I started keeping track of how much I’m running, exactly, starting last Friday. So in one week, I ran 21.6 km. My pace is kind of slow – but it’s all jogging, not walking. If you add in my walking (commute to work six days a week and running errands – I walk everywhere), you could probably say I cover an equivalent distance in walking, too. And that would make about 42 km, which is a marathon. I was somewhat inspired in this project by following – on facebook – the manic walking exploits of two of my cousins, Jori and Trevor, who each covered something over 250 miles last month in a sort of competition between them, posting their distances each day. I won’t get close to that. Not yet, anyway.
I’m glad I’m exercising more. I wish I could feel like it was improving my health, but so far I have lost no weight, and I don’t really even feel much healthier. I will have to be patient.
What I’m listening to right now.
[Update 2017-02-28: Video embed has been removed due to “link rot.” The song with new video embed has been included here.]
Bob Dylan with Johnny Cash – Girl from the North Country. The song makes me think of fall in Minnesota, and camping trips to Hibbing and weekends in Duluth.
Month: July 2011
Caveat: Rachmaninoff – Concerto Number 2
It’s not that I don’t like classical music. I was raised on a steady diet of Dvorak, it seems like, alongside the Grateful Dead and Cat Stevens and the Jesus Christ Superstar soundtrack and other eclectica. But in my day-to-day life, I don’t listen much to classical music, to be honest.
I think part of the reason for that is that it has never worked well for me as “background music.” Unlike most other genres, it’s very difficult for me to listen to classical music and do other things at the same time – whether it be jogging or studying or surfing the internet. Perhaps my ad hoc musical education, mostly a gift from my bestfriend Bob, was a little bit too thorough, and I find myself listening too carefully to classical compositions.
I don’t think that’s it, entirely. I have always struggled more with the rhythm aspect of all music than with, say, melody or counterpoint. I find that the lack of overt rhythms in classical music (unlike such as are provided by the backing drums or synthesized beats of almost all other genres) almost makes me uncomfortable, at times. It’s almost as if I have to work harder to “follow” what’s going on in music without explicit rhythms. I know that sounds strange – and it’s hard for me to explain.
OK, whatever. Returning to my initial point, away from my digression: I do, in fact, listen to and enjoy classical music, occasionally. And I love hearing live performances of it.
One of my favorite pieces, by far, is Rachmaninoff’s Concerto Number 2. It’s one of those pieces that I will find running through my head sometimes, unexpectedly. Perhaps that just confirms that I’m a hopeless romantic sap, deep down inside. The picture, at left, is borrowed from the wikithing. It shows Rachmaninoff with a redwood tree in 1919.
What I’m listening to right now.
This youtube, above, is my favorite part – the first movement – apparently from a 1929 recording (!) in which Rachmaninoff himself played the piano with the Philadelphia Philharmonic. I also like the third movement, though, for which I found a different recording. I often find snippets of these two movements running through my brain.
Caveat: Seré tu héroe de amor
Lo que escucho en este momento.
Miguel Bosé, “Amante bandido.”
Me gusta recordar mi tiempo viviendo en la Cd de México, en 1986. Canciones como esta me ponen rete nostálgico – se tocaba en el top 40 en la radio capitalina en aquella época.
La letra:
Yo seré el viento que va
navegaré por tu oscuridad
tú rocío
beso frío
que me quemaráYo seré tormento y amor
Tú la marea que arrastra a los dos
Yo y tú
Tú y yo
no dirás que no…
no dirás que no…
no dirás que no…Seré tu amante bandido, bandido
corazón corazón malherido
seré tu amante cautivo, cautivo
seré ¡ahum!pasión privada dorado enemigo
huracán huracán abatido
me perderé en un momento contigo
por siempre…Yo seré un hombre por ti
renunciare a ser lo que fui
Yo y tú
Tú y yo
Sin misterio…
Sin misterio…
Sin misterio…Seré tu amante bandido, bandido
corazón corazón malherido
seré tu amante cautivo, cautivo
seré ¡ahum!pasión privada dorado enemigo
huracán huracán abatido
me perderé en un momento contigo
por siempre…
Seré tu héroe de amorSeré el amante que muere rendido
corazón corazón malherido
seré tu amante bandido bandido
seré ahum!y en un oasis prohibido prohibido
por amor por amor concebido
me perderé en un momento contigo
por siempre…Seré tu héroe de amor
Caveat: The length and width of summer time
If I were a Korean middle school student, I'd be grumpy, too. But I think one reason I don't really enjoy teaching middle school students is because unlike with elementary age children, I don't really know how to deal with adolescent grumpiness. With the younger ones, I can be a clown, I can regress myself, and more times than not, I can pull the kids out past their grumpiness and we can move on. But with the older kids, I just get drawn into it. Older kids are more stubborn in their anger. I had a hard day today.
I don't really have much more to say. I ran 5 km tonight, when I got home from work. Unlike most people, exercise never puts me in a good mood, and I question whether it really serves to lessen my depressive tendencies, for that matter. My time in the military, when I exercised daily and was in the best physical condition of my entire life, was – as some who know me well will recall – also one of the most depressed periods in my life. Still, there were many factors contributing to that. What I mean by this is only that I challenge the commonplace that holds that regular exercise is a legitimate way to combat depression. But I do need to be healthier, and lose some weight, so I'm pursuing building this habit, regardless of how grumpy it seems to be making me.
What I'm listening to right now.
Sarah Jarosz – Long Journey:
I have just begun
A long journey that will run
The length and width of summer time
And the cool fall air will guide me home
Yea the cool fall air will blow me homeYou'll be miles away
I want to go, but I wanna stay
The music beggin' me to go
But your love can guide me home
Yea your love can guide me homeStary nights and summer sun
I think you just might be the one
With this mountain pass keep runnin' on
And I wonder if your love and guide me home
Oh yea I wonder if your love can guide me home
Caveat: 68) 세상의 아름다움을 알게되어 감사한 마음으로 절합니다
“I bow with a thankful heart and become aware that the world is beautiful.”
This is #68 out of a series of 108 daily Buddhist affirmations that I am attempting to translate with my hands tied behind my back (well not really that, but I’m deliberately not seeking out translations on the internet, using only dictionary and grammar).
…
66. 모든 생명은 우주의 이치 속에서 살아간다는 것을 알게되어 감사한 마음으로 절합니다.
“I bow with a thankful heart and become aware that all life is living within the principles of the universe.”
67. 나와 남이 하나임을 알게되어 감사한 마음으로 절합니다.
“I bow with a thankful heart and become aware that I and others are one.”
68. 세상의 아름다움을 알게되어 감사한 마음으로 절합니다.
I would read this sixty-eighth affirmation as: “I bow with a thankful heart and become aware that the world is beautiful.”
This is my favorite affirmation so far.
Caveat: Poetry is not a civilizer
One of my favorite poets is Robinson Jeffers. He’s not much loved in the literary establishment. Here’s a possible reason why. He wrote:
Poetry is not a civilizer, rather the reverse, for great poetry appeals to the most primitive instincts. It is not necessarily a moralizer; it does not necessarily improve one’s character; it does not even teach good manners. It is a beautiful work of nature, like an eagle or a high sunrise. You owe it no duty. If you like it, listen to it; if not, let it alone.
The picture is of Tor House, near Carmel, California. Jeffers built the house as his home, by hand (i.e. medieval style), over many years.
Caveat: Atrophy
For those not reading between the lines, I've been kind of down, lately. One part is just the feeling that I'm in a holding pattern at work, and the stuff where I can take initiative, like my textbook project, aren't going that well. But the main thing that has me down is exactly the thing I predicted I would like least about my return to Ilsan. My Korean feels like it's atrophying.
The reason is quite simple. My Korean made progress, in Yeonggwang, because I was constantly around people whose English was so bad that my Korean skills, limited as they were, were competitive in the "communication marketplace," as it were. Here in Ilsan, both my coworkers and my students, for the most part, have much higher level English skills, on average, and so my Korean ability becomes essentially worthless in the communication game – because I'm both socially shy and a little bit lazy, at some level, I don't have the willpower to force communication into the less comfortable, more difficult mode that sticking to Korean requires. Hongnong was so good for me, because I was constantly being called upon to communicate with people who utterly lacked English skills – it thus overcame both my shyness and my laziness.
So I stick to English, and then beat myself up for doing so. And I don't have the gumption to sign up for a class, either – I've been put off by the commute time required, and knowing that work is about to get a lot more demanding, once the testing period ends and I have to jump into the full-fledged summer session.
Am I regretting, now, my decision to come back to Ilsan? Not at all. I love that I have a comfortable and reliable "home life." That's important to me, and was missing in Hongnong. My stress level is, over all, much lower. And I'm rebuilding the good health and lifestyle habits that I allowed to atrophy in Yeonggwang – my daily exercise, my better eating habits (although so far I can't seem to shake the extra kilos that Yeonggwang blessed me with). So, much as I predicted, the move back here is a mixed bag – advantages and disadvantages. It's just that lately I'm really feeling the biggest disadvantage – the lower level of motivational support for my commitment to keep learning Korean.
Caveat: Joke
Q: How many surrealists does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Two – one to paint the giraffe orange, and the other to fill the bathtub with brightly colored machine tools!
Obviously, I don’t have much to say today. So I’m not saying much. But that was a funny joke. So.