The Front Range

2007-06-11T19:43:00.000-07:00

Long Project Detailed Proposal

2007-06-11T17:13:00.000-07:00

I am writing a piece about windsurfing. I know I want to share the experience of the sport. Its not that common and there is a huge disconnect between having tried it once or twice and really windsurfing. I think it is fairly common to have an activity or an interest that has a huge impact on who you are. For me, writing about windsurfing could end up touching on a lot of topics. I’ve windsurfed since I was in middle school so there is a lot of ground to cover. I would like to give the reader a sense of what the windsurfing community is like (a sense of comraderie and a sense of competition and judgement) and what it feels like (exhilerating and fun). I am debating how personal I want to make it. I will say that although I enjoy many activities, windsurfing was the thing that inspired me to challenge myself, to commit to really wanting to be better at something, to take responsibility in a way that I hadn’t before, and to do a lot of internal reflection. This is perhaps more impressive given the fact that I'm not that great at it.

iWindsurf is a site that tracks data and does forcasts for hundreds of sites around the US. You won't be able to see most of the sensor readings without and account but you can get an idea of how extensive the site is. You can sit at your computer and watch the wind change every fifteen minutes so you can hop in your car at the right time. For the truely obsessed you can get a pager that will page you when your favorite spot has high winds. Sorry it can't be real link.

www.iwindsurf.com

If I've generated some curiosity and you want to see how wind is moving right now check out this vector map and streakline animation

http://sfports.wr.usgs.gov/cgi-bin/wind/windbin.cgi
http://sfports.wr.usgs.gov/wind/streaklines.shtml

There were two guys who grew up sailing in berkely were I sail who are both now pros. They are known as the Berkeley Boys and they have their own website with many photos and videos. (Wyatt was my counselor in summer camp and then we worked together for a couple years..he is an amazing teacher and unbelievably tallented). Wyatt was the sailor in the original video I posted so I thought I would include that link as well.

www.berkeleyboys.com
http://www.windwing.com/dnn/NEWS/WINDSURFINGNEWS/VideoWindsurfing/tabid/94/Default.aspx

Responsibility

2007-06-11T17:09:00.000-07:00

I was awoken about around three in the morning, to my door thudding in its frame. This was neither surprising nor alarming. I was on staff and my residents loved to wake me up and pile into my room drunk and happy. I was smiling a little but barely awake as I pulled the door open. There is no way I could have expected the two complete strangers crowded into my doorway, both stocky in a muscular way and both completely naked. They pushed past me into my room shutting the door behind them. You think quickly on staff even when sleepy so I had a good idea of where they had come from. I knew residents I liked were outside somewhere and I knew these guys were lying about the fraternity they were from. I said a few friendly words and with nowhere to go their rowdy charge petered out. One lay on my bed the other sat at my desk. He absent mindedly woke my computer and in that faint blue glow the three of us made polite conversation.

After a couple of minutes we all moved to the door by mutual consent and sure enough five of my residents stood in the hallway looking smug and grinning proudly. I was smiling back when suddenly I found myself pinned against the wall. One of the visitors pressed his face up against mine, his arms around my shoulders and his naked hips swinging back and forth slowly and deliberately in front of my pajamas, not touching, but just barely. I don’t remember what he said but his tone was mocking. I never stopped sounding friendly, calmly asking him to get off me, but I it was at least a minute or so before one of my residents convinced him to back away.

After he left I tried to go to sleep and couldn’t. I hadn’t been that upset, slightly awkward I thought. These things happen. Returning to my room, in the quiet and the dark I noticed I was shaking. There was a moment, I realized, when that stranger and I had stopped being on the same side. No longer two college students with friends in common. When he nearly surrounded me he hadn’t been trying to entertain his buddies. He could have cared less if they were there. Although its true I can’t claim to have been in his head, there are some times where you just know what another person wants. He had wanted to make me uncomfortable. I hadn’t been upset with him for rushing into my room; I hadn’t been upset with my residents for bringing them by. That didn’t satisfy him. He wanted me to be angry, vulnerable.

I managed to lie down in my dark room for about a minute before my muscles tensed and I was sitting up again. It was late enough for a dormitory full of college freshmen to be silent and mostly asleep. Lights that never turned off filtered through my blinds as I rocked a little, staring hard at the darkness near the floor. My eyes flared wider and I stood, moving to the door, pausing with my head tucked forward and my arms wrapped tight against each other. I stood there for a long time breathing slow and shallow, exhaling hard each time. Occasionally I raised my head and shifted quickly and aimlessly in some direction mostly turning an uneven circle, once making it over to the window before spinning back to the door and standing still again. As I moved back and forth in my room I felt a little sick to my stomach.

I remembered how looking over a bare shoulder, my back against the wall, I had made it clear to one of my residents that I’d had enough of the joke. I remembered how he had laughed harder. It was a different resident that had finally helped me out. I went back and forth. I wanted to hide in my room, hide any weakness, though maybe I was overreacting. I knew the boys were down the hall. Knew they would tell storied about this night. Knew that if I gave them a hard time everyone would hear about it. Knew that if I cried they would tell their fraternity. I also knew that if I didn’t explain to them exactly how hurt and betrayed I felt when they had laughed at my discomfort; If I didn’t tell them exactly when and why that joke had shifted into something uglier; If I didn’t spell out how sometimes intent can make all the difference, then they would never know.

Finally I settled behind my door, head bent with conviction, the muscles in my neck ready but relaxed even though my arms still pressed against my ribcage. I breathed a little faster, energy building, the muscles beneath my shoulder blades tensed and ready. I was fully alert for the first time that night and my stomach felt sicker than ever. I remember being a little sad. I pulled open the door, stepped into the bright and empty hall, and walked towards the open room with my boys inside, chatting and laughing.

A Dinner Scene

2007-04-23T18:56:00.000-07:00

Christopher Connors sat two thirds of the way down the table. He was sitting across from Captain Wentworth, unfortunately. The captain had eyes only for Anne, which was apparent in the way he looked at her exactly as much as he looked at everyone else. Christopher, of course, didn’t notice. She, for her part, said nothing and held as still as possible, carefully looking back at him when politeness dictated and otherwise finding her food unusually interesting. Christopher, again, did not notice. He did notice that the captain was clinging deftly to the attention of the entire table, so deftly in fact that he managed to give the impression that he only told such stories about himself for their benefit and really he wouldn’t have minded at all had they left him to focus on his wine.

Christopher was somewhat put off that the captain managed to look neither foppish nor senile in the navy’s blue and white. The Admiral on the other hand was achieving a bit of both in a genial sort of way. Christopher rather liked the admiral and wouldn’t judge him. And why had they needed to put the candles just there so that the tall flames glowed back out of the captain’s brass buttons as if they lived there? He had chosen brown for his own wardrobe. Felt it made the proper statement, dignified but not too severe. Pity his only option in a brown had been corduroy. It was hard to make a truly proper statement in corduroy unless one was out hunting.

Christopher was waiting. He had a moment coming; the trick was in catching it. This took a fair amount of concentration the effort of which was becoming a bit wearing as the cake and candies were really quite good. He found his attention wavering. But then all at once the admiral had just finished saying something, he wasn’t entirely sure what it had been but he knew an opening when he heard it “And isn’t it always like that” he said. Everyone laughed, he laughed along with them at his own joke, whatever it had been, and felt immensely satisfied.

Berkely Marina South Sailing Basin: Summer

2007-04-23T14:56:00.000-07:00

The Berkeley Marina South Sailing Basin in the summer is consistent, repetitive unpredictable chaos. Every morning is grey and cold. Cars swing through the parking lot by the docks letting out kids piled with as much as they can carry, bathing suits, towels, lunches, and coats. As it gets later the cars come faster until the fenced in camp lot is full of kids, a few chasing a ball across the Astroturf between the boats but most sit huddled in white plastic chairs under white plastic awnings erected between white painted cargo containers. This one area of life stands out. The water is empty, looking green and cold and muddy where it hits against the rusted metal and rock of the seawall. The neighboring lot doesn’t open till the afternoon. The adventure playground full of sand and nails and junk and waivers is also empty this early, the nature center looking sharp and new is still asleep as is the restaurant at the point that cantilevers out over the water.
A man in dark mismatched layers sometimes walks along the path carrying a bag of recycling and pausing by trashcans to glance inside.

The cars stop arriving at the parking lot and the sky is lightening, groups of kids head off in different directions an for a few minutes the dock is crowded with sailboats and windsurfing sails tangling in ten year old hands. For an hour or two it seems empty, this kids on the water, bright sails spread far apart. A dull grey motorboat sitting low in the water drifts lazily between the kids keeping an eye on them. And then suddenly it’s sunny, brilliant. The water is blue, the windsurfing sails are bright points of color. Slowly other camps have arrived and the shore is crowded with at least a hundred kids. Some playing on the old yellow grass, some in the playgrounds, some headed for educational programming. Some camps dress all the kids alike, a sea of gold and blue tee shirts. Some groups are flashes of white and pink and red and blue and green. At noon kids settle like flocks of seagulls to eat their lunch, The sailboats and windsurfers again collide on the docks, instructors directing like ringmasters each in charge of their own little circus. The cars are back and children shout to greet their parents. slowly the kids drain away again, the blue sky sparkling now off the blue water.

Note: This is an edited version of the post that originally appeared here

At the edge of a Flat World

2007-04-23T14:10:00.000-07:00

The three of us pulled into town, and cell phone range, after four hours of nothing but rolling Nebraska hills and marshland that had gradually leveled off to fields and pasture. This was the return trip after having driven from Colorado to Kansas to Nebraska to South Dakota. We were making a triangle heading back to Colorado and in total had spent at least twenty four hours driving. My grandmother’s huge australian shepherd lay in the back of the station wagon trying to sleep. We had about ten minutes till both my mom and grandmother had to dial into a conference call, and its possible we were running out of gas.

“I’m hungry” I said. “Really hungry”

My grandmother made an amused sound from the from passenger seat. I was twenty-one, too old to be whining, but I did any way. “Mom, can we please get food”

“Ariel, the conference call is in 10 minutes” said my mom. She drove past a McDonalds, an Arby’s and two steak houses. “Fine, where do you want to eat?”
I asked my grandmother, she said she was fine thank you, she could go anywhere. I watched a subway go past and said I wouldn’t mind taco bell. There wasn’t one in sight and we were going about thirty-five down the main street that was really still the interstate. This was the biggest town we had been through in Nebraska. Best estimate we had about ten blocks before we hit the other side and had a hell of a time turning around. My mom spoke again,

“Is there reception? Betsy, do you have reception? Air do you have reception?”

I did. So did my grandmother. I hadn’t seen a taco bell yet. “We need to find somewhere to park, I can’t talk and drive. Is there any shade? did you say you did have reception?” on our left was a park so lush and green it made the irrigated fields seem dry and dusty by comparison. We passed it, we had five minutes. My mom told me we would have to skip the food. My grandmother protested on my behalf. My mom took that to mean my grandmother was actually hungry too and apologized, but no, Betsy was fine, thank you, and we were back to skipping lunch. Down the road the buildings were thinning out. We all noticed at the same time and apparently no one was excited what that meant. I, for one, was talking faster,

“Mom, we’re passing food places just pull into one”
“Ariel, we don’t have time” said my mom.
“Fine, then go back to the park. You still need to stop the car somewhere” I said.
“Where do you want to eat? Can you wait?” said my mom.
“Mom, look there’s a Wendy’s, we like Wendy’s. PULL OVER”

We swung across a lane of traffic and into the parking lot of what actually turned out to be the lot next to the Wendy’s. It was occupied with a chicken stand I had never heard of before painted an alarming orange and turquoise. Out of some bitter rivalry there was a low curb that divided the small parking lot jammed between the two restaurants. It was 1:35, they were officially late for their conference call. The car rocked to a halt. From the drivers seat my mom said,

“Betsy, is this ok for you?”

Five minutes later we were stopped after pulling into a space, realizing it was to small, picking another one, and then deciding that the one next to it had more shade. My mother wanted a baked potato, my grandmother ordered a salad. As I left they were both dialing in on their cell phones. I passed the chicken place, giving it a wide berth and went into Wendy’s. I got the dog some fries as a treat.

Responsibility (draft)

2007-04-15T09:06:00.000-07:00

Responsibility

I managed to lie down in my dark room for about a minute before my muscles tensed and I was sitting up again. It was late enough for a dormitory full of college freshmen to be silent and mostly asleep. Lights that never turned off filtered through my blinds as I rocked a little, staring hard at the darkness near the floor. My eyes flared wider and I stood, moving to the door, pausing with my head tucked forward and my arms wrapped tight against each other. I stood there for a long time breathing slow and shallow, exhaling hard each time. Occasionally I raised my head and shifted quickly and aimlessly in some direction mostly turning an uneven circle, once making it over to the window before spinning back to the door and standing still again. Finally I settled, head bent now with conviction, the muscles in my neck ready but relaxed even though my arms still pressed against my ribcage. I pulled open the door and stepped into the hall.

I had been awoken about forty minutes earlier, probably around three in the morning, to my door thudding in its frame. This was neither surprising nor alarming. I was on staff and my residents loved to wake me up and pile into my room drunk and happy. I was smiling a little but barely awake as I pulled the door open. There is no way I could have expected the two complete strangers crowded into my doorway, both stocky in a muscular way and both completely naked. They pushed past me into my room shutting the door behind them. You think quickly on staff even when sleepy so I had a good idea of where had come from. I knew my residents were outside somewhere and I knew these guys were lying about the fraternity they were from. I said a few friendly words and with nowhere to go their rowdy charge petered out. One lay on my bed the other sat at my desk. He absent mindedly woke my computer and in that faint blue glow the three of us made polite conversation. After a couple of minutes we all moved to the door by mutual consent and sure enough five of my residents stood in the hallway looking smug and grinning proudly. I was smiling back when suddenly I found myself pinned against the wall, arms around my shoulders, his face pressed up against mine and his naked hips, not touching, but swinging back and forth slowly and deliberately in front of my pajamas. I don’t remember what he said but his tone was mocking. I never stopped sounding friendly, calmly asking him to get off me, but I it was at least a minute or so before one of my residents convinced him to back away.

After he left I tried to go to sleep and couldn’t. I hadn’t been that upset, slightly awkward I thought. These things happen. Returning to my room, in the quiet and the dark I noticed I was shaking. There was a moment, I realized, when that stranger and I had stopped being on the same side. No longer two college students with friends in common. When he nearly surrounded me he hadn’t been trying to entertain his buddies. He could have cared less if they were there. Although its true I can’t claim to have been in his head, there are some times where you just know what another person wants. He had wanted to make me uncomfortable. I hadn’t been upset with him for rushing into my room; I hadn’t been upset with my residents for bringing them by. That didn’t satisfy him. He wanted me to be angry, vulnerable.

I lay down but sat up again almost immediately. As I moved back and forth in my room I felt a little sick to my stomach. I remembered how looking over a bare shoulder, my back against the wall, I had made it clear to one of my residents that I’d had enough of the joke. I remembered how he had found that funny. It was a different resident that had finally helped me out. I went back and forth. I wanted to hide in my room, hide any weakness, though maybe I was overreacting. I knew the boys were down the hall. Knew they would tell storied about this night. Knew that if I gave them a hard time everyone would hear about it. Knew that if I cried they would tell their fraternity. I also knew that if I didn’t explain to them exactly how hurt and betrayed I felt when they had laughed at my discomfort; If I didn’t tell them exactly when and why that joke had shifted into something uglier; If I didn’t spell out how sometimes intent can make all the difference, then they would never know.

I settled behind my door, head bent with conviction, my neck relaxed even though my arms still pressed against my ribcage. I breathed a little faster, energy building, the muscles beneath my shoulder blades tensed and ready. I was fully alert for the first time that night and my stomach felt sicker than ever. I remember being a little sad. I pulled open the door, stepped into the bright and empty hall, and walked towards the open room with my boys inside, chatting and laughing.

A Little More About Me...

2007-04-09T12:33:00.000-07:00

I am currently finishing degrees in anthropological science and biological science. I was born in San Francisco and lived above the Haight until I was two and a half. Mostly I grew up in Oakland. I'm a 49ers fan out of respect for what they once were. I love sin city, both the movie and the comic. I hate restaurants that look intimate and charge huge prices expecting to fool you into thinking their food is good. I love À côté. I am moving to New York next year where I will miss windsurfing on the bay and walking in the hills. I spent two of my college years on staff in freshman dorms.