Back and Badass

Judging from the title of this post you would probably assume it to mean I'm back on the blog and ready to write more badass posts like I used to. If you know me really well, you might think that I'm about to write about someone's back-side and the bad things that come out of that ass. What can I say? My family is uniquely concerned with bowels and likes to discuss them. My mom loves to discuss which cereal contains the greatest balance of bran to facilitate a perfect poop. This is where I come from. But, alas, I'm not here to talk about terd, even though I just did and have now contradicted myself. I digress. I'm here to talk about how I'm feeling a bit inspired to revisit this forum for my thoughts, and I do feel kind of BADASS right now. 

Before I get going, I should update y'all on my happenings since last updating. When I was writing the last post, I was recounting the details of a most righteous trip to the BWCA. It was both nostalgic and renewed my love for the Northwoods. Because I'm not interested in recounting everything that has happened since then, I'm going to try to sum up my last couple years before the end of this paragraph. After the BWCA I traveled to London, Spain and Morocco with my brother and then girlfriend for about a month. I finished working at the law firm as a temporary office bitch and moved right into a job as an afterschool site coordinator in Oakland. About a year ago, I got engaged to my special lady friend and walked down the aisle with her a little over a month ago. Now she is my wife (imagine a Borat voice while reading that). While engaged, I switched jobs to become a director of a pilot project placing people 55 and older as instructors in afterschool programs. Now I sit on a couch bought with insurance money collected from our stolen-then-found-wrecked Honda watching the toob while my wife rubs elbows and skeet shoots with a bunch of rednecks in Indiana for the sake of selling software. 

You might be thinking to yourself, "gosh, I'd love for Dave to delve deeper into what seems like a couple years filled with fodder for hysterical and reflective blogging magic." Well, ladies and gentlemen, in due time. Even scratching the surface of the last couple years is far too daunting a task than I'm up to right now. Yeah, I know I said I felt inspired, but remember I am still a lazy shit at heart. 

Let's see if we can tackle one anecdotal moment at a time. 

I left a piece of myself in the Sahara Desert. This could be interpreted as some cliche way to describe a transcendental moment in such a vast, awe inspiring, mysterious part of the world. While the Sahara is all of those things, I quite literally meant that I left a piece of myself in the Sahara. 

First of all, let me say that if you're looking for an amazing vacation, Morocco during Ramadan might not be the best choice. There were some golden moments had for sure, but streets littered with either starving loiterers ready to fight or rip-off an unsuspecting tourist or over-bearing rug salesmen soliciting you on a crowded street doesn't spell luxurious and relaxing retreat to an exotic land. I will say, however, exotic is definitely a way to describe the place. So exotic, in fact, that drinking water from the tap will turn you into an uncontrollable, human faucet. 

Unfortunately, almost immediately upon arrival from Marrakesh to the beach town of Essaouira, I got a bug. Having to stay near a toilet hampered my ability to enjoy the beach and sleepy town where Jimi Hendrix and Cat Stevens found inner-peace and lots of hash. Needless to say, I was glued to the room for the remainder of our time in Essaouira. 

I started to feel better when we went to the high atlas mountains in a town with a name that escapes me. A hike up the mountains re-energized my passion for travel, and I was ready for an off-road trip through canyons towards the western edge of the Sahara Desert. We had arranged a flat-rate chauffeur/hotel/meal service to the desert, and while we might have gotten ripped-off with the rate, the service devilvered. 

I don't know if it was the ride over rocky, dirt roads, the hour spent riding a camel's hump or the tagine chicken for dinner, but my stomach was reverting back to where it had been in the sleepy beach town. But as the stars came out and my hash buzz mellowed, I felt like I could slowly drift into a coma until our planned wake-up to watch the sunrise over the endless sand dunes. At about 4am, I awoke to some threatening internal rumblings. I concentrated as hard as possible on how beautiful and clear the stars appeared hoping my pains would pass. After about a half hour of deep introspection and muscle contortion, I surrendered to my urge and began looking for the sanitary tissues. I scoured through my backpack and searched the campground. All I could find was a single tissue left in my backpack. This was sure to get interesting. 

I raced up a dune and couldn't make it farther. Things were gonna blow. I nestled myself next to a desert bush, did my best to situate my position to ensure maximum success and let the faucet run. And it ran. The relief was ecstasy. 

As good as it felt to rid myself of this toxic mess, cleaning up the mess proved to be a challenge. I did what I could with the salvaged piece of tissue from my backpack but still had a lot of work to do. Usually, in the woods, I can find some leaves to help finish the task, but there aren't many leaves in the Sahara. I had to make a sacrifice.

My undies took one for the team that night, and after they wiped the slate clean, I held a short but significant burial ceremony to celebrate their sacrifice and recognize their final resting place in the desert.

After I rested for another hour, I woke up for a majestic sunrise, and I watched it with a brand new sense of freedom. I hope that someday my shorts are found by traveling scientists in search of DNA to clone a depleted human population. I can only fantasize about millions of Bricks roaming the Sahara with irritable bowels. 

So I guess I proved that the Back and Badass of this blog really did have the inappropriately sophomoric meanings I swore would not be included in this blog. What can I say? It's hard to hide your true colors. 

Rotating...

Menahan Street Band--I've been enjoying their new album named after their Jay-Z sampled title track, Make the Road By Walking. 

Isaac Hayes--Hung Up On My Baby Guitar magic. 

The Blackbyrds--Mysterious Vibes This is classic Mizell production. 

The Gap Band--Yearning For Your Love Always a pleasure to hear on the local R&B stations. Good to finally have in the collection. A favorite of the wifey.