Dispatch from the Field

I love how many comments that first TD/HBI generated. Thanks, Voyeurs!

Over these last two days, I've been out on the Western Slope. Work had been piling up while I was skiing in Jackson, and I had to run out for meetings with the Federales and Exxon in Meeker and BFE. Fortunately, neither Robert nor Cody were interested in awkward pseudo-dates a la my previous work junket, and I've largely put any such interaction out of my mind through thousands of dollars in therapy.

While I've been driving around the natural gas fields north of Rifle, I've had two distinct ideas bouncing around in my head like superballs.

First, I sure wish it was climbing season. Driving around just a few miles from The Canyon without my climbing gear in the car is torture. Ok, Ok, honesty alert: It's in there. Rope, shoes, harness, quickdraws. I just can't use any of them. There's snow on the ground, a chill in the air, and little call for climbing outside the temperature controlled confines of Movement Climbing and Fitness. Maybe that's what's so painful.

I have had a few days of climbing outside this winter, sure, but the weather this winter hasn't been nearly what I'd been hoping for. It seems like every January and February bring a week or two of mid 50's, and a promise of an early spring. This year, there's been no such luck. A couple of those days of outdoor climbing have come in the form of Hueco bouldering, and if you've got to drive nearly to Mexico, I'm not sure it counts.

When I'm not worrying about when the air will warm, allowing me to trade skis for that harness in my trunk, I've been thinking about school. Berkeley is supposed to let me know my enrollment status (in or out) at some point in February or early March. I'm not necessarily the most patient person, and now that we're more than halfway through that first month, I'm ready for news.

The two alternatives keep cropping up in my mind, and it's hard for me not to get anxious thinking about what my life is going to be like based upon a decision made by strangers that's entirely out of my hands. I'll bounce between a belief that I'll be accepted, be told of a deadline by which I'll have to be in CA, and find the freedom for my hedonistic, recreational tendencies to run rampant until classes start. Further, my buddy Nuno is going to be living in the Bay Area come autumn, and if all things align, we might end up spending time in the same house as a depraved pair of roommates. I guarantee it will be a house of horror and sin, and one (or both) of us will be arrested or killed (or both.)

Quickly after those visualizations of climbing trips, pal pow-wow's, and educational/intellectual demand fade, I sink back into the understanding that only about 5 percent of applicants get into the program. The strength of my application and experiences may matter not at all in the face of fierce competition from an accomplished pool of perspectives aiming for admission into one of the best grad schools in the country. I have nothing else to do but pull back from my pending move and admit that I might very well be spending the summer doing exactly what I've been doing this past year: traveling, climbing, and having a blast with great friends.

Wait, that's not so bad, either. And come to think of it, summer will likely play out identically, regardless of Cal's call.

I can't even say which reality I'd prefer. Both of these outcomes are sure fire ways to continue to push my life in a direction that I can be proud of. Either path will be rewarding. But what I really want right now is a clear picture of what my fate's going to be over this next year or two.

Soon enough, I suppose.