Day 86

I think I managed to squeeze in at least two REM cycles last night, despite having slept less than two hours. Awesome! I was finishing my application to study in French Polynesia next fall. And now for some end of spring break bike camping. Time to rock 'n roll!

Day 82

Today I got to be a touristy tourist in San Francisco. It was pretty fun walking through Chinatown, popping into the curio shops and herbal remedy stores. I ended up in the basement of this one gift shop that was packed wall-to-wall with gongs, dragons, and jade Buddhas.

Day 81

Another photodump day, covering the past few days.


Hollowed-out book (Swann's Way by Marcel Proust) that I used as a geocache. Not like I was ever going to read that thing.


Inside of the Hearst Mining and Metallurgy Building. Reminds me of a train station.


Art in the architecture building's courtyard.


Pastries intended not for the mere mortal.


The De Young museum at night. The whole park was very still and pleasant.

Day 78

Yesterday I had the pleasure of entertaining Ramon, childhood summercamp friend and bicycling compatriot.

I ate probably one the best meals I've had in a long while at Cheeseboard. And I mean "best" as an equally weighted average of deliciousness and caloric content. As of late I've been running on half rations, as I try to make it to spring break without having to go food shopping.

At dusk, we went up to the Big C on the hill that overlooks the Bay, talking as not-yet-fully-formed men sometimes talk to one another, when the space is quiet and the beer ample.

"So she's an artist... and you never suspected that there might be anything emotionally unbalanced about her?" he asked.
"I'm still very new to this game," the other said.

Day 76

Confession: When I was 13, I took a rock from the top of Half Dome in Yosemite. I wanted a reminder of what had been the best day of my young life. I've since lost the rock (given it away, actually), but I still have my memories of the afternoon that I stood on top of the world.

Day 75

I took some pretty cool pictures, I think, on campus today. The first one is of Wellman Hall, the entomology building. The inside's got a lot of nice wood paneling and exudes the spirit of the agricultural land grant college that Berkeley once was. The hallways smell like lacquered wood, and you can just swear that at any given moment, a man wearing a tweed coat and handlebar moustache, carrying his leather brief is going to stride out from behind the frosted glass pane of an office door.

Later on, I got to sitting on the steps of the old administrative building, California Hall, when I noticed a pine tree sapling poking up through a crack in the cement. I'm a sucker for tiny plants in inhospitable locales, which also explains why I took the third picture, which is of bryophytes growing in a cement ash tray. Anyway, I took a special liking to this pine tree. The little guy reminded me of the plants I used to see while hiking above the treeline in the Sierras. Basically, they find a crack in the granite and hold on for dear life, in spite of the intense UV light, poor soil, arid conditions, and daily temperature extremes. I'm always rooting for those little guys out there.

The last picture, as I mentioned, was taken in an ashtray. This particular ashtray is located in Ishi Court, named after the last known "wild indian." It's a pretty nice open space, with a bunch of benches and trees. The courtyard itself is tucked away in Dwinelle, the most labyrinthine of all the lecture halls; I usually make it a point to take a ball of twine with me whenever I go there. And minotaur spray. Never forget to bring your minotaur spray. Legend (or hearsay, whatever you want to call it) goes that there were these two brothers, both architects, who were working together on the design of Dwinelle. During construction, they had a falling out of sorts, and they stopped talking to each other, leading to a building filled with weird half-levels, abrupt jumps in room-number sequencing, and circuitous, redundant hallways. Apocryphal? Maybe. Fun to tell? Always.


Stairwell of Wellman Hall (the entomology building).


Pine seedling.


Bryophytes in an ashtray.

Well, later in the day, blinking in the sunlight after emerging from chemistry lab, I decided to use some of the remaining glorious sunlight (thanks, daylight savings!) to go for a run. Let me begin by saying that running without a shirt on is one of the great pleasures of being a boy. To feel one's chest tingle with sunlight is a joy I will refuse to ever surrender. I went up Strawberry Canyon, which is the watershed that the university originally bought to supply all of its drinking water. I ran past the frats, avoiding the crusted sidewalk puke that stood testimony to a weekend of revelry, and past the football stadium, eavesdropping in on the beefy Australian accents as the rugby squad strolled out onto the pitch, before I started climbing up the canyon.

Running alone is a meditative experience. I can breath and sweat out whatever demons I have inside of me when I go for a run. It's hard to describe, but running up hills always makes me feel strong. I think it has something to do with discomfort, and the discipline it takes to deal with that discomfort, which comes to stand in for whatever frustrations or anxieties I may be feeling that day. Mostly it's breathing that carries it away. Knowing that I can breathe and be fine is always a comfort.

The way it usually works for big climbs is that I feel disciplined on the uphill and cocky on the downhill. On the descent, I took the meandering firetrails, rather than bomb back down the road, which shoots straight down the hill. Cruising back, I seemed to be in the mood for greeting my fellow runners, of which there were many because of the nice weather. After a few smiles and friendly nods, I ended up conducting some observational experiments in social psychology. I made some unscientific generalizations and noted that lone female runners had the tendency to look down or away as they listened to their iPods, whereas lone male runners either made eye contact and returned the greeting (the old guys) or looked straight ahead with a neutral facial expression (the young guys). Just to keep things interesting, I alternated between the hang loose sign and a two-finger salute, both accompanied by a grin. The occasional stare or giggle from a group of girls was a nice ego boost, even if they were all wearing their identical sorority workout shirts. I try to keep my diet low in vanity, though I sometimes indulge myself.

By the time I made it back to my apartment, my legs were rather jelly-like. I still need to get used to running for an hour plus. On the upside, the slow release of endorphins was wonderful; taking that shower felt something akin to flying.

Day 74

Here's an original song by my friend Jeni. From what she tells me, it's the first song she ever wrote, as well as her favorite. I think this particular recording was done in a dorm practice room sometime last school year. I'll have to admit that this song kills me just about every time I hear it.

Day 73

I took this photo yesterday on the bike trip at work. We went to an old Nike missile base in the East Bay hills.

It feels it like a long time ago, even though it was just yesterday. I've been breaking my sleep cycle up into a shortened nighttime sleep, and an extended mid-day nap. As a result, one day effectively becomes two. I've been getting a lot done, but I also feel pretty tired. According to Wikipedia, I could still further optimize my productivity with other sleep cycles. I wonder how Buckminster Fuller did it.

Post-script: While exploring the vibrant online community of multiphasic sleepers, I came across the Zeo, a product straight out of SkyMall. Imagine an electroencephalograph machine, except for consumer use.

Day 72

Every so often, I eat grapefruit, maybe just a bite or two, so I can remind myself that I do not like the taste. The rest of the time, when the memory of bitterness is not fresh in my mind, I think only of the consummate pleasure with which so many other people eat their grapefruit, and I am again intrigued.

I suppose that the same principal applies to glow-paint dance parties.

After about ten minutes of an awkwardness I thought I had left behind in high school, I knew I had to leave. I ended up spending three hours talking and catching up with a long-neglected friend. Somehow, that conversational marathon really turned my mood around for the better. I think my preferred form of social interaction involves an interesting human being and a candid space. All through my life, this has been the pattern. Over bowls of pho, on long schoolbus rides home, on mountaintops under a starry skies, in deserts under full moons, through computer screens, on hills looking over the City skyline, and in bedrooms I've gotten the chance to talk, honestly and earnestly.

On these occasions, the talk is so satisfying that afterwards, for a little bit, everything else feels completely insubstantial in comparison. These were some of the best moments.

Day 71

Yesterday was so sunny I couldn't help but feel a little bit invincible.

Not invincible enough to stand in front of a train, but I was definitely riding some positive cosmic rays. Perhaps happiness is a photosynthetic process. (Last week, a friend gave me the choice to become any animal in the whole wide world, and my impulsive answer was Sequoiadendron sempervirens).

Well, today it rained. I trudged through a lot of my day, and the feeling was oddly of indifference. It didn't help that I slept about four hours last night. I'm beginning to think that indifference is a kind of deadness. But passion takes so much energy.

More sun forecast for tomorrow. I just need to get through the night. At work, we're taking the kids on a bike ride; it should be fun.

Day 70

Today I just couldn't say no. So now I have a Greenpeace membership and a card that proves I'm on the national bone marrow registry. It all kind of just happened. I'm not entirely sure why I signed all those forms today. When I got back home, I went on Wikipedia and was not pleased with what I saw. Not pleased at all.

Speaking of invasive medical procedures, here's an alien autopsy I performed:

The flesh of the beast.

The smell wasn't nearly as repugnant as I thought it would be. The other day, a friend gave me a piece of durian hard candy, so that I could mentally prepare myself, and I have to say that the experience of the candy was much more unpleasant than the real thing. The flesh was tender, and had a mellow, custardy flavor with a subtle nuttiness beneath the surface. Will try again.

Day 69

David is sitting in his room and listening to KALX. He is done checking his e-mail, and is trying to ride the sense of accomplishment that comes from an empty inbox as much as he possibly can. He is sitting in front of his tiny computer, outlining the reasons why he is a worthy candidate to travel to French Polynesia to look at plants in the cloud forest. Maybe if he really deludes himself, he'll let himself go to bed. It's only midnight. The radio plays music that sounds like the background music to a horror movie, except played with didgeridoos. He looks at the empty bowl on his desk and feels the cereal in his stomach. He promises to make himself a real dinner tomorrow. He runs a hand through his hair so that it stands up in a more comical way. He decides that tonight he should take a shower. He decides that he will do work tonight. He turns off his computer.

Day 65

I'm not quite the coffeehouse type. Maybe because I have this image of a goateed, cappuccino-sipping member of the intelligentsia as my archetypal model of "the coffeehouse type" in my mind. I'm pretty sure that such people do not exist in the reality that you and I occupy.

First off, I'm probably looking in the wrong place (a Starbucks), if the sighting of such a mythical beast is my yen. Looking around, it would appear that mere mortals frequent such an establishment as this. There is a definite lack of chess-playing, symphony-composing, revolution-fomenting bohemians in my midst. I'm disappointed.

Day 64

I just got back from a play. It was an independent production put on by my school's theatre department. I still feel a bit disoriented. It was all over the place, touching on topics like labor rights, gender, sexuality, and the demon that is memory; a veritable boiling pot of psychoses dreamt up by college students. I think my favorite character, as listed on the playbill, was "The Sausage Man," a strange anachronistic apparition that haunts the dreams of troubled minds with his hand-held sausage grinder. I think I liked it best when his big bug eyes popped out from beneath the brim of his bowler hat, the clanking gears of his sausage grinder doing the talking for his fiendish smile.

If I let my imagination run too free, sometimes I forget where I am. Leaving the playhouse, walking back to my apartment, I traveled through an amazingly surreal world as the reality slowly began to seep back in. It more like percolated, really. It had to gurgle out of my mind and come back in splotches.

Friday nights in Berkeley, especially around the Telegraph Avenue area, are always filled with life. There are bubbly packs of girls in skirts. There are surly stags, waiting on street corners, cell phones in hand as they wait for the call. There are sirens blazing down the street to somewhere else, and it doesn't worry anybody because the sirens are headed somewhere else. There are the hot dogs sizzling in the hot dog shop (Top Dog is a Berkeley institution), and there are people dressed for a soirée clacking by.

I guess I better go to sleep now; I have work tomorrow.

Day 62

I must admit that I feel a bit defeated. Maybe the "no studying" strategy wasn't the best one. About an hour and forty-five minutes into my physics midterm, I called it quits and turned in my test half-completed. I couldn't hold thoughts anymore. I would see the green floor, think "green," remember that I was taking a test, try to think about solving a physics problem, get overwhelmed on how to approach it, and then get distracted again and start the cycle all over.

This went on for a good ten minutes before I realized that I wasn't making any headway. Actually, that's not true: I was perfectly aware that I wasn't making any progress the whole time. I just didn't want to admit that I was beat. A lot of those last minutes I spent in a personal struggle trying to decide whether I should keep suffering or turn in my half-finished exam.

I guess it didn't help that I was backpacking all weekend and pursuing, ahem, extracurricular activities in the days leading up to this test. But I guess I learned my lesson. I can already hear my inner Asian right now: "Work harder!"

Right after I finish reading just one more chapter of One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Day 61

Green Eggs and Exams

Dave I am, I will not study for these exams.

Oh chemistry and physics, the facts galore;
Both these subjects I've learned before.
In high school dutifully I drilled away
Doing my homework nearly every day.

Dave I am, I will not study for these exams.

But there comes a point where enough is enough,
And really, I don't care about this stuff.
The pre-med students only worry and fret;
The thought of testing makes their pants wet.

Dave I am, I will not study for these exams.

Newton and Lewis you've discovered so much,
About atoms and motion and the world and such.
With knowledge and concepts you've invaded my head,
Despite the handicap of being long dead.

Dave I am, I will not study for these exams.

I will not study in the stacks; I think I'll sit here and relax.
I will not take the practice test; I'd much rather sleep and rest.
I will not live in constant fear; Instead I'll keep on sipping beer.
I will not use my GPA as a measure; Finishing a novel gives me much more pleasure.

Dave I am, I will not study for these exams.

Here are some photos I wasn't able to include in yesterday's post. They are pictures of the old observatory.

Day 60

Today I was exploring a part of campus known as Observatory Hill, where the ruins of a century-old observatory remain (a few bricks from the foundation and some boards that are now a beehive are all that's left). It's nice there, full of shade and oak trees and tranquility. I must have spent a good fifteen or twenty minutes during my break just watching the birds and squirrels going about their business in the oak grove. There was a really high density of life in there. The sensory of all the activity and commotion was almost overwhelming at times. There was the jay at the top of the canopy working on its nest. There was a woodpecker that stayed to watch. There was the chirping of chicks in the nest. There were the robins rooting around in the grass for grubby things to eat, and occasionally they'd squabble over territory. One bird would make an alarm call, all the birds would go quiet, and an accipiter (1) would pass overhead. There were the cute, little, round, sparrow/finch-type birds looking for seeds. There were the tree squirrels doing acrobatics in the branches. And then there were all the birds chasing each other around because it is spring and that is what birds do when it is spring.

I found a nice spot to take a nap and I woke to the sound of the Campanile's bells tolling on the hour.