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American Studies

I recently remembered why I got into the American Studies program in the first place. It wasn’t a random decision, or my attempt to coast through college, but it was due to the influence of Siva Vaidhyanathan. When I realized a Computer Science degree wasn’t for me, I tumbled, undeclared, into the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences. My interest at the time was centered around Intellectual Property law, and the waves it was creating in society. This interest was a direct result of being accused of breaking copyright law in high school, and later realizing I was protected under Fair Use. Being the agent of spite that I am, I learned everything I could about it.

Around the same time I settled in to being undeclared, Siva wrote a paper about a field of study called Critical Information Studies. Being a field that he had just invented, it wasn’t actually offered anywhere, but there were fields that were similar. American Studies was one of these, and was what Siva taught at the University of Texas. I read his manifesto, got fired up and declared my major, promptly forgetting why a semester later.

By that time I had managed to become bogged down and overwhelmed by the college process. Doing college became the focus of my time, instead of the knowledge I had hoped to receive. This was largely my own fault, starting myself off with a horrible first semester. I rarely attended some classes, and didn’t study much for others. This left me on academic probation, meaning I had to start doing well if I wanted to stay, whether or not I learned anything. This was extremely upsetting, and by the end of my sophomore year, I was fed up. I realized that I didn’t actually want to stay. I felt there was nothing being taught there that I couldn’t learn on my own, and my time could be better spent earning money. My parents convinced me to stay. After that, I was in it for the diploma, and anything interesting I could glean along the way. I didn’t think about Siva’s essay again until a few days ago.

The classes I took in my second two years were certainly more interesting than the first two, and I don’t think I could have gotten those same experiences outside a college environment, but I’m not convinced they were worth the time. My degree resembles nothing of what I had set out for it to be, and is probably closer to a Sociology or Philosophy degree. Critical Information Studies was a very academic discipline, and I was fed up with academia. But this whole story is moot, because even if I had crafted the degree that I had wanted to, I still couldn’t get a job.

Endo, Storm

Nishi’s laparoscopy confirmed that she has endometriosis, which she has suspected for about a year now. It’s great that we can now move forward in treating it and getting her to feel better, for the first time in years.

While she’s in bed mending, I’ve been firing off job applications left and right. Not sure yet what will pan out, but it’s progressing.

When I talked to my dad today, he mentioned the storm that will be passing through this weekend. He was talking about heading down to Niantic, to stay at my grandfather’s house, which has a generator. I thought about this, and how the bus, in Middletown, is capable of sheltering and sustaining people if the power goes out. It has its own power supply, and can cook food or heat water with propane. I like that it’s already fairly far towards being self sustaining, but it has a lot further it can go.

Door Xylophone

Nishi and I took a nap this evening, sleeping right through dinner and messing up any possibility of going to bed early. We tried, valiantly, to fall asleep, but I had no chance. I lay awake thinking of things, and all the interesting ideas that I’ve had this summer that I’ve lost through my memory sieve. Determined not to lose this one, I hopped on my laptop, and here I am.

I was imagining an odd door chime, which rings each time a door is opened. It works by rolling a ball down a xylophone, which after a bit of googling I found has been done to great effect. The xylophone would be mounted to a slightly off center pivot point so it would favor one side over the other. As it pivots, the ball would roll down, guided by rods on either side of it. Opening the door would advance a cylindrical alternating inclined plane (think the mechanism in a clicking pen), which would pivot the xylophone back and forth. Opening the door would play a tune, and then opening it again would play the same tune backwards. I find this especially amusing, since a different tune would play for arrivals and departures. Now, all I need is a door. And some sleep.

Pulled Over

Anne Marie, Nishi and I were pulled over for the first time yesterday. There have been plenty of police/bus encounters, but up until yesterday no one had felt the need to pull us over. We were driving through the hills of western Connecticut, when a state trooper pulled along behind us. He followed me for nearly ten minutes before deciding to throw on his lights as I was crawling up a hill. There is probably something wrong with going 25 mph on a road that allows for much faster, and I was imagining a bizarre “Do you know how fast your were going?” exchange.

He walks up to the door looking kind of confused, and asked if I had any papers for this thing. I get up to get the registration, and the e-brake starts to slip. The e-brake in that bus has never been very good at keeping the bus from rolling on hills, though Joe once drove it all the way to Cheney using only the e-brake. When the e-brake slips, it makes an almost ratcheting movement, rolling a few inches backward at a time. I stepped on the brake quick enough to keep from buying him a new cruiser, and we threw chock blocks under the wheels. Playing it safe, he decided it would be best to move his cruiser out from behind thirteen tons of spray painted madness, and parked uphill.

When he came back I produced the registration, which he looked over briefly before asking for insurance as well. Handing him the insurance he explained that he pulled us over because he couldn’t read the license plate (reference picture), and everything seemed to be a-ok. He was nice enough to escort us as we crawled out way up the rest of the hill.

Fest Recap

Wakarusa, in Ozark, Arkansas, is a wonderful festival. It was the first of this summer, and the best so far. The venue is a great mix of open field and sparse forest. Waka also had a great mix of large and small stages, so if you felt like dancing or felt like sitting, there was always a place for you to go. But what made Wakarusa such an incredible festival for us was the people who attended. There was such a sense of camaraderie among the festival goers, it was hard not to love it. The easiest way I can explain it is that everyone there was already friends with everyone else, they just hadn’t met everyone yet.

The Arch

Bonnaroo was Bonnaroo. That is, big and obnoxious. The crowd is very different there, but the people we worked with were great, and helped me make it through that festival without losing it. Bonnaroo does have spectacle though. During the Primus show, though I think it was actually for the end of My Morning Jacket’s set at the main stage, a group of skydivers descended on the crowd, dropping glitter and tiny LED helicopters in their wake. Easily one of the more amazing things I’ve ever seen.

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We spent some time in Memphis and Chicago, which were both great cities where we met great people, but the next destination was Electric Forest. The crowd at the forest was a little closer to Wakarusa, but not quite right. We had fantastic neighbors for Electric Forest, who made the whole experience that much better. The heart of the forest is an actual forest (since we still camp in fields) with lights, art, interactive installations and a music stage. No pictures I can take can do it justice, but they’re worth seeking out.

Onward to Grey Fox and Tweed River.

Chicago, USA

Traveling in the Kia works. It’s certainly a very different trip than we would have had with Anne Marie, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It is an expensive thing though, and even though we’ve never paid for lodging, costs stack up.

Wakarusa was wonderful. Everyone enjoyed their time there. It was hot, and humid, but it was excellent. Bonnaroo was hot, and dusty, and less excellent. There was very little about Bonnaroo that I enjoyed. The sole redeeming aspect of Bonnaroo was the group of people we worked with. They were fun, and made the festival enjoyable.

We’ve been in Chicago for about a week now, after a brief stay in Memphis. We’re moving on to Electric Forest this week – our last festival before returning for a pit stop in CT. People have been nothing but good to us this whole trip, but I don’t feel any sense of serendipity. I don’t know how to explain that further, but it’s something I’ve been missing on this trip. It makes it feel less like an adventure and more like a vacation.

Electric Forest should be a nice break. It looks like it will be a smaller festival with cooler weather, and plenty of trees. I’m looking forward to it, but I’m honestly looking forward to being back in Middletown more.

Failure

Maybe I should rename this summer the “Anti-Tour.” If there was an accurate antonym for serendipity, this trip would be it. We’ve scrapped any plans involving the bus as it has become clear that there is no way that we’re going to make any destinations with our unreliable refinery. We’re going to take Nishi’s car which is good on gas, but small and not fun. There isn’t anything remotely adventurous about this summer, it’s just a long vacation.