nude highway driving

I don’t have an “about me” page.

It’s not on purpose or anything - I don’t think I’m trying to hide. I just never got inspired to make one. Sometimes I think it’s cool to be a little mysterious, but I also think it’s cool when I can read about people whose blogs I frequent. Then again, I hope that I write in such a way as you learn about me from what I say and how I say it.

I haven’t been in the mood to do a “100 things” or “50 questions” thing, but I am in the mood to share. I figure a great way for you to get a little slice of me is to see what’s inside my beloved backpack - something I haul around almost every single day.

Let’s see:

… The latest issue of Wired.

… The October issue of Backpacker. Mmmmm, Tetons.

… A college-ruled, 70-sheet spiral Mead notebook for random drivel or morning pages that I haven’t written in since Sept. 23.

… A very worn copy of the poem “The Language of Stones,” by Aimee Grunberger. She died in 1998 of cancer, and wrote the poem sometime after finding out she was terminal. I never knew her. The paper I worked at in Boulder did a nice obit on her - she lived there and was involved at Naropa. I have carried the poem with me ever since as a reminder of how short and temporary Life is in the hopes it will propel me to make the most of it. Someday, when I have mass amounts of time, I’ll reprint it here. My favorite part still hangs on my bedroom wall:

     how do you know when you're ready
     you don't
     you're never ready
     just take butch cassidy's hand
     get a running start
     and yell Shit
     as the ground falls away beneath

… A Mead Five Star college-ruled composition book for more journal-like writing that I haven’t written in since May 28. In it I found this photo taken of me and a couple flat-mates in Amsterdam 12 years ago. Raaar!

… A sheet of round stickers, mostly freaky little faces. I can’t remember where I got this.

… “A House White With Sorrow,” a novel written by my friend Jennifer Heath (another Boulder person) in 1996 about Afghanistan.

… A pocket-sized Moleskine ruled notebook for random inspirations.

… A way-cool cell phone I use mostly on trips.

… An older Palm that does its best to keep me organized.

… A groovy little digital camera I found on super sale at Wal-Mart a couple years ago.

… My only fancy pen ever - a Montblanc with my name on it, given to me by a good friend (who worked at one of their stores) for being an usher at her wedding. I never thought I’d like anything other than rubber-grip Paper Mates and Pilots, but now I use it all the time.

… A stack of business cards (my self-made personal ones - no boring-ass work ones); my scary-ass press pass; two backup pens; glasses (for things far away); sunglasses; ChapStick; Burt’s Bees hand salve; spare AAA batteries; latex-free bandages and sterile pads; a little drink umbrella; good-luck frog for traveling; business card of an acquaintance I met at a coworker’s “meet my boyfriend” get-together; a travel-size tube of toothpaste; tiny-ass Jelly Belly beans I’ll never eat; my car key; my “pee key” for work; one blue bandana; good-luck totem from Alaska; forgotten ticket stub from my most recent Amtrak ride to New York; forgotten ticket stub from my spring flight to Tokyo; a small flashlight; camping knife; forgotten receipt from the Guinness I enjoyed St. Pat’s Day on the cruise; one faux carabiner.

… The all-important umbrella.