benefits and why people save up for their vacations and retirements. An occupation starts to become who you are. I see it in the lives of the older men doing their work as if its second nature, embedded in their routine. I wonder if they think, "I was a young kid like him yesterday, and now I'm fifty. Where did the time go?"

flops

So I made myself some pancakes last night, going for a nice, soft food, still feeling a little pang where my wisdom teeth used to be. I loved the way it sounded: "I'll just whip up a batch of pancakes," as if I would pick up that ladel and work magic.
But instead I found every way to go wrong. I could never quite get the heat on the pan right. Some were hard, some were doughy in the middle. They came out all odd shapes and sizes, and I was dropping things all over the place.
I felt like such a helpless child. "What's my problem?" I asked my parents, all flustered. I thought I had the hang of this by now.

Humbled by a batch of pancakes.
That sums up where I've been in other parts of my life lately. I had forgotten how much error can be in simple things, how unwise I can possibly be. I thought I was smart and capable. And I thought that, for pete's sake, twenty-two years would have taught me a thing or two.

I've been learning a lot about myself in these last few weeks. A kind of wholesome not always good tasting but good for you food to the soul.
I have these moments where I realize how stunningly much I have to be thankful for. Like when I was making a pbj a few minutes ago, and it occurred to me that not much of the world has the luxury of snacks. Or how I keep receiving support from friends, family, and strangers, toward my time in Vietnam next year. Or when I wake up in the morning and hear my grandparents downstairs, who are staying with us for the summer. I wish I could remember this all the time. I have a feeling things will get harder. Not just with physical discomforts (like getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow) but with the bleak, challenging times of life. I can't really say I'm ready for them. Or am I?

just details

The cherry blossoms are all pink and bursting, and the tent caterpillars are descending like little streamers en masse. In fragrant spots on the way to the library, I can hear the bees buzzing all together.
This morning outside my window I saw a squirrel and a crow in a little fighting match. The crow would sneak in, and the squirrel, poised like a sprinter, would lunge at it with abandon. Eventually it chased the crow back into a tree.

I just brought back all my library books. I unfolded the dog-eared pages but didn't erase my pencil marks.