Awake, but...

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I arrived so much earlier last night to this hotel than I did yesterday to the first hotel, I had become some what acclimated to driving long hours and sitting in that seat, and I showered and cooled off before going to sleep last night, and then I slept like a baby. I think I slept like a baby. How about this, I remember how well I slept as well as I remember how well I slept when I was a baby? Ah forget it, those sayings never make sense. I am trying to say I slept soundly. I woke roughly, as yesterday, and my wake up call was at 9:45 again. But I am very tired and sore. My muscles ache, from arm to leg to odd places. My joints have been shaken and stirred. Bruises and anonymous pain nerve reception is to be had across many and varied parts of the U.S.S. Doom, often not exactly identifiably so. Is that pain coming from a thumb, lower back, or a toe?

No, though, that is not a complaint. Not that I am a masochist, it is just that I like it to show when I have done something that, for me anyway, was a big job. If I could climb Mount Everest, swim the Mississippi, pack out the length of the U.S. Continental Divide, or dive the Arctic Sea over a week, but felt no distress, what would it be? This pain tells me I have done something. And more, it tells me I can do more. It has tightened me up (a bit, hush!). And, it has shown how much I have left to do. After just using the home mirror for so long, and seeing myself in these huge mirrors at the hotels, I am totally aware of how bad it is now. If a full length mirror does not provide incentive toward becoming active, nothing will.

I did celebrate with some fine port last night. Two smaller glasses cheered my first night in town. I saved one last bit for tonight. Wilsford makes a super port, should you ever have an interest and a few dollars. Old Tawny, Barossa Port, to be precise.

I have several tasks I need to get to work on right away. After I shower, it will be time to call U-Haul. With the tire pump in hand, I may just add air to the Xterra's front tires and unload it here, in the parking lot. There is plenty of room at this point in time and I would have one less worry, as driving that set can be quite the thing. I still have not completely grokked the notion of turning rightly through turns so that the trailer wheels always make it cleanly. I have held my breath as I watched the trailer, and even U-Haul truck when I first started driving, ride over curb walls and such. I just went a little slower, turned the wheel a bit if necessary, and it all worked out.

The drive, other than being white knuckle at times, and with the other oddities, was actually pleasant. With nearly a full moon the last few nights, only occasional spits of rain and very light winds which I never really sensed, and somewhat light traffic for the most part, I was able to look out my window from time to time. I see, again, that God is the finest artist ever. With a little sand, water, dirt, some plants, various gasses, and a palette upon which He mixes every color we can sense and then some, He has crafted or created the realizations for the painting of a most beautiful reality. From plains to foothills, from sky to clouds within that, then on to mountains, rivers, gullies, buttes, and so much more, I often felt as if I was driving in a most wondrous painting that just never quit. And, though I do not sense beauty in the way so many seem to do, or say they do (I am suspicious you know), I do see scope, breadth, width, and I have awe, if I do not always understand how those things fit into my reality, your reality, all reality, or God's truth. I suppose I am an unattached observer, just not an dead one, or at least not an completely dead one. My eyes, my God, my eyes. What a magical and spectacular scene I have witnessed these last days.

The drive into Logan was through the lens of moonlight. But I could easily see that there are mountains around, and quite close on the drive into town. There were no exaggerations as to this place. It is a valley crested by mountains to the east and west, the humidity is very low, the people are simply nice so far, and I already get the sense that this might well be the place I am supposed to live, maybe to my death. I also feel a strong pull to push out of my little place, to strengthen my body, to begin living healthier, and to begin doing those things I had always dreamed of doing. I must take a bit of care, however. Though, for example, I would love to go climbing, I must get in decent physical shape before I do that. I would love to become a licensed scuba diver, but that will require lessons and of course the licensing but at least that has a built in limit. Many instructors will not take on a student unless they can perform a 1/2 mile straight swim, or so. I see so much to do here, I see too the way. But there is nothing stopping me from taking stock of my new environment with some drives and well controlled hikes. I am excited. That last sentence understates it, but it will do for now.

I suspect, too, if I do as I hope, I become fit and then active, and then maintain that for a bit, I will then begin contemplating school again. Oh, I know! I said earlier that I was not a masochist, but I keep running my mental tongue over that open psychic nerve! School, engineering school anyway, even for healthy happy smart people, is a brutal thing. For those who are disabled, it is like a legless unassisted 'climb' of Mount Everest. But for those called to it, those who like to tinker, those who enjoy challenges, and, well, geeks, engineering school is the pinnacle of achievement. A degree can only be topped by a masters degree. A Ph. D., whoever, to my mind, is a step down. It would limit one to academia, for the most part, and the jobs would not be so fun. Perhaps even research would become more limited. If one can, I think, one must. And despite my many difficulties, if I can get in shape and become active, I can do this as well.

I should say this too. The U of Iowa, actually, is a fine institute. I did razz it. But that was me having difficulty and finding something, anything at times, to blame. And, I will openly admit, I did so unfairly. The professors might be liberal, but they were not unfair. The admin was good. The grounds are beautiful. The students I came to know were very good. But I do hold that a lot of cheating went on. It probably occurs on all campuses. I think it is just impossible to avoid. I think why it is allowed to go on is because the system believes the cheaters will either get caught or their system is not up to cheating their whole way through and they will eventually academically die on their own crooked academic sword sooner or later. It must be akin to why police do not mess with every inexactitude they see. So, fine, you have it from the complainer, and straight.

Okay, what to do again? (this is just me, rethinking everything, you can skip this and still get a B+, maybe an A-) I have reserved this room for one more night, to make sure all other things will be in proper shape for my purposes and in proper time at my new place. Now I need to call U-Haul, and then figure how best to do things with that. If at all possible, I need to get the Xterra on her fully inflated wheels and find the Verizon store, contact my landlady, but first probably find something suitably good, sustaining yet mild, and somewhat light to eat. Then, I need to contact the gentlemen who will be helping me pack. Oh, I had best find an appropriate storage facility first, then contact them. But, first of all, another shower. A hot shower, now that I am cool, rested, and otherwise good, will help to heal, fortify, and allow my ugly carcass to be as presentable as possible.

By the way, since I did not die while packing, during the drive, or yet in my new fishbowl, and as soon as I am comfortably settled into my new cave and find some local internet hot spots, I will complete my promise. I will tell you my last deadly sin. I will tell you about my final secret. You will then know all I know, and may then evaluate me at your leisure. Should you find the need, I will give you the first stone. If too, I will suggest you remember what happened when Christ happened upon the stoning of the prostitute (no, I am not a prostitute!). Analogy, people, sheesh. Besides, who would buy? Now that is funny. I am looking in the mirror as I type (no choice really). I am not even sure a purveyor of fine human meats would buy this chunk of humabeef. Anyway, you will know what I had said I would tell.

Well, time to hit the thing and get going. I hope you find success, but more importantly love, in your daily doings. Be well and kneel to Wisdom, when you realize it.

*poof, finally!*