Author: Kevin Carver

TV vs. The World, Jack Bauer vs. My Brain

Recently, Megan and I finished watching the last season of 24. If you’re not familiar with this television program, let me sum up the general plot for you.

There’s bad guys who want to bomb something (or somehow kill a lot of people). There’s Jack Bauer who works with/for/or against Counter Terrorist Unit (CTU), depending on government morality. CTU has a terrible human resources department.

Jack will also usually torture, or at least be tortured once per season. Chloe O’Brien, Jack’s right-hand helper, somehow manages to stay alive throughout the series. There’s usually a storyline revolving around a US President. Everyone else dies. Jack always wins. Events occur in real time. 

So I’m done with the series. I’d love to take a whole day to break down all the psychological, philosophical, and political issues I came across watching 24. (more…)

Monopoly vs. Poker: Greed, Ill-Will, and Manipulation

Recently some friends and I sat down to play a game of Monopoly. As you can imagine, we are not friends anymore. I haven’t spoken to my wife since.

Monopoly holds special powers. It’s like Jumangi that way. Emotions burst out with each roll of the dice—we scream and yell. People to your right and left, they are not your spouses, friends, boyfriends and girlfriends anymore. They are landlords, tourists, and prisoners.

This last game, a friend of mine gave her boyfriend an ultimatum: continued friendship for Baltic Avenue. What kind of game is this?

Monopoly makes me curse. It’s like Halo that way. There’s something about going to jail early in the game, or landing on the same owned property every time, or having two people land on your Boardwalk right after you mortgage it because your dumb friend just added another stupid house on the spot you landed on right before that.

It gets ugly fast. (more…)

That Dam Lopez Lake or: (How I Learned to Drive a Boat)

I’ve been boogie boarding quite a bit lately. Getting back into the water has been an enthralling adventure—even despite the Pacific Ocean’s three constants: it’s always cold, it’s always windy, and it’s always cold.

Sometimes, a feller just needs a warm lake and a boat.

Megan and I moved from Coeur d’Alene, Idaho to San Luis Obispo, California this year. North Idaho has no ocean (which I hope you know), but does have close to three-billion lakes in it’s vicinity (mildly exaggerating). Needless to say, visiting lakes was not a priority for us.

A friend of mine recently purchased the Lopez Lake Marina, and I’ve been desperate to see what he’s done with the place. So we went to a lake.

Orcutt Road

Our day started with a beautiful drive on the backroads of San Luis Obispo. There’s a great little curvy road which takes you straight (well, curvy) towards the lake. We call it old Orcutt road.

Wineries have blossomed on just about every hillside. My friend Aaron put it this way, “at least they’re covering hills with grapes and not with houses and Costcos.” It’s true. Despite my reservations regarding these fast-expanding wineries, the beauty of these old SLO roads are protected. (more…)

Matlock, The Angel of Death

Since last week’s wetsuit incident, I’ve been thinking about my failing youth. A good friend once told me that getting old is a process of many realizations. The first and most important, is understanding that the world doesn’t revolve around you.

I would amend this statement by saying hurting your back is definitely the first sign.

Have you ever pulled a muscle in your back? Geez. It’s terrible. You have to buy heat/ice packs and think about what type of shoes you’re wearing.

Andy Griffith and Carol Huston star in Matlock.Just put on Matlock already; I’m done. Count me out.

Getting Older

We were at a small group last night, and one of the couple’s kids starting spinning in the middle of the floor. He thought we were all there to watch him.

It made me think about my friend’s statement—the one at the top.

I used to be like that kid. Everybody used to be my audience and I’d always have the floor. What’s changed?

Is it my understanding of adult civility, a mellowing out of my extroverted nature, is it something else?

Getting old has it’s privileges. I’ve talked to many people about it. There was one lady I got to know at my old job in Idaho. She claimed she didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin until she turned 50.

That’s cool, I guess.

Wife Proverbs

Yesterday Megan and I walked to the end of the Avila Beach pier. As usual, I complained about everything. My back. How I couldn’t boogie board anymore. My world was over.

She said, “You know, the world doesn’t end just because you can’t do something.”

She was right, as usual. The world doesn’t revolve around me. I’m getting older.

I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it but enjoy the ride. Enjoy each day I have, hurt back or not.

Sometimes though, I’m selfish and I want to be young again. Not a teenager, not even 21. I want to be 6 or 7. I want to be back at that place; the place where I’m spinning in front of the room. Where everyone is looking at me. They didn’t come to see me, but now they are.

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From the Avila Beach Pier

Would that be so bad?

As usual, I’d love to hear some feedback. Any advice on getting older? Any advice on pulled backs? A good Matlock episode? 

Beach Body: The Boogie Back-Break Blues
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The Pismo Beach Pier

Some of my favorite memories revolve around the ocean.

In high school days, my friend Tim would come over and wake me up at 6am or so. He’d pull me out of bed and we’d drive to Pismo Beach and hit the cold ocean waves.

I was a boogie boarder; surfing was too much of a commitment.

When Megan and I moved back to the area, I knew sooner or later I’d have to face Poseidon.

Beach Body

There are many beaches in San Luis Obispo County. Pismo is famous; Avila is second best and pretty good for boogie boarders. Grover has a lot of people, and Shell is just too rocky. There’s Oceano, but it’s choppy and nobody goes to Oceano.

The less people to embarrass myself in front of the better; I went to Oceano.

First, there is the issue of the wetsuit. If you’ve never put one on before, let me explain. It is the single most difficult thing you will ever do in your life. It’s like putting on someone’s skin who is two sizes smaller than you.

For shy kids like me, Oceano has bathroom stalls to change in. They’re tiny, lightless, and the locks are all broken. The door may or may not have swung wide open with the wetsuit stuck around my ankles.

Boogie Time

531646_309924065803806_274447830_nAfter taming the wetsuit for what seemed like an hour (think Tommy Boy in the airplane bathroom), I met my wife back at the car. “How’d it go?” she asked.

“I think hurt my back.” She laughed. “No seriously,” starting to stretch, “I think pulled a muscle.” She laughed louder. Somehow, yes, I managed to hurt my back while pulling on a wetsuit. A new low. I don’t want to talk about it.

“Well don’t go in the water,” she warned. “It’ll make it worse!” I looked over at the choppy blue surf. She had a point, but I was already here, and my wetsuit was on. It’s not like I’m getting it off anytime soon. If I didn’t do it now, I never would.

So I ran towards the shore. And I ran. With each step, the sand felt colder and the air tasted sweeter. I reached the waters; my feet burned from the cold, and seized my thoughts. Soon my waist was covered, then higher.

So cold. So cold. Don’t think about it.

I cursed myself, the waters that now held my life, Obama, anything I could think of. The first three minutes dragged; I needed to go numb.

Soon, my thoughts became verbal. I started yelling phrases that didn’t make sense. Fart Cough, poop magnet. Cold help Siren Tonk! AHHHHHHH!

A wave slapped my face, and a rush of memories came over my eyes.

Kevin Glasses

the post beach, triumphant Kevin

I saw Tim; we laughed over waves and cursed the cold water together. I watched the sky, from years ago, turn to day as seals broke the surface of the water, right next to me. For an instant, I saw who I was five years ago.

I saw what was important, and what wasn’t.

Reality returned, and happiness came with it. For the first time in my life I was proud of where I came from. More importantly, I was happy with who I became. I was happy with what I’ve chosen to love.

My wife, our future, God’s plan, the ocean.

I caught my first wave. As it did so many years ago, everything made sense.

I Love Goooollldd… mund (and Narcissus)

urlLast night, I finished my first Herman Hesse novel, Narcissus and Goldmund. A friend gave me this over Christmas; I may or may not be a slow reader.

Lay off me.

It was amazing. Not an easy read for me. It’s more detail oriented than plot focused, which means it had to win me over. Despite the book’s slow start, Narcissus and Goldmund is a beautiful tale worth every bit of your time.

Instead of a full review you probably won’t read, I’ll just share my favorite passage. If you feel interested in reading it, just google the book and you’ll find the synopsis.

For those needing to be sold, here you go: It has tons of sex! Also, death, traveling, and philosophical discussion regarding the difference between artists and thinkers.

My favorite passage (kind of grim, but beautiful still):

Perhaps, he thought, the root of all art, and perhaps also of all intellectual activity, is the fear of death. We fear it, we shudder at the ephemeral nature of all things, we grieve to see the constant cycle of fading flowers and falling leaves and are aware in our own hearts of the certainty that we too are ephemeral and will fade away.

So when as artists we create images, and as thinkers we search for laws and formulate ideas, we do so in order to salvage something from the great Dance of Death, to create something that will outlast our lifetime.

-Herman Hesse

That’s all for today folks. Are there any fans of this book out there? I’m still processing it, and would love to hear other thoughts regarding its themes.

Have a great weekend everybody!