I Took a Walk

The realization came in stages. First, a dry clacking sound, like old dead sticks being tossed into a pile. The park is in the middle of town, so I put it down to some far-off construction project, or perhaps some trail maintenance. I kept walking. 

The sounds got louder, accompanied by muffled thumps. I noticed dust rising from the field next to the trail, the back of some animal barely visible through the tall grass. I pulled out my binoculars, and everything became clear. Two bucks, repeatedly crashing their antlered heads together as two does looked on. It was majestic. It was madness. I wondered how they managed to not lose an eye. 

Before I could even think to grab my camera, the fight was over, the loser (I presume) running into some nearby brush, each exhale exploding in a high-pitched, whistling wheeze. The winner watched for a moment, then sauntered away in the direction of the does. I had just begun fumbling for my camera case when the loser emerged from his refuge half a dozen meters away from where I stood and turned to look me in the eye. I froze. Time stretched, and I somehow managed to not wet myself. Eventually, he wandered off as I stood rooted to the ground, camera completely forgotten in my hands. 

Transcontinental Roadtrip Audiobook Review 1: The Addictive Brain

This review is the first in a 4-part series about the audiobooks I listened to in the 7-day, 3400 mi drive from Healy, AK to Denver, CO.

Name: The Great Courses: The Addictive Brain

Length: 6h19

Narrator: Professor Thad A. Polk

As the name suggests this lecture series gives an overview of the psychology, behaviors, and neurophysiology of addiction. Addiction touches most people's’ lives in some way or another and can be a pretty touchy/emotional subject, as I learned while discussing the series with my travel buddies. Because of this, it might be hard for some people to listen to. However, Professor Polk balances dispassionate science with a healthy dose of compassion, taking time to talk about the most effective treatment options for each drug/behavior of abuse that he discusses and implores people who are struggling with addiction to remember that they are not weak or broken and that setbacks should be viewed as learning experiences rather than failure.

The series is split into 12 half-hour lectures, covering a range of topics from the brain’s reward circuit to genetics and how both influence addiction. It also delves more deeply into the addictive a wide variety of substances from caffeine to methamphetamine and how each affects the brain.

If you are a brain nerd like me, I highly recommend this lecture series. If you or someone you love is struggling with addiction, it may be difficult to get through, but it also may deepen your understanding of what you or your loved one is going though.

Maybe Something with Adventuring

(Fair warning: this contains swears)

I recently drove a friend to her out-of-state college, and it occurred to me, as I was throwing a fuzzy green blanket and change of clothes into my car: I love this shit.

It stuck with me, a friendly little voice in the back of my head, as we chattered and navigated snowy roads and stayed up too late dreaming up Doctor-Who-themed cupcakes: I love this shit.

It was still there as I drove back alone, blown about the roads and getting increasingly cold because my little car’s heater couldn’t quite keep up with the windchill: I love this shit.

And when I got home and sat wrapped in a blanket, gushing excitedly over cupcake plans with my love and a cup of tea, there was a steady pulse of “I love this shit” humming beneath every word we utter.

Weirdly, I don’t think I really fit into the explorer “type”: I’m shy and nervous and I don’t trust as easily as I’d like, and sometimes I wonder at how I got here and if I’ll ever experience stability or certainty again. The thought sits like a stone in my stomach, making it hard to move, to breathe.

But then my love will talk to me about eating spaghetti in the desert and watching the stars, or I think of all that’s left to explore and the places and friends around the world that I’d love to see again… and I feel it settle into my bones, warm and comforting, but oddly light: I love this shit.

And no matter what comfort or stability I may find in the future--and no matter how relieved I may be to find it--I will always find some small slice of adventure, and I will never lose the little friendly whisper in the back of my mind.

I LOVE this shit.