tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6749931629382392832024-02-20T13:20:09.269-08:00Amanda is an A$$holeSomeone recently called me an asshole... it got me thinking about my life, here is the result.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-47384264441492299792014-10-17T07:23:00.001-07:002014-10-17T07:32:32.481-07:00National ParksI was recently scrolling through The Front Page of the Internet when I happened across a compilation of 1 star Yelp reviews of National Parks. To save you some time, here they are:<br />
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<br />
I thought for a long time about my anger about these reviews, and would have liked to say that it didn't piss me off anymore after just realizing that some people are selfish, self-centered, terrible people who care about nothing more than themselves; however, I am not that calm of a person and I never came to that conclusion. So all I can really say at this point is: Get the Fuck Off My Planet. I don't want you here because you are the people who are willing to destroy these beautiful, peaceful places to build another strip mall with another chain store, and another chain eatery, so you can buy one more "thing" or stuff your face with one more 5 pound steak to try and fill the void in your life because you aren't content with who you are as a person.<br />
<br />
We are destroying everything on this planet, and we are killing off entire species for our own carnal pleasure. It makes me sad, and because I am not the Dalai Lama, it also makes me extremely angry. It makes me angry to see runway models carrying a dead fox down the runway as an accessory, and people going out of their way to hit a squirrel on the road, people killing a spider that is outside of their house because they think it is "creepy," and people poaching elephants because some shaman tells them that their erection will last 6 hours with the tusk of an elephant mixed with the blood of a rhinoceros. We sit in our Westernized cultures thinking that we are above this stuff because we would NEVER kill an elephant for its tusk because we are "civilized." We comfort ourselves with this statement as we bulldoze trees to build another housing development that displaces all the animals that lived in that patch of land... then we get pissed because we hit a deer with our car and now have to pay for the damage. Stupid Dumb Sum-Bitchin deer, you were on MY highway!<br />
<br />
The selfishness of some at the detriment to all is something that I have a very hard time coping with. Even in my personal life (not on the global level, because honestly, my life is only truly valuable to a handful of people and so is yours), this is something that I struggle with. Selfish people really get under my skin and turn me into a person that I try hard not to be. They are the "takers" of the world who will take, take, take from people but never once give back freely without condition.<br />
<br />
I need to meditate more often, my resolve to be a better person today than I was yesterday is not working out so well for me this morning. <br />
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<br />
"Whether you call it Buddhism or another religion, self-discipline, that's important. Self-discipline with awareness of consequence."<br />
~ Dalai Lama Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-5690456762045826482014-05-14T10:53:00.002-07:002014-05-15T06:13:29.600-07:00"It is not the Mountain we Conquer, but Ourselves." ~ Sir Edmund Hillary<br />
Love is a funny thing, sometimes. By funny, I mean foolish, irrational, terrifying, and awe-inspiring. The
suddenness and intensity of falling madly in love with another person
seems to take all of the constants out of the equation that was your life and replace them with variables. Telling someone that you are in love with them is the most terrifying thing on this planet because of all the variables involved. I would rather BASE jump off a cliff 40 times over than to do it. So why is vocalizing your love for someone so gawd damned scary? Is it a fear of rejection? A fear of getting an "I know?" It is like it plays on every single emotional vulnerability that we have and uses the special amp that goes to 11 to broadcast it to our brain. So why do we feel the need to vocalize our undying love for someone, especially when we have absolutely zero idea of how that person feels toward us? We can make a guess and assume things based on their actions, but you know what they say when you ASSUME... <br />
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I have recently tripped and fallen into a puddle of love, and it has been a very challenging thing for me to verbalize. The emotion leading up to telling this person was probably the suckiest feeling in my life in the last 4 years. I had so much anxiety leading up to it and the only reason I even acknowledged it aloud is because of a conversation that made
me face it, otherwise, I probably would have continued to keep it to
myself for another two months before I worked up the courage to say
anything... because I don't know exactly how this person feels about me. I can assume, but again... you know what they say about that. So why did I feel the need to tell him?<br />
<br />
This part of the equation is so much more difficult to answer. I knew what he would say and I knew what his reaction would be, it did not surprise me when it happened the way I thought it would. Knowing his reaction made it no less distressing... it actually made it worse; however, it did give me a sort of freedom now from myself, which is often times my worst enemy. Emotional vulnerability is one of the biggest fears I have. I am the
product of an interesting environment that forced me to develop some
austere coping mechanisms, which have proven to be difficult to keep in
check at times and even more difficult when it comes to merging lives in a relationship.<br />
<br />
Building walls and keeping people at bay comes naturally to me and when I perceive a situation a certain way, my automatic response is to put another brick in the wall and close up shop. I start devising an escape plan to GTFO when it comes to boyfriends. So why did I tell him? Well I did not tell him that I loved him for validation or for
acknowledgement from him. I told him for me, because I don't want to be
emotionally damaged anymore. I want a partner for life and I want someone that I can finally unload my emotional quirkiness on and know that he isn't going to judge me. I want someone to go on a grand adventure with through the rest of our lives. It might turn out that this man is not the one for that epic adventure, I am not ruling that possibility out... but at least it won't be for my lack of effort this time to develop anything meaningful... and gawd dammit this one is going to hurt a lot if it fails. <br />
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I am going to sound like a hypocrite when I type my next statement, as I am 33 years old and have done a bang up job of closing myself off from emotional vulnerability all of my life - we can't let fear from the past continue to emotionally batter us. Some of us are emotionally banged up.... too bad, so sad. That is part of life sometimes, but that doesn't mean that we are not worthy of being loved or that we can not give love. Continuing to close yourself off from the full range of emotions will protect you from the certain hurt that is part of life, but in the end you will also miss out on some of the greatest emotions, love being one of them. <br />
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<a class="leftAlignedImage" href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/61105.Dr_Seuss"><img alt="Dr. Seuss" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1193930952p2/61105.jpg" /></a>
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<div class="quoteText">
“We're all a little weird and life's a little weird. And when we
find someone who's weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with
them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.” ~Dr. Seuss</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-76823923155286576282014-04-22T11:01:00.001-07:002014-04-22T11:01:08.086-07:00God is Impotent... I mean, Omnipotent. I saw something interesting today while looking through Google+ (Yes, I know that I am one of the 15 people on this planet that actually uses Google+). It was a picture of a man who had been born with no limbs, with his baby swaddled and tied to his chest. He is a motivational speaker so he has a public page that has many followers. His caption was "dream come true." Which is fantastic for this man, I am happy that he is living his dreams. What was most interesting to me though was reading the comment section from his followers. There was 492 comments at the time that I looked. Many of them were along the lines of "Praise God, god truly is great," "God is just too big, I give Him all the glory," "God is indeed great" Etc.<br />
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As many of you know, I am an atheist and I find these comments to be grotesque, to be honest. I find them to be absolutely absurd, and all they do is reaffirm my decision to be an atheist. Aside from the scientific aspect of my non-belief, if this is the type of Christian god that I am supposed to worship, that religion can go fuck itself. God will have a man be born with no limbs and cause hardship all through his life, but dammit he'll make it up to him by giving him a baby that he can't hold, can't change, can't soothe or pick up when it is crying, can't pick up off the ground when it has fallen and skinned its knee... but dammit, he has "blessed" him with that baby so that god must be great. <br />
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I think it is great that this man is not letting things like no limbs hold him back, but I can not give glory to a god for that. I give it to this man and his personal strength. I give it to his parents for raising him to be strong and to not let his differences hold him back. I give it to his wife who is going to have to do all of the things that he will not be able to do because he has no limbs. I will not give glory where glory is not due. Human beings are stronger than they give themselves credit for, yet for some loony reason they want to attribute their personal strength to a higher being. Religious people will acknowledge the fact that god has given them free will, so that means that this man could easily stay home and be a stick in the mud about his situation. Instead, he chose to make the most of his life. That was not god, it was this man. <br />
<br />
Anyways, moving on. I am not here to discuss religion. I just find it absurd that people believe that "god works in mysterious ways" and that this man having a baby is a true testament to what a great and powerful god there really is. He gives the man no arms and no legs, but dammit he gave him a working phallus so the world is right. Phewww, god really is omnipotent... and a man. I'd rather burn in the 6th circle of hell with all of the other heretics
than to worship a god that would allow for these situations to exist. <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-65809047229192266222014-03-13T08:11:00.002-07:002014-03-13T08:11:50.362-07:00My Journey with OCMWhat is OCM you ask? It is the Oil Cleansing Method. I have terrible skin on my face. If I could change any one thing about myself, it would be that. It has gotten worse as I have gotten older and I'm not entirely sure why other than hormones. I have tried every facial cleanser out there that promises to clear up acne such as Proactiv, Neutrogena, Biore, Duac (prescription only), and Clearasil. I have gone to a renowned dermatologist at Johns Hopkins and tried the harsh chemicals that he prescribed. I tried Retin-A and I tried to use CeraVe and Cetaphil. I have tried everything and yet my face still breaks out. The Retin-A would make my zits go away faster, but I still got them. It also made my face INCREDIBLY red and INCREDIBLY dry and flaky.<br />
<br />
After many years I have finally found something that works for me, it is OCM. It didn't work at first because I was not doing it right with an oil that was too much for my skin; however, I have been playing with it for a little while now and tweaking the oils I'm using. It first started about 2 years ago with jojoba oil. I read on a site that jojoba oil was the cure-all oil for acne sufferers. So the science behind the idea is that oil breaks down oil and that certain oils can not be absorbed by the epidermis because of the chemical compound being too large to be absorbed. These are called carrier oils and their comedogenic ratings are all very different. Comedogenic means that it will clog your pores. For a list of some of the popular ones:<a href="https://www.beneficialbotanicals.com/facts-figures/comedogenic-rating.html" target="_blank"> click here</a>. The non-comedogenic oils are: Hemp Seed oil, Mineral Oil, Sunflower oil, and Safflower oil.<br />
<br />
I bought some jojoba oil and I used it religiously for a few weeks before I knew about comedogenic ratings. It cleared my skin up a little bit but then all of a sudden my face broke out like crazy. So I gave up on it after that because I had been told my entire life that oil breaks you out and makes things worse, but I figured I had to try it anyway. So the next two years I used Proactiv Extra Strength. Let me tell you, this is some serious shit! This is 10% benzoyl peroxide wash, 2% Salicylic Acid Toner, and 10% benzoyl peroxide lotion. It was so incredibly harsh on my skin that it started to fade my beloved freckles! My freckles were being bleached by this stuff and I was developing fine lines around my eyes that should not have been there because it was drying my skin out so badly. I love having freckles on my face, I can not be using crap that bleaches them and it didn't even clear my skin up. My breakouts were less, but they still occurred even though I was using these strong chemicals. So I gave up on it and switched to using Cetaphil cleanser twice a day and nothing else. Yeah, fuck that noise. My face broke out all along my jaw line and chin. You must be able to understand my frustration by now?!?! I am in my 30's, I should not be getting zits!<br />
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About 3.5 months ago I decided I would start taking hormonal birth control in an attempt to clear my face and because I was in a committed relationship that doesn't want kids... but mostly to clear my face up. I also started Retin-A about a month before that. My routine in the evening took about 15 minutes just to wash my face and I noticed in pictures from New Years Eve that my face was incredibly red compared to my neck and arms. I sunburned one day when I was out in the winter sun for 20 minutes, and that is when I decided I didn't want to be using these harsh chemicals on my face, that I needed to find alternatives. So I started searching... and searching... and searching.<br />
<br />
One day on Reddit, I discovered a sub-reddit called SkinCareAddiction. I subscribed to it and started reading the FAQ's. It changed my life. They were recommending the oil cleansing method and there was a lot of information on it. Information by people who have done it and have nothing to gain by praising it or bashing it. It was the stories of hundreds of people who have had success and failure with it, stories of what oils worked for what skin types, and stories just like mine where nothing else worked. I spent some time reading before I decided to try it and they recommended starting with Mineral oil, which is just baby oil. Baby oil is mineral oil with fragrance. So I started with baby oil, then wiping it off with a baby wash cloth, and then washing with Cetaphil. It is called double cleansing. I noticed a difference in my skin's texture but it didn't clear me up, it just didn't break me out either. So I did this for a couple weeks but then noticed I was getting some zits along my jaw line again, which I attributed to something in the Cetaphil but I couldn't be sure. So I switched oils to Sunflower Oil which has a comedogenic rating of 0 just like mineral oil but does not have fragrance added to it, meaning it is non-comedogenic and it was good for acne and other skin conditions according to Garden of Wisdom. I have been using this for about two weeks. I noticed the texture of my skin changed considerably but I was still using CeraVe pm moisturizer and still had some zits. I made the decision earlier this week to give up moisturizer forever because there is something in it that breaks me out no matter how friendly it is supposed to be or how recommended by dermatologists. So I went on the hunt for a moisturizing lotion...<br />
<br />
Last night I tried Hemp Seed Oil for the first time because it is supposed to be a good moisturizing oil, non-comedogenic, soothes skin, slows down the effects of aging, and helps with acne. I am in love. My face has already improved and I have only used it twice. I am also experimenting with Argan Oil right now mixed with Sunflower Oil as a wash and Hemp as a moisturizer.<br />
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The oil cleansing method is not for everyone and all oils are not created equally. Jojoba oil has a comedogenic rating of 2, which was too much for my skin. Some will break you out and some won't. All I know is that my life has been changed by using oil on my face as my cleanser. As a person who has suffered from skin problems since my teens, and has tried everything on the market, this is what works for me. My skin does not look oily, it is not greasy, and it is more radiant than it has been in years. I think the chemicals that were in all of these products were exacerbating the acne on my face.<br />
<br />
My current routine:<br />
<b>AM</b><br />
Splash water on face<br />
Small amount of oil in the palm of hand, massage on face for 2 minutes, wipe away with baby wash cloth (hemp seed at this time, but trying Sunflower mixed with Argan this week)<br />
Use a couple drops of fresh oil to moisturize (hemp seed oil) <br />
<br />
Paula's Choice Best Face Forward Tinted Sunblock<br />
<br />
<b>PM</b><br />
Splash water on face<br />
Small amount of oil in the palm of hand, massage on face for 2 minutes,
wipe away with baby wash cloth (hemp seed oil)<br />
Put fresh oil on after wiping away the dirty oil, splash with water, rub in for a minute. Blot with towel.<br />
Pure Shea Butter after to lock in all the moisture while I sleep<br />
<br />
<br />
If you are interested in OCM, I recommend a few sites for information about how to do it and the best oils for whatever condition you have going on. You can find most oils in the food section of a decent grocery store like Wegmans or Whole Foods. Garden of Wisdom also offers an <a href="http://www.gardenofwisdom.com/oilsampler.html" target="_blank">oil sampler pack </a>where you can pick 3 oils based on your skin type to try out to see what works for you and what doesn't, that way you are not committed to large bottles of oil that won't work... the upside is that you can cook with most of them if they don't work out for your face. :D <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.gardenofwisdom.com/carrieroils.html" target="_blank">Garden of Wisdom</a><br />
<a href="http://www.reddit.com/r/SkincareAddiction/comments/1a1cj3/everything_you_wanted_to_know_about_ocm_the_oil/" target="_blank">SkincareAddiction Sub-Reddit</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-68481935346614343872014-01-17T12:50:00.000-08:002014-01-17T13:01:34.138-08:00The Age of Excessive MaterialismI <i><b>really</b></i> enjoy reading financial independence blogs and articles about how 30 somethings have retired at 35 by curbing their spending, saving more, and making wiser choices. Sometimes I have to remind myself of what my financial goals are and these blogs do that for me. The last couple months or so, I feel like I have been hemorrhaging money out of my butthole like it is my job. My budget and my bank account are not very happy with me. So this blog entry is going to be kind of a reminder to myself of what my financial goals are, ways I save money, what I splurge on, and a reminder that a fancy new thing is not what will make me happiest in life. So I am going to tell my dirty secrets with my bad spending the last two months, as well as what I try to do to save money, and ultimately what my goal is. <br />
<br />
In the last two months, I bought a new car, have spent approximately $2,200 on airfare, spent $675 on a car rack for the said new car, spent over $600 eating out at restaurants in the month of November alone, $200 in December eating out, and over $1,000 on clothing in the last two months. This is absolutely ludicrous! Of these things, I could have easily not bought any more clothing... I assure you, I do not need it. I don't even prefer eating out, it makes you fat and the food is always loaded with sodium. I didn't *need* a new car, but my old one was costing me nearly $500 a month in gasoline to commute to work, so I traded it in for that reason alone. I will save some money by doing that at least. I am not sure that I needed the car rack right now for the car, but it is needed for my lifestyle. I probably could have shopped around to save some money on that... but I didn't. I let my want for it overrule my judgement in saving $100 by buying it online. The airfare, well $600 of it is for vacation in March, the other $1,550 was partly my fault for trusting American Airlines to not be a bunch of douchebags and wanting something (getting to Oklahoma 10 hours earlier) that ended up costing me $1,000 extra after it was all said and done. I really wanted to get to OK earlier though and be with the Boy Toy and his family, so it was an expense I was ok with. Travel is usually one expense I don't ever mind paying for, I do shop around for airfare though, usually for a few months.<br />
<br />
I need to make myself feel a little better now about blowing my budget, so these are things I do that save me money:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Recycle/reuse clothing. I wear my jeans and most shirts more than once before washing. I reuse towels anywhere from 1 week to 10 days. </li>
<li>I grocery shop... I know it doesn't seem like it from the above expense breakdown, but I do. I usually spend about $50 a week for groceries, sometimes a little less. I don't eat a lot of meat but I do eat a lot of fruit and veggies... which when you eat seasonally, this is pretty cheap. Not eating a lot of meat cuts my costs considerably. I also buy meat when it is on sale and freeze it. </li>
<li>I shop around for airfare when I want to go somewhere, usually months in advance. Airlines usually have specials that just pop up randomly on certain days, so I will setup alerts for places that I want to go and watch the airfare. In regard to the $600 airfare this past month, Iceland was on my Boy Toy's list for places he wanted to go and I wanted to go back as well. We were planning a vacation in March, we just hadn't nailed a place down. I saw the airfare on Wednesday and it was $750. I looked again on Thursday and it was $550, $578 after all fees. Yay, saved $200 and going to Iceland again in March. :)</li>
<li>I fix things in my house. It is a rare day that I hire something out to a contractor to fix. Youtube will pretty much tell you how to build a rocket, so fixing drywall or a pipe is not that difficult to learn how to do.</li>
<li>I buy things that last (or ask for them for holidays). I have nice knives, nice pots and pans, solid wood furniture, etc. I have had most of it for at least 10 years. I only buy white linens now as well because I can bleach them, so towels don't start to smell funny after a couple years of use. Plus, white is always fashionable and goes with every bathroom decor. </li>
<li>I buy open box items at places like Target. I bought my KitchenAide mixer for $100 at target because it didn't have a box... it is a $350 mixer. Yay! </li>
<li>My water comes from the tap, which also gives me the added benefit of fluoride so I have not had a cavity in many years.... could be my brushing but could also be the added fluoride. </li>
<li>I use a site called geartrade.com to buy a lot of the gear that I need for my lifestyle. It is a site that has privately sold items as well last season items so you can find a lot of technical clothing, climbing gear, camping supplies, etc. on there for 1/3 of the normal cost. Some of it is used, some of it comes from outlet stores new. REI attic sales are also amazing. I have a $2,600 mountain bike that I paid $600 for that was almost brand new when I got it. Same with my kayak. </li>
<li>I contribute 15% of my income to my 401k, this lowers my taxable income as well as sets me up for earlier retirement. </li>
<li>I invest money in the stock market. As of this writing, I am up 60.56% on my initial investment by doing my best to research what I am buying into. </li>
<li>I used to have a cell phone plan in my name, it cost me $150 a month. My company will pay for my cell phone and give me a phone. I did not take advantage of this for my first year with the company because I was paranoid about the content that is sometimes sent to me.... then I realized I didn't care and neither did they. </li>
<li>I don't have cable. I pay $7 a month for a Netflix subscription instead. </li>
<li>I rent my textbooks for school rather than buy them. There is a site called Chegg.com that rents text books for about $30 for the semester, this is fantastic as many books can cost more than $100 and you never use them again after the semester is over.</li>
<li>I grew a garden last year. I have been growing my own tomatoes for about 5 years now in the summer time, on my deck, but I went all out last year and grew a bunch of stuff! I plan to do the same from now until forever. It was a fun hobby, but it was also neat to be able to pick green peppers from my garden and make stuffed peppers with them that very night for dinner. Pretty cool in my opinion. </li>
<li>I make my own coffee every morning and put it in a to-go mug to take to work. I used to love Starbucks and drank it regularly, then I realized how much I could save by doing it myself and have more control over the flavor. </li>
</ol>
<br />
Back to dirty secrets... these are things that I waste money on regularly. It is my goal this year to fix these things.<br />
<ol>
<li>I live in a massive house. I live in a house that could easily accommodate a family of 8. I plan on downsizing this coming spring/summer to a smaller, cheaper house that is more centrally located to the things and people I like. </li>
<li> I love brand name laundry detergent. $15 for Tide? You got it! It is dumb. If you look at the back of a Tide bottle versus an Xtra bottle that costs 1/3 the price, they are the same ingredients. </li>
<li>I buy books. I buy a lot of books. Why? I don't know. I love the way they smell and reading an actual book?!?! They just take up space, or I end up giving them away. I'm going to use my library card more this year and the Kindle Owners Library, both of which are free. </li>
<li>I love jackets and backpacks. I have so many jackets/coats and backpacks that some only come out twice a year. I'm not buying another coat or backpack for the entire year of 2014. </li>
<li>I use Pureology shampoo and conditioner. At $30 each, per bottle, per month, I'm being ridiculous. I have this idea that it makes my hair softer/silkier/healthier etc. but it doesn't. No more so than a mid range shampoo or conditioner that would be half the price and still do the trick.</li>
<li>I buy high end shoes and high heels when I go on vacation. I have multiple pairs of shoes that I hardly ever wear but I justified spending upward of $400 on some of them because I was on vacation. No more shoes for me this year! I have a closet full of shoes and boots. </li>
<li>Since cutting my hair short, I have noticed that my salon bill has almost quadrupled. I was going to the salon every 8 weeks to get it done over the last year, at $150 (sometimes more) each time it was beginning to add up. I'm letting my hair grow out a little bit now so I don't have to get it trimmed/cut/touched-up so often to keep it looking nice. (If you're keeping track, my yearly hair care is at about $1,260 this past year... that's absurd)</li>
<li>House plants. Every spring, every year, I go to Home Depot and buy a boat load of house plants for my house because this is the year that I will be able to keep them alive!!! I can never keep a house plant alive, ever. Over the years, I must have spent at least $1,000 on plants that I just don't water and don't care for.... and then I wonder why the plant has died. </li>
<li>I buy $15-20 lip blams and lip glosses regularly... and I promptly lose them after two uses. I am not buying anymore expensive lip treatments for 2014! I prefer to use Vaseline on my lips at night anyway, I don't know why I buy those things. </li>
</ol>
<br />
So I was at my friends house the other night, and on her
refrigerator there was a <b><u>"WANT/NEED"</u></b> list. Seeing this list changed my life
and helped me remember my financial goals versus all the shit I have
been buying lately that seems extremely excessive as I write this. She
told me that this list really helps her to remember what is important
and her wants versus her needs. I decided I am
going to start doing this so that I can visualize my wants vs. needs to help curb my spending. <br />
<br />
There are certain expenses that I will not ever cut out of my life because they make my life a better place, even though I would save a lot of money doing so. Those are:<br />
<ul>
<li>Organic/local food. I will always opt to buy organically or locally if the option is there. I will happily pay a few dollars more for a happy chicken rather than one pumped full of hormones and antibiotics, its breasts too big to walk and just left to rot on the floor of a chicken coop. No thanks. </li>
<li>Travel/Experiences. I spend a lot of money on these things. I love to travel and I love to go on adventures. These things make my life a wonderful place and they are the reason I want to curb my materialism a little more. I want more free time and more money to experience the joys of life and the beauty that is in this world. I do not want to be held down by my possessions. I do not want to be a slave to my job because I live a lifestyle filled with "stuff." I want to see every single country on this planet, that is my goal in this lifetime. </li>
</ul>
We have been taught that we are consumers and our worth is based on what we own. The media looks at humans as consumers and the majority of our economy is based on consumables. I read an <a href="http://latino.foxnews.com/latino/opinion/2013/08/16/rick-sanchez-countrys-future-depends-on-immigrants/" target="_blank">article</a>
that calls childless people "selfish" because by not having children
who will later become consumers, soldiers, and tax payers later in life, we
are contributing to the economic collapse of this country. Surprisingly
(because it came from Fox News), it said that immigration is necessary
to keep America as an economic superpower. We are taught to shop until we drop, spend spend, spend, throw things away, THIS IS THE AMERICAN DREAM!!!! Fuck that. I don't work because I enjoy it and I'm not selfish because I don't have children. I work to support a lifestyle that I have become accustomed to. Well what happens when that lifestyle no longer costs as much as it did before because you aren't buying ridiculous shit that you don't need??? Your living expenses go down, you can save more, you can work less, and you can live more!<br />
<br />
My two cents on the matter. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-42124548460113375002014-01-02T11:50:00.000-08:002014-01-02T11:50:46.688-08:00A Congregation of CanoesAs the New Year rang in I was reminded why going to bars sucks sometimes.... because sometimes, douche canoes congregate in them. Why is it that certain types of men think they can come up on women in bars and become belligerent and rude when a woman does not want to talk to them? Do they think that they can just intimidate them into a conversation? I suppose it does work every now and then because there are a lot of women out there who really like assholes or are too passive to deal with the situation, but when a woman tells you to go away, why would you not just listen? Save your ego and go find someone who actually wants to talk to you.<br />
<br />
Being the person that I am, with the experiences that I have had, these men do not sit well with me and their arrogance infuriates me. Their belligerence and intimidation tactics just make me want to punch them in the face, to be perfectly honest. I suppose a lot of women will just brush it off and let it go; unfortunately (or fortunately), I am not that relaxed when it comes to these situations and I don't brush off their acrimony. As I found myself yelling at two complete strangers for thinking they could force my friend to talk to them, and that they could insult me when I told them to leave, all I could think about was why they would willingly put themselves in this situation when they could have so easily walked away and found a woman who actually wanted to talk to them? Did my friend and I have a look about us that told them it was ok to disrespect us?<br />
<br />
I chalk this type of behavior up to a chauvinistic/sadistic character flaw in these men that make them think they can act like this toward women. This isn't the first time this has happened, I have found myself in this situation before and I have watched it happen to plenty of women over the years in bars... some are actually flattered by it. I was in a bar on St. Patty's day quite a few years ago and I watched about 10 men get into this one girl's face because she slept with one of the guys and his girlfriend found out. People stood around and did nothing as a couple of those guys punched her in the face and kicked her. I got my ass kicked by a group of guys that night because I'd rather get beat up than to be the person who stood around and did nothing. My face was nicely wrecked that night thanks to those guys. The night ended with a huge bar fight, one girl getting her front tooth knocked out, and tons of cops showing up, but I have zero regrets when it comes to deflecting some of the punches for her. <br />
<br />
I grew up watching my mother get beat up by men, so maybe I am overly sensitive when it comes to men being hostile toward women, but that junk does not fly with me. I would rather get my butt kicked a thousand times than to let men like that think that women are objects for their entertainment rather than individuals with their own morals and standards. I was overly polite when I first told them to leave because my friend
was not interested, yet their open disdain for women had to
complicate the situation. Lucky for me, there were three men with us who had my back, but they shouldn't have had to step in because it should have never escalated the way it did. <br />
<br />
Gender roles still exist in Western culture and gender inequality is still prevalent in the United States, these are just the facts of life, folks. Men are seen as more assertive and absolute; whereas women are seen as more yielding and sensitive. I am even guilty of enjoying my gender role sometimes, as I quite enjoy having a big-strong-boyfriend that makes me feel safe and protected; however, these generalized stereotypes have made some men think that they can treat women like they are less than equal. It makes them think they can put their paws all over a woman and that it is perfectly acceptable to berate her when she objects to it. No society treats its women as well as its men, but do not be offended when a woman stands up for herself. Do not look at her like she is any less of a human being or like she should not have handled the situation in the exact same way that a man would have.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-43246569109689651562013-12-03T11:26:00.000-08:002013-12-03T11:30:43.769-08:00Super SuckyDo you know what is super sucky, eh? When you find yourself terrified of
something that you equally care about, so instead of owning up to this
thing, you find
yourself feeling senseless things that threaten to destroy all good things so that you
don't have to face that which scares you most... being vulnerable to
someone else. This is a compulsion that I've battled for most of my life
when it comes to my relationships. I know why I do it, but we aren't
really here for psych sesh, so we'll touch base on that another day.
Today is just a writing therapy day to help me stop being an ass who
wants to burn and destroy all things that are good that get too close to
me. I needed to note my compulsion in writing to help me recognize my
tendency to do this. <br />
<br />
I'm not doing it this time... this one is something extraordinary to me,
but god dammit I hate this feeling about as much as he hates running.
For once in my life, I feel like it is worth being afraid in exchange
for the feeling I get when I'm with him. Now I must learn to not be an
asshole to the one person that I really like. :/Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-55309269952744637102013-11-08T09:36:00.004-08:002013-11-08T10:25:36.613-08:00ENFPFor some strange reason, I always feel the need to write a blog post before I go back to New York to visit with my family. Maybe it is my subconscious thinking I might not make it out alive this time, so I have to leave my last will and testament in the form of a blog entry. I really have nothing interesting to write about today, I just feel the need to write something... anything. So I'm going to tell you all about my Myers-Briggs Personality Type test results. Apparently I'm considered an ENFP. <br />
<br />
Extraversion, Intuition, Feeling, Perception, those are the traits that I possess. It is kind of uncanny how this test is about 75% accurate and that most people fall into the 16 personality types. I'd like to argue with it because 16 personality types are not very many and to fit nearly 7 billion people into that seems absurd, but I fell in the 75% pretty dead on. <br />
<br />
According to the Myers-Briggs test "ENFPs are initiators of change, keenly perceptive of possibilities. They
energize and stimulate others through their contagious enthusiasm. They
prefer the start-up phase of a project or relationship, and are tireless
in the pursuit of new-found interests. ENFPs are able to anticipate the
needs of others and to offer them needed help and appreciation. They
bring zest, joy, liveliness, and fun to all aspects of their lives. They
are at their best in fluid situations that allow them to express their
creativity and use their charisma. They tend to idealize people, and can
be disappointed when reality fails to fulfill their expectations. They
are easily frustrated if a project requires a great deal of follow-up or
attention to detail."<br />
<br />
<br />
The Kiersey description of my personality type: "ENFP's delight in novelty. They are optimistic, enthusiastic, and
vivacious, craving expressions of strong emotion. With a dramatic flair,
they share their experiences with others, hoping to reveal some
universal truth or win others over in support of a cause. Attuned to
possibilities, ENFP's scan their environment, probing the emotions,
needs, and motivations of others. This sensitivity sometimes conflicts
with their intense drive for personal authenticity. Spontaneous and
personable, they attract others to their company.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Champion_3-1"></sup> ENFP's are full of energy and can spend great amounts of time
discussing ideas and possibilities with others. They always look to
find meanings in the world, and are more likely to be the champion of
causes rather than of individuals. Living fully in this way is extremely
important to them and it is their nature. Champions observe all that is
going on around them and are quick to bring peace to any unpleasant
interaction. They are not afraid to speak up and defend what they think
is right and correct, just, or fair."<br />
<br />
I hate reading these types of things. After reading this, I sit and wonder if I react a certain way because this has told me I would react that way or if I make my own decisions and I am not confined by what is expected of my personality type. I suppose I'll never know. <br />
<br />
It was a fun test to take and to read what your personality is considered, check it out, let me know if you fall in the 75% and if you think I am an ENFP. <br />
<br />
http://www.16personalities.com/free-personality-test <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-22639226583130011742013-10-28T07:48:00.001-07:002013-11-05T11:40:32.319-08:00Disconnected from RealityLast night I went to the Pearl Jam concert in Baltimore with a few friends. It was by far one of the best concerts I have ever been to in my life, even though we had nose bleed seats. Eddie Vedder is one of the coolest guys on this planet even at the ripe old age of 48. He may possibly be the only man aside from Johnny Depp who can don skinny jeans with hiking boots and not look like a huge dork. They rocked our faces off with their 2 hour and 40 minute set. We all left that show feeling deep satisfaction at FINALLY getting to see Pearl Jam in concert.<br />
<br />
While watching the show from our extremely high seats, we couldn't help but notice how many people were on their cell phones taking pictures, making videos, shopping, surfing the internet, reading sports center. You read that right... shopping and reading Sports Center. Directly in front of us 4 out of 5 people we could see were on their cell phones. 2 were reading Sports Center, one was looking at a handbag online, and one was reading an autobiography on his phone.<br />
<br />
I wanted to kick these people in the throat for this. Come on, people! You're at a Pearl Jam show!!!! You don't go to the show of one of the best bands ever (any band for that matter) and stay on your phone the whole time, completely disconnected from the people and the experience that is going on around you. It diminishes the experience.<br />
<br />
I am guilty of being on my phone a lot, but I am also able to put my phone down and experience my surroundings, fully engaged with the people around me. I'm challenging you to start putting your phone down more and be fully engaged with the people around you. People have lived thousands of years without cell phones and without being fully connected to every facet of life 24/7. Waiting an hour to check your phone while you have dinner with your loved ones will not kill you... and if someone died, welp... they died, that extra hour won't bring them back. <br />
<br />
That devil Facebook has further removed people from having to socialize in real time with the people who actually care enough about them to take time from their day to come see them. Instead we give them half of our attention while we browse Facebook, reading the status updates from people that we knew in elementary school, who in the grand scheme of things do not actually matter in our lives. If they did, they would be at that table having dinner with you, not just a mundane, dull status update about what they made their kids for dinner that night, followed by their announcement that they are now going to bed. <br />
<br />
Life moves so fast, we all need to slow down and look around us. Look at
the people we love and that love us, take the time to listen to what is going on in
their lives, be thankful for the love that surrounds us. Time is finite, to give your time to someone is the greatest gift you can ever give someone. Let's not cheapen that gift by giving them your time but not your attention. I assure you, your elementary school friend's status update about her early bed time and 977 pictures of her drooling child will still be there when you have time alone. I recommend reading Facebook while you're taking a shit, those two activities seem to be related to me. <br />
<br />
30 days, that is the challenge. 30 days of not answering your phone when you are with other people. 30 days of not browsing Facebook while you are at the dinner table. 30 days of no texting while driving (this one is going to be difficult for me). 30 days of being fully engaged with your surroundings, experiences, and people!<br />
<br />
Amanda signing off. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-84234655639453641012013-10-17T07:44:00.001-07:002013-10-17T07:59:41.796-07:00Linville Gorge Climbing - Team Pizza and BeerI have discovered that climbing in a gym primarily makes people think they are strong climbers. They think because they can put up 5.11's on sport lead in the gym that they are the subject matter experts on the Yosemite Decimal System. They are quick to discredit a climb outside because it is "only" a 5.5. I'd like to take this moment to straighten this out. A 5.5 in the gym can be put up by a 6 year old with one prosthetic leg, 8 missing fingers, and in socks. A 5.5 outside (especially on the East Coast), on lead (not sport lead), all of a sudden becomes a 5.14 R when the storm clouds have rolled in, the rock is soaking wet, and you can't find anywhere to put some pro. When your last piece of gear was a shoddy nut placement 25 feet below you and your leg starts dancing like Elvis because you are pretty sure that the rubber on your shoes is the same rubber that they make Payless shoes out of, a 5.5 all of a sudden is the most terrifying thing you have ever faced in your entire life. All of a sudden, there are no feet placements, the jugs have turned into slopers that have no grip at all because there is a waterfall running down them into your face. Your chalk is all clumped up because you are soaked to the bone and you want to punch your partner in the face for making you lead the last three pitches, this one pitch being the one that makes you want to maim their face. The rope weighs 900 extra pounds at this point because it is soaking wet and dragging over the last 60 feet of wet rock, and all of a sudden your rack of gear weighs in at 238 pounds.<br />
<br />
This is what the third pitch felt like on The Prow in Linville Gorge on Sunday to me. By the time I got to the top of that 3rd pitch I was in a fit of hysterical laughter. I was fairly certain that I was going to be pulled off that face by
that god damn rope. It was like dragging a body up that face between the rope and the gear. When I
finally made it to the top of that pitch and tied into the anchor, I was
ready to have a bon fire with that rope. I have not decided yet if I am still angry with my partner for making me lead this or not... he seems to think I will remember it forever, which might be true... it was life changing, but I was very seriously upset with him on Sunday night for making me do it. On our hour hike out of Linville Gorge, in the dark and rain with headlamps, I was able to collect myself a little bit and talk to him again like a normal person instead of a crazy person. My desire to punch him also subsided. <br />
<br />
<br />
The entire trip was not like this.... let's start from the beginning. :)<br />
<br />
For the last two years my friend Mike has been talking about Linville Gorge and telling me how fantastic the climbing is there. He kept going on about a climb called The Daddy that we just had to do. Two years later, we finally get around to making it a priority to climb there.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWEv-D3y5ry2OuHslPaYy1Q8y93g8bXl3B2ofadbXUGPSks4d1Ki8DxQbBNL5W2GrqcszjPd6YHXNfBYoHwBa2u-hkb92OhGyMABZWK7BdX9K0XUS21_6C8lKX_AXZveN1oGuxtkV5EhQ/s1600/image_12.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWEv-D3y5ry2OuHslPaYy1Q8y93g8bXl3B2ofadbXUGPSks4d1Ki8DxQbBNL5W2GrqcszjPd6YHXNfBYoHwBa2u-hkb92OhGyMABZWK7BdX9K0XUS21_6C8lKX_AXZveN1oGuxtkV5EhQ/s400/image_12.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautifully exposed rock faces</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2S0hgvMDNdbEA2bDDr9cefvLGemjiTyBpKkgn_PpgKSXpA9y7ngaktM-Wuogvd8IvIbCSWWWLtH3UfqkyrsrjMEMCNb57xZ6hiryy38Nm04rKzKnD4-wks7N_UXSvWRqC1bvfgVyyVnww/s1600/image_18.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2S0hgvMDNdbEA2bDDr9cefvLGemjiTyBpKkgn_PpgKSXpA9y7ngaktM-Wuogvd8IvIbCSWWWLtH3UfqkyrsrjMEMCNb57xZ6hiryy38Nm04rKzKnD4-wks7N_UXSvWRqC1bvfgVyyVnww/s640/image_18.jpeg" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the 3rd pitch on The Prow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7dP9kvVyW4mwPLAjAt_tyF_HNxUziitAJ7vrHxaw9RJ1haHGLR619RjXC04j59IyeIwet3PgPluYhimUevnKADy6RsoTK70ectFdgJwhwUEAo-G7aNF2tI3UQEhIPLkoiNk65SndKSvd3/s1600/600351_10151608061936710_582723991_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7dP9kvVyW4mwPLAjAt_tyF_HNxUziitAJ7vrHxaw9RJ1haHGLR619RjXC04j59IyeIwet3PgPluYhimUevnKADy6RsoTK70ectFdgJwhwUEAo-G7aNF2tI3UQEhIPLkoiNk65SndKSvd3/s640/600351_10151608061936710_582723991_n.jpg" width="475" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Directly across from us, extremely polite climbers! "That's a nice #2 Brian! Thanks, Jeff. You're welcome Brian!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We got a late start on Thursday. The four of us met at my house at 3:30; however, we never left my house until 5 pm. After 67 stops throughout the entire state of Maryland, we eventually hit Harper's Ferry and get into another state... 3 hours later. I didn't think we were ever going to get out of this state. Our disorganization continues through the state of Virginia and after 7.5 hours of driving, we decide to stop at a random hotel somewhere in North Carolina (I think). We roll up listening to "Little Lion Man" by Mumford and Sons full blast because it seemed like a good song to roll into the Super 8 parking lot to. The next morning, Friday, we head to Stone Mountain State Park in Roaring Gap, NC. We are headed to climb The Great Arch (5.5).<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVYB6GFDKjwK9JQk-TRMYOadzX3vpqcYWNmMYRWwtvQtwBfIWwHJ12D0NVrqp6RwFEvNpdD4KdixqzSKczEy4TqN8eND3RPnXGmPCqnbmnW2ALsiC9r0WPySbkKiK4naJ0nw9b-OYdpdyp/s1600/20131011_151149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVYB6GFDKjwK9JQk-TRMYOadzX3vpqcYWNmMYRWwtvQtwBfIWwHJ12D0NVrqp6RwFEvNpdD4KdixqzSKczEy4TqN8eND3RPnXGmPCqnbmnW2ALsiC9r0WPySbkKiK4naJ0nw9b-OYdpdyp/s640/20131011_151149.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jason is always giggling</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zoUaRzfOYzGzEz1-a2_JgCHVYbgU_vONSwy-0GoBbTwqFb9A0EbC5Db7ctB1fwEDJZF4sqls_IdcgY0XJ7QrQBXCiYNWKVqqLQX8eu_SAwLnBp0MF0GL-ZzLPEl8pXhJYqitBPv7wGRv/s1600/1381363_10151608065671710_1134153008_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zoUaRzfOYzGzEz1-a2_JgCHVYbgU_vONSwy-0GoBbTwqFb9A0EbC5Db7ctB1fwEDJZF4sqls_IdcgY0XJ7QrQBXCiYNWKVqqLQX8eu_SAwLnBp0MF0GL-ZzLPEl8pXhJYqitBPv7wGRv/s640/1381363_10151608065671710_1134153008_n.jpg" width="475" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Racked up and ready to go</td></tr>
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This climb was spectacular. It was 4 pitches, the first being a manky "approach route" that Mike got stuck leading. It was pretty terrible. There was a total of three trees all within about 10 feet of each other to be used for protection in about 90 feet of climbing, an off width crack that fit a leg in it and nothing else, and nothing else for protection. Poor Mike... he had about a 50 foot run out across a traverse that was a blank slab of rock. If he slipped and fell here, we were going to be hauling a mangled body out. He handled it like a Boss after 10 minutes of having his leg stuck in this off-width crack, and got to the base of The Great Arch. I left my Snail Trail up the corner of this off width crack and by the time I got to the top of it I was so frazzled that I didn't want to lead the next pitch on The Great Arch if it was anything like that last pitch. I decided to quit being a wuss and I racked up anyway.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFAKUaBQmBBPA5c1Cof4CEZwpLx_VbHhm-MqDJ02w4eGKinA3MDOHQOJ_v0AoJ8topOiE4bG2W0BVBfLu_fMVya6OO5JbfSJ3sEK-Ab20QSITuO1J16LEVGnelfE2CFTwskI1dgzOLQwmK/s1600/IMG_2996_1024x768_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFAKUaBQmBBPA5c1Cof4CEZwpLx_VbHhm-MqDJ02w4eGKinA3MDOHQOJ_v0AoJ8topOiE4bG2W0BVBfLu_fMVya6OO5JbfSJ3sEK-Ab20QSITuO1J16LEVGnelfE2CFTwskI1dgzOLQwmK/s400/IMG_2996_1024x768_.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Technically the 1st pitch of The Great Arch</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOPV2Kftk_Hzx7hY_8tZkHWR61gBe2kwR9xKTZINp4JyCz_MIalJMl39Flkt34I_J5UYlncSElUCgMpNp8ovKa1kuGdcH_ta0crKDpyymK1D9OYiL7YUtkE5cvf_8UNu0RbakrWXVc-we/s1600/1376392_10151608065911710_2054803508_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOPV2Kftk_Hzx7hY_8tZkHWR61gBe2kwR9xKTZINp4JyCz_MIalJMl39Flkt34I_J5UYlncSElUCgMpNp8ovKa1kuGdcH_ta0crKDpyymK1D9OYiL7YUtkE5cvf_8UNu0RbakrWXVc-we/s320/1376392_10151608065911710_2054803508_n.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mike on the first pitch</td></tr>
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We went with two rope teams instead of one because four people on a rope is a mess at belay stations, in my opinion. On this climb, it was Mike leading with Sarah following on one rope, and Jason and I trading leads on the second rope. We set off, Mike and Sarah first, then Jason and I. About 15 feet up, I place my first piece of gear, a solid #2 Camalot. This piece of gear is bomber, it makes me feel instantly safe. At some point early on Mike hollers down about how this pitch being "pumpy." I figured he meant your arms... I was wrong. Another 15 feet up, I place a sling around the tree in the above picture... at this point, I have only gone about 30-40 feet and my calves are burning, this is what he was talking about when he said pumpy. They hurt so much!!!! I place a couple more pieces of gear, but run out the last bit of the pitch because my legs were burning too much to take the time to place gear and the climbing was easy. It had bolted anchors, which is always nice in my opinion. I belay Jason up and he leads the next pitch.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjieePO61RyFn1JpUpyWdvZ3WLLaE6i70AsDcDm2RiObfLVRTF4KEdTNt0R9-J-LhlHO5hoBcSAqnWdywFTA3eXPfoBVcix2MIgzKaZrr78cb0YkxTJHZeV_BLUInryqqa9rwC-zLZiOpcG/s1600/1378889_10151608065516710_663857454_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjieePO61RyFn1JpUpyWdvZ3WLLaE6i70AsDcDm2RiObfLVRTF4KEdTNt0R9-J-LhlHO5hoBcSAqnWdywFTA3eXPfoBVcix2MIgzKaZrr78cb0YkxTJHZeV_BLUInryqqa9rwC-zLZiOpcG/s640/1378889_10151608065516710_663857454_n.jpg" width="473" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me at the belay anchor looking down at the first pitch on The Great Arch</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMGoXAZRHvRO-IVxoO2WlW6ZoPSb7VDRHfQlSkw5Fd4nn3ZAfy8MCXKUwe30gykKAFkSp0ONHPPRyQVAFpLORQgZXeucAZ5yd-IPVDvT2TKdbRrV3-l6RC-OW7cyN1PvTkgSQYNM9tGBn0/s1600/1385939_10151608065601710_1264218832_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMGoXAZRHvRO-IVxoO2WlW6ZoPSb7VDRHfQlSkw5Fd4nn3ZAfy8MCXKUwe30gykKAFkSp0ONHPPRyQVAFpLORQgZXeucAZ5yd-IPVDvT2TKdbRrV3-l6RC-OW7cyN1PvTkgSQYNM9tGBn0/s640/1385939_10151608065601710_1264218832_n.jpg" width="475" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the belay anchor on the first pitch</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9s-0zOfIKCHSFa70AR14ch2cPR1KIGmt8DwZzwzAnnjvzs-NkbUhU3ArlM0bvqf9o05kKwcAjkGlgcMSOSscXX7dI1ibd-cA4IgfnZDIjqYzLX_DUBCH_Rt-2_Vu2uw8Lcjhn7IoRlNF/s1600/1379575_10151608065571710_337355950_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9s-0zOfIKCHSFa70AR14ch2cPR1KIGmt8DwZzwzAnnjvzs-NkbUhU3ArlM0bvqf9o05kKwcAjkGlgcMSOSscXX7dI1ibd-cA4IgfnZDIjqYzLX_DUBCH_Rt-2_Vu2uw8Lcjhn7IoRlNF/s400/1379575_10151608065571710_337355950_n.jpg" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking up at the 2nd Pitch on The Great Arch</td></tr>
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The second pitch was very much like the first, it was a solid lie-back. The crack between the dihedral and the slab was nice and took gear easily, it was just sooooo tiring. The next belay station is at a tree, again with a bolted anchor. This was a really nice break. By the time I got up to Jason, my calves were filled with lactic acid. I look up at the final pitch of this climb, it looks daunting. It is my turn to lead, the crack has gotten exponentially smaller, there is a 30 foot run out where it didn't look like any gear would fit. Slipping at this point means that you are going to skin your nipples right off your chest as you slide down the slabby rock. I'm taking a rest and talking myself into leading this pitch when all of a sudden, Jason just decides he's going for it. He's all like "Ahhh fuck it! I'm just doing it" and decides he's going to run up the wall so we can be done and drinking beer. I am secretly thankful for this because I did not want to lead it... a decision that I later come to regret.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJxn_2zOYxXCWq_Pp6ZsyxmnD61xeODCZsXbb8Q5JSyZHB6H9fTsdF8qUw5-bYL-ugY3CAS5OZ8mS9IXJxuXyTTTX8TQMAnNF4UfHgLyEOXd49OZGhajYA6vCOfkakXuNjQ_LSIaj7L9E/s1600/1383983_10151608065336710_1671395584_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJxn_2zOYxXCWq_Pp6ZsyxmnD61xeODCZsXbb8Q5JSyZHB6H9fTsdF8qUw5-bYL-ugY3CAS5OZ8mS9IXJxuXyTTTX8TQMAnNF4UfHgLyEOXd49OZGhajYA6vCOfkakXuNjQ_LSIaj7L9E/s400/1383983_10151608065336710_1671395584_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jason at the final belay anchor, belaying me up the last pitch</td></tr>
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The last pitch was about 100 feet with a lot of friction... as I'm going up it removing gear, I'm annoyed with myself for not leading it. It was one of the easier pitches because the friction was so good. We get to the top where Sarah and Mike are waiting for us. It is then a 2 mile hike out to the car. We eventually make it there, have a beer, and head out to find some food. Mexican... the food choice of Champions on this trip. It seems as though we ate Mexican food for 3 of our 4 dinners, and beans every single day. There was a cloud of noxious gas following us around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2vfxWDi0diFmEA_GXzWBBFfIM4gB1bv-ivdhoPILKx4QCIXhMy8dKmREntByAGwVKF9EjSM1HMEuPPelebI3sSAkcgRrIfneytP2WooXAMI7uZIgTibEkJgSgsCbJFatJuArMxSrlI-p/s1600/1383978_10151608064746710_307190778_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2vfxWDi0diFmEA_GXzWBBFfIM4gB1bv-ivdhoPILKx4QCIXhMy8dKmREntByAGwVKF9EjSM1HMEuPPelebI3sSAkcgRrIfneytP2WooXAMI7uZIgTibEkJgSgsCbJFatJuArMxSrlI-p/s640/1383978_10151608064746710_307190778_n.jpg" width="475" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trail was about 300 feet of hiking up this slab of rock. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw4QIr_oO8c06yhBzcGf67DWiTmI8zyjvpy7DuVO4lovUc2b4rukIIFxRT2Dtq5Rvf8thpq4CYOfmgPTU7InX3D3YayRafXZ2WqsN0UTiMEj_ZL5st5th_pvpAoeer4kr7UacEFms7XfxM/s1600/1378749_10151608064586710_1272983419_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw4QIr_oO8c06yhBzcGf67DWiTmI8zyjvpy7DuVO4lovUc2b4rukIIFxRT2Dtq5Rvf8thpq4CYOfmgPTU7InX3D3YayRafXZ2WqsN0UTiMEj_ZL5st5th_pvpAoeer4kr7UacEFms7XfxM/s640/1378749_10151608064586710_1272983419_n.jpg" width="475" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All done with The Great Arch!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThLLLP5OATcX0MyG0ZJ_w3etzyfC4gxphXf3JnxJKWd6-dIT3VpGmE1hj4ROKkv30iphwRt4OYuXoMlpUoL3Ac6nJ4ictoKJCelW_Y6zDvROaQ2loGGDn3VazYpNFAj03ZclslDG35z0J/s1600/1395827_10201227209497077_1464692899_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThLLLP5OATcX0MyG0ZJ_w3etzyfC4gxphXf3JnxJKWd6-dIT3VpGmE1hj4ROKkv30iphwRt4OYuXoMlpUoL3Ac6nJ4ictoKJCelW_Y6zDvROaQ2loGGDn3VazYpNFAj03ZclslDG35z0J/s400/1395827_10201227209497077_1464692899_n.jpg" width="122" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At The Bier Garden</td></tr>
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Saturday morning we wake up with tight calves and tight buns. We decide to take the day to go sight seeing in Asheville. I was super stoked to go to Asheville after reading this article: <a href="http://beforeitsnews.com/alternative/2013/07/satanism-in-america-today-asheville-nc-2719802.html" target="_blank">Asheville: Home to Satanists, Rapists, Gays, and Pedophiles</a>. Asheville, NC is one cool little town. The local music scene is thriving, the street art is rad, the shops are so cool, and the food/bar scene is flourishing. We people watched, went to a Latino Heritage Festival, found a neat book store, drank some delicious local brews, and walked around the city before heading out to The Blue Ridge Parkway to watch sunset. Sunset didn't work out, but it was still beautiful up there. We went back into the city after to close down The Bier Garden. At 0200 we make it back to our hotel knowing we have to get up early on Sunday morning to go climb in the Gorge.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiew9h7p7IevpL_S8MIkNO5Zgun1r0oV8y8773hVvMfzgzAjw8pNozfs15gy_a5FSmhk4WnQB0jmyQxhtWRcjluTNGn93M1fhXaxlCt2lVDXWJP27uCAlR5fy6wBT_I5fyYAQbBHZVJ2gPb/s1600/20131012_163649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiew9h7p7IevpL_S8MIkNO5Zgun1r0oV8y8773hVvMfzgzAjw8pNozfs15gy_a5FSmhk4WnQB0jmyQxhtWRcjluTNGn93M1fhXaxlCt2lVDXWJP27uCAlR5fy6wBT_I5fyYAQbBHZVJ2gPb/s400/20131012_163649.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I decided my happiness factor would increase tenfold if I were to get my
face painted</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkFtNLeKm-ECti3eXnMdyasbfWhtIIhSC5_WTlfMph8YbrZlwpa49z8I9PPjVixUPWFRr9-3MZahx6EL7nagihWmq6zW2HqGQ0tcK0nV6CcdC4vDr9_fVZYlXJMnZAecg9BEFL2cHvTuZu/s1600/20131012_231236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkFtNLeKm-ECti3eXnMdyasbfWhtIIhSC5_WTlfMph8YbrZlwpa49z8I9PPjVixUPWFRr9-3MZahx6EL7nagihWmq6zW2HqGQ0tcK0nV6CcdC4vDr9_fVZYlXJMnZAecg9BEFL2cHvTuZu/s400/20131012_231236.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spoon feeding chocolate cheesecake at The Bier Garden</td></tr>
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Ahhh Sunday morning. It was Mikes turn to want to punch me in the throat for making him get up. Jason was up at the ass-crack of dawn and ready to go every single day of the trip. Next time we are going to ruffie his ass so he sleeps longer. Sarah and I eventually get ourselves up and around and we all start heading toward Linville Falls, the town right outside the Table Rock area of the Gorge. Stop at a bar that happens to serve breakfast on the way, have cold breakfast and cold coffee, and head out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOx-3YJhoDPWcKDMShJQj75AfBfx6tcK_76OX8GLmz0ADbNuWSkTWKlfO9YhcEkRLq7kEVH7qck_J1Iz9GueUsttjjXBGR7B3GMGl1ZxOxKVrKM_875gBN2vweylSK0ERP_IdzyqnKALQs/s1600/image_7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOx-3YJhoDPWcKDMShJQj75AfBfx6tcK_76OX8GLmz0ADbNuWSkTWKlfO9YhcEkRLq7kEVH7qck_J1Iz9GueUsttjjXBGR7B3GMGl1ZxOxKVrKM_875gBN2vweylSK0ERP_IdzyqnKALQs/s400/image_7.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team Pizza and Beer</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scrambling down funk to get to the bottom of the climb</td></tr>
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After driving up an incredibly motion-sickness-inducing dirt road for about 8 miles, we get to the trail head to get down to the Amphitheater area of Linville Gorge to start our approach. Due to the government shutdown, the bathrooms are locked, the trash receptacles are locked and closed, and there are no rangers in sight. We sort gear, talk Jason out of bringing a Big Wall Rack again, and start our hike in. We don't get to our route until about 2pm after about an hour and a half hike in. The sun is shining at this point and there are black clouds in the very far distant. My oh my how fast a storm can roll in.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everything is closed!!! </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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We are again on two rope teams. Jason leading with Sarah following on one, and Mike and I supposedly trading leads on the second rope. I start the first pitch, after placing a tiny Camalot in a tiny crack 20 feet up, I continue upward. About 15 feet above that last piece of gear I can't find anywhere to place anything. I get scared and my leg starts shaking. I down climb a little bit but I know that I can't bitch out so early without ridicule when the climbing really isn't hard, it is just a mental game. So I skip out on placing any pro and move right up to a tree to sling. I continue up the first pitch with no incident, just slow going. My fear is starting to subside because I know I get to relax the next pitch while Mike leads.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfStiMCn2696IVF6ud1MYCRf5yxBbbuO1gKfilKRwHXYFHfx9ApTdtkq2C4v9Klh97FbQHaYAO__HVCnz_4xhou9m6XiEK4NfsL9xf_rTiqpiu2mMfeltqNy6mDv4ZtgJafP5Bh2xllccy/s1600/image_15.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfStiMCn2696IVF6ud1MYCRf5yxBbbuO1gKfilKRwHXYFHfx9ApTdtkq2C4v9Klh97FbQHaYAO__HVCnz_4xhou9m6XiEK4NfsL9xf_rTiqpiu2mMfeltqNy6mDv4ZtgJafP5Bh2xllccy/s640/image_15.jpeg" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
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Ummm, yeah.... I build the anchor, belay my partner up, and he pressures me into leading the second pitch. He made the executive decision that I should lead the entire climb so I get more comfortable. I actually don't mind at this point still because the first and second pitch of this climb are easy and uneventful. It was the 3rd pitch that was stressing me out. I finish the second pitch and Sarah is still at the belay ledge, so I give her some gear to take up on her next pitch and just use the anchor that Jason already built. As I'm tying into the anchor the sky opens up and starts down pouring buckets of rain on us. Everything is wet, I'm soaked, pulling the rope through my ATC is like playing Tug-o-War with Andre the Giant. I have Sarah leave all the gear in place as she's climbing up so Mike and I can get up the pitch faster due to the weather turning to shit.<br />
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I'm pretty much freaking out by the time Mike gets to the belay ledge on this pitch. It is raining, I'm having a meltdown on the inside, and somehow he talks me into leading the 3rd pitch because this is the "fun" pitch and I should lead it. He is singing me a song and telling me that it is pretty much like leading a sport route since all the gear is already in place. I think this is what made me do the pitch... this thinking that it will be like a sport lead and I don't want to have any regrets later about bitching out on it. Everything is fine the first 45-50 feet of the pitch... and then it happens.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3T1p5bq0V_C37IWo7uwPVF0hqJAPfz1ppsCdqRNea7ywsl9X3MgRNynPpoHzQ8SQ_fXJMkS3HZ3GXzHPN4aNMiOFnECkgT-0Vr2fc0yI0_CFv_IEv-uSt2m6hVGl6BKO1ZaqWdydBJxcU/s1600/image_14.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3T1p5bq0V_C37IWo7uwPVF0hqJAPfz1ppsCdqRNea7ywsl9X3MgRNynPpoHzQ8SQ_fXJMkS3HZ3GXzHPN4aNMiOFnECkgT-0Vr2fc0yI0_CFv_IEv-uSt2m6hVGl6BKO1ZaqWdydBJxcU/s640/image_14.jpeg" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking up at the 3rd pitch from the start</td></tr>
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I come around the corner and there is nothing but air under my ass. I look down, I see the tree line, the river below it, and about 900 feet of air straight under me and nothing else. The rain is pouring down. I am on a tiny lip that is about an inch and a half wide and soaking wet. My chalk is clumped, my hands are shaking and cold, the 600 pound rope is pulling me downward, my rack is stuck on something and heavy, the tri-cam I'm trying to clip into is down by my feet and the only solid hold is near my face. I start pulling on the rope to get some slack in it because it was so heavy and I start laughing. Maniacally. It is what I do when I am afraid. I laugh. Hysterically.<br />
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By
the time I get to the anchor I am so agitated with Mike for making me
do this that I gave him some penalty slack for his climb up. Not that it
really mattered, his fear tolerance and my fear tolerance are
drastically different. Plus, pulling the wet rope through my ATC was so
incredibly difficult that slack was inevitable. Mike gets to the anchor
and makes the remark of how slippery that pitch was. It crossed my mind
at that very moment that maybe he just doesn't really like me all that
much and I should rethink this friendship. I was not speaking to him any
longer after he had gotten up there unless it was climbing commands. I
was so stressed out. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKfMW2vG87L7ck3U5XTYtlPXGZC1-G2bP8msMjdlWmnBgPKrAj2ux-bzxeUE0zJDmaMIsO5RcoBbcs34tZ20bw90g8mSXzRmaqI-tFk-V-uKnkYTVJkFMu6rClC93wBb1hyphenhyphen_jXKGJOcoF/s1600/image_16.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKfMW2vG87L7ck3U5XTYtlPXGZC1-G2bP8msMjdlWmnBgPKrAj2ux-bzxeUE0zJDmaMIsO5RcoBbcs34tZ20bw90g8mSXzRmaqI-tFk-V-uKnkYTVJkFMu6rClC93wBb1hyphenhyphen_jXKGJOcoF/s640/image_16.jpeg" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah on anchor at the top of the 3rd pitch</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkM9Jz1y-HJObZjgvL2Js_78lQQG8BYdcG4pFK3DiFXtvOwSqJdmqgTDZNpaXtWZsJPoC7NWVxTDKK4749ldilf0Ie3AfPwPZ3OzdiN6j56GB-QafjctKNGIzk1tsEYmJvbyhUNXsFTunx/s1600/image_17.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkM9Jz1y-HJObZjgvL2Js_78lQQG8BYdcG4pFK3DiFXtvOwSqJdmqgTDZNpaXtWZsJPoC7NWVxTDKK4749ldilf0Ie3AfPwPZ3OzdiN6j56GB-QafjctKNGIzk1tsEYmJvbyhUNXsFTunx/s640/image_17.jpeg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jason hanging out</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh4Ol-BLlxAQ8zAmarKGc5WnyAZD7RQGU1mqMmxRn3276ETOfOty_yn0TjtLleHMgv7ctoVpLq3ToJ12Rocn27iqiVErIsgYaSOFM_hwZenVhdwob968TS5A0a7MuysQJm6xaafTBGxz0Z/s1600/image_19.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh4Ol-BLlxAQ8zAmarKGc5WnyAZD7RQGU1mqMmxRn3276ETOfOty_yn0TjtLleHMgv7ctoVpLq3ToJ12Rocn27iqiVErIsgYaSOFM_hwZenVhdwob968TS5A0a7MuysQJm6xaafTBGxz0Z/s640/image_19.jpeg" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah and I just hanging out. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshIPGrXpo3HU1Jl400xm3zALGt1EB4ZFOkG8DrwOJlMzsm1yNI5rPHolyaqWiKLu10n5SiJXZrNFjQHOY8TMsIYE5rhsOKS0WozkI32YvjCvoql898TE4EyXX-0LahsXUmdr3pLuDs52g/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshIPGrXpo3HU1Jl400xm3zALGt1EB4ZFOkG8DrwOJlMzsm1yNI5rPHolyaqWiKLu10n5SiJXZrNFjQHOY8TMsIYE5rhsOKS0WozkI32YvjCvoql898TE4EyXX-0LahsXUmdr3pLuDs52g/s640/image.jpeg" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mike coming up on the belay ledge of the 3rd pitch, me fighting with the rope.</td></tr>
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Jason led the 4th pitch and we all top roped up to get out of there faster. It was sloppy jaloppy. Everything was wet, chalk was useless, the skies were darkening, and we all dead fish flopped up on to the ledge. We all just wanted off that rock face. We were hungry, cold, wet, and thirsty. It was dark and we had a long hike out still by the glow of headlamps. Never leave home without a headlamp.<br />
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Linville Gorge is an amazingly beautiful place. The rock
quality is great and I wish we had more time to climb other routes,
specifically when the weather isn't shit. Another trip is necessary to
climb the other "classics" in the gorge, but god dammit if my life
wasn't changed on the rock that day. Never again will I be nervous about
a bolted sport lead with 6 feet between bolts. Also, never again will I
allow someone to say "it's only a 5.5." It is a 5.5 in perfect weather,
on a top rope, when you don't have to place your gear, or drag a body
up with you on your rope, and a 5.12 gym rating when all of the opposite
is true.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMF2AKLYc7beZ8gifPsoAB_p-ziOVwXAHu2uo0_aTHCe9-1ETDiFScVwUZs4n9pTYKqkPMJd-ShZBFZ-tFmDw5GVf-MTvCQez1Bo5ueeJemyk1HGnsFA2hJkVs1MHEV1HBvoQgcOMFjEm4/s1600/1378451_10151608064331710_221878572_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMF2AKLYc7beZ8gifPsoAB_p-ziOVwXAHu2uo0_aTHCe9-1ETDiFScVwUZs4n9pTYKqkPMJd-ShZBFZ-tFmDw5GVf-MTvCQez1Bo5ueeJemyk1HGnsFA2hJkVs1MHEV1HBvoQgcOMFjEm4/s640/1378451_10151608064331710_221878572_n.jpg" width="475" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the Blue Ridge Parkway, looking for sunset</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkNjgWuQZek_Tut636ZMLGy1awFRFA4sIC6_HVEQLrxIJXLI8VinPN4oJVY-h7Dsi5mlhVR59qrJnshzg1iv4E0nxAkz8_WdY_aJHWi62EmGjlGfFeJpjjpuRAkWfxHrtJdGKDennAjF7l/s1600/1395969_10151608064281710_87018660_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkNjgWuQZek_Tut636ZMLGy1awFRFA4sIC6_HVEQLrxIJXLI8VinPN4oJVY-h7Dsi5mlhVR59qrJnshzg1iv4E0nxAkz8_WdY_aJHWi62EmGjlGfFeJpjjpuRAkWfxHrtJdGKDennAjF7l/s640/1395969_10151608064281710_87018660_n.jpg" width="475" /></a></div>
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Team Pizza and Beer signing off until next time.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-44327857877681110942013-09-26T12:41:00.001-07:002013-10-01T21:07:44.354-07:00I Was Raped<p dir=ltr>When I was 14 years old I was raped. His name was Jeremy, he was 17. It was the first time of 2 total times in my life that I ever experimented with drugs. It was late at night, I was at my Youth Pastor's house with a group of friends for a sleep over. The adults were all in bed. A girl that lived with my Youth Pastor, her name was Sara, was on some sort of anti-psychotic drug that I am not entirely sure the name of. Needless to say, this girl was bat shit crazy and this drug allowed her to live happily among the "normal" people of this world. She offered it to me, telling me it would relax me. This was in March of 1995, 3 months after my mother's unexpected death. I wanted nothing more in this world than to not feel anything and be relaxed. I popped the pill and the rest of the night become one big blur.</p>
<p dir=ltr>I woke up in her room, on her bed, the lower half of my body hanging off the edge of her bed, with my pants off, and him on top of me with my legs spread, having sex with my comatose body. I told him that I didn't want to do this and to stop. I tried to push him off of me. He pinned my arms down and I passed back out. I woke up again as he was fastening the belt on his pants. He kissed my face, I don't remember where on my face, or what my response was, and then he walked out of the room. I sat there, stunned, unsure of what just happened. I then pulled my pants on and stumbled out of the room. I stumbled down the basement steps where my other friends were and where he was now sitting. I was completely dazed from the drug and from what just happened. I felt the understanding start to creep into my brain and I had to get out of there. I had to be as far away from him as possible. I walked back up the stairs and I heard one of the girls, Missy, call me a slut. I ran out the front door, down the road, and to the park where I hid in a plastic slide, sobbing for what felt like days. I sobbed for everything that I had lost. I ached for the protection from my mother, who had been known once to chase my first ever boyfriend down the road with a machete when he decided to see what my face looked like with a blackened eye from his elbow. This is how my virginity was taken from me.</p>
<p dir=ltr>The following day was Sunday. I was crying in Youth Group, but during those months, I seemed to always cry so it was easily explained away. I told my Youth Pastor what happened that evening after our Youth Group meeting. He was the only person I told all of the details to. He pulled Jeremy into the room with me, it was the large conference room in the front of the church, and asked him. He said we had sex but that I had wanted to do it. I was still crying. My youth pastor, wearing a light blue, long sleeve dungaree shirt tucked into his pants with a black belt, tackled him on the floor, got on top of him, and held him down while screaming at him. He told him to never come back to our church. My Youth Pastor was a prison guard who had a lot of aggression some times... he was wearing the black belt that went with his uniform. It is bizarre to me how the brain can remember such miniscule details sometimes and forget entire chunks of ones life at other times. </p>
<p dir=ltr>I went to school the following Monday. A girl that I was friends with at the time had a crush on this boy... she heard through the rumor mill at school that I had sex with him. We were walking to her house from school that afternoon when she called me a slut, and told me I was going to end up just like my mother. I got home from school that day and a boy who lived in my neighborhood that  had been there the night it happened was at my house... ironically, it was the same boy my mother chased with a machete only 6 or 7 months earlier. He told my sister that I was having sex. My sister forced me to go to Planned Parenthood and be put on birth control. I had no idea what was happening to me at the time. I was shamed into thinking this was all my fault, that it was consensual and that I was a whore for having sex before marriage. This was the mentality of everyone, with exception of my youth pastor who knew I was passed out. I tried to tell everyone that I didn't want to do it, but I couldn't give all the details away without also telling them that I was experimenting with drugs. I am not entirely sure why my Youth Pastor never went to my sister with the details, maybe he thought he had handled it in the conference room. </p>
<p dir=ltr>I was told that I was a slut, and that I was going to end up pregnant and amount to nothing. I was made to feel like maybe this is just how sex was and I needed to accept responsibility for my actions. Being 14 at the time, not knowing what real life was like, and trying not to slit my wrists on a weekly basis, pushed me into thinking that what happened was normal. After all, I watched my Mother get raped when I was 10 years old and watched him piss on her body afterward. I felt like maybe I had gotten off easy by not getting pissed on and being blacked out for most of it. It pushed me into thinking that there was something wrong with me because I didn't think this behavior was ok when it was SO OBVIOUSLY my fault due to the fact that I was a slut. So much, that this boy asked me to hang out again about a month later and I agreed to it just so I could feel like I had control over the situation and that I wasn't a slut who had one night stands.</p>
<p dir=ltr>This next time hanging out with him is what made me realize this wasn't my fault and that there was something wrong with this situation and with him. I don't remember all the details, but apparently he only likes to force himself on girls who are unconscious and can't fight back because I remember wrestling with him quite resolutely and him not liking my fight. My sister and her boyfriend came home around this time and took him home.</p>
<p dir=ltr>I never hung out with him again after that nor saw him except in the hallways at school, but I also never reported what happened. I took the birth control pills my sister forced on me for a few months, I accepted my actions, and I vowed to not have sex again until I was married. I also vowed to never use drugs again. At 14, my naivete was boundless. As I progressed through high school and learned more about life, I learned to forgive myself, and I learned to be extremely self-conscious about sex. I discovered that I would feel guilt and shame whenever I would be intimate with a man again until I was well into my 20's. It was a complex feeling, a mixture of home sickness, guilt, and shame that left a ball of anxiety in my stomach whenever someone touched me.</p>
<p dir=ltr>My story is the story of millions of women. The details are different, but the story is the same. Sexual assault happens every single day and the victims of it are often shamed into thinking it was their fault in some way, not just from the attacker but also from society. I don't know how to go about changing the way it is often perceived, nor do I know how to help people cope with being the victim of it. This is just my story, I needed to share it. I needed to write it for myself and for so many other women who have been the victim of sexual assault and can not write their own stories.</p>
<p dir=ltr>I was not the person then that I am today. I was painfully and awkwardly shy, I could not talk to people, and I was embarrassed by my circumstances in life. I could not just scream at the top of my lungs then like I can now that I WAS RAPED. Shame and humiliation have a way of silencing the weak. </p>
<p dir=ltr>Amanda</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-24495082163202756802013-09-26T06:32:00.002-07:002013-09-26T06:39:43.547-07:00Tail Between Legs? Check. When I was 17 years old I tucked my tail between my legs and I ran away from home as quickly as I could without having to service old men for money. I went into the military to get as far away from my home town, my family, and my past as a 17 year old with a high school diploma could. While growing up, there was nothing I wanted more than to get away from that place. I wanted to go to NYC and live the glamorous city life, not the life of a Republican majority small town, where the smell of cow shit was as normal as the maximum security prisons that dotted the town. After all, this was New York State.... where Rockefeller's drug laws from 1973 and Reagan's War on Drugs has left New York State's prisons over populated with drug offenders who have no business being in maximum security prisons. <br />
<br />
Getting out of this place had been my main goal from the time I was 14 and took my first trip to NYC, until my high school graduation at 17. Not because of the town exactly, it was actually a very pleasant place to grow up... boring, yet safe. Kick the Can was a game routinely played by all the neighborhood kids well into the dark hours of summer. My main reason was because of all the craziness that was my family. It was the drugged and drunken binges that my Mother would go on, where she would "disappear" for 3 days and "Mildred" would step in... stabbing notes into the doors of our house with butcher knives, letting us know that "Mom is on strike and that Mildred was home." It was my homicidal sibling turning the dryer on with my cat inside it, killing it (I'm fairly certain that was on purpose). It was the violent fights my other sibling and I would have that often resulted in one of us getting stabbed or hog tied by the other. It was the men that came to our house when "Mildred" was home. I didn't know at the time that these things were not *quite* normal, they were just part of the life that I knew. As soon as I had some control over my future, I exerted it and left. I knew that if I stayed there I would end up working at K-Mart, having 3 children, and probably living in a trailer. I was a precocious child, I knew that life was not for me. <br />
<br />
I have not always been this open about my life, but at some point in my life I found it therapeutic to discuss some of these things... subsequently, I discovered that I was "abnormal." For many years after I left, I had a lot of guilt and a lot of homesickness that would just not go away. I would travel home often to visit, and often times the visits would end with violent fights and arguments that left us not talking to each other or with black eyes. I don't know when it happened exactly, but at some point I decided that I had to live for me and that I had to look out for myself because our families have a way of bringing out the best and the worst in us. My sister still has the ability to send me into a rage within 3 seconds of walking into her door, but I have learned to control myself a little better than I used to. I have learned that stupid cliche of "life is short" and I do my best to remember that when dealing with all of the bullshit that is spewed at us in our lives. <br />
<br />
I'm extremely jealous of the people in this world who have stable, loving relationships with their families but I also can't say that I would change the circumstances or the experiences with mine. We don't get to choose our families, it is just a crap shoot of who gets what, but I can change my perspective when dealing with them. I can try to make the best of the situation at hand, and I can do my best to let things go that I have no control over. I still struggle with this... there are times when I am so angry with my siblings that I am left in a fuming rage of wanting to round house kick the refrigerator or their faces, but lucky for me (and them) I live 5 hours away from them and can walk away from what I don't feel like dealing with, or not answer the phone. Maybe this isn't the best approach for dealing with it, but it is what has allowed me to stay sane, stay out of jail, and still talk to them (sometimes).<br />
<br />
Our families have the ability to destroy our lives or to enrich them. Trying to find the middle ground is something that I have struggled with for almost 20 years. At the end of each day, I have to remember that this is my life. It is my only life and I must be the best person that I can be. I must be kind, I must be compassionate, and I must be honest. These are all values that my family taught me, even if they do not practice them... but through their actions, I learned these lessons that they did not mean to teach and I am thankful for that. They inadvertently contributed in a positive way to the values and principles of how I live my life. <br />
<br />
Family is such a delicate thing to deal with for most of us in this world. Sometimes I'm an asshole and get a little preachy about it, I need to learn to
keep my mouth shut and let people deal with things on their own. I just can't help being pissed off at shows like Leave it to Beaver, Lassie, My Two Dads, Full House, and Growing Pains for filling our heads with expectations of what the normal family looks like. That shit isn't normal, that is why they make TV shows depicting "normal," because it doesn't really exist. It is fiction that is meant to make us all feel like shit about the actual lives that we have. The same exact way that TV/Marketing still plays on our insecurities.<br />
<br />
I'm leaving tomorrow morning to go home for a weekend visit, wish me luck! This is my life. :) <br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-50925812157610386822013-09-12T08:52:00.001-07:002013-09-12T09:02:22.889-07:00Finding Your Happy PlaceWhen people used to talk about "finding their happy place" I would just look at them like they were complete lunatics that had bad coping mechanisms. People who were unable to deal with the stress of modern life, so they detach from it with drugs, alcohol, mind numbing television, shopping their way to happiness, or some other bad habit so they can numb the frustration they feel with life and "escape." Until recently, this was my thinking when people talked about "finding their happy place." Because for me, my happy place has always been the fact that I was still alive, and still able to view the world in a positive way when I could have easily been jaded early on in life. <br />
<br />
Recently, I have decided that being able to feel all of the emotions that a human being is capable of feeling is my happy place, and I go there often. Knowing that there are people who are not capable of feeling the entire range of human emotion makes me even more sure that it is my happy place because they tend to be unhappy individuals that are missing out on an integral part of life. Raw emotion... not to be confused with scripted emotion that is done by unhappy people trying to hide that they are unhappy.<br />
<br />
I am a very emotionally animated person and I do not hide my feelings well. I cry when I am frustrated and sob when I am hurt, I am giddy and exaggerated when I am excited, I am grateful to have wonderful friends and obliged to have crappy family that make me appreciate my friends even more. I am quiet when I am thinking about something serious, and I become withdrawn when I am overwhelmed. I get a pit in my stomach and a weight on my chest whenever I am afraid, nervous, or anxious. I become ridiculously sanguine when a man takes me to dinner and opens a car door for me, or grabs my face and kisses me as the endless possibilities race through my brain even when I know things won't work out. The ability to feel these emotions makes me happy. <br />
<br />
<br />
The feeling of sunshine on my face in the early days of Spring or late days of Fall, when the air is still crisp. Riding some gnarly single track smoothly, with no struggle or fear... just flowing over everything with strong legs. Running on an empty trail in the early mornings when there is dew on the grass still and everyone else is asleep (this doesn't happen often for me, I'm not a morning person... but when it does it is one of the most amazing feelings ever). Being in the passenger seat, staring out the window, lost in thought on a long road trip, content with your company and the sound of the engine. Watching the moon rise above the mountains at 10,000 feet and the absolute feeling of joy and relief when you reach the toilet to pee just in time. The absolute indifference you feel toward the ex that broke your heart... and the realization that you will love someone again someday. The sound of crickets on summer nights and the smell of a storm rolling in during hurricane season. These feelings make me happy, they soothe my soul and silence the doubt I sometimes feel about humanity. <br />
<br />
A happy place is not a place at all, nor a tangible item... those things don't
last. It is what centers you and makes you appreciate this life you
have and the emotion that comes with it. It is so cliche to say that life is short, but truly it is... I suppose that is why it is a cliche? It is a treasured thing that is often denied to many. So embrace it, live it, love it, and appreciate what you have. Appreciate the fact that you can run, or dance, or talk, or feel because there are people who can't do these things and would give anything to be able to. This is what makes life memorable, not going to your cubicle or owning the newest Gucci bag. <br />
<br />
Whether your happy place is doing yoga, spending time with friends,
going to the mountains to get away, reading a book, running long miles,
or just a quiet place away from all the noise, be sure to try to go
there as often as possible and experience the full spectrum of human
emotion that makes this your happy place. Crying, laughing, sadness,
anger, pride, elation, contentment, loneliness, rejection, feelings of
failure, ecstasy, bliss, joy... this is life and I wouldn't trade any of
those feelings to feel "happy" all the time. The loneliness and
rejection I have felt at times makes the sweet times sweeter and
enhances the contentment that I feel on most days. This is life. This
is my life, and I love it. I am absolutely, positively, ridiculously in love with my life. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-34934913588546449362013-08-27T08:56:00.002-07:002013-08-27T09:21:35.339-07:00Trip Report: Mt. Rainier - DC RouteSo I got this hair up my ass in early June of this year after climbing Mt. Hood that I would like to climb Mt. Rainier this year as well. I started asking around to see if I could recruit anyone to come along for this adventure, or at least find a partner for it. After asking around, I had a partner lined up. Her name was Ashley. Which was perfect, we were going to do an all-female, alpine ascent of Mt. Rainier in 1 day. I couldn't have chose a better way to do it. After emailing back and forth for a few weeks trying to work out which route we would take, and what our plan of attack would be, we still didn't have anything solid nailed down. The weather had been warm on the mountain the week prior to me getting there, so we waited until we got to Mt. Rainier National Park to make our decision on our route. We only had one day to do the climb, as compared to the 2-3 days that most climbers take to climb the mountain. I should have known that this was going to be a grueling task, but I thought that I was in good enough shape that I could just force my way up the mountain with some discomfort but still make it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The path up to the snowfield</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prairie flowers on the way.</td></tr>
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For educational purposes, Mt. Rainier is the most heavily glaciated peak
in the contiguous United States and stands at 14,410 feet. It is an
active volcano and is listed on the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Decade_Volcano" target="_blank">Decade Volcano List</a>.
It has about a 50% success rate for climbing it with most climbers
being turned back because of inclement weather or poor conditioning. On
average, Mt. Rainier claims about 3 lives per year.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The summit of Mt. Rainier. Please note, that is 6.5 miles away from this point.. This picture does not convey how big it is.</td></tr>
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Once we got to the climber check-in and talked to the ranger we decided on the DC route instead of the Emmons route as we had originally talked about. He said for a single push the Emmons might be a little too long, that the DC was a better option. So around 5pm after reorganizing our gear and trying to eliminate 3 items from our packs we set off on the long slog up to Camp Muir at 10,080 feet. It took me 4 hours. I say me, because Ashley is a beast and could have run up that junk in about 3 hours if she wasn't being nice and waiting for me. The hike to Camp Muir was foggy and the snowfield was pretty slushy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset on the snowfield on our way to Camp Muir</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The slog up the snowfield. This was the view that my back got the entire way.</td></tr>
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At Camp Muir we entered the climber's hut around 9 pm and found some climbers who had hauled a keg up there to celebrate, celebrating. I laid down on the concrete floor at this point because there was no room left on the wooden benches. I had a headache, was dizzy, and a little nauseous. I guess I was starting to feel the effects of the elevation. We rested in here for about 3 hours. Ashley was kind enough to melt snow for us for water and to heat up some pad thai and another noodle package that had basil in it. I laid back down on the concrete floor after this and tried to sleep... instead I just shivered for 3 hours dozing in and out of sleep, hating life.<br />
<br />
Around 11 pm, Ashley tried to wake me up but I was NOT feeling it. I felt like complete crap and did not want to get out of camp at this point. I was cold, stiff, and acting like a miserable cow to be honest. She let me lay there for awhile longer while she melted some more snow for water. She came back in at 12:30 with warm water bottles, and was able to coax me into life and encouraged me to get up and go climb. I'm very glad she did because anyone who knows me, knows that I lose all will power to live, let alone do physical activity when I am sleepy and have been given the opportunity to sleep. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting our gear together and getting ready to go</td></tr>
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At 12:30 am I get up, get around, and start getting my gear organized. We head out of camp around 0100. Trekking along unroped at this point and in the dark we get into a rhythm, and about an hour passes. We hit a point where we need to rope up and put our crampons on, as there is a big crevasse coming up. It was a nice break for me... I have never felt so out of shape in my entire life as I did at this point. We get all setup and continue onward and upward, eventually coming to a steep scree section of loose rock. We start making our way up this at a slow pace due to heavy mountaineering boots and crampons just plain sucking to climb rock with. This is the part that makes the Disappointment Cleaver route, disappointing. There was so much loose rock and scree that it really was quite lucky that neither one of us fell. Being roped up probably wasn't the best idea, but it was rather steep so it seemed like a good idea at 2 O'clock in the morning and we couldn't see all that well. Around this time, the scariest thing happened in my opinion.<br />
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We are moving along, and I am out front. Well somehow I get us off route, not all that surprising considering we were on loose rock, in the dark, and both very tired. I come to a nearly vertical rock/ice face... the rating on this route is only a II... there should not have been a near vertical rock/ice face with a black abyss below it. I look up, there isn't much to hold onto with gloved hands, nor will my axe hang from anything. I start kicking my cramponed foot into the ice and I can't get my crampon to bite into the ice. I keep kicking a few more times with no luck. I tell Ashley that unless she's leading us across that, I'm not comfortable with it and think we should turn around. She agrees, so we luckily turn around and start heading back the way we came looking for clues to where we are on the route. We see headlamps from other climbers and just start heading toward them... over very loose, very steep scree. It sucked and I was wondering the entire time what the fuck I was doing up there. Around this time we hear a thunderous crash. I have never heard an avalanche. I have seen them, but I have never heard them. It sounded like thunder, and because I had not seen anything come down I actually thought it was thunder. I looked up at the sky, but everything looked clear. That is when I learned it was an avalanche. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise around 0530</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise with an alpine glow</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivZM7Os2RC0i4OoYsSQzRjdYbX2ZpvLv69uvvxy2qPWBRxVVKoNgVDcE_v06CyI9M-vbJQ1IiFMWAGfRpM3FCHc-VdkNqgltFJiwUHN3_TTducJIqJxxO7ls9sWz2qf6yjP-Kr1MC3V3hs/s1600/SAM_1116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivZM7Os2RC0i4OoYsSQzRjdYbX2ZpvLv69uvvxy2qPWBRxVVKoNgVDcE_v06CyI9M-vbJQ1IiFMWAGfRpM3FCHc-VdkNqgltFJiwUHN3_TTducJIqJxxO7ls9sWz2qf6yjP-Kr1MC3V3hs/s320/SAM_1116.JPG" width="240" /></a>We eventually get back on route and continue upward in the dark. At this point the slope of the mountain was about 30 degrees at it's steepest, maybe 40 degrees on the scree sections where we got off route. We get back on snow, which makes life a whole lot easier for us. I'm going pretty slow still but feeling ok and still going upward. Just stopping to breathe every 100 steps. Yes, I was counting. I needed something to focus on. Around 0530 we come to the first ladder that is in place to cross a deep crevasse... this was after waiting about 20 minutes in line to get to the ladder to cross. The ladder is laying horizontally across about a 5 foot wide, deep blue crevasse. There are boards on it that are all splintered from crampons. Ashley goes first, clips into the fixed rope that is there, and reaches the other side. She ties into the anchor that someone had left there, and belays me across. Alright, fantastic we have made it across, we keep going upward. As we are traversing this very narrow side of the mountain where it was foot in front of foot, we come to another ladder over a crevasse. First, we needed to navigate around this big nubbin of ice that was sticking out on our already thin ledge. We dug our axe in on one side of it, hand on the other, and hugged our way around it. It was a very long drop down with a huge crevasse below this... not making it around this nubbin wasn't an option.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4WohG5dO1mtqNkLlgnQIm6OUM64o4hCMen-xdDa6jPJSC4E0p2BPe64dw5rLd_Cv9FDlhHjDBbHGeV7IVdmWQ7kR4I1rjPT7_EYdiJ2IR-3dSFOyVa8XIfAocraHGiq9POynaO5o3gIXE/s1600/SAM_1104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4WohG5dO1mtqNkLlgnQIm6OUM64o4hCMen-xdDa6jPJSC4E0p2BPe64dw5rLd_Cv9FDlhHjDBbHGeV7IVdmWQ7kR4I1rjPT7_EYdiJ2IR-3dSFOyVa8XIfAocraHGiq9POynaO5o3gIXE/s320/SAM_1104.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Traffic jam at the first ladder crossing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
We head up the next ladder which is again horizontal and allowing us to cross a 4 foot wide blue crevasse. Again, the boards across the ladder are all splintered and really sketchy looking. One of the rungs on the ladder is broken, and the whole contraption is held in place by 2 pickets that someone had left in place. We make it across it easily and keep going upward. We then come to our third and last ladder. This one is vertical, covering a 2 foot wide crevasse that had icicles hanging from it. We go up the ladder, tie into the anchor and wait for the traffic jam to keep moving upward.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHmP9cpDl6X2ITeFDMSvrPOR7kEv-aBErZZkZQvSblYSBOkY7OjQs8DRTxEIbHQp-tgwiriNLv3BYFe4Hyyzkx8hifcvdTV7mMStWgOciKLsRSMWW19YHsOgW7Brva-caNGZiDrSmffK1k/s1600/IMG_0902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHmP9cpDl6X2ITeFDMSvrPOR7kEv-aBErZZkZQvSblYSBOkY7OjQs8DRTxEIbHQp-tgwiriNLv3BYFe4Hyyzkx8hifcvdTV7mMStWgOciKLsRSMWW19YHsOgW7Brva-caNGZiDrSmffK1k/s320/IMG_0902.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The vertical ladder.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWbWmD1vhmDYO7NW-7PXtfRsD3bqwOcyxATMCDqA35iiHU6y0ixg0iceOZ4wkPMaRu7YnwS0LzAEEPKc_yUFtpCuS6ezpX8cauEd746pAPnSSy0hlDUV1wROlAX2HShvkOtH_xpBF9Gui8/s1600/IMG_0903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWbWmD1vhmDYO7NW-7PXtfRsD3bqwOcyxATMCDqA35iiHU6y0ixg0iceOZ4wkPMaRu7YnwS0LzAEEPKc_yUFtpCuS6ezpX8cauEd746pAPnSSy0hlDUV1wROlAX2HShvkOtH_xpBF9Gui8/s320/IMG_0903.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What the vertical ladder was being used to get over.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We continue our long climb upward at this point with nothing exceptional or
scary happening. Around 0700 we look at the time and discover that the
sun is beating down on the mountain, it is entirely too warm. We ask
some climbers on their way down how much longer until the summit. It was
about 2 hours still and we were just under the "High Break" area which
is around 13,500 feet. Only 910 vertical feet, but a 2 hour climb up
still. At this point we contemplate continuing to go upward for 2 hours,
which would make our total climbing time from Paradise to the summit
being 12.5 hours. We made the decision that we should turn around
because it was just entirely too warm, we were getting tired and unsure of how much we had left in us, and we were not sure what we were
going to encounter lower on the mountain. So we start our decent. As we
are descending we hear a second avalanche trigger on the other side of
the mountain and this confirms our decision to turn around. The traffic jams at the ladders continued on the way down, and the snow bridges were in pretty bad shape on our way down. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfWsHi8Feg2sYBAwHWzRvAYc1KfSNpL9hgcpA8A1jkx7qFCu-aQRwc0qZNcqsDVq0xNAuDdomLP0Ov67wXD1Hq4UhyoldmDmRJNWl05aWLDN1fthyphenhyphenhrxu1OPQqyEDIthulVZTgjg-Xb9PS/s1600/IMG_0899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfWsHi8Feg2sYBAwHWzRvAYc1KfSNpL9hgcpA8A1jkx7qFCu-aQRwc0qZNcqsDVq0xNAuDdomLP0Ov67wXD1Hq4UhyoldmDmRJNWl05aWLDN1fthyphenhyphenhrxu1OPQqyEDIthulVZTgjg-Xb9PS/s320/IMG_0899.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Long traverse</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNjG7qY65ZnXrYbj0LUHK-dB6i_h2zmR1XRL5VaH6eq9I6LaAI3LPHc6Si7vvRL6cdxtb9KuRq30CXY3z8Vd41fZkGsHH4RtkWzRyrPZEXDylPFBZUE1JAjpTyvgwOLKtVl-6FfjiYdNl/s1600/IMG_0888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNjG7qY65ZnXrYbj0LUHK-dB6i_h2zmR1XRL5VaH6eq9I6LaAI3LPHc6Si7vvRL6cdxtb9KuRq30CXY3z8Vd41fZkGsHH4RtkWzRyrPZEXDylPFBZUE1JAjpTyvgwOLKtVl-6FfjiYdNl/s320/IMG_0888.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The point that we decided to turn around</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Climbing is sort of funny in a way... we made our ascent during the night, so we really couldn't see what was around us and what terrors lay below us; however, coming down it was a bright sunny day. I saw everything around us. All of a sudden those huge steps I had to take to cross a crevasse were not nearly as benign as I had thought during the night. Looking up and seeing a huge serac hanging over our heads, barely hanging on to a rock face which had spewed rocks all over the path we were on, all of a sudden, was a whole lot more nerve wracking. The boulders that lay on the glacier, directly in front of us, were all of a sudden more ominous when you looked up and saw that they had sheared off of the rock wall that was directly above your head.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUYk84i9_scNQqW4_puxwbnTiQ0XBSSCmhVwsK9Z4e3a3P8HdO_o7oyfUeQo2RsdfllaMHTao_zSyZNZou_IS8zll1fX4rzTF3f4XSgUhwzCD-5Mx_L3R8nPVbAf0jvz4tJnugA3Pup9S7/s1600/IMG_0892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUYk84i9_scNQqW4_puxwbnTiQ0XBSSCmhVwsK9Z4e3a3P8HdO_o7oyfUeQo2RsdfllaMHTao_zSyZNZou_IS8zll1fX4rzTF3f4XSgUhwzCD-5Mx_L3R8nPVbAf0jvz4tJnugA3Pup9S7/s320/IMG_0892.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On our way down</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrCnucxtvNkXScIKSao1ATahWYyM5rHBFNT4oXxNNQSZuNh6Uyw95lOBqATIgu8LifZC-YLnSDb2H6XDvCGuDGsOyyM1Am6xJsz6V2bqPEegqQiAeqIJ6y11KUWirb9EroLyGWgUU14eK/s1600/IMG_0904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrCnucxtvNkXScIKSao1ATahWYyM5rHBFNT4oXxNNQSZuNh6Uyw95lOBqATIgu8LifZC-YLnSDb2H6XDvCGuDGsOyyM1Am6xJsz6V2bqPEegqQiAeqIJ6y11KUWirb9EroLyGWgUU14eK/s320/IMG_0904.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had just made it to the bottom of this glacier.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjneuPhoSOOAVRCudiGf_LLWWIwfH0WubWzUHOU81Ju2eUwXhXxTLM3aUTnZm4XxEPpUXGGTl7EqssLX8faypONkDoj73oXLHeQCRtz0i0GkdVdFnbvmMuxhGH4gzV2NyoS3EAvfjds5Quf/s1600/IMG_0897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjneuPhoSOOAVRCudiGf_LLWWIwfH0WubWzUHOU81Ju2eUwXhXxTLM3aUTnZm4XxEPpUXGGTl7EqssLX8faypONkDoj73oXLHeQCRtz0i0GkdVdFnbvmMuxhGH4gzV2NyoS3EAvfjds5Quf/s320/IMG_0897.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My helmet and hat didn't want to work together.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We get back to camp around 11:30 am and take our boots off, take a rest, and drink some water. Poor Ashley, her feet were blistered so badly at this point that she's taping huge blisters to be able to wear her boots still... and she has to wear her boots for another 4.5 miles to get back to the car! We take a rest here, but after about 30 minutes we have to get going otherwise we are both going to bonk because we had been awake for 26 hours, and exerting serious amounts of energy for 15 hours of that time. We continue our descent through this arduous snowfield and luckily get to glissade down for a good part of this... which was super fun! I'm surprised we didn't wear holes in the butt of our pants! We get back to the path where all the tourists are and keep heading down. At this point, we split up because Ashley has to pee something fierce, and I'm just too tired to walk any faster.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHHbOWuNXIzdOiUYJqFMW8-OIRhzLQzvz16a6vdg2ZWJLqXBysvRaXPMHefCCvN7CNQlZYV6hqAn61KrD00WfyxZCFOk1y-s6W9ArdM0swAu_Q0tJRKpjqLd0CW2OVGkReyxIPwYnyX60o/s1600/IMG_0925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHHbOWuNXIzdOiUYJqFMW8-OIRhzLQzvz16a6vdg2ZWJLqXBysvRaXPMHefCCvN7CNQlZYV6hqAn61KrD00WfyxZCFOk1y-s6W9ArdM0swAu_Q0tJRKpjqLd0CW2OVGkReyxIPwYnyX60o/s320/IMG_0925.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glissading down the snowfield</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQbB4p3FsiDyhvlKKxfC5Zz4IJ9JCnn4Wzb7x_d20SPxjGqXqWxF52IxLJw2Wu7WqstUQbumY8yjfl4aecoaYYUS05cWyBAYYV-9uxYlicxnMc3oHlBvSa6eabxEtMCoKj8UUTj37ZDblb/s1600/IMG_0908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQbB4p3FsiDyhvlKKxfC5Zz4IJ9JCnn4Wzb7x_d20SPxjGqXqWxF52IxLJw2Wu7WqstUQbumY8yjfl4aecoaYYUS05cWyBAYYV-9uxYlicxnMc3oHlBvSa6eabxEtMCoKj8UUTj37ZDblb/s320/IMG_0908.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That is a lot of crevasses! Taken from the scree of the Disappointment Cleaver</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4TaiTSvLuI5JgwJ9PcsMSv1QUBxCDA3TFR3-a71AFT3V-dW_fkLJZRGYtDaZFJfS4Gk0b94oUtOai6dPoy1asyRRju0JBLWTkQUj_uW0xqhl3D9RTLospGxVJS5Ju1bHIF9ed-HwJb2f7/s1600/IMG_0913.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4TaiTSvLuI5JgwJ9PcsMSv1QUBxCDA3TFR3-a71AFT3V-dW_fkLJZRGYtDaZFJfS4Gk0b94oUtOai6dPoy1asyRRju0JBLWTkQUj_uW0xqhl3D9RTLospGxVJS5Ju1bHIF9ed-HwJb2f7/s320/IMG_0913.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Long hike back.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This slog back to the car was the most arduous, tiresome, grueling part of the entire climb. It was terrible! My feet had blisters on the bottom from wearing plastic mountaineering boots for so long. I was annoyed with the people who had sandals on and were not carrying heavy packs. I was annoyed with the man who was carrying a 70 Liter pack stuffed to the brim on a day hike. Who would carry a huge pack like that on a day hike if you don't have to?!?! Plus, he was wearing Asic sneakers so it's not like he was training for anything. I was just annoyed with everything and everyone. I was tired, I was cranky, and I just wanted to eat a damn cheeseburger and drink something other than warm water. After what felt like eternity, I finally make it back to the car. It was a 19 hour round trip from Paradise to our stopping point and back. We decide to go to RMI guides to eat at their bar because someone told us they had awesome burgers... which turned out to be totally lame, our food sort of sucked but we were starved so we ate it anyway and then started the long journey back to Seattle. It was probably the longest drive of Ashley's entire life. We tried to keep the conversation going to stay awake, and luckily she had an apple in the back of the car that she was able to nurse for the last 30 minutes of the drive. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoP2PJRSqGF_y_cHheMdz9-GjfyHhZI4oVyJt4oVc0Ul0V4IHgRH8husKrCeG5NjK0Fti-D1yKeVueJIObqnA9XpqZNsGPbysgExy70weFv06xANi510xrPofmMD2WwRl-7dZN0WH6vnuM/s1600/IMG_0893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoP2PJRSqGF_y_cHheMdz9-GjfyHhZI4oVyJt4oVc0Ul0V4IHgRH8husKrCeG5NjK0Fti-D1yKeVueJIObqnA9XpqZNsGPbysgExy70weFv06xANi510xrPofmMD2WwRl-7dZN0WH6vnuM/s320/IMG_0893.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was so warm I could take my glove off and not be cold. Weird. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Mountaineering is no joke. It is by far the most challenging thing I have ever tried to get myself into physically and mentally. After the climb a few people asked me if I enjoyed myself and I couldn't really give an answer because the pain of the descent was too fresh, the terror from that one near vertical ice/rock face lingering still... but after a couple days of rest, sleep, and food, I found myself dreaming of being back in the mountains. I found myself psyched about trying to do it again next climbing season, excited to see the moon with the mountains in the backdrop again, sunrise above the clouds, the sound of silence, and the simple thought process of just climbing. I think about nothing else when I'm doing this and it is a nice break from reality. I can't say that I actually enjoy alpine climbing... I really like the idea of it though. Alpine climbing is all about perfecting the art of suffering. The better you are at suffering, the better alpine climber you will be. I am going to continue to perfect my art of suffering as I find myself day dreaming regularly about my next excursion into the mountains.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZghh2iXm_eAUQej_SvPsUO-uEnlRfyaQzSv_pQj4Q8uyHIsRk6lsfXzYk8UYXwMLP8RHictYvltNv3JX7Uf5-jWIB4SQnzrh9AFTwSx2tIDxNDCGWXXi2iyDmQzx46bDQDQmcjX2AUXE/s1600/IMG_0929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZghh2iXm_eAUQej_SvPsUO-uEnlRfyaQzSv_pQj4Q8uyHIsRk6lsfXzYk8UYXwMLP8RHictYvltNv3JX7Uf5-jWIB4SQnzrh9AFTwSx2tIDxNDCGWXXi2iyDmQzx46bDQDQmcjX2AUXE/s320/IMG_0929.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All done. 19 hours later. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-57623738226717860322013-08-12T14:24:00.002-07:002013-08-12T14:24:42.584-07:00Partner CallSo I had a conversation yesterday with one of my favorite people on the planet. This conversation, as benign and casual as it appeared to be, had me awake for quite some time yesterday afternoon when I was hoping to nap instead. Staring out the window, listening to the snoring from canine and human alike, I wondered what is the most important aspect of a partnership to me. As a woman who has refused to settle on anything in her life ever, I sat contemplating what makes a good partnership, and if maybe I am actually a terrible partner as I can be uncompromising sometimes.<br />
<br />
A relationship is a partnership. It is not ownership, it is not a
dictatorship... it is a partnership and it should be approached in the
same way that we select our friendships. It is my opinion that you
should be wonderful friends with the person that you decide to spend the
rest of your life with because eventually the passion is going to die
out, our asses are going to get saggy, and we are all going to be
hideous when we are 70. We treat our friends with respect, admiration,
love, and humor.... often times treating them better than the people we are in intimate relationships with. Our relationships should be treated the same way. <br />
<br />
All too often, people claim to love someone yet they
disrespect them, cheat on them, lie to them, use them, manipulate them, and have
absolutely zero regard for the other person's feelings. They claim to
love them and yet they let their friends talk badly about them in public
and show a malevolent disposition toward them.... they treat the "love of their life" worse than they would treat a complete stranger, and yet they say they love them. That's not love, it is called comfort. It is a fear of being alone that keeps people like this together. <br />
<br />
When I was 20 years old I made a half-ass decision in the heat of the moment to get married. I married a man that I barely knew, we had a year and a half of wedded bliss, and then we split up. I don't regret this decision as it helped guide me into better decisions and taught me that there are consequences that come with our actions. The pain that I caused him taught me that you can not tread lightly when it comes to other people's feelings and that when you say you love someone, you need to treat them accordingly. It taught me what commitment was and it scared the shit out of me for a long time to ever commit to anyone else.<br />
<br />
Somewhere in the time that has passed in the last 10.5 years since then, one person was able to break through that fear and showed me the joys of a loving, stable, relationship that was built on mutual respect and friendship. For this, I owe him my eternal gratitude, for he taught me how to love someone other than myself. While we had a great run while it lasted, unfortunately, we discovered along the course of our relationship that we were not meant for one another as a lasting couple. This discovery did not end our friendship, just our relationship. This ended a few years ago and the last three years of my life has been spent being mostly single, figuring myself out and what I need from a partner. Finally, I think I have it figured out.<br />
<br />
I need someone that will climb mountains with me... metaphorically and physically. The trust and commitment that goes into a climbing partner, is the same level of trust and commitment I need. The friendship and bond that is developed in a crag is the same I need from my significant other. I feel like my heart and my head are on the precipice of war sometimes as they don't always agree with one another, but as I lay there feeling contentedness wash over me and sleep start to take over, I realized exactly what a partnership means to me. I realized it doesn't have to be definable by other people's definitions and it doesn't have to answer to anyone else. It is the West Buttress of Denali and it needs to be conquered together, as equals, with mutual respect, love, fear, and above all else trust.<br />
<br />
P.S. It is my dream to climb Denali in the next few years. <br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-85490790872187710292013-07-18T12:52:00.000-07:002013-07-18T12:52:28.769-07:00I Don't See the Point. :/I'm not normally a person to sit around and wonder what the point of life is. I tend to be the more energetic type that always wants to have fun, never wants to sit still, and has a very optimistic outlook on life. I'm still feeling rather optimistic at this moment in time, but the last few days I have not been able to help myself with wondering what the point of all this is. <br />
<br />
This could all relate back to that pesky biological clock of mine... as I have no children, because I have heard that having children gives people meaning to their lives. Seeing as there are no children in my immediate future (who knows, I might decide to have one someday), I'm wondering if that really is the only way to find meaning. I know I can volunteer my time and I have, but even still... is my sole way of finding satisfaction with this planet to give all of my time to others? I suppose then I will be so busy that I don't have time or energy to wonder what the point of life is. <br />
<br />
I'm not depressed, I'm actually rather happy. I'm not going to remove myself from this world as I don't believe there are any others. I'm just going to downsize my life because I don't see what the point of having all this "stuff" is anymore. I'm probably not going to go for a doctorate when my Masters is complete because I don't see the point of it. I don't see the point of staying friends with people that I don't really care about in the first place, they just take time away from people I do care about. I don't see the point in holding onto grudges or weird feelings anymore because they are just a waste of time from a life that I don't see the point of.<br />
<br />
People always spew some bullshit about "live your best life" and "YOLO" and all this other inspirational bullshit that is meant to pull you up by your boot-straps and encourage you, but I think that those people are incredibly shallow people. I think they are able to spew some bullshit because they don't actually ever sit and wonder what the point of life is. Their brains don't have the capacity to think about something other than celebrity culture, haute couture, and reality TV as they pretend that their life is one big "adventure." Or the opposite, the religious types with their beliefs that they are living their lives to end up in heaven... and then what? So you get to heaven and do what? You live there forever in the clouds drinking Mai Thai's sitting next to Allah?? Well what the fuck is the point of that? I don't like Mai Thai's, I don't like sitting around, and I don't like being happy all the time. Some times I like being angry and some times I really like screaming cuss words at the top of my lungs in my car. <br />
<br />
I think I need to go on some spiritual journey that involves sitting under a tree - starving myself, or something along those lines so that I can find the meaning of life... or at least starve myself into hallucinations because I feel like this is all a bunch of bullshit. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-90762663700605961572013-07-12T13:31:00.000-07:002013-07-12T13:42:44.065-07:00The Amanda ShowA good friend recently told me "you're not a sideline kinda girl, you're the fucking star of the show and no one has the right to take your shine away." It was in response to something that hurt my feelings pretty good and I can't thank her enough for that advice. I am not a sideline kind of girl - yet I allowed myself to be sat on the bench. It annoys the shit out of me when people trivialize my life and place absolutely zero value on me as a person, not even bothering to listen to what I have to say. She went on to say "dumb is different than trusting and you're the latter my friend."<br />
<br />
These two lines helped me so immensely that I felt a blog needed to be dedicated to her. So here's to you, my dear friend. I am so grateful to have you in my life and for you to have my back. You know who you are because only you can use the word "fucking" in the same message where a picture of an elegant pair of espadrilles from Nordstrom's reside and have it sound classy as fuck. :) (I'm from New York, I swear a lot. Deal with it. They are just words and words only have meaning when you let them have meaning.)<br />
<br />
She's right. I am too trusting. I trust people immediately and almost 100% of the time thinking that they have my best interest at heart as I actually do have theirs because I am not a douchebag, I care about people and their well being. I make excuses for people and always try to see their potential rather than the evidence that is presented before me of their true intention. I am turning a leaf though. I'm not doing this anymore as of right........... now. I am going to start basing my opinion on a persons actions rather than how I see them, because again... she is right. I'm the fucking star of a show, it's called The Amanda Show and in case you didn't know, it's about this girl who has been known to be an asshole once or twice in her life when people have deserved it. <br />
<br />
The lesson to be learned here is that I am a terrible judge of people
and my judgment should be questioned, as this judgment had been many times by a few people, and I just made excuses. On the upside, I am exceptionally talented at making really fucked up people appear to be god-like to other people by my ability to rationalize away how fucked up they really are. <br />
<br />
I'm not answering questions about this matter either as she also told me "You don't have to answer and you damn sure don't have to explain yourself!!!" So I'm not explaining myself, I'm writing a cryptic blog that most of you won't understand unless you are close to me, and I'm moving on from a fucked up situation where I have been side-lined. Not because I don't care (I care too much and it is affecting me negatively), but because I am Ray fucking Lewis, I'm a starter not a bench warmer.<br />
<br />
**Disregard the fact that Ray Lewis is retired**Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-74014554414906378442013-05-21T13:44:00.002-07:002013-05-21T13:44:23.652-07:00BarbiesHey kiddos. It has been a long time since I last wrote to you about what's going on in my head. I figured today is the perfect day to do it since I went out for lunch at work today and drank beer; therefore, ruining any productivity I might have had otherwise.<br />
<br />
I was looking at Facebook the other day, and one of my friends had posted a picture of Natalie Portman with her famous quote "I'd rather be smart than a movie star." As you probably know, Natalie Portman holds a B.S. from Harvard in Psychology, which can be argued that she only got in based off the fact that she was a movie star; however, I would argue that based on her early academic achievements she did deserve a place at Harvard. If you want a full breakdown of her education, this article is pretty good: http://www.examiner.com/article/natalie-portman-s-surprising-educational-background<br />
<br />
As a lifetime student, who doesn't see graduation in her future ever... ok, I might be a little dramatic right now, but seriously y'all, have you ever tried to work full time and go to Graduate School? Let me tell you, I would *seriously* consider giving away one of my important digits (like my right middle finger) to be handed a doctorate instead of doing all this work to possibly be rejected from the program when I apply anyway. Or worse, be so burnt out that I chuck it all in the fuck it bucket and give up with a Masters. Anyways, as always I digress. So I sat and thought about Ms. Portman's quote and which I would rather have: money, fame, beauty or an education, a brain, good grammar, and proper spelling. I have to say I agree with her, I'd rather be smart than anything else.<br />
<br />
Average looking women can make themselves "beautiful" very easily by bleaching their hair platinum, rubbing on the raccoon eyes, and pretty much hiding every feature that is theirs naturally by caking on 76 pounds of make up, yet they will never be able to learn the difference between their, there, and they're. This isn't their fault, I'm not blaming these women. I blame our society for glorifying and celebrating physical beauty over being intelligent. The unfortunate truth is that women are still judged harshly on their appearance rather than what their abilities are. We are still held to this incredibly high standard of what is beautiful... and apparently it is bleached out hair, too much make up, an airbrushed complexion, and being ridiculously skinny. Skinny, not fit... which is bizarre considering the obesity rate in this country.<br />
<br />
There seems to be this culture of "nerd" girls popping up that is trying to combat what is considered beautiful, but honestly, I think they are just a bunch of hipsters. Watching The Big Bang Theory, wearing black rimmed glasses and a Batman T-shirt with Chuck Taylors is enough to put you into this category. I don't really have a point of where I'm going with this blog, I'm just unamused today by what society considers beautiful and I'm tired of vain people. Do you want to know what I think is beautiful? Here are a few things:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>A woman who can wake up in the morning after a one night stand and not scare the shit out of her partner when he sees her face has been left behind on the pillow case. </li>
<li>Women who are not afraid to play with the boys. I see so many men out there having a great time doing some fun looking stuff... and their wives/girlfriends/fuck buddy on the side lines watching their big strong men be big strong men. Fuck all that, I want to have fun. Who cares if I get sweaty and get completely wrecked in the process? I'd rather look like a fool while I'm having fun, than being a boring twatbag on the sidelines.</li>
<li>In 2009, there were two women who won the Nobel prize in Physiology and
Medicine: Elizabeth H. Blackburn and Carol W. Greider. A woman, Ada E.
Yonath also won the Nobel prize in Chemistry in 2009. </li>
<li>Women who own their decisions and don't apologize for going against the mainstream, pop-culture. </li>
<li>Having female friends that are amazing. Women know what I mean by this. Amazing female friends are hard to come by, when you find one of them you dig in with your paws and NEVER EVER EVER let go because they are 1 in a 1,000,000. </li>
</ol>
<br />
Below is a tutorial for you average looking women that want to be hot and for you men that want to see how it's done:<br />
<br />
(It is very funny as well)<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-43265020923874643202013-05-03T09:43:00.001-07:002013-05-03T09:43:39.532-07:00Iceland Amanda<object name="Slideshow" id="Slideshow" width="425" height="425" align="middle" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000"><param name="movie" value="http://www.shutterfly.com/flashapps/flashslideshow/Slideshow.swf" /><param name="flashvars" value="configurl=http%3A%2F%2Fws.shutterfly.com%2Fshare%2Fexternal_slideshow_config%3Fsid%3D8AauGTFy1at3Hw" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><embed id="Slideshow" width="425" height="425" name="Slideshow" align="middle" quality="high" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="configurl=http%3A%2F%2Fws.shutterfly.com%2Fshare%2Fexternal_slideshow_config%3Fsid%3D8AauGTFy1at3Hw" pluginspage="http://www.adobe.com/go/getflashplayer" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" bgcolor="#869ca7" src="http://www.shutterfly.com/flashapps/flashslideshow/Slideshow.swf"></embed></object><p style="width:425px;margin-top:0;text-align:center;"><a href="http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AauGTFy1at3Hw&eid=115">Click here to view these pictures larger</a><img width="1" height="1" border="0" style="padding: 0; background: #ffffff; border: none; box-shadow: none;" src="https://os.shutterfly.com/b/ss/sflyshareprod/1/H.15/111?pageName=sharekey&c1=pictures&c2=blogger" /></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-59325836424708338332013-04-26T06:50:00.001-07:002013-04-26T06:50:12.762-07:00Stock ManipulationThe stock market and Wall Street make me angry sometimes. I day trade and follow quite a few publications on stocks and it pisses me off to no end that the stock market is so easily manipulated. For example, this morning a rather large publication called Daily Penny Stocks put out a publication on a penny stock (GNLK) that was trading for $0.007 yesterday with a volume of 300. This morning, they put out their publication, the stock jumped to $0.106, that is a huge gain in a penny stock! The volume went up to 2,152,662. This happened last week with GOFF and COPI as well, a few weeks before that it was BRZV, before that it was ORYN. <br />
<br />
The shitty party of this and what makes me so angry is that these larger publications will put out a stock pick, the volume and price will jump exponentially in one hour, and within 2 days it will go back to where it was trading before the publication went out. This sort of manipulation is standard, I know. I know that it happens on a much bigger scale with banks and the global market (Libor Scandal) but god dammit if it doesn't piss me off daily when I watch it happen before my eyes. I might just be bitter because I lost $500 a few weeks ago on BRZV, but I feel like this volatility is what has caused the financial crisis in this country.<br />
<br />
Huge brokerage firms play the market and manipulate it to the way that benefits them the most, so they can trim their huge fees off the top, or just all out swindle money from their clients. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-80091991720664113932013-04-22T12:42:00.000-07:002013-04-22T12:42:07.312-07:00Coincidence Followed by CuriositySome times you learn things about people without their knowing and it changes your entire perception of that person. No matter how hard you try to go back to your way of thinking about that person before you found out this information, you are not able to because some things are just not forgotten. So what do you do? Especially when you can't tell that person that you now know this about them. <br />
<br />
Do you just continue on as normal because the information was not offered to you, so you really shouldn't know about it anyway, but you do now because of coincidence followed by curiosity and an uncanny ability to find just about anything on the Internet?<br />
<br />
Are you all now wondering what I might have learned about you? What do you think I learned? Google is an amazing application. I have wrote a blog on this before, but please be careful what you put on the Internet. <br />
<br />
I think my approach is going to be to pretend that I don't know. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-23507113629953006252013-03-07T14:00:00.002-08:002013-03-07T14:00:37.622-08:00Sunday FundaysIf I am nothing else, I am honest... much to the dismay of my family I am sure.<br />
<br />
Today I was looking at Facebook and realized that I hadn't heard anything from my Father in many months, probably closer to a year.... so I popped on over to his Facebook page and took a look. It's so funny to me because his page is littered with Propaganda about Jesus. Yes, I called it Propaganda. It's hilarious to me because I read through all this stuff and all I can sit and think is what a joke. I look at some of the comments from my Grandmother, and all about her love for Jesus and I laugh to myself... thankful that I am at least an honest person and not a hypocrite. This is the same woman who deleted me from Facebook because I do not believe in her god. This is the same woman who told me when I was 14 years old, grieving the loss of my mother, that my mother was a whore and she was the reason we were alone. This is a woman who professes love for Jesus and calls herself a Christian. She can call herself anything she wants to call herself, if a woman like her gets into heaven I don't want anything to do with that heaven or the god that let her in. <br />
<br />
If I were walking down the street and passed her and my father, I would not be able to pick them out in a group of strangers. I have a vague idea of what they look like because of Facebook and pictures on it, but I have not seen him since my Mother's funeral 18 years ago, and before that when I was 9. I have not seen her since I was 9. These people call themselves Christians. They profess love for a god that teaches love, acceptance, helping your fellow man, etc. They spew propaganda on their pages and make it appear that they do in fact love Jesus, and that they do in fact live a holy life by the words of Christ. Do as I say not as I do is apparently their credo though. I shall tell the world that I love Jesus, but I will turn my back on my children when they need me. I will judge them because they do not hold the same beliefs as me. I will pollute my body with drugs, and beat the woman who gave birth to my children, leaving her unconscious, pregnant body on train tracks to die as I continue to profess my love for Jesus. To this, all I can do is hope that Karma exists and that what you put out comes back to you. <br />
<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, I have no ill will for either of these people, but I also have no feelings for them either. It is indifference I feel about these people, with a twang of disgust because of what they are. It is because I see millions of people like them that live a life that they say is for god, while professing their Christian faith, and yet they are filled with hatred, judgement, and cruelty. These people disgust me and make me hate the Christian faith... which totally sucks because I know some of the most awesome Christians who actually do live their life as the bible tells them to live. They practice love, acceptance, kindness as their god did. The problem is they seem to be the minority of the Christian faith now. Unfortunately, these are not the people who are on the pulpits preaching to the masses, instead we get preachers who abuse children, steal from the church, steal from the needy, and preach hatred and judgement. <br />
<br />
I don't need the prospect of buring in hell for eternity to not be a shitty person. Maybe they will read this, and maybe they won't. I don't really suppose their feelings matter to me very much, as mine did not matter to them. Although, I do feel a twang of guilt writing this as I prefer not to hurt people's feelings as I don't like it when mine are hurt. <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-3205463582915002142013-02-26T08:55:00.002-08:002013-02-26T08:56:45.279-08:00Coconut Syrup and French ToastGood morning my lovely readers! This past weekend might have been the best weekend in the history of weekends for me. Did I just hear you ask what I did? Well let me tell you... I did nothing. Well mostly nothing. I spent most of the weekend alone, in my house. It was glorious. Well in this state of euphoria I made myself some coconut syrup on French bread French Toast.<br />
<br />
This syrup was the most amazing thing that has touched my lips in quite some time. I wish I was a better photographer to show it all to you, but alas... I am not. Maybe if I was using something other than my iPhone my pictures would be better, but alas... I am not. :) My syrup was so decadent and so incredibly rich. It was also extremely easy to make and I will never taint my French toast again with maple syrup.<br />
<br />
Without further adieu, I present to you my lovelies coconut syrup in the making and eating process:<br />
<br />
Coconut Syrup Ingredients:<br />
1/2 c. butter<br />
¾ c. buttermilk<br />
1 c. sugar<br />
½ tsp. baking soda<br />
1 tsp. coconut extract<br />
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Place butter, buttermilk and sugar in a medium saucepan. Stir over
medium heat until butter melts and sugar dissolves. Bring to a boil and
boil one minute.<br />
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<br />
Remove from heat and add baking soda and
extract, stirring constantly. It will bubble up, so if your pot is
small, hold it over the sink to avoid spillage. Continue to stir syrup
and let it rest for a few minutes before serving. <br />
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<br />
Take a picture of the flowers in your kitchen window sill that have lasted an amazing 2 weeks:<br />
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French bread French Toast ingredients:<br />
4 eggs<br />
1 c. milk<br />
1/4 tsp. salt<br />
2 tsp. vanilla<br />
1/4 c. + 2 T. flour<br />
1 lg. loaf French bread, sliced thick (about 12-13 slices)<br />
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In bowl, combine all ingredients except bread. Whisk until mixture is lump-free. <br />
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With one large loaf of fresh French bread, slice it thick: <br />
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Quickly
dip both sides of bread in mixture and place on greased, hot skillet
(heated to 325 degrees). Flip over when browned. <br />
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Serve with hot Coconut
Syrup. <br />
The left over french toast freezes quite well also. You can then just pop it in the microwave for a minute and it keeps its texture and consistency. <br />
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The serving dish is one of the few things I have left from my mother. It is the china that has been passed down in my family for a few generations now.<br />
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Take a picture of your empty plate to share with all your friends. <br />
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Save the extra syrup and give to your friends. It has to be microwaved and mixed up to use again but it keeps really well. <br />
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What I would do differently.... I would not use the flour in the french toast recipe, no matter how much I whisked it would not stop being lumpy. Also, it is essential that you cut the bread straight with no sharp edges, otherwise it will cook in some areas and not in others.<br />
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Overall, this was the best dang syrup I have ever eaten in my entire life. I had it for breakfast Saturday, breakfast Sunday, and dinner Sunday... and I still want more but my arteries are objecting.<br />
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I hope you all try it and enjoy it as much as I did... I'm having brunch at my house at the end of April in your pajamas... if you really want to try it, come over.<br />
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Amanda<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-5319896760724209032013-02-21T14:48:00.002-08:002013-02-21T14:49:28.049-08:00Fashion WeekWith Fashion Week in full bloom all around the world, I can't help but sit and think of this quote I am very fond of: "Go to work, get married, have some kids, pay your taxes, pay your bills, watch your TV, follow fashion, act normal, obey the law, repeat after me: I am free."<br />
<br />
Have you all see the crap that is coming off these runways? I am a huge fan of not looking like a big roll of shit when I walk out of the house on most days... other days I don't care and the Ugg's come out with the hoodie, unwashed hair, and paint on my jeans. The problem I have this year as compared to most years with Fashion Week is they are getting even more cruel in their designs. They are incorporating leathers from exotic animals and furs from endangered animals.<br />
<br />
Fashion has always been a sore subject among animal rights activists, and rightfully so. Fashion exudes the Western cultures tendency for flamboyance, over-indulgence, greed, excess, waste, and utter depravity toward lesser creatures than one's self. This years Fashion Week has gotten to the point that they are not even bothering to try to pretend that they are using the animals for any purpose other than to carry around.<br />
<br />
This model is carrying a dead, stuffed Arctic Fox that has silk covering its belly. What is the purpose of this? Tell me why an animal died so it can be paraded around by a woman in a fancy dress in front of thousands?<br />
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You can thank Marc Jacobs for this treasure right here:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6HzqoS7s3hbWWIxoYQ3X00WVg_IpE1U9qJfBGcAgrFtAWYSkUUcdl2LHHArx-ql6U15M2FdtJyeCGrDt0p_8Fc6oh1aJWsid5GlYJZ96LpiRWDuuwwffaU-sWyrD8ZvNWf0K3_vOXFfB/s1600/Fox.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6HzqoS7s3hbWWIxoYQ3X00WVg_IpE1U9qJfBGcAgrFtAWYSkUUcdl2LHHArx-ql6U15M2FdtJyeCGrDt0p_8Fc6oh1aJWsid5GlYJZ96LpiRWDuuwwffaU-sWyrD8ZvNWf0K3_vOXFfB/s320/Fox.png" width="317" /></a></div>
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We kill at will for whatever whim we want to follow or stupid fashion trend that lasts all of 26 days. Many people speak of a coming "Zombie Apocalypse" but personally I do not think it will be quite like that. We will come to an end, but I feel like it will be Mother Nature righting the wrong that we have done to this planet to restore the balance that once was. We are not meant to carry dead foxes as decoration, we are not meant to gorge ourselves on processed foods, we are not meant to be trapped in concrete buildings pecking away at keyboards ranting and raving about the atrocities that occur in our daily lives.<br />
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This makes me incredibly sad and it makes me hate the people who would think that this is attractive, or beautiful in anyway. It is not beautiful, I see a half-starved woman that is carrying a dead animal in hopes of being considered beautiful.<br />
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I will leave you with a picture that I have saved on my tablet that moves my soul every time I see it though. It makes me so happy, and sad at the same time no matter how many times I look at it... which is quite often because I am not quite certain why it stirs my soul so much.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-674993162938239283.post-83852654709914857622013-02-21T12:14:00.002-08:002013-02-21T12:14:50.785-08:00Check Your Feelings at the DoorSomething is amiss. I need to pay attention to this discontent I'm feeling with life and see where it leads instead of trying to ignore it.<br />
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I do this thing with my email and text messages... I save almost all of them in organized folders, because I have a terrible memory. So when I get this hair up my ass that something is a good idea, all I have to do is go back to my emails/text messages and read them to remind myself of certain things that I have forgotten... or wanted to forget. You can not change the words that were written or the date they were written on, and sometimes I need that hard coded information to make me remember to keep my crap in order and not forget where I stand. It is easy to forget, so darn easy to forget. <br />
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Check your feelings at the door, Miss and move along. <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905519383069548noreply@blogger.com0