High Speed Medic

I must say, I do take a bit of pride in being the most enthusiastic person in my class. Basic Combat Training has changed my attitude about things. I found out that if you have to do something, have fun doing it. An easy concept, but nobody ever said I was smart. But having figured this out, I am having a ton of fun learning about being a medic. EMT training is boring, but learning about it knowing how it applies to Whiskey training makes it a million bazillion times more interesting. We get to use things in ways they were never meant to be used, and we do this with complete impunity, as long as it works. As an EMT-B, we have tons of guide lines and regulations we have to follow. As combat medics, we just keep people alive. All rules and regulations are intelligent, as the stupid rules have been weeded out.
The Army also uses things that the civilian world has not been issued yet. Things like QuikClot.

Don't watch this if you are squeamish. But this stuff is teh AWESOME. Also, improvisation is going to be a lot of fun. Tampons are going to be a regular visitor to my alice bag. Great for gunshot wounds. Basically, a lot of fun will be had after Christmas break.
--Andy

Just a Brief Note

I just wanted to let everyone know that my mother is now Dr. Lamp. Not medically, but academically. Which makes it even more amusing. My parents are two very smart people with very high scholastic degrees, and yet we are just above the poverty line. Sigh, missionary life. Well, gifts of the Spirit and all that. Just a little bitter that we only have a maid that comes twice a week.
--Andy

Awesomest Food EVAR

Warning, the next pictures should not be viewed by smokers, pregnant women, people with weak hearts, and old people.
Goat stomach pretty much ranks in my top 5 coolest things ever eaten. My mom and sister refused to eat it. My sister had to eat in another room.

This is a picture of the inside of the pot. All the yummy goodness. The large bloated thing is the stomach proper, but there are plenty of other tasty treats.














Here is a mixed bag. The thingy on the spoon closest to you is the small intestine wrapped around bone. Definitely my favorite part. It was amazingly delicious, and I have always like the texture of things like squid and intestine.







This is my plate, fully loaded. The mushroom looking thingies are the kidneys. Plenty of vegetables (for a nuitritious and balanced meal) with some small intestine wrapped around bone
and some free floating large intestine. And of course, the stomach.








And this is what is inside of the stomach. It is a ground up mixture of blood, heart, liver, kidneys, brain, and other assorted organs. Kosher? Probably not. Delicious, why yes. It actually was very good. Not something I would eat every day, but once a month it would be a treat. My biggest complaint is that after stuffing the stomach with the ground stuff, they sewed it up with a near indestructible cord. Which is great for the form factor, making the stomach look prettier, but it makes it very, very hard to eat it. You have to pull the string out piece by piece.


Bonus picture. This is one of the many pictures I took when I was going around in the US. It was one of the several murals in the town. But this was definitely the best. I was going past it at a walking pace (cause I was walking) and almost had a seizure. I can not imagine driving past it in a car. The color overload. It was snowing when I took it. I love the snow so much. But anyway, this mural was amazing. It was on the wall of a kindergarten-middle school, and I have to believe that a few of the kindergarteners were terrified when they first saw it. Like the building was one huge monster. Or they thought it was a candy factory and cried because lets face it, Wonka was a freak. Funny at our age, scary much younger.
--Andy

Bygone Childhood Relics and Manliness

I would like to start this post with the proclamation that the Animaniacs should probably be held responsible for the ADD age in which we live. And it is awesome. I say this only because I have been watching "A Bit of Fry and Laurie", and resemblance between the two shows is stunning. Well, perhaps the wordplay in the Animaniacs is perhaps a bit more sophisticated and slightly less childish.
I recently stumbled upon a way to tell women and men apart. A brilliant, quite scientific solution to the problem that has been plaguing the world for years. And I found it by cooking a pork chop. Yes, yes, I am just that awesome. Let us begin in the beginning.
Several days ago, I found out that we were quickly running out of hot sauce. Although we were buying it by the crate, I went through it quickly because apparently, the main consumers are little children who whine if the food is too spicy. Fed up with constantly eating a soup of rice and beans, the broth consisting of the amount of hot sauce it took to make the food spicy, I took matters into my own hands. Bum bah dum DAH!!!!! I took a bottle, filled it with the most potent peppers and chilies I could lay hands on, then filled the gaps with olive oil. I let it sit for a few days. Today, I took it out of the biohazard container my parents made me keep it in, poured some in a pan, flopped in a pork chop, lit the burner and waited to make history. As the oil started to evaporate, the steam started to peel the tiles off the wall, singeing my nose hairs, and sending my family running from the house. After forcing myself to at least get the chop brown on the outside, I devoured it with relish. Tears streaming down my face, it was at that moment that I realized my triumph. My victory. Indeed, my vanquishing of the mysteries. I knew at that moment that my hot sauce was for men only. Indeed, it would not only separate the men from the women, it would separate the men from the boys, the men from the animals, the men from girls, the men from everything else, except maybe dragons. But lets be honest, man...dragon, not that much difference.

In other news, a child was eaten by alligators (in China, at a zoo). He and some friends had apparently hopped the fence of the enclosure, and get this, they were poking the gators with sticks. Wow. That is amazing.

And lastly, some native culture. This is something I think is either a breadfruit, something related to a breadfruit, or is nothing like a breadfruit. I am about 50% sure it is a bread fruit, 40% that it is related to a breadfruit, and about 10% of me thinks it has absolutely nothing to do
with a breadfruit.
I am not sure why my font just changed on me. Oh well, I'll just flow with it. As you can see, inside the possible breadfruit are yellow, slimy, lump thingies. That is the edible part. This is only half. It is shaped like an oval when it is one big fruit. Sounds like bread to me. And it has a spiky crust, which also sounds like bread. But here is where it gets crazy. *whisper*
it doesn't taste like bread. *endwhisper* Crazy, huh.









See, these are the lumpy edible things. Although it does make me wonder who found out that they were edible in the first place.
This is the edible part. There is a huge seed right in the middle that you have to sort through and spit out, or you will have a bananabreadfruittree growing in your stomach. And yes, the texture is about what you would expect.
--Andy
ps tomorrow, hopefully I will have picture of my family eating goat stomach. Yes, I am serious. Somebody at my sister's art class told her that she had to try it and then brought some to class for her to eat. She brought it home, and our maid is going to prepare it tomorrow. I am excited.

I Had a Crush on the Little Princess

I was renting a few movies, as is my wont to do, and having gone through most of the Drama, Comedy, and Action, I turned to the Children's movies. Lo and behold, there was the Little Princess. I think it might be one of the finest movies concerning reality and myth to ever be made. Of course, I am going on memories which are almost as old as I am, so it is possible that I am a teensy bit mistaken, but I think not. When the girls wake up with the buffet in their room, and fine sheets and jewelry, certain boundaries are crossed. Plus it has a blue Indian deity. And everyone knows that blue Indian deities immediately make for an excellent movie.
I was just watching the latest Pride and Prejudice movie, and I have but one complaint. I do not think that any on would ever say that Keira Knightly is "perfectly tolerable". And anybody that would is certifiably insane. Other then that, a perfectly tolerable movie.
Man oh man. I am rereading Kierkegaard's journal and I think that it might just be something that continually gets better through each reading. Wonderful. I need to get my hands on the unedited journals. He wrote quite a bit. I think unedited, it comes to thousands of pages.*gleep* Awesome.
My one disappointment is a lack of Anastasia at the movie store. I think I will start watching all Disney movies through in the order that they were put out. Only originals though. No Little Mermaid 2 1/2 for me. Although maybe after that time she will be older then 12.
--Andy

But Down Inside of Me They Still Live On

Some people ask me (faces twisted in incredulity) if someone as awesome as myself has heroes. I generally let a lengthy silent period whiz past, creating tension before I answer, Why Yes, I Do Have Heroes. As the crowd mutters to themselves about what kind of person would I idolize (coming close to the OT use of the word), what person would I lift above the rest, to sit on the shoulders of a giant, so to speak, I utter just one word. "Hargrave". This man hacked the Superbowl. Clearly a mad genius, someone to emulate, admire, and indeed follow.
--Andy

Excitement is in the Eye of the Beholder

Its been a little while. I do not update this blog very often because I do not consider my life at the moment to be interesting. But looking over what has happened in the past few weeks, from things I have seen (a boy sniffing shoe glue out of a coke bottle to get a cheap high to some guy getting the stuffing beaten out of him as I was driving past) to things I have done (eating various uncommon plants and animals to having to jump a tall fence to get out of my apartment complex at 4 in the morning) to stories I have heard ( mostly from my dad who does street ministry. Some of the stories bums tell him are only believable because we are in Recife, the city with the second most crime in the country, note, not per capita, but just flat out crime, quite a feat for a city of 2 million competing against cities with 5 million or more. It even beat out Sao Paulo, a city of 18 million.)
Speaking of Recife's crime rate, it made news recently when statistics showed that Recife had more murders during Carnival then any other city, and Pernambuco (the state Recife is in) had 1/3 of the top twenty cities for murders during Carnival. And my parents are worried about Iraq.
I also recently rented Moulin Rouge and am now quite addicted to the soundtrack (currently listening to Children of the Revolution, although my favorite is Elephant Love Medley). I am less enthusiastic about the movie as a whole. Piece by piece it is nice, but Baz wrapped it up in a very common plot. Seriously, star crossed lovers? Even Shakespeare took that from other people, and those people plagiarized from others. It probably is from before Homer. Iliad certainly carries that theme.
I also just rewatched Phantom of the Opera for the bazillionth time. I am still berating myself for losing that train ticket, as well as spending so much time in some places on my trip that kept my from reaching my ultimate goal of Broadway.
And lastly I rented Dear Frankie for my parents to watch, that they may partake of the very sweet and easily mockable movie.
--Andy
p.s. Best moment in Moulin Rouge. "We Could Be HERROOEESS." I have listened to that part several times. Some songs just have those little moments that lift them head and shoulders above the rest. That was it for Elephant Love Medley.

EDIT: I also realized at drawing class how utterly different a model's face (from a magazine) is from a real person's face. I could not get the proportions right. It was so weird.

Here There Be Monsters

I was ambushed by a Dentist with a root canal. It was very painful (she said my root was dead, so I would not feel anything, and thus gave me less pain killer). I am embittered forever. Or until I have churrasco later tonight. I am faint with anticipation.
--Andy

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

Well, I found a great bookstore here in town. I bought the Count of Monte Christo. I was quite happy because not only is this one of my favorite novels, but it was much bigger then I remembered. I think I might have always read abridged versions without knowing it. As such, I could have 200 new pages to read through. Combine this with my mothers gift of "The Portable Oscar Wilde" and I have my work cut out for me in a very very good way.
I also found out that I am going to be having a root canal very soon. I had surgery on a tooth about 6 years ago which was never canalized (which should have been part of the procedure.) Now, bad things are happening, and I require a root canal. And I hate having knifes and drills in my mouth. It seems so very drastic.
I spent the rest of my time wandering through the city. Parts of it have a old, colorful yet faded look to it. I personally do not like that in a larger city. In small villages, that look makes them quaint tourist traps, but in a larger city, it gives a tired air. I just have trouble in a place that eats mostly fish. Fish is to meat as tofu is to vegetables. They theoretically belong to the other categories, but it takes a hippy to enjoy them. And hippys steal and lie. I suppose that is why my parents dislike my night time wanderings.
The more I read of Dante, the more I am puzzled by him. Unfortunately, every detail must be considered important. But this leaves me puzzling about the nature of some of the characters, such as Minos the Judge and Phlegyas the ferryman. They are not demons or angels or tortured souls. But they do not seem to fit into the category of pure constructions of thought. They serve too integral a purpose in Hell.
On the other hand, some parts of Dante strike me for the first time. Because of the structure of Hell, I have always thought of Satan as being half out of hell. For the first time, I realized that he is half in hell. Just as he is chewing on the three great betrayers, Hell physically has him (the greatest betrayer) in its mouth. Dante provides a great image of Hell in the chewing of Brutus, Cassius, and Judas. While Satan is chewing, bloody tears are running down his face. He is not enjoying himself. Yet he is determined to make the three of them suffer just as much as he is suffering. Even if he must hurt himself to cause them pain, he considers it worth it. So opposite of our God. Thankfully.
--Andy

To Brasil in 2 Days.

I have arrived. My journey down started out great and gradually spiraled downward (although in the end everything was fine). One of the concerns was my Miami-Sao Paulo connection, because I had less than two hours to get my two huge bags off the carousel, recheck them, get my ticket, find my proper gate, and go through security. However, after asking very nicely at the check in counter, the very nice lady (her niceness was boosted because one of my bags was exactly 50.0 pounds and the other was 5 pounds over. Instead of paying $50 for those 5 pounds, I took out a box of gummi bears and a bunch of pixie sticks and gave them to her. Sugar makes everyone happy. Except two year olds. It makes them bratty. Not that they do not start out bratty.) checked my bags all the way to GRU, where I had a substantial layover. This was great, and in Miami, I made it to the gate with plenty of time to spare. I even got to help a little old Brasilian guy find his way. He had been away from Brasil (and therefore his wife and kids) for about two years, living and working in the States to earn a bit of money. He barely spoke a word of English, the poor guy.

After this point, things started to go a bit downhill. When I arrived in Sao Paulo, I found that my bags had not made the flight with me. Which was actually kind of nice, because it meant that I did not have to take my bags through customs. They ended up being delivered right to my door in Recife. And I had a bit of a scare when I was looking for my parents number, realized that I lost my notebook with all my contact information and could not find my cellphone. I found my phone after upending my backpack, but the consequences of not being able to find it would have left my stranded at the Recife airport with no way of talking with my parents to let them know what was going on.

Upon arriving in Recife, I found (or rather, didn’t) that my parents had not come to pick me up. Calling them, it turned out that they could not leave our neighborhood because of the water levels. Having been traveling for far too long, I decided to take a taxi as far as I could, and then walk the rest of the way. I rationalized this potentially risky maneuver by convincing myself that Recife’s sewers had alligators of a size easily killed, the wombats lacked the numbers to be a true threat (they are small furry creatures who overwhelm their prey through the sheer weight of their numbers, biting with little teeth.) and than no criminals would be out in the rain. The taxi made it through without ever stopping, keeping death matches with Recife’s wild animals to a bare minimum of zero. Since then, I have been home doing nothing. It is boring here. But it is Brasil, containing very nice people, and lots of Guarana and Acai.

--Andy

Steinbeck Had It Right

Alas, the best laid plans of Mice and Men (or as Douglas Adams would say, no, just of mice). I went down to the Amtrak station to buy a ticket to visit my auntie and then off to New York and found that in the bustle of the crowd, had misplaced my pass that would allow it. Even though the pass was made solely out of paper, Amtrak refuses to reprint it. On the plus side, this accelerates my leaving for Brasil. That I am quite happy about.
I recently purchased Harvard's 5 food shelf of books, and am going to spend some time trying to figure out which books I can take. I think I am going to stick to some tried and true books, Dante, Milton, Goethe (which comes along with Marlowe's Dr. Faustus, which I had wanted to read) as well as an autobiography written by the charming and utterly self conceited Benevuto Cellini. It really is fun to start reading all of these old books. Milton is a bit of a pain because he does not provide convenient stopping places like Dante does.
I was in Borders looking for the final book I have not read in a roughly 6 or 7 thousand page series. As you can imagine, I have really gotten into the characters, so imagine my frustration in not being able to locate the book. Not being able to leave Borders with out buying a book, I bought Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's collaborative spoof on the Apocalypse, as well as an anthology of poetry based on the concept of solitude. I much prefer an anthology based around something concrete (well, sort of) then one simply titled "America's Favorite Poetry" where the compiler has made quite a few assumptions about peoples preferences. The first poem was by Walt Whitman, which I rather enjoyed, even if Whitman was a dirty hippy along with Thoreau and probably Emerson. In fact Poe is one of the few poets (barring a few obvious ones such as G.K. Chesterton) who is not a dirty hippy.
--Andy
p.s. The book by Gaiman and Pratchett is called Good Omens, and is dedicated to "G.K. Chesterton. A man who knew what was going on." Amazing. Explains why those two are such good writers if they are following he lead.
p.p.s. Buy I think Wordsworth is also okay. He seems like he would enjoy scaring small children.

Happy Happy Happy

Well, even if I have not been involved in a single misdemeanor (other then being on a highway that I should not have been on), some good things are happening on this trip. Once I stopped trying to hitchhike, my life became simpler, giving me lots and lots of time to read. I found out that because I am a Brasilian resident, I can get a 30 day pass that lets me use the train as much as I want. So I will be coming back to California to visit friends and relatives then on to New York to see some Broadway. I also found out that tickets to Broadway shows are not $400. For some reason that was in my head as the price of a close up ticket. And by close up, I mean about 6 or 7 rows away from the stage. I am very excited. Hopefully I can then spend some time in Colorado Springs learning to snowboard and skateboard. We shall see. There are many possibilities.

I just bought a book by Harold Bloom, a literary critic. The book's name is called "Where Shall Wisdom Be Found". In it he examines several different texts. The first two parts that I have read so far involved Job vs. Ecclesiates, and the second part has been Homer vs. Plato. This second part is very interesting after reading the Republic. I am trying to remember what Dr. Reynolds said about these two authors. It seems that Reynolds attempted to reconcile the two authors, which Bloom claims is strictly impossible. I now wish that I still had my notebook. Alas, alas.
--Andy

Amish Country

Apparently the Amish are lying to us. This whole time we all thought that they were so innocent. All, "Oh, we don't use electricity." Ohoh, but they do. (Ominous whisper) They do. Apparently there are levels to Amishness, ranging from no elastic in their underwear to don't use electricity too often. They aren't all the same, except for their awesome sauce beards. And the cool hats. The reason that I am in the know is my...situation. I am in Ohio right now, staying with a Mennonite friend. They are very nice people (the friend and just Mennonites in general). Apparently they are nice to me because I am from out of town? I think it is because I am just that charming. Apparently the pastor of the church I attended really liked me. So I am thinking about moving here, settling down and marrying a nice Mennonite girl. Except it also gets boring after a while. And given that the town
I am in has about 200 people in it and is surrounded by farms, I think I can see that happening. La Mirada was bad enough for me. Well, as I believe I have stated before, hitchhiking is an exercise in exercise (hiking to the right on-ramps) and boredom (sometimes it takes a while for a ride to materialize). And no excitement. Maybe I attract boredom. I haven't had a knife pulled on me. Nobody has offered me drugs. I haven't had to jump from a moving vehicle. Hitchhiking not only doesn't give me any more crazy experiences, but it keeps me from reading (have to pay attention to potential rides or chat with the driver when you are picked up). However, after visiting California, I will go to New York and Broadway, and then after that, Brasil. Oh man, I was thinking about Churrasco last night.
--Andy