<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419</id><updated>2012-02-13T20:57:13.822-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The misinterpretations of daniel zahn</title><subtitle type='html'>journals, ramblings, pictures of things I've seen.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>62</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-4246330860293203528</id><published>2011-02-28T22:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-28T22:36:23.198-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What I See In Your Eyes/My Insides Hurt Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zp9K1I63rjc/TWySRcg8MsI/AAAAAAAAARg/sVmY4So0CG4/s1600/what%2BI%2Bsee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 225px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zp9K1I63rjc/TWySRcg8MsI/AAAAAAAAARg/sVmY4So0CG4/s320/what%2BI%2Bsee.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578994866814988994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Its loud, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;though everyone is asleep. The staff, the residents, everyone.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;I wish I was asleep. I don’t understand how they are able to do it with all the noise:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Beepers beeping, old women moaning, grown men crying for help, cell phones ringing, toilets flushing, television blaring. Its so loud, but no one else seems to hear any of it. I wonder if I should wish to be so lucky.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;And this is it. This is how it will be; till the end. Everyone is just waiting, holding on so desperately for a return that deep down they know will never come. Bingo on Tuesdays, sloppy-jo Fridays, the occasional guest that brings both happiness through semi-familiar company and depression in the fact that they are seeing you in the state you are in. Their very presence confirms the fact that you are stuck. Stuck in that bed, in that room. You try to keep your cool, cause as embarrassing as this is, it’s better than being alone.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;I can’t go there without crying. No one seems to be able to; unless they are asleep that is.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;This way we treat our elders reeks of irony. Nobody likes it, yet we know similar fates await us. I really want nothing of the sort, and I don’t think you do either. Searching for alternatives leaves me sad, tired, and alone. All I know is that can’t be me, ever. Please don’t let that be me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;And so I return to my place feeling sick inside, only to medicate the way too many do these days: through the tube. Not traditionally my prescription of choice, but the force of gravity is overwhelmingly sucking me deeper and deeper into the crevices of the couch, holding me down. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Remote in hand I begin to fade out, zombiefied by the glow. My own imagination is slowly suffocated; it seems all hope has been lost. Twenty minutes go by, an hour. It has me. I can’t even be bothered to change the channel during commercial breaks anymore. My mind is infiltrated by mass marketing media that successfully reminds me how incomplete my life is. Shit I don’t want looks appealing. I find my mind wandering; wondering why I don’t &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;have the internet on my phone, cologne that masks my natural sent, a new car, the list piles up. My memories of the voices of lost loved ones from the past are replaced with bastardized jingles that vaguely resemble crappy 80s pop songs. I cry, but no tears come out. So I watch more, laughing when I should be crying. Dying when I should be living. It all adds up and I grow tired, so I ask, why can’t I sleep in the convalescent home like everyone else?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-4246330860293203528?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/4246330860293203528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=4246330860293203528&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4246330860293203528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4246330860293203528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2011/02/what-i-see-in-your-eyesmy-insides-hurt.html' title='What I See In Your Eyes/My Insides Hurt Again'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zp9K1I63rjc/TWySRcg8MsI/AAAAAAAAARg/sVmY4So0CG4/s72-c/what%2BI%2Bsee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-531298351148969953</id><published>2009-07-16T09:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T01:45:47.328-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Surreal Ice Cream Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrClWSLL2NI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/zi3F_KZnUdU/s1600-h/K%27s-Buena-Vista.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 197px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrClWSLL2NI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/zi3F_KZnUdU/s320/K%27s-Buena-Vista.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381983356962199762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove into a new chapter of the community of Buena Vista that was still under construction. The colors were bright and vibrant and you could tell that the paint wasn't cheap. In order to get to this new neck of the woods, you first had to drive through the old and weathered Main Street. The colors were dull there, yet still full of developed character that had been established over a hundred years earlier. We drove by the old courthouse that had been transformed into an uninteresting museum with few prospects. Our kids were hardly impressed and more concerned with their own conversations then the old architecture. However, the right turn off Main Street onto a freshly graded dirt road changed that. The kids stared out the window like we were on the movie set of Edward Scissorhands. Even I was impressed with the uniformity disguised as "a new way of living." We parked the car in front a field and I ordered some pizza. We played games in the warm afternoon sun and climbed around the brand new bouldering rock. The river was right there, and kayakers were using it to its fullest potential. Frisbees &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrCldn0joaI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/vE4opForCJo/s1600-h/New-Town.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 154px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrCldn0joaI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/vE4opForCJo/s320/New-Town.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381983483031953826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;and footballs flew across the sky while we waited for our food to come and life was good. A group of fifty people rode by on classic bicycles decked out in fifties gear! This is miraculous considering the town only has a few thousand residents and it was an idle Thursday afternoon. I felt like we had warped through time and the mood confirmed this. The bikers began to play games of their own for a brief break before they were on their way again. But before they left, they offered a box full of goodies for us to use. They said we could leave it out when we were done and they would retrieve it the next day. They weren’t afraid of it being taken and I realized what this new section of town was being built around; trust and community. It seemed too good to be true, but apparently it’s not... it’s just expensive, that’s all. All in all, it was a great experience, Buena Vista that is. Good people, beautiful landscapes, and a comfortable town, both old and new, that just happens to be the home of K's Diner, boasting the best Oreo freezes this side of the Mississippi!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-531298351148969953?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/531298351148969953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=531298351148969953&amp;isPopup=true' title='35 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/531298351148969953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/531298351148969953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2009/07/surreal-ice-cream-dream.html' title='Surreal Ice Cream Dream'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrClWSLL2NI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/zi3F_KZnUdU/s72-c/K%27s-Buena-Vista.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>35</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-3629633562813927910</id><published>2009-07-12T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T13:40:58.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Fly’s And Then It Just Stops!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrCfqKxLI3I/AAAAAAAAAQU/j31FpeLlr6k/s1600-h/Rafting.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrCfqKxLI3I/AAAAAAAAAQU/j31FpeLlr6k/s320/Rafting.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381977101501670258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you never know ahead of ...time, when this change is going to occur. And when it does, time is the last thing on your mind. I was a recent stowaway on a river trip on the Arkansas River near the town of Buena Vista, CO. It was a great trip full of the usual fun and adventure that accompanies white water rafting, till we reached the end of pinball rapid in Browns Canyon. We floated around the bend cheering and laughing only to come across a scene of confusion and chaos. There were three boats full of somber faces that had pulled ashore river right. Just downstream was a river guide with a rope thrown across the river. We weren’t sure what he wanted us to do, so we tried to ‘eddy out’ river left to get out of his way. He, very sternly, told us not to stop and to push on downstream. Just in front of us a raft had been pulled out of the water and up some twenty feet of the embankment onto the abandoned railroad tracks that ran parallel with the river. The raft was on its side with six people around it. As we passed it I looked back fully aware that something was seriously wrong. A man was on his knees pumping another’s chest over and over. Not one of the kids on our trip realized what was going on. When we finished our trip, I was told that the CPR was not successful, and the stranger I knew nothing about died right there on the side of the river. It was a day of both physical and mental extremes, a day that will stick with me for a long time to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-3629633562813927910?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/3629633562813927910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=3629633562813927910&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/3629633562813927910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/3629633562813927910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2009/07/time-flys-and-then-it-just-stops.html' title='Time Fly’s And Then It Just Stops!'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrCfqKxLI3I/AAAAAAAAAQU/j31FpeLlr6k/s72-c/Rafting.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-5201101911080803228</id><published>2009-06-19T10:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T13:43:44.577-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rock On Dude</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrCbKS25qZI/AAAAAAAAAQM/XAovHlJiOrg/s1600-h/Clibing-with-the-gang.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrCbKS25qZI/AAAAAAAAAQM/XAovHlJiOrg/s320/Clibing-with-the-gang.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381972155870849426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We followed the directions left on the voice-mail, it was clear this was going to be a wild goose chase. We drove up the canyon blindly, with faith that there might be hope for us. The canyon was beautiful, alive with vibrant colors and a brisk chill. We pulled off the road after the second tunnel as we had been instructed via voice-mail and looked up to the cliffs behind us. A small band of free spirits waved and hollered. We had found our morning adventure. As we hiked up the hillside, a feeling of eagerness filled me. I quickly caught up with Erik, Kelsey, and Tyson and we all- unspoken- understood how lucky we were. They told me it was my turn to climb, so I harnessed up an gripped onto the cliff with my tiny fingers shaking from excitement. Kelsey told me I could clean the route and Tyson doubted her choice while explaining the task at hand to my blank and distracted face. He told me this was extremely important stuff, I assured him I would be fine and was up to the job. I climbed slow, taking my time to savor the experience; embracing the tingling that overran my feet about half way up, the stinging sensation that accompanies a solid hand wedge. It was a great way to start the day, to start the next chapter...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-5201101911080803228?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/5201101911080803228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=5201101911080803228&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5201101911080803228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5201101911080803228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2009/06/rock-on-dude.html' title='Rock On Dude'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrCbKS25qZI/AAAAAAAAAQM/XAovHlJiOrg/s72-c/Clibing-with-the-gang.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-5228783544355767435</id><published>2009-06-14T18:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T00:51:06.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Up, Down,Turn Around</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrCYkSMqrMI/AAAAAAAAAQE/KmZz3fEclIc/s1600-h/Ready-for-life.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrCYkSMqrMI/AAAAAAAAAQE/KmZz3fEclIc/s320/Ready-for-life.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381969303835421890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not enough, &lt;br /&gt;More; more I say to myself hoping that my command catches my own ears. So I keep pushing forward; pushing the limits. It is invigorating, and it is constantly reminding me how lucky I am.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that we grow the most when we take ourselves outside of our comfort zones, and keep an open mind when it comes to decisions to be made.&lt;br /&gt;So whatever choices I end up making throughout life, I will always reach for the choices that hold the greatest opportunities. My skin tingles at the thought, anxiety races through my veins as I imagine the possibilities, dreaming of what will come my way next. I have decided not to pass up the random opportunities that I ‘should be’ too old for, wise for, or not entirely ready for according to some of my peers. Am I afraid; of so many things and then some. But I am far more concerned about missing a life changing experience. It is this motive that propels me forward into the unknown. As I think of all this, I grow more and more excited.  &lt;br /&gt;I am about to leave California for the summer, as I have so many times before. There is something in the air; I can feel it as it is finally hitting me that I leave in just a couple short days. I am ready, ready for life, and it feels good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-5228783544355767435?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/5228783544355767435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=5228783544355767435&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5228783544355767435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5228783544355767435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2009/06/up-downturn-around.html' title='Up, Down,Turn Around'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SrCYkSMqrMI/AAAAAAAAAQE/KmZz3fEclIc/s72-c/Ready-for-life.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-1959601728139020178</id><published>2009-04-16T15:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T16:30:41.574-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ignore the Obvious</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SepiivAIoCI/AAAAAAAAAP8/B4_HuMACUAE/s1600-h/becoming-blurry1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SepiivAIoCI/AAAAAAAAAP8/B4_HuMACUAE/s320/becoming-blurry1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326177858191138850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My mind is swirling with emotions. The effects of last night’s hypnosis have still not completely worn off. And so, stuck in my head, like tortuous nightmares are a whole slew of memories that are taking all the rational knowledge I possess and turning it upside down and against itself. I have never wanted to ignore my own advice so bad, and yet I know obeying it is my only hope toward a cease fire between the two opposing organs in my body. How could something that was once as plain as day become so blurry and confusing? As if I went to bed with 20/20 vision, only to somehow wake up with eyes that no longer see clearly as a consequence to the actions of my dreams. My dreams that seem so real now… too real. I want them to stop for the sake of my sanity, and yet I pray that they don’t because once they are gone, I fear they will be gone forever. Are they really too much to handle? Or just not enough? How is this possible? Why have I abandoned reason and my own best interest? How will any of us ever truly know what our best interest is? And why is our best interest always associated with rational thought? It’s simple, really; rational thought is the easiest way to ignore your feelings. It is the way to justify the rejection of your body. And it is always right in the long run… isn’t it? But what great art came from being rational? What poetry, music, and love ever came from being rational? So the real question can finally be asked. What is your life to you? Is it art? Irrational, like a roller coaster of experiences and emotions, thrills and chills, ups and downs? Or is it rational, a series of going through the motions in search for the path of least resistance? Its clear as night which one makes more sense, isn’t it? So we all try to think rationally, coming up with entire philosophies to justify us ignoring what our bodies are trying to communicate to us. And it works most of the time, doesn’t it. And yet sometimes… sometimes it just doesn’t feel right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5Cstorage%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-1959601728139020178?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/1959601728139020178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=1959601728139020178&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1959601728139020178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1959601728139020178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2009/04/ignore-obvious.html' title='Ignore the Obvious'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SepiivAIoCI/AAAAAAAAAP8/B4_HuMACUAE/s72-c/becoming-blurry1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-5238047133215438230</id><published>2009-04-13T23:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T23:59:47.015-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For Your Consideration</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SeQqiUxvEuI/AAAAAAAAAPA/OeaEThIqpz0/s1600-h/Frogs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SeQqiUxvEuI/AAAAAAAAAPA/OeaEThIqpz0/s320/Frogs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324427428640002786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5Cstorage%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I digress from my desperation, indignation, self pitying hostile communication,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Because the truth is no confirmation will be found in an accusation of false representation,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This may sound like a bout of confusion, clutter, or contradiction, and believe me it is. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My hesitation for the predication of my former inspiration has left me doubting all my idealization, justification, and meditation,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The ramification for my gravitation toward simplification has led to utter, dismal, devastation&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And now I search for a parallel gratification that will bring my emancipation from such agitation,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I know it can’t be found through the boredom of stagnation, subordination before a delegation, corporation, or congregation,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Nor from masturbation, senseless procreation, the membership of an amalgamated organization,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hallucination, experimentation, or fragmentation,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But only through evaluation, jubilation, and improvisation will I remember the revelation&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That life is all about the journey,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Rather than the destination.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-5238047133215438230?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/5238047133215438230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=5238047133215438230&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5238047133215438230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5238047133215438230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2009/04/for-your-consideration.html' title='For Your Consideration'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SeQqiUxvEuI/AAAAAAAAAPA/OeaEThIqpz0/s72-c/Frogs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-2203417853069888467</id><published>2009-04-12T21:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T23:58:27.102-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Its BeenToo Long</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SeQzzw424mI/AAAAAAAAAPM/QV785yVhKqA/s1600-h/spider-trail.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SeQzzw424mI/AAAAAAAAAPM/QV785yVhKqA/s320/spider-trail.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324437623848493666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;WOW, time really fly’s when you’re… studying. My life, or lack there of, has been engulfed by academia. So much so that my head can not retain much of the data that passes through it. I know that the quality of some of my closest friendships has suffered from it and hope that they understand my absence from their lives. And yet, I love it here. School is… school is cool. And living on campus is like discovering the fountain of youth. I was not sure how I would be received when I arrived, but have been pleasantly surprised with acceptance and friendship. They say that you are who you surround yourself by, and I am lucky enough to be surrounded by some of the nicest people I have ever met. So what if they are ten years younger than me. Only rarely does it feel like that. So I hope all will forgive this hiatus and know that it won’t last forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-2203417853069888467?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/2203417853069888467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=2203417853069888467&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/2203417853069888467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/2203417853069888467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-beentoo-long.html' title='Its BeenToo Long'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/SeQzzw424mI/AAAAAAAAAPM/QV785yVhKqA/s72-c/spider-trail.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-470472835737132414</id><published>2007-12-09T22:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T22:30:15.904-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I AM ME</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/R1zc4NZjvRI/AAAAAAAAAKI/tBqyj6ZKqVQ/s1600-h/north-star-in-zion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/R1zc4NZjvRI/AAAAAAAAAKI/tBqyj6ZKqVQ/s320/north-star-in-zion.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142227732777909522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am catching myself in another daydream about losing my mind as I drive home on the freeway. It’s messed up, to have fantasies-almost wishing- for such a terrible illness, isn’t it? And yet… I do more often than most would admit. What does it all mean? As if I might try to “figure it all out” one day. Oh wait, its ironically coming back to me. Something to do with… yes that’s it, normalcy. But right now we are both asking ourselves, “What does that even mean?”  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am history. That’s what it means. For a long time now, I have been the center of my own universe. It blows my mind that as late as the eighteenth century a man in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;England&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; was tried and put to death for arguing that we were not the center of the universe. I guess that sometimes old beliefs are hard to kill. But I didn’t always believe everything revolved around me. And neither did many of the civilizations that predated their ignorantly closed minded predecessors. It was a younger time for both me, and history. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am now. And just as scientists rediscovered that the earth revolves around something larger, I begin to draw similar conclusions. So now what? I am still so young, and yet I am already caught up with the present. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Do I have more living to do before I realize that’s not entirely true?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am not alone in these realizations I am sure. This is precisely the point. “It’s all too normal,” is what my Grandma would probably say. “You will “grow out” of all this one of these days.” Perhaps that’s true. Will the future simply “grow out” of the present as well? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am not sure. Maybe the only ones capable of grasping that answer are those we label insane. Is that the draw to these delusions? Or is it fear of normalcy? In the end I can only be sure of this:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am me. And that’s all I can be, all I will ever be, all I want to be. So don’t tell me not to be… me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-470472835737132414?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/470472835737132414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=470472835737132414&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/470472835737132414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/470472835737132414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-am-me.html' title='I AM ME'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/R1zc4NZjvRI/AAAAAAAAAKI/tBqyj6ZKqVQ/s72-c/north-star-in-zion.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-6249285695640650557</id><published>2007-10-30T01:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T00:34:50.490-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This is my friend Andrea</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rybs8u5anuI/AAAAAAAAAKA/BqAaLiGhdUA/s1600-h/Andrea.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rybs8u5anuI/AAAAAAAAAKA/BqAaLiGhdUA/s320/Andrea.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127045753933045474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I think I really offended her the first time we met. I can never remember what I said to her, but she’s always jogging my memory. She laughs with lingering amazement and reminds me, “All us first years were sitting in a van about to head to Cherry Creek and you and the other senior leaders were all headed to Abbo's.  Your stuff was in our van and you walked over, threw open the door and looking at us with an intense stare, said "Any of you touch my stuff and I will kill you." I remember thinking, "who the hell is this guy?"    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I swear, I don’t know what goes through my head when I first meet people. Things just come out without even thinking about it. But Andrea is a good sport, and I quickly realized that I would be a fool to let her pass along her way with out becoming her friend first. Andrea is so funny and it is so easy to feed off of her energy. She’s always talking with a different accent and down for an epic adventure. She circumnavigated &lt;st1:place&gt;Santa Cruz  Island&lt;/st1:place&gt; with me on my boat for a week. She taught me a lot about a lot of things on that trip. Right now she is riding bicycles around New Zealand with her husband Brian. It’s the first leg in their “around the world honey moon.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When we first met, we were in &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Colorado&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; for a week or so training for our summer trips to come. There are always so many amazing people in &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Colorado&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; and we were all having a blast staying at my co-leader Nicole’s house in boulder. This house was anything but ordinary; nobody knew who lived there and who was just passing through. The door was always open and every time you walked in, there would be five new people nobody had ever seen before watching &lt;i&gt;sex in the city &lt;/i&gt;on the tube. This was always on because there was no cable and the &lt;i&gt;sex in the city&lt;/i&gt; series were the only DVDs in the house. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Six of us ventured out one night and we began to paint the town red. We were all separated amidst the chaos and shenanigans that ensued and that was pretty standard. I will never forget stumbling back through neighborhood after neighborhood at five in the morning with Andrea trying to find our temporary home. A Volkswagen van was stopped at a stop sign and we asked for a lift to the other side of town. It was a young couple and they obliged. We hopped in and sat in the back next to their three year old daughter. What they were doing driving around at five in the morning picking up hitchhikers with their daughter in the back would remain a mystery to us. The only thing we knew was that as weird as it was, it would save us about a forty-five minute walk. They dropped us off a block away. We thanked them again, and walked towards the dawn. As we approached the house, we saw four figures walking in the middle of the street towards us, dressed in bed sheets transformed in to togas! Our band was reunited again! We didn’t even ask how they ended up in togas, for anything can happen in &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Colorado&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-6249285695640650557?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/6249285695640650557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=6249285695640650557&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/6249285695640650557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/6249285695640650557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/10/this-is-my-friend-andrea.html' title='This is my friend Andrea'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rybs8u5anuI/AAAAAAAAAKA/BqAaLiGhdUA/s72-c/Andrea.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-1421175590722575464</id><published>2007-10-27T01:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T01:29:18.333-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday, what a day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RybqaO5antI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/FzjgQOo0QOw/s1600-h/wednesday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RybqaO5antI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/FzjgQOo0QOw/s320/wednesday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127042962204303058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I slid into the Jacuzzi alone as I did so many times when I lived at my father’s house in high school. The overwhelming heat brought back so many memories. Whitey tighties, bud light, and my old roommate Ernie. I also thought of the first time I stood on my feet after my accident. It was in a Jacuzzi with my grandfather, and it was so much harder than I had anticipated. I always thought I would forget that anything ever happened to my feet, as I seem to have forgotten so many other significant moments of my life. But of all of the things that I could think of on a daily basis, go figure it has to be my feet. Life is like that day with my grandfather sometimes; harder than I had anticipated.   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The weightlessness of the water also made me think of Wednesday. Wednesday was pretty significant, and I have a feeling I won’t forget it for a long time. School was cancelled due to the fires, so I went to the beach. As I exited the freeway I pulled over to the side of the road. I stared in amazement. The world in front of me was engulfed in flame. After a minute or so, I continued on, parking where I usually park, and paddling out where I usually paddle out. The sky was raining a dry ash, and I felt like I was fleeing a war zone. The sky was dark; it had an air of seriousness to it. The water was iridescent; a thousand different shades of inviting blues and greens all at once. As I caught my first wave of the day I awoke to the dream that had rolled into reality. All I could see was red. The hillside was directly in front of me and it was so alive with fire that I almost couldn’t handle it. Picture the most amazing piece of art you have ever seen, along with all of the emotions that it stirred up in you. I saw that feeling in every direction; up, down, ahead of me, behind me, all around. It was an epic ride, to say the least.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rybp2-5ansI/AAAAAAAAAJw/oCZzc0XiApU/s1600-h/Becoming-a-blur.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rybp2-5ansI/AAAAAAAAAJw/oCZzc0XiApU/s320/Becoming-a-blur.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127042356613914306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After about an hour of total bewilderment and spectacular waves, it only got better. A pod of dolphins graced us with their presence. There were about fifty and they seemed to be in a jovial mood. I paddled towards them with innocence and curiosity. They responded with curiosity of their own, surrounding me for about five minutes. They would swim at me and dive at the last second, stopping below me to look at the bottom of my board. I could have reached out and touched them, if my own fear guised in the name of “respect for nature” hadn’t stopped me. The young were also intrigued, though their mothers kept them from getting too close. I paddled into a wave. They were right there with me, playing in the swell. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The colors of this majestic canvas dimmed to darkness and I spent my evening where I usually spend my Wednesday evenings; in LA on a bicycle. It was a good night filled with laughter and friendship. I am very excited to recognize individuals who also recognize me throughout my ride. Developing these relationships to ultimately gain understanding and appreciation is so important to me. This Wednesday was a good step in that direction. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The night ended with heartbreak while beautiful memories filled my head when I should have been sleeping. I am so grateful for so many experiences of my life, and the last eight months are no exception. I held on one last time to what I knew would soon be gone. It reminded me that, like that day in the Jacuzzi with my grand father, things can sometimes be so much harder than anticipated. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-1421175590722575464?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/1421175590722575464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=1421175590722575464&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1421175590722575464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1421175590722575464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-slid-into-jacuzzi-alone-as-i-did-so.html' title='Wednesday, what a day'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RybqaO5antI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/FzjgQOo0QOw/s72-c/wednesday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-5655510195162115273</id><published>2007-10-25T23:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T01:20:37.984-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going mechanico</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rybo8-5anpI/AAAAAAAAAJY/V6syMQw7jb8/s1600-h/machine-in-me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rybo8-5anpI/AAAAAAAAAJY/V6syMQw7jb8/s320/machine-in-me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127041360181501586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It is so refreshing when you realize that you are able to do something that you always thought you couldn’t. I have recently broadened my mechanical skills and am pretty proud of the results. I just finished a complete restoration on one of my vespas, and have successfully installed two new cylinder kits on the zumas. These sorts of projects never go as smoothly as anticipated, and the most consistent thing you are working on is your patience. Is the end result worth it? I would have to say yes. Even if you break things, you come away with a little bit more knowledge for the next project that is called life. Some might say it’s just a scooter, but I think they missed the point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-5655510195162115273?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/5655510195162115273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=5655510195162115273&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5655510195162115273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5655510195162115273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/10/going-mechanico.html' title='Going mechanico'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rybo8-5anpI/AAAAAAAAAJY/V6syMQw7jb8/s72-c/machine-in-me.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-7543584036428731487</id><published>2007-10-21T23:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-21T23:49:53.851-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My friend Jon</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RxxH21vRy-I/AAAAAAAAAIs/ErYxz_QMvEY/s1600-h/Jon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RxxH21vRy-I/AAAAAAAAAIs/ErYxz_QMvEY/s320/Jon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124049483504667618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Jon Earle is one of the most natural leaders I have ever had the honor to know. For a man of few words, he knows how to make them count. More importantly, he does what he says, rather than says what he’s done. Jon leads by example and has amazing follow thru. When you look in his eyes, you know he’s the real deal, and if he says he’s going to do something, you know it will get done.   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I met Jon in February of ’07 in &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;British   Columbia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt;. I almost didn’t know he was there, as he blended into the crowd, trying to make some sense of our situation. We were there with 27 other amazing people from all over the world, trying to become members of a team that would travel the globe in hopes of making a positive impact. At first glance, I didn’t pay him much attention; he had a straight up mullet and a funny accent that told me he was from &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;New   Zealand&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. But as the days went by, I quickly realized that he understood the big picture and, more importantly, was helping to shape the outcome of the week, without even trying. His perspective was always inspiring, and his passion for putting what was best for the group first, moved me. I can not put into words the amount of respect I have for Jon. All I can say is thank you for being such an admirable role model.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-7543584036428731487?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/7543584036428731487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=7543584036428731487&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/7543584036428731487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/7543584036428731487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/10/my-friend-jon.html' title='My friend Jon'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RxxH21vRy-I/AAAAAAAAAIs/ErYxz_QMvEY/s72-c/Jon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-2482777034797618787</id><published>2007-09-06T23:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T20:54:54.743-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anniversaries are fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RuJHYbHOGeI/AAAAAAAAAIk/Yfe0z6iJh3I/s1600-h/Anniveraries.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RuJHYbHOGeI/AAAAAAAAAIk/Yfe0z6iJh3I/s320/Anniveraries.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107723412312037858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Two years ago tonight changed my life. Some of the changes were good. Some were, well, you know. I woke up this morning with a mope, and I can’t seem to shake it. There’s no real reason for it, its just there, and this is relatively new for me (give or take two years…to the day).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This mope is both the most important thing that came from this…anniversary, as well as the toughest side effect. It and it alone brought me to truly understand what empathy is. It’s a hard thing to admit that it took me so long, but it’s true. For this, I will always be grateful. It also curses me from time to time, with days like today. I guess  these feelings that I can’t control and can no longer hide from are a small price to pay for such an important insight towards others… but that’s easier said than lived, we all know that. This picture was taken with a camera phone seconds before I fell two years ago tonight. Really brings back some memories for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-2482777034797618787?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/2482777034797618787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=2482777034797618787&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/2482777034797618787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/2482777034797618787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/09/anniversaries-are-fun.html' title='Anniversaries are fun'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RuJHYbHOGeI/AAAAAAAAAIk/Yfe0z6iJh3I/s72-c/Anniveraries.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-4267068961984040592</id><published>2007-08-23T00:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T00:12:30.654-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank You</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rs6Em7HOGcI/AAAAAAAAAIU/D-d4c79NgtQ/s1600-h/P5230035.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rs6Em7HOGcI/AAAAAAAAAIU/D-d4c79NgtQ/s320/P5230035.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102161232095222210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He took two or three minutes to formulate the words. It was important to him. I could see that, so I waited. He finally got it out, “thank you.” He meant it and I thought about it the rest of the night. He rambled on and on and I wished I could understand. I wished I could do more than the quick fix of a warm burrito. It was a hard night. Somebody asked why I did it. They figured it must be quite rewarding. On the contrary, it’s often draining. One can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed being out there. “I do it, because I think it’s important” was all I could reply, then rode into the night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-4267068961984040592?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/4267068961984040592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=4267068961984040592&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4267068961984040592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4267068961984040592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/08/thank-you.html' title='Thank You'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rs6Em7HOGcI/AAAAAAAAAIU/D-d4c79NgtQ/s72-c/P5230035.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-136873394127889789</id><published>2007-08-02T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-18T00:56:32.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What a long strange trip its been</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsamFLHOGbI/AAAAAAAAAIM/tX3NeZCXGPI/s1600-h/IMG_2617.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsamFLHOGbI/AAAAAAAAAIM/tX3NeZCXGPI/s320/IMG_2617.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099946235856296370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The trip had ended, but it didn’t seem over. All in all, it was pretty rough. I struggled with a language barrier that I had never experienced before. Half the group spoke French, and …well, I don’t. I don’t know what I would have done if it wasn’t for my co-leader Lindsay. She pulled me through with out even knowing it. This is us with a freaking futon on our roof rack. We slept up there every night of the trip, rain or snow (it didn’t snow). We had some great laughs, some heartfelt cries, and saw some awesome sights over the last month, and I wouldn’t trade that for the world. I look forward to the long drive from &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;San Francisco&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; to &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Denver&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; and then back to LA this week. More importantly, toward the opportunity to see some amazing people along the way. I have a feeling the long lonely drive will bring the necessary closure to the summer, and I will arrive back in California refreshed and ready for the next adventure which is most commonly referred to as life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-136873394127889789?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/136873394127889789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=136873394127889789&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/136873394127889789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/136873394127889789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/08/what-long-strange-trip-its-been.html' title='What a long strange trip its been'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsamFLHOGbI/AAAAAAAAAIM/tX3NeZCXGPI/s72-c/IMG_2617.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-8056934576456398665</id><published>2007-07-24T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T01:28:29.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It’s so simple that sometimes it seems impossible</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFl1BZZRAI/AAAAAAAAADo/ampMwHQp0iA/s1600-h/rainstorm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFl1BZZRAI/AAAAAAAAADo/ampMwHQp0iA/s320/rainstorm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098468214742533122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I go outside because it calms me. I notice more, and at the same time, I notice less. If that sounds funny, is it because it’s so simple? Sometimes I don’t know if it’s a gift or a problem to oversimplify things. All I know is that when I am surrounded by nature, it’s not about me simplifying things at all. It’s simply about noticing them. Sometimes the smallest things, the ones that some don’t notice at all, are what amaze me the most. The light that makes it to the forest floor, the way the wind blows the leaves off a tree, or the reflection in a puddle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I notice other things, like the bugs that are flying around me, the weight of my backpack pulling me in to the ground, or the pain of each step that I take.   All these things are present, and in the end it is my choice alone to decide what to notice. It’s when I choose to notice the positive things that I am really appreciating life and how lucky I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came to this lake and it started to rain, hard. There was a lot to notice, but all I saw was water bouncing off of water. It was so beautiful, and everything else left my mind for a short time. Nature is able to help do this for me from time to time and that is why I love it, but I know it’s not for everyone. That is ok because that is not what is important. What is important is finding what helps you to empty your mind of all the distractions that are keeping you from noticing whatever it is that brings you happiness.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-8056934576456398665?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/8056934576456398665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=8056934576456398665&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/8056934576456398665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/8056934576456398665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/07/its-so-simple-that-sometimes-it-seems.html' title='It’s so simple that sometimes it seems impossible'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFl1BZZRAI/AAAAAAAAADo/ampMwHQp0iA/s72-c/rainstorm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-7828667136808020424</id><published>2007-07-15T23:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T23:40:49.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking at the future</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RxxKN1vRzEI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/qgmHp0btyik/s1600-h/looking-at-the-future.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RxxKN1vRzEI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/qgmHp0btyik/s320/looking-at-the-future.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124052077664914498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am staring at the future while it stares over a two thousand foot cliff, and all it can do is ask when we are going to go shopping. It is so brilliant now, although I can’t quite grasp it in the moment. They say you can learn allot from the youth. This is true and I believe it. But they don’t say what you learn; that’s the tricky part. Do you learn about life with a cynics view, or -by sometimes turning a blind eye- hope for the future? If you learn about yourself from youth, are you learning about your flaws, who you think you are, or who you want to be? You would think that these choices are yours to make, but they are not. They are the choices of the youth you surround yourself with, and they don’t even know it. They don’t even realize that they are the future yet, and that’s ok. They will understand one day, we all will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-7828667136808020424?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/7828667136808020424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=7828667136808020424&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/7828667136808020424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/7828667136808020424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/08/looking-at-future.html' title='Looking at the future'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RxxKN1vRzEI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/qgmHp0btyik/s72-c/looking-at-the-future.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-491055409885327112</id><published>2007-07-10T18:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T20:59:42.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shaking in my...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rqw-lBZZQ_I/AAAAAAAAADg/EEGsgfOvVRk/s1600-h/climbing-again.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rqw-lBZZQ_I/AAAAAAAAADg/EEGsgfOvVRk/s320/climbing-again.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092514084400219122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was scared to climb. Scared of the pain it would bring, scared of the feeling I get around a rope. Scared of being scared. The first ten feet were fine. The next twenty were even easier. And eighty feet above the ground never felt so good. My feet didn’t hurt as bad as I had anticipated, and I truly felt free. It was fun, and I want to climb more. Thank you for second chances… and taking them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-491055409885327112?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/491055409885327112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=491055409885327112&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/491055409885327112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/491055409885327112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/07/shaking-in-my.html' title='Shaking in my...'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rqw-lBZZQ_I/AAAAAAAAADg/EEGsgfOvVRk/s72-c/climbing-again.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-8301097571673714193</id><published>2007-07-07T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:00:03.337-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bold West</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rqw8SBZZQ-I/AAAAAAAAADY/FcGpabqA6hU/s1600-h/BW2A-group.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rqw8SBZZQ-I/AAAAAAAAADY/FcGpabqA6hU/s320/BW2A-group.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092511558959449058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We picked up the group in Vegas. It was hot. Its going to be an interesting summer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-8301097571673714193?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/8301097571673714193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=8301097571673714193&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/8301097571673714193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/8301097571673714193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/07/bold-west.html' title='Bold West'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rqw8SBZZQ-I/AAAAAAAAADY/FcGpabqA6hU/s72-c/BW2A-group.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-1716306950237140230</id><published>2007-07-04T18:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:00:27.511-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eleven houndred miles is too far inside a car</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RqvynxZZQ6I/AAAAAAAAAC4/KLBfDYxRLKE/s1600-h/day-stars.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RqvynxZZQ6I/AAAAAAAAAC4/KLBfDYxRLKE/s320/day-stars.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092430568761148322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The drive was long, and I was alone, which made it even longer. Driving alone is a special time that, just like drinking, should not be done when you are in the wrong frame of mind. In fact I was in the perfect frame of mind for this drive; I had my music, and my recent adventures in &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Colorado&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; to reflect on… not to mention the beautiful scenery of interstate 70. I made the best of 1036 miles of highway, arriving at &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="2"&gt;2:00  am&lt;/st1:time&gt;, the evening stars becoming a blur. I was home, whatever that meant, even if it was only for a day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-1716306950237140230?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/1716306950237140230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=1716306950237140230&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1716306950237140230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1716306950237140230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/07/eleven-houndred-miles-is-too-far-inside.html' title='Eleven houndred miles is too far inside a car'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RqvynxZZQ6I/AAAAAAAAAC4/KLBfDYxRLKE/s72-c/day-stars.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-5587296968744019880</id><published>2007-07-02T19:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:00:48.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To be or not tubing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rqw4wBZZQ9I/AAAAAAAAADQ/Mwr88rK4_Gc/s1600-h/tubing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rqw4wBZZQ9I/AAAAAAAAADQ/Mwr88rK4_Gc/s320/tubing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092507676309013458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We were making a mockery of them and their contest without even trying. They, with their thousand dollar carbon fiber kayaks. Us, with our four-ninety-nine inflatable pool toys; highly personalized with names on them like, “the purple people eater” and “the sea monkey.” They moved threw the water as if it was their business. We floundered and flailed, throwing caution to the wind. They scowled while we smiled. If there was a contest for who had the most fun… well there would have been no contest at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-5587296968744019880?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/5587296968744019880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=5587296968744019880&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5587296968744019880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5587296968744019880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/07/to-be-or-not-tubing.html' title='To be or not tubing'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rqw4wBZZQ9I/AAAAAAAAADQ/Mwr88rK4_Gc/s72-c/tubing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-6168931477265820526</id><published>2007-06-30T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T13:52:28.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reaching out can get blurry sometimes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RqryfxZZQ3I/AAAAAAAAACg/0y_CnMaDOZg/s1600-h/P6300134.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RqryfxZZQ3I/AAAAAAAAACg/0y_CnMaDOZg/s320/P6300134.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092148956345484146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Driving into the hills and I couldn’t feel it yet. But I knew it was coming. The place had become a legend in my own mind, and I really didn’t know anything about it. People always said how amazing Red Rocks Amphitheater was, and it was starting to hit me as we walked up the smooth red steps in the cool, cool night. Michael Franti was about to come on and at fifty-one dollars, it was the most expensive show I had ever gone to.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But that meant nothing to me now, as I looked around and straight into the souls of thousands upon thousands of people. It was easy, the crowd inviting itself to become better aquatinted as a variety of items were passed amongst each other. Hungrily I ate up everything that came my way, often with no regard- or idea- to what it was. Every time I looked over to my friend Greg, he had a new snack and was eager to share, from red vines to hot dogs, to chewy cookies that somebody somewhere made. It was exciting, and I was surrounded by so many amazing people. The music echoed off the natural landscape and was truly alive. Fireworks lit up the &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Denver&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; skyline as a full moon rose and the beat dug deep into our heads. The message was simple and timeless, relevant and natural. It felt good to be there, as there was a mood of hope.   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;There were other moods too. Some were there to escape, some to explore, some just to dance. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RqrztxZZQ5I/AAAAAAAAACw/Yybz-DQS3Kk/s1600-h/P6300170.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RqrztxZZQ5I/AAAAAAAAACw/Yybz-DQS3Kk/s320/P6300170.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092150296375280530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;But as the night went on, the crowd grew together as the mood took on a natural progression through all emotions. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Driving away we were all drained. My head was out the window letting the warm breeze relax me. I noticed a simple memorial, to &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Vietnam-&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; the war- those that are gone. Hanging on the fence like a six year old, waiting for his friends to come out to play, was a tired old man. A veteran no doubt. You could see it in his eyes, the way he stared at the bronze M-16 standing upright out of the ground with a helmet balanced on top of the barrel. He was so alone. I wanted to reach out and hug him. Tell him that I had no idea what he had been through, but that I wanted to try to understand. But the car moved on and the moment passed. No one else saw him, and then he was gone. As I fell asleep I thought of him, and of my long drive out west.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RokyEqrYz9I/AAAAAAAAACI/KzYU_phM4sE/s1600-h/P6300134.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-6168931477265820526?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/6168931477265820526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=6168931477265820526&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/6168931477265820526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/6168931477265820526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/06/everyone-deserves-music.html' title='Reaching out can get blurry sometimes'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RqryfxZZQ3I/AAAAAAAAACg/0y_CnMaDOZg/s72-c/P6300134.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-4354577515548204105</id><published>2007-06-29T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:01:09.984-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This home is a castle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rokxj6rYz8I/AAAAAAAAACA/gLVkxXOizYs/s1600-h/this+house+is+a+castle+project.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rokxj6rYz8I/AAAAAAAAACA/gLVkxXOizYs/s320/this+house+is+a+castle+project.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082648147580735426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We sat around for a while and then we sat some more. The scene was boring, with the TV muffled in the background. The three of us were turning into vegetables before each others eyes up in the attic, but we were far from bored. This castle was our home for the week, a haven for sleep and preparation for the adventures soon to come. Jenny had to work during the day, while Jordan and I quickly developed a sibling bond based around our blogs. The time reminds me how lucky we are to have such a precious thing as perspective.   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-4354577515548204105?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/4354577515548204105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=4354577515548204105&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4354577515548204105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4354577515548204105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/06/this-home-is-castle.html' title='This home is a castle'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rokxj6rYz8I/AAAAAAAAACA/gLVkxXOizYs/s72-c/this+house+is+a+castle+project.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-9128615561840938130</id><published>2007-06-28T12:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:02:33.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>life is just a ride</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RoQGUarYz7I/AAAAAAAAAB4/0iB7IOhcv0k/s1600-h/pie-eating-contest.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RoQGUarYz7I/AAAAAAAAAB4/0iB7IOhcv0k/s320/pie-eating-contest.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081193227409215410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Being ridiculed for my lifestyle choices is something I have grown accustomed to. Which is why the last week in June has been so refreshing for me year after year. A gathering of like minded souls reminds me that I am not alone. In fact, I am not that far out on the spectrum at all. As we fill each other in on our adventures over the past year, I hear stories from friends with masters’ degrees in science taking a year off to be a lift operator at a ski resort, or working in &lt;st1:place&gt;Antarctica&lt;/st1:place&gt; for six months, and then taking some down time in &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; and &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. Being around so many inspirational leaders that are so comfortable with the way they live (i.e. wandering) lets me catapult into my true self, embracing my dreams and appreciating that life does not have to be how the mainstream dictates.&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-9128615561840938130?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/9128615561840938130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=9128615561840938130&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/9128615561840938130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/9128615561840938130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/06/life-is-just-ride.html' title='life is just a ride'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RoQGUarYz7I/AAAAAAAAAB4/0iB7IOhcv0k/s72-c/pie-eating-contest.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-1049887434190090336</id><published>2007-06-18T11:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:03:22.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>doesn't change a thing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RnbV4fnpYLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/EjF8LY102nw/s1600-h/P6160158.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RnbV4fnpYLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/EjF8LY102nw/s320/P6160158.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077480796443992242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The heat stung my nostrils, so I breathed in thru my mouth. That tickled my lungs; it was time to get out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I thanked the wrinkled old man for his story and stepped out of the little wooden room, rinsed off, and jumped into the pool. I was late for the training, but the old man in the sauna intrigued me, and I had a feeling I didn’t miss much. I dove under the water and retrieved a rubber boy. After administering CPR to the disturbingly lifeless, life size doll, I was told I was now a lifeguard…again. Boggles the mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -1.25in;"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -1.25in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -1.25in;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -1.25in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-1049887434190090336?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/1049887434190090336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=1049887434190090336&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1049887434190090336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1049887434190090336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/06/heat-stung-my-nostrils-so-i-breathed-in.html' title='doesn&apos;t change a thing'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RnbV4fnpYLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/EjF8LY102nw/s72-c/P6160158.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-9120382325918571854</id><published>2007-06-14T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:03:41.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'>delayed arrival</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RnbWf_npYMI/AAAAAAAAAA0/sLiVzm2l4kA/s1600-h/P6120140.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RnbWf_npYMI/AAAAAAAAAA0/sLiVzm2l4kA/s320/P6120140.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077481475048825026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Denver welcomed me with a cold &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Tecate&lt;/span&gt; and good friends. The drive from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Moab&lt;/span&gt; was hot and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;lonely&lt;/span&gt;. I got a flat tire in the middle of nowhere. Part of the jack was missing. Twenty minutes later, a car pulled up. It wasn't AAA. Instead, my long time friend Becki Kirby, her son &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Brayden&lt;/span&gt;, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ethan&lt;/span&gt;, aka 'the six nippled man' happened to be driving back to Vail and gave me a hand. After words... we enjoyed cheeseburgers and milkshakes. What a small world indeed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-9120382325918571854?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/9120382325918571854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=9120382325918571854&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/9120382325918571854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/9120382325918571854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/06/delayed-arrival.html' title='delayed arrival'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RnbWf_npYMI/AAAAAAAAAA0/sLiVzm2l4kA/s72-c/P6120140.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-4932662168582686163</id><published>2007-06-12T14:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:03:58.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh the places you'll go</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rnb-1_npYQI/AAAAAAAAABg/nkruOWAeEEo/s1600-h/P6110074.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rnb-1_npYQI/AAAAAAAAABg/nkruOWAeEEo/s320/P6110074.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077525833471058178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Water is everything that has ever mattered. Especially when you’re on the river. We put in at the west water ranger station, and surrendered ourselves to the current for a couple of days. It was beautiful and inspiring. It reminded me of sailing; one minute can be so peaceful and relaxing, while the next can transform into a life threatening rollercoaster where every decision is a critical one. A boat flipped and lost its oars. Everyone was alright, but it took about an hour of separation and confusion to figure it all out. It’s weird when you are expecting to see a raft come around the bend, but instead all you see is an empty milk jug.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-4932662168582686163?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/4932662168582686163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=4932662168582686163&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4932662168582686163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4932662168582686163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/06/oh-places-youll-go.html' title='Oh the places you&apos;ll go'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rnb-1_npYQI/AAAAAAAAABg/nkruOWAeEEo/s72-c/P6110074.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-792117165355483676</id><published>2007-06-11T13:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T13:38:49.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Desert Solitaire</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rng55_npYSI/AAAAAAAAABw/wegCgoHZCfg/s1600-h/Sunset+by+moab.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rng55_npYSI/AAAAAAAAABw/wegCgoHZCfg/s320/Sunset+by+moab.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077872248353284386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the reason I drive instead of fly places. Nothing else needs to be said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-792117165355483676?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/792117165355483676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=792117165355483676&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/792117165355483676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/792117165355483676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/06/this-is-reason-i-drive-instead-of-fly.html' title='Desert Solitaire'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rng55_npYSI/AAAAAAAAABw/wegCgoHZCfg/s72-c/Sunset+by+moab.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-1751069151922788533</id><published>2007-06-10T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:04:23.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This journey has begun</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RngxgvnpYRI/AAAAAAAAABo/O53Nq6QUMXo/s1600-h/P6090049.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RngxgvnpYRI/AAAAAAAAABo/O53Nq6QUMXo/s320/P6090049.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077863018468565266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I went wake-boarding this morning before I drove the roads of  four states. The water was cold; the kind of cold that when you put your head under, you cant help but smile and you don't know why. Its a special feeling, to be so humbled and have so much fun at the same time, that it is saved for those rare occasions when you are ready to fathom such a thing. I drove away from the mountain both sore, and refreshed.&lt;br /&gt;I  lied down in the grass at the park across the street from my friends' Anna and Nate's' house when I had finished my long, hellacious drive thru the desert. I felt the breeze that I  heard in the leaves of the old oak that stood over me. It was so peaceful as I overheard one of my favorite Modest Mouse songs being sung by some kid with a guitar. Bankrupt on Selling is what it is called. I looked up at twilight, and watched it fade into night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-1751069151922788533?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/1751069151922788533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=1751069151922788533&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1751069151922788533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1751069151922788533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/06/this-journey-has-begun.html' title='This journey has begun'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RngxgvnpYRI/AAAAAAAAABo/O53Nq6QUMXo/s72-c/P6090049.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-4864545691033424346</id><published>2007-05-27T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T20:55:24.021-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Last night there were skinheads on my lawn</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUcHrHOGYI/AAAAAAAAAHw/id9erG3sQnc/s1600-h/dan_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUcHrHOGYI/AAAAAAAAAHw/id9erG3sQnc/s320/dan_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099513071224625538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  Last night there were skinheads on my lawn. No wait, I was on a skinhead’s lawn last night. It was the worst possible time for the ipod to select Camper Van Beethoven’s “take the skinheads bowling” on shuffle, which is exactly what happened. The timing was-appropriate.&lt;div style="font-family: times new roman,new york,times,serif; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wait; let me back up a little. I didn’t know the skinhead, Todd, until after the music was silenced from the glove box of my 1962 vespa and the awkward stare went away. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Actually; I should back up to the start. It’s important to understand that I don’t usually fraternize with skinheads. Last night was an exception. It was the first night of Orange Crush 13, an annual scooter rally for vespas and lambrettas. There was a mood in the air that matched the mood inside me, so I decided to ride. The freeway was my route of choice and nothing forces you to appreciate everything you should in life like ten inch tires at 70 mph. It’s the sort of appreciation that leaves your entire body sore, and I recommend it in small doses. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;There are traditionally two groups of people that are associated with vintage scooters; Mods and Skinheads. I don’t fit in to either of these groups, and it was obvious when I pulled up to the scene. But something was different than usual. As scooters have gotten older and harder to come by, it has driven out the younger, hooliganesk crowd, and left behind the “has-been’s” and the “hardcores” like Todd the skinhead. Finding conversation would be hard here, but I didn’t come to talk. I came to ride. To enjoy the unspoken comradery that naturally develops on the open road. It didn’t matter who these people were, it was about that raw feeling you revert to when you run with the pack. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The ride started in Costa Mesa , and we made are way to the Balboa Ferry. There were about forty of us and we barely fit on the boat. The captain looked at us in wonder, and announced that it would be a hundred dollars for all of us. Someone revved their engine, and negotiations began. His next offer was fifty dollars. More engines revved. An unspoken arrangement had been made. We rode off the ferry without having to exchange a dime. This was our night. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We raced around the Back Bay down roads I didn’t recognize. We didn’t stop till we got to Santa   Ana , and parked on a skinhead’s lawn. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Todd introduced himself a few minutes after I turned off the music, and offered me a cold can of Coors light. I took it and drank as he lit a fire in his backyard. Surreal to say the least. Some awkward time passed. I thanked him for his hospitality and looked forward to the long, cold ride home alone. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-4864545691033424346?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/4864545691033424346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=4864545691033424346&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4864545691033424346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4864545691033424346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/05/last-night-there-were-skinheads-on-my.html' title='Last night there were skinheads on my lawn'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUcHrHOGYI/AAAAAAAAAHw/id9erG3sQnc/s72-c/dan_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-9128734801007012248</id><published>2007-05-17T20:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T20:53:01.738-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my hero cried</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUbkbHOGXI/AAAAAAAAAHo/NhVOnB9mbh0/s1600-h/shark-attack.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUbkbHOGXI/AAAAAAAAAHo/NhVOnB9mbh0/s320/shark-attack.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099512465634236786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  My Aunt Lanie is the strongest person I know. I have only seen her cry twice and tonight was one of them. She commands so much presence that you can’t help but cry with her. She had just put her dog Fritzee to sleep, and I know it broke her precious heart. This was the reason I began to cry.&lt;div style="font-family: times new roman,new york,times,serif; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It’s kind of confusing when you see someone so strong cry. It reminds you that they are still human just like everyone else. From time to time I’ve had my doubts about Aunt Lanie being mortal. She is a solid 88 years and doesn’t miss a beat. She shows no weakness.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;As I walked up to the door, I heard her playing the piano and just listened for a few minutes before knocking. She told me the news with a longer hug in the doorway than usual, then it was back to business as usual as she pulled out two decks of cards and we began to play double solitaire as we have so many times before. Her deck must be thirty years old, with numbers and suits faded, and an old picture of half dome on the back. My deck is newer, and lacks in character as far as a deck of cards is concerned when I lay them down next to hers. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;There is so much to learn from a woman like this. Fritzee meant more to her than anything else in the whole world, and I know she misses him so much. But she accepts it, knowing that she can’t change anything or anyone but herself. “The show must go on” she chuckles as she wipes away a tear, and beats me again at cards.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-9128734801007012248?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/9128734801007012248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=9128734801007012248&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/9128734801007012248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/9128734801007012248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/05/my-hero-cried.html' title='my hero cried'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUbkbHOGXI/AAAAAAAAAHo/NhVOnB9mbh0/s72-c/shark-attack.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-3521374496448562498</id><published>2007-04-29T22:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T20:51:37.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Humbled..yet again</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUbJLHOGWI/AAAAAAAAAHg/MSqZ1f2jzBk/s1600-h/refugio.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUbJLHOGWI/AAAAAAAAAHg/MSqZ1f2jzBk/s320/refugio.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099511997482801506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It sounds like my head is inside a jet engine while I wait for what seems to be inevitable. Sure enough it hits me in the gut, forcing what little air I was storing in my mouth to bleed out, one bubble at a time. I really could have used that air, considering I have no idea how long I will be down here. My body relaxes, and I let the ocean lead me in the violently rhythmic dance of drowning. It would be pointless to fight it, as I don’t know which way is up. I just have to wait, all the while remembering that this isn’t really how I go.  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Right as rain, I eventually reach the surface and it has never been so difficult to do such a simple thing. I open my mouth and tell myself, “gasp dam it, quick.” As oxygen reenters my lungs I have never felt so alive. I embrace my board. I know I am about to hear the sound of the jet engine again.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I love to surf because I am not very good at it. I don’t have much style and there is so much room for personal progression. It is constantly humbling me and it reminds me that- just like life- I have so much to learn. These experiences combined with the indescribable feeling you get when you catch that one perfect wave are what keep me paddling out to sea.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-3521374496448562498?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/3521374496448562498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=3521374496448562498&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/3521374496448562498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/3521374496448562498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/04/humbledyet-again.html' title='Humbled..yet again'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUbJLHOGWI/AAAAAAAAAHg/MSqZ1f2jzBk/s72-c/refugio.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-6283999806387851091</id><published>2007-04-22T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:37:48.405-07:00</updated><title type='text'>growing ...pains ...me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUlybHOGaI/AAAAAAAAAIA/uvrCbca6zTw/s1600-h/IMG_1311.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUlybHOGaI/AAAAAAAAAIA/uvrCbca6zTw/s320/IMG_1311.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099523701268683170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This hat used to fit me. It was a good time. A time of confidence, and a time of seemingly all- knowing capabilities. How do you go from knowing soo much, to so little? This hat is too small now. Or is my head too big? I don’t want to fix what I don’t understand. I just want to be … a cowboy. Do I? What do you want?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-6283999806387851091?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/6283999806387851091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=6283999806387851091&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/6283999806387851091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/6283999806387851091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/04/growing-pains-me.html' title='growing ...pains ...me'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUlybHOGaI/AAAAAAAAAIA/uvrCbca6zTw/s72-c/IMG_1311.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-1698766495145191258</id><published>2007-04-15T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T20:48:44.914-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lifes a...beach</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUaiLHOGVI/AAAAAAAAAHY/uUQmvsh-OEE/s1600-h/God-Bless-BK.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUaiLHOGVI/AAAAAAAAAHY/uUQmvsh-OEE/s320/God-Bless-BK.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099511327467903314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  Its hot, down here. I think that's why people don't wear as much clothing; I hope so. If you're walking, there's a new beat every thirty seconds or so. I like that allot because its all live. Everyone seems alive down here. Every-ones moving, swaying, like they're under water. The music is the current and we are all anemone's   (dot)             (dot)     (dot)&lt;div style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: times new roman,new york,times,serif;"&gt;  &lt;div&gt;                                                               Or maybe I still have my sea legs from the boat-sorry, its  a ship...&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;          Or maybe they are just drunk. After all, I am in Fort Lauder-dale during spring break. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;                                                                      I am officially in a constant state of amazement,      &lt;/div&gt;   &lt;div&gt;                                                       &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;                                                                      I am dan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-1698766495145191258?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/1698766495145191258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=1698766495145191258&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1698766495145191258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1698766495145191258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/04/lifes-abeach.html' title='Lifes a...beach'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUaiLHOGVI/AAAAAAAAAHY/uUQmvsh-OEE/s72-c/God-Bless-BK.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-3797285385269650787</id><published>2007-03-16T20:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T20:45:39.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost out of snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUZw7HOGUI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/X1UGfMfezq8/s1600-h/pushing-trouble.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUZw7HOGUI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/X1UGfMfezq8/s320/pushing-trouble.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099510481359345986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It snowed a couple of weeks ago. I decided to treat myself. I came into work early and headed up in a snow cat to pack the new snow on the jumps and dig out the rails. I finished early and was all alone with the mountain. I quickly came to the conclusion that many in my situation might come to realize. And then I did it. I …commandeered/ borrowed the mountain managers personal snowmobile and headed to the top of the mountain, snowboard attached.   &lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I hid the snowmobile behind some bushes, strapped in, and then it happened. For about five minutes, I had transcended into heaven. The entire mountain was mine for the taking, a foot of fresh snow from top to bottom, without a single track- let alone another person- to be seen. By the time I got to the bottom they had started warming up the lifts. Before the mountain had even opened, I got four of the best runs of my life, without even seeing another person. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;It was a good day for me, whats one of yours?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-3797285385269650787?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/3797285385269650787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=3797285385269650787&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/3797285385269650787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/3797285385269650787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/03/almost-out-of-snow.html' title='Almost out of snow'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUZw7HOGUI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/X1UGfMfezq8/s72-c/pushing-trouble.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-6164862663902913527</id><published>2007-02-27T20:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T20:41:44.502-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So...Canada eh?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUY4bHOGTI/AAAAAAAAAHI/1JOj0LyyCGk/s1600-h/desert-evening.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUY4bHOGTI/AAAAAAAAAHI/1JOj0LyyCGk/s320/desert-evening.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099509510696737074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As I crossed back into California the clouds lifted, and I was able to unroll my window for the first time in a few weeks. All in all it was 4200 miles and change thru Utah , Colorado , Idaho , Oregon , Washington , and good old British Colombia. A lot happened in that time and I feel like a different person than when I left. The trip was justified because I was attending a selection camp for an expedition that will eventually go from the South Pole to the North Pole. There were 30 of us in all, and together we chose an international team of 7 for the journey. Although I was not chosen, the trip and its challenges- both emotionally and physically- were well worth it. I came away with a new understanding of what I am capable of as well as learning the importance of listening to my body.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s all about balance and the more I learn, the more I realize how much room there is for growth. I saw some great people along the way and was reminded how lucky I am to know so many amazing people.  &lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-6164862663902913527?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/6164862663902913527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=6164862663902913527&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/6164862663902913527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/6164862663902913527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2007/02/socanada-eh.html' title='So...Canada eh?'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUY4bHOGTI/AAAAAAAAAHI/1JOj0LyyCGk/s72-c/desert-evening.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-4068969690402486765</id><published>2006-12-29T12:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:04:55.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just do it</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK3wRZZRQI/AAAAAAAAAFo/qqnMA37P_NU/s1600-h/IMG_9607.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK3wRZZRQI/AAAAAAAAAFo/qqnMA37P_NU/s320/IMG_9607.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098839768068343042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is crazy, this life.  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I woke up shivering, couldn’t see outside the windshield because it was snowing again. The cold reminded me of my purpose for being there so I put my pants on and grabbed my snowboard. A few hours of sheer bliss passed. Then I did what seemed impossible. I drove to another world less than two hours away. By this time I had traded pants for wetsuit, snowboard for surf, and paddled out to sea. I couldn’t fully appreciate…all this, until afterwards while I was lying on the sand. Shirtless and warm, watching the sun give up on day.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;People were always talking about what I had just done, and it was so easy. So fun. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So I guess I am asking, what are people telling you that you can do?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Whatever it is, today is your day.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-4068969690402486765?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/4068969690402486765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=4068969690402486765&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4068969690402486765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4068969690402486765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2006/12/just-do-it.html' title='Just do it'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK3wRZZRQI/AAAAAAAAAFo/qqnMA37P_NU/s72-c/IMG_9607.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-285137650840016598</id><published>2006-10-16T20:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T20:37:03.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'>radiance radiates relentlessly</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUXyLHOGSI/AAAAAAAAAHA/RcpDxbKOE9g/s1600-h/tyraid.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUXyLHOGSI/AAAAAAAAAHA/RcpDxbKOE9g/s320/tyraid.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099508303810926882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So simple, always simplifying, until... well that's irrelevant&lt;br /&gt;So what? The dreams get better every night. They become longer, until... life becomes one long dream&lt;br /&gt;I believe this is a good thing, a good dream&lt;br /&gt;I have never been so happy in all my life&lt;br /&gt;People ask what I have been doing and, I stumble over words to explain but I can't; it's too simple&lt;br /&gt;I surf, I smile. I am simply trying out retirement for a brief while, and it agrees with me...allot&lt;br /&gt;I don't have any answers, but don't tell me that.&lt;br /&gt;I'd rather be happy then right anyways.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-285137650840016598?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/285137650840016598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=285137650840016598&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/285137650840016598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/285137650840016598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2006/10/radiance-radiates-relentlessly.html' title='radiance radiates relentlessly'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUXyLHOGSI/AAAAAAAAAHA/RcpDxbKOE9g/s72-c/tyraid.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-2235699572082179077</id><published>2006-09-06T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:05:36.365-07:00</updated><title type='text'>back from the dead</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUWprHOGRI/AAAAAAAAAG4/c_xQSR_HOto/s1600-h/Back-from-the-dead.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUWprHOGRI/AAAAAAAAAG4/c_xQSR_HOto/s320/Back-from-the-dead.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099507058270411026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A year ago today I was ... in a bad way&lt;br /&gt;It was hard to look forward, and I wasn't a very fun person to be around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A year later and ... I AM BACK&lt;br /&gt;I am looking forward, and ready to wreak havoc, utilizing my body to its fullest potential&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aus was sweet, Colorado was so fun, Alaska was Beautiful, and California is home&lt;br /&gt;Get ready for greatness ... its all happening&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-2235699572082179077?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/2235699572082179077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=2235699572082179077&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/2235699572082179077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/2235699572082179077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2006/09/back-from-dead.html' title='back from the dead'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUWprHOGRI/AAAAAAAAAG4/c_xQSR_HOto/s72-c/Back-from-the-dead.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-4512759046493145195</id><published>2006-08-25T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:05:57.638-07:00</updated><title type='text'>down...under</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK2hRZZRPI/AAAAAAAAAFg/KI9ZaqVi0Bo/s1600-h/IMG_2771.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK2hRZZRPI/AAAAAAAAAFg/KI9ZaqVi0Bo/s320/IMG_2771.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098838410858677490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I stepped out of the cold shower with soap still on my face. She was playing Michel Jackson for me. He kept on saying, “the daw gone girl is mine.” I couldn’t relate.  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Instead I thought of home. Its amazing how much they love bad music “down under.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;She rode horses. We met on a ranch. I had my kids with me and they knew it before I did. She would let me stay at her flat for a few days in &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Sydney&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; before I had to fly home. For this I was obliged, but now I had to focus on the task at hand; psyching the kids up for the night dive to come. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Theres nothing weirder than dropping anchor when theres no land in sight, but that’s how it is on the barrier reef. The diving was unreal, huge sea turtles were everywhere. So many fish its almost overwhelming. After sunset a light lit up the water behind the boat. I turned on a flashlight and prepared to jump into the darkness. Huge fish would streak through the lit up area of water because it was their feeding time, and that’s what they do. With a little hesitation and a purple glow stick attached to my tank, I took that long step off the boat into silence. If you haven’t dove at night before I recommend it. It feels like you are in the movie ET. Light rays from other peoples flashlights and the sound of yourself breathing; its surreal to say the least. A 5 foot reef shark passed me on the left and then disappeared into dark 8 feet in front of me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-4512759046493145195?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/4512759046493145195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=4512759046493145195&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4512759046493145195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4512759046493145195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2006/08/downunder.html' title='down...under'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK2hRZZRPI/AAAAAAAAAFg/KI9ZaqVi0Bo/s72-c/IMG_2771.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-9208989593392487287</id><published>2006-07-23T20:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T00:18:12.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This ship has sailed</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rs6GJ7HOGdI/AAAAAAAAAIc/1OeBeJG2Dw4/s1600-h/IMG_1049.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rs6GJ7HOGdI/AAAAAAAAAIc/1OeBeJG2Dw4/s320/IMG_1049.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102162932902271442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Today is crazy, The happiest and saddest day rolled into one. A feeling of freedom, knowing that I have nothing tying me down...and yet...the realization that I have officially woken from what was the best dream to date.   &lt;div&gt;                                                The NOMAD VI has set sail with her new Captain. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;Formulating new dreams is keeping me awake when I should be sleeping, but Australia is definitely the place to be lying under the stars with eyes open. The Southern Cross is so simple, yet I can stare for hours. Its beautiful.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;I laughed out loud flying my kite this morning...simple pleasures: stars and kites.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-9208989593392487287?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/9208989593392487287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=9208989593392487287&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/9208989593392487287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/9208989593392487287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2006/07/this-ship-has-sailed.html' title='This ship has sailed'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/Rs6GJ7HOGdI/AAAAAAAAAIc/1OeBeJG2Dw4/s72-c/IMG_1049.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-4367507364779073428</id><published>2006-06-29T13:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:06:58.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I believe in the future</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK_phZZRXI/AAAAAAAAAGg/HbQTtAqBsHs/s1600-h/IMG_0758.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK_phZZRXI/AAAAAAAAAGg/HbQTtAqBsHs/s320/IMG_0758.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098848448197248370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I just arrived in Aus. and forgot that I have been asleep for the last year. Having to interact in an unfamilar place really wakes you up quick. It feels great. It feels alive. It feels like...work. I had forgotton such a feeling was possible. While riding on the train this morning the future became so clear. I know that people are good. I know that people want to help.      Example:  &lt;div&gt;                                                 Last week I was carpooling thru Teluride, CO. There happened to be a huge music festival going on and the place was packed. The closest place to camp was 20 miles away and cost $50 per person per night! This wouldn't work with my budget, and thats when I heard something I was not expecting. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;"YES, we can help you out"  was the response to my first question to a couple of strangers. I had asked if there was any way they could help my friend and I out. With out even knowing our names, Mike and Bev told us we could put up a tent in there side yard and stay for free. We were within walking distance to a free stage and life couldnt have been better. The next morning we woke up to a home cooked breakfast and hot showers. And why? Because we asked for help? It boggles the mind I know.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;Dont be afraid of the people around you. Dont be afraid to ask for help. And most of all, dont be afraid to offer it.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;I believe in the future, dan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-4367507364779073428?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/4367507364779073428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=4367507364779073428&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4367507364779073428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4367507364779073428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-believe-in-future.html' title='I believe in the future'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK_phZZRXI/AAAAAAAAAGg/HbQTtAqBsHs/s72-c/IMG_0758.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-7289218169230615521</id><published>2006-05-15T13:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:07:24.075-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gotta find out</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK1YxZZROI/AAAAAAAAAFY/fHLnhroix7Y/s1600-h/Sunset-in-storm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK1YxZZROI/AAAAAAAAAFY/fHLnhroix7Y/s320/Sunset-in-storm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098837165318161634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My good friend Vince just sent me an email asking about the path I’m heading down. It’s a good question that I don’t really have an answer to. And I’m ok with that right now.   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am pretty sure that the NOMAD VI will be put up for sale at the beginning of June. I bought the boat to travel with. I simply can’t afford to keep a boat for weekend trips to the &lt;st1:place&gt;Channel Islands&lt;/st1:place&gt; (even though they are more amazing than I could have ever imagined). The summer job (AAVE) that I have had for the past four years is sending me to &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Australia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; and I am totally stoked about it. There I will hope to find some perspective as well as some inspiration for what to do next. I am also applying to be a member of an expedition that is trekking from the south pole to the north pole this fall. Although the odds of getting in are slim, I have a really good feeling about it. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am getting excited….excited for life, and soon I will be unstoppable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-7289218169230615521?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/7289218169230615521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=7289218169230615521&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/7289218169230615521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/7289218169230615521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2006/05/gotta-find-out.html' title='Gotta find out'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK1YxZZROI/AAAAAAAAAFY/fHLnhroix7Y/s72-c/Sunset-in-storm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-3107600374208260593</id><published>2006-03-04T13:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:07:43.595-07:00</updated><title type='text'>beginning to accept</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK0MBZZRNI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/22hdVw0ZLxQ/s1600-h/IMG_1056.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK0MBZZRNI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/22hdVw0ZLxQ/s320/IMG_1056.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098835846763201746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sometimes things change and you don’t even realize it. Sometimes something changes and it changes everything in your life, whether you want it or not. The key to remember is like my old pal Michel McGinnis always said, “Change is OK”. He’s told me a lot of other things over the years but those words always stuck out in my mind.   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;This time last year I had just gotten my sail boat and had grand illusions to sail off to &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Mexico&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; and who knows after that. Well it’s been a year and I have learned a lot. Mainly, boats do cost a lot of money! I know I know, I couldn’t believe it my self but it’s true. Something always needs to be fixed and it’s never cheap. I have learned so much and yet still haven’t made it down to &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Mexico&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. I have however stumbled on one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. The Channel Islands are a series of 5 islands each quite different from the next full of secret surf spots, mountains, huge arches, fresh water waterfalls, unbelievable sea life, and of coarse Painted Cave, the worlds largest sea cave. They are so special that they are a National Park. And when you are there by boat you truly feel as if you have traveled back in time to an uncharted island as it is unlikely that you will see anyone else during your visit.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And so things change again. I doubt I will take the NOMAD VI into foreign waters. In fact there is a very good chance that she will sail under another captain by the end of the summer.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am still waiting in limbo at the ski resort and it is time to move forward. Anna and I are returning to the boat in &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Ventura&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; and will be looking for part time jobs. We plan to take as many trips to the &lt;st1:place&gt;Channel  Islands&lt;/st1:place&gt; and Catalina between now and June 1&lt;sup&gt;st&lt;/sup&gt; as the boat will most likely be gone after that. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This is the time for you to change something about your life. Come sailing and explore the &lt;st1:place&gt;Channel Islands&lt;/st1:place&gt; with us. Never again will such a golden opportunity come like this one. The boat sleeps six people although four is ideal for a trip. And with the closest island only three hours away we can do anything from a long weekend to &lt;st1:time hour="16" minute="57"&gt;3 to 5&lt;/st1:time&gt; day trips, or longer! Got a wave runner? Bring it along! We have a sick dinghy with a 10hp engine. Got more friends? Bring a tent and get a permit to sleep on the island. I have four scuba setups on the boat and we can rent tanks if you are interested. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The most important thing to me is for my friends and family to experience life aboard the NOMAD VI before it’s gone. There’s no ticket necessary and the only cost is food beer and gas. Don’t miss out on joinin’ Captain Dan and Anna on an adventure you’ll never forget!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-3107600374208260593?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/3107600374208260593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=3107600374208260593&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/3107600374208260593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/3107600374208260593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2006/03/beginning-to-accept.html' title='beginning to accept'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK0MBZZRNI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/22hdVw0ZLxQ/s72-c/IMG_1056.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-4781005350968736971</id><published>2006-02-25T00:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:08:05.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drink up</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsKyexZZRMI/AAAAAAAAAFI/Qru3bq3wIu8/s1600-h/Gary.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsKyexZZRMI/AAAAAAAAAFI/Qru3bq3wIu8/s320/Gary.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098833969862493378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The past five and a half months caught me off guard, you might say. The hardest part has been the waiting. That horrible limbo period where there are no answers except, “Only time will tell.”   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It seems like the only thing time ever tells me is that patience is a virtue. Go figure on that one. Well I am out of the wheel chair and off the crutches. I went snow shoeing last night and for my first hike today. It feels so good to restore some normalcy to my life. I am still waiting to return to work as I am held up by mountains of paperwork and work releases. Restoring this element of life will have a huge impact on my state of “normalcy” and I can’t wait to get back to it. I feel stronger every day.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I still can’t believe how much I got to do with two broken feet! Anna and I had a radical cross country trip, I went for a sweet bike ride with my buddy Gary, and went sailing to the &lt;st1:place&gt;Channel Islands&lt;/st1:place&gt; twice. Sometimes life throws you a lemon or two. Its up to you whether or not you want to make lemonade.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-4781005350968736971?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/4781005350968736971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=4781005350968736971&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4781005350968736971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/4781005350968736971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2006/02/drink-up.html' title='Drink up'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsKyexZZRMI/AAAAAAAAAFI/Qru3bq3wIu8/s72-c/Gary.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-8630273191500102334</id><published>2005-11-09T12:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:08:26.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Take a walk for me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsLAaxZZRYI/AAAAAAAAAGo/or6k3BBIPyQ/s1600-h/Foot-xray2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsLAaxZZRYI/AAAAAAAAAGo/or6k3BBIPyQ/s320/Foot-xray2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098849294305805698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bet ya thought a little part of me died inside.  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Haven't heard the strange word in a while&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;well the fuck stops here. there I was ... standing with my dick in the wind, my pants around my ankles, laughing. I then preceeded to fall over. There were no drugs pumping through my veins, no booze had quenched my thirst. I simply couldn't stand it. Rubber rubbed my body. Tightly up against my ... armpit. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I used my arms to put me back in my place -a wheelchair- and tied the shoelace of a belt around my waist for the first time in nine god damn weeks. With rubber back under my arms I prayed to GOD not to let my pants drop again. They didn't. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I tried three more times to stand with no avail. This takes me to a new level of...of...something, I dont know, but its not good. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This is the best time they say. "We're through the looking glass" Lindon Johnson told me once. But I think he was talking about &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Vietnam&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. Paul Bunnian told me,&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;"Out of the frying pan, into the fryer!" That is much more appropriate here.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-8630273191500102334?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/8630273191500102334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=8630273191500102334&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/8630273191500102334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/8630273191500102334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/11/take-walk-for-me.html' title='Take a walk for me'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsLAaxZZRYI/AAAAAAAAAGo/or6k3BBIPyQ/s72-c/Foot-xray2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-3877632584127430621</id><published>2005-10-17T00:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:08:40.509-07:00</updated><title type='text'>traveling south</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsKwzRZZRKI/AAAAAAAAAE4/R7bRoIUegIQ/s1600-h/IMG_8597.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsKwzRZZRKI/AAAAAAAAAE4/R7bRoIUegIQ/s320/IMG_8597.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098832123026556066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It’s a constant mess we keep making for our selves and I cant say that I regret it. The harder I try to make it easier…well I guess that about says it all right there. The harder I try to make it easier. Ha. I should have learned by now that it’s so much easier to make it harder. You can really put things into perspective while you take a leak touching elbows with an old woman who doesn’t suspect a thing. She smiled and so I smiled right back. It makes me smile to think what’s possible these days.   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am heading for the fall… like I have never seen it before. Reds and yellows are what I dream of but who knows if the trees just look like that in the movies. I guess I will soon. I&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I really am excited to have my first glimpse of the blue ridge mountains.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-3877632584127430621?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/3877632584127430621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=3877632584127430621&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/3877632584127430621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/3877632584127430621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/10/traveling-south.html' title='traveling south'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsKwzRZZRKI/AAAAAAAAAE4/R7bRoIUegIQ/s72-c/IMG_8597.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-5952342851378080573</id><published>2005-10-11T01:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:09:07.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>goin' country</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK9-hZZRWI/AAAAAAAAAGY/qxvOed_tFW4/s1600-h/Gone-country.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK9-hZZRWI/AAAAAAAAAGY/qxvOed_tFW4/s320/Gone-country.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098846609951245666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Nothing speeds up recovery time like making yourself&lt;br /&gt;look like an idiot. And we all know that I have&lt;br /&gt;definitly mastered that skill. I was tired of everyone&lt;br /&gt;feeling sorry for me in the wheel chair so I picked&lt;br /&gt;out these colors on the casts so people would just&lt;br /&gt;think about that in the time that they passed me by.&lt;br /&gt;Its been working great!&lt;br /&gt;Fight the stash,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-5952342851378080573?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/5952342851378080573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=5952342851378080573&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5952342851378080573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5952342851378080573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/10/goin-country.html' title='goin&apos; country'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK9-hZZRWI/AAAAAAAAAGY/qxvOed_tFW4/s72-c/Gone-country.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-941195042629773501</id><published>2005-10-04T00:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:12:57.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>diving off the deep end</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUgQLHOGZI/AAAAAAAAAH4/N4XZ-zCuo7Q/s1600-h/IMG_2149.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUgQLHOGZI/AAAAAAAAAH4/N4XZ-zCuo7Q/s320/IMG_2149.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099517615300024722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It’s a crazy thought, death. So consuming, hard to get off once you get on to it. To go out in a blaze of glory…it sounds good doesn’t it. A good way to be remembered. Much better then Aunt Mary who took ten years to wither away in that cold hospital bed, withering everyone who knew her as well. Yes that is definitely not for me.   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So now all that’s left is figuring out how to be remembered and who will actually be willing to help. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Lost at sea is about as stoic as they come. But the draw of saying that today is a good day to die, and walking deep into nature to let its children return me to the earth is pretty impressive. I guess it would really depend on my physical condition. Free falling would be pretty impressive as well, but I don’t know anyone that would push a quadriplegic out of an airplane. One thing is definite. It would be wrong to take others lives in my final hurrah.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-941195042629773501?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/941195042629773501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=941195042629773501&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/941195042629773501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/941195042629773501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/10/diving-off-deep-end.html' title='diving off the deep end'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsUgQLHOGZI/AAAAAAAAAH4/N4XZ-zCuo7Q/s72-c/IMG_2149.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-2823058836931014222</id><published>2005-10-03T02:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:13:31.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep changing colors</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFvhxZZRII/AAAAAAAAAEo/ogXY8ODlAao/s1600-h/bad-foot2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFvhxZZRII/AAAAAAAAAEo/ogXY8ODlAao/s320/bad-foot2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098478879146329218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So every day this week I have gotten something in the mail. It’s pretty exciting. My favorites are the bills. Every day last week included one for at least a grand. But today was the best by far. It weighed so much I could hardly hold back the excitement as I tore open the envelope. And there it was, a beautiful number indeed. Twenty one thousand and blah blah something something to be exact!  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The best part is I still haven’t gotten all my bills yet. In fact I am not even a third of the way through my recovery yet!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I know what you are asking. What goes through a mans head when he sees a bill like this come his way? Does he have regret? Does he cry? Does he think about any possible deep pockets in the family that would be willing to bail him out of the mess he got himself into? Or if he should go back on everything he stands for and sue? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The answer to all of these was no. Rather I simply began to laugh. You know the laugh that I am talking about don’t you? The one with the crazy eyes that a kamikaze dive bomber gets right before he crashes into an enemy destroyer! Some of you might have been lucky enough to have seen me in a state like this before. It’s quite scary for some while others just laugh and enjoy the ride. I must admit, I really enjoy it myself. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As I began to read through the details the laugh grew stronger in conviction. Each screw cost between $45 and $90 dollars. But don’t worry; I am going to try to return some of them when they come out. And I can finally say that I went on a three day drug binge that cost me thirty five hundred bucks! If only the drugs would have worked it would have been all worth it. The disposable tourniquet was $650 bucks but I vividly remember them using an old water weenie so I must talk to them about that. The best deal I got was for that fucking catheter they gave me. They only charged me $220 for it after seeing the pain I went through when they ripped it out. Oh the list goes on, but I don’t want to bore you. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;No, instead I think I shall get to the point…uh…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Well the truth is, what’s done is done and uh… I am sure I will look back on this one day and laugh. Wait a minute that’s it right there. I’m laughing right now. Ha! Ha I say. So take that to the bank and fucking spend it!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Laughing Out Loud, Daniel Curtis Zahn!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-2823058836931014222?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/2823058836931014222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=2823058836931014222&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/2823058836931014222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/2823058836931014222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/10/keep-changing-colors.html' title='Keep changing colors'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFvhxZZRII/AAAAAAAAAEo/ogXY8ODlAao/s72-c/bad-foot2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-5554591639124748919</id><published>2005-09-23T01:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T02:12:27.184-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I cry a lot.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFu3xZZRHI/AAAAAAAAAEg/dKjbdOtQrgA/s1600-h/Smile-with-pins.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFu3xZZRHI/AAAAAAAAAEg/dKjbdOtQrgA/s320/Smile-with-pins.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098478157591823474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Pretty much any time a good movie is on. But last night I cried alone about my own life for the first time in almost ten years. I cried about my legs being taken away from me… although that’s not really true. They weren’t taken from me I mean, it was more like I gave them up. And now all I’m left with…is time. Time to think mostly. About the future, what happened, bills, and the likes. Everyone is staying so positive. But I saw it in the doctor’s eyes. His eyes couldn’t lie to me. I didn’t realize it until today but my feet are really jacked up. There are 4 screws in the right one and 9 in the left. Not to mention two plates, some wire, and two huge pins that start out outside of my skin and criss cross inside the foot itself. The worst break is the left navicular which is about the size of a lump of coal. I broke it into ten pieces.  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am not depressed yet but I don’t want to put out a false image that I am the most positive person in the world either. It’s a hard time right now. I’m in the tunnel and it’s dark. I can’t see the end yet. And that makes me question if it’s even a tunnel at all. Maybe it’s a real deep cave. I just want to be honest. Honest with myself that is. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Then again, if all else fails. I could always just get a wooden peg leg that detaches with a knife to scare kids.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-5554591639124748919?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/5554591639124748919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=5554591639124748919&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5554591639124748919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/5554591639124748919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/09/i-cry-lot.html' title='I cry a lot.'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFu3xZZRHI/AAAAAAAAAEg/dKjbdOtQrgA/s72-c/Smile-with-pins.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-8944350041049350553</id><published>2005-09-11T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:25:38.467-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stay positive, dan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK9VRZZRVI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Wsdbsxkcw2Q/s1600-h/IMG_0672.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK9VRZZRVI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Wsdbsxkcw2Q/s320/IMG_0672.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098845901281641810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A helicopter buzzed over my head while I took a bight of my free cheeseburger from In and Out. There were clowns everywhere. Clowns tying balloons. Clowns juggling.  A clown on stilts had to duck his head the choppers were flying so low. I knew this was going to be a night I would remember for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;The Oakley factory was throwing a movie premier and I had invited myself and some friends. The building itself belongs in Gotham City. Rigid, cold, and full of fake pretty people…and of coarse, clowns.&lt;br /&gt;The movie was about snowboarding and everyone was excited. After it was all over we took a quick detour to Michael Jordan’s private basketball court but there were no balls to play with. Instead, there stood a single rope, rising up to the heavens some 50 feet above. I knew what I was born to do and without hesitation, I began to climb. My friends watched as I reached the top but something wasn’t right…in fact, heaven wasn’t ready for me on Wednesday. On the way down I began to slide. I lost my grip at between 20 and 25 feet high. When I hit the ground I&lt;br /&gt;knew immediately that something wasn’t right. Indeed something was not right … I shattered bones in both my feet and am going in for surgery on Wednesday. So what I am trying to say is, I just got a lot of free time and will be writing a lot more than usual.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-8944350041049350553?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/8944350041049350553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=8944350041049350553&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/8944350041049350553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/8944350041049350553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/09/stay-positive-dan.html' title='Stay positive, dan'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK9VRZZRVI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Wsdbsxkcw2Q/s72-c/IMG_0672.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-1267264509003167675</id><published>2005-08-03T01:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:14:49.291-07:00</updated><title type='text'>un"bear"able</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFuDxZZRGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nB5E6y_uORg/s1600-h/Grizzly-in-AK.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFuDxZZRGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nB5E6y_uORg/s320/Grizzly-in-AK.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098477264238625890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dot, dot&lt;span style=""&gt;,       &lt;/span&gt;dot;&lt;span style=""&gt;                        &lt;/span&gt;I say the word crazy&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;its true&lt;span style=""&gt;           &lt;/span&gt;but not as it applys to you . it’s the state im in, not to be confused with my state of mind … but I don’t think you know what I am talking about, do you.&lt;span style=""&gt;                  &lt;/span&gt;It was a good summer to say the least. &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Alaska&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; was good to me, and I think I am the luckiest person in the world. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;One quick tale and then a picture:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The ranger at the trailhead made it clear not to lose the trail near the saddle of Near point on the third day of our backpack, but that was an hour ago and I couldn’t be bothered by that now. I was on a game trail with my trusting campers following, and I was assuming it was a Moose’s trail I had stumbled across as apposed to something worse. Sure enough my hunch was confirmed as I rounded a bush and there stood before me was the most mellow moose I had ever connected eyes with. As I continued to bushwhack I came to two realizations. They came just as I was stepping over the remains of another dead moose. First; one moose doesn’t just eat another moose. And second; Game trails are just like freeways: everyone uses them. A giant pile of poo…bear poo…grizzly bear poo was the last thing that I wanted to step in as I forged on. “At least it wasn’t fresh” I told myself. “You would only be in trouble if it was fresh,” is what I kept reminding myself for the next hour as I marched deeper and deeper into the bush. We humped through this nasty web of tangled trees that I thought would never end until I came to my worst fear. There before me was a huge pile of fresh, wet, smelly Grizzly bear poo. And just in front of it were three huge bear paw prints. The claw marks left in the mud were big enough to scare Jesus himself. I thought of a lot of things at that moment. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I decided to blaze my own trail and not share my recent find with the group. I drew my pocket knife-as if it would do any good- and the kids just laughed at my fear. It was the joke of the trip but that was fine by me. We were in tall grass now and every step I was convinced that I would trip over an angry, hungry bear and that would be that… But that never happened to me. Instead we found the trail and that night watched the fireworks miles away over the city of anchorage. It was the fourth of July, and damn it felt good to be an American… in Alaska…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-1267264509003167675?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/1267264509003167675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=1267264509003167675&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1267264509003167675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1267264509003167675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/08/unbearable.html' title='un&quot;bear&quot;able'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFuDxZZRGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nB5E6y_uORg/s72-c/Grizzly-in-AK.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-7325728684345444347</id><published>2005-06-29T01:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:27:56.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Continental US</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK8QhZZRUI/AAAAAAAAAGI/i8YZFZrxlYc/s1600-h/IMG_8174.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK8QhZZRUI/AAAAAAAAAGI/i8YZFZrxlYc/s320/IMG_8174.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098844720165635394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Colorado always clears my head, but I miss my boat. I saw the movie Hitch on an airplane ride to alaska yesterday and it was so lame. I swear I didn't tear up at all.... &lt;div&gt;But yea, alaska is bigger than I pictured it.          &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Walking out of the airport I held my breath. It was in the air, in fact it was all around me. It hadn't hit me untill the 40 year old woman yelled at me for not getting in her cab. And then, all at once, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Her shirt said hello kitty but all she said was she had an appartrment so she didnt know anything about a cheap hotel. Fortunatly for my memories she knew how to cause a scene and it was pretty impressive to see her yelling to a group of people about how she'd never needed to stay in a hotel before. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Just then Vladimer pulled up and I took my que. He took us to his friends house/ hostel and told about the Tears of Allah. I dont think he was on it so we tipped him well. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Today We will buy food and tomorrow we will share it with our thirteen kids. We is Anna Kurtz. She is crazier than me and the kids have no idea what they are in for.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Stay away from the Tears of Allah, Dan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-7325728684345444347?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/7325728684345444347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=7325728684345444347&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/7325728684345444347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/7325728684345444347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/06/continental-us.html' title='Continental US'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK8QhZZRUI/AAAAAAAAAGI/i8YZFZrxlYc/s72-c/IMG_8174.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-7482260854507696446</id><published>2005-05-25T01:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:15:17.990-07:00</updated><title type='text'>consu-me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFtChZZRFI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/qH8K1RgvNL8/s1600-h/IMG_9412.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFtChZZRFI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/qH8K1RgvNL8/s320/IMG_9412.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098476143252161618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My sister pointed it out so clearly to me why I would never be running for office. You can’t help people that don’t want to be helped. And it sure seems to me like more and more Americans are more worried about what brand of sunglasses they are wearing than the issues that I would attempt to tackle if I ran for office. I mean it’s hard enough to talk politics with someone on the other end of your political spectrum, but at least they believe in a cause. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It is truly frustrating, however, to try and talk about social issues with someone who doesn’t care. I just don’t understand how you could not have an opinion about issues that directly affect you. That you don’t want to learn about them. That you just want to change the subject and talk about how disapointed you were with the new lines at the gap!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-7482260854507696446?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/7482260854507696446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=7482260854507696446&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/7482260854507696446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/7482260854507696446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/05/consu-me.html' title='consu-me'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFtChZZRFI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/qH8K1RgvNL8/s72-c/IMG_9412.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-1758612795149688741</id><published>2005-04-17T01:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:15:50.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rich with...shit, I forgot</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFsJRZZREI/AAAAAAAAAEI/cqDQOc7-ZE8/s1600-h/IMG_1668.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFsJRZZREI/AAAAAAAAAEI/cqDQOc7-ZE8/s320/IMG_1668.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098475159704650818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We base our whole lives on what we have to show for. All I ever hear people say is something along the lines of how they are 30 years old and have nothing to show for it. This is crazy to me. I am 26 and until last week I had nothing to show for it. It didn’t bother me though, in fact, I don’t have a single regret in my life so far and I probably won’t. I don’t value my life on what I “have to show for it.” I value my life on something far more important to me, my memories. They will never be taken. And nothing that has value in our society will ever bring a smile to my face or a tear from my eye quicker then memories of my friends, family, and my experiences.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-1758612795149688741?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/1758612795149688741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=1758612795149688741&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1758612795149688741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1758612795149688741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/04/rich-withshit-i-forgot.html' title='Rich with...shit, I forgot'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFsJRZZREI/AAAAAAAAAEI/cqDQOc7-ZE8/s72-c/IMG_1668.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-2211409675403895421</id><published>2005-04-15T01:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:16:03.064-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to be a nomad</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFpsxZZRCI/AAAAAAAAAD4/cfUTfPbcXSQ/s1600-h/Nomad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFpsxZZRCI/AAAAAAAAAD4/cfUTfPbcXSQ/s320/Nomad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098472471055123490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It hit me as I pulled back in to my new slip. My dream had come true. I can’t believe it only took two and a half years, and now she is mine… Yesterday I bought an Ericson 35 sailboat. My friends Sean and Raquel accompanied me on the maiden voyage of &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;NOMAD VI&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. As we pulled out of the harbor my heart began to race. We headed into the wind, raised the sails, and the cut the engine. The sound of the wind is so simple, it’s almost hypnotizing. It would be nice if you could come sailing on her one day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-2211409675403895421?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/2211409675403895421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=2211409675403895421&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/2211409675403895421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/2211409675403895421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/04/i-want-to-be-nomad.html' title='I want to be a nomad'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFpsxZZRCI/AAAAAAAAAD4/cfUTfPbcXSQ/s72-c/Nomad.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-6157550051923751576</id><published>2005-03-30T01:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:16:42.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I take it all back</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFo_hZZRBI/AAAAAAAAADw/lgAJHWgARrI/s1600-h/Panama-City.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFo_hZZRBI/AAAAAAAAADw/lgAJHWgARrI/s320/Panama-City.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098471693666042898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So I was bragging a few weeks ago letting everyone know that I was going down to &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;Aruba&lt;/st1:city&gt;, &lt;st1:country-region&gt;Panama&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; and &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Costa Rica&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. But now that I’m back I don’t know if I can actually say that I have been to them. Don’t get me wrong, I was physically in those places…I am trying to beet around the bush here but its not working very well…I WENT ON A CRUISE alright! With that said I will get back to the point. You don’t really get to see the real &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Costa Rica&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; when you are only there for 8 hours and 6 of them are on a tour bus with a hundred other tourists. Instead you get to see the &lt;st1:place&gt;Disneyland&lt;/st1:place&gt; version of &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Costa Rica-&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; Very beautiful but without the culture.   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But I really must say that other than that, the trip was amazing! The best part was hanging out with the family. There were nine of us total and we tore that ship a new one.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;If you haven’t been on a cruise before I would save it for when you are having problems with your marriage. All you have to do is eat and have sex (this was unfortunately not my case as I shared a room with my mom and her boyfriend). &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Every where we went was so beautiful. The Panama Canal was truly incredible. From now on anytime I think that I can’t do something I will remember the attitudes of those that built the canal and what they would probably say to me, “If you try too hard you will only die of the yellow fever like me!” But seriously, if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything, Marty Mcfly…I mean Dan Zahn&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-6157550051923751576?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/6157550051923751576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=6157550051923751576&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/6157550051923751576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/6157550051923751576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2005/03/i-take-it-all-back.html' title='I take it all back'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsFo_hZZRBI/AAAAAAAAADw/lgAJHWgARrI/s72-c/Panama-City.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-1481117597049844182</id><published>2004-11-05T11:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:16:55.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mutiny on the high seas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK66RZZRTI/AAAAAAAAAGA/sLt7nYAtjNA/s1600-h/Dolfin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK66RZZRTI/AAAAAAAAAGA/sLt7nYAtjNA/s320/Dolfin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098843238401918258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I put the kitchen knife in my pocket and jumped back on deck. The captain of the vessel had cornered himself in the cockpit, desperatly klinging onto the tiller with his left hand, and gripping the navagation divider as a weapon with his right! It was two thirty in the morning.  &lt;div&gt;This was when I thought back three days earlier and realized that there was probably a good reason that the previous 4 crew members of the westsail 32 had abandoned ship on the morn of our departure from San Diego to the tip of the Baja peninsula. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;But that was irellivant now. What mattered was getting to the next port alive. Maybe it was sleep deprivation, or just the fact that the Captain Rick Myerhoff was a complete idiot, but we were about to run aground a reef 60 miles north of our landfall. The captain was convinced that Cedros, an offshore Island was Bahia Tortola. He was so convinced that he had refused to look at the charts, compass, or GPS for over two hours and was running us on a 30degree NE coarse straight towards a major reef when we should have been heading SW. This was the closest moment in my life I have ever considered hitting a man in the head with a giant oar. With my life jacket on and ready to swim, I thru my negotiating skills out there one last time. A few minutes later he plotted our course, yelling, " holy shit, we're right over a shallow reef!" He gave me a heading of 210 degrees and disapeered below until we made our landfall 13 hours later.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I jumped ship right after we anchored and found another boat that needed crew. Since then the sailing has been great and I will fill you in on all the details when it doesnt cost so much. I am in Cabo San Lucas and fly ou of San Jose del Cabo tommorrow, I think. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-1481117597049844182?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/1481117597049844182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=1481117597049844182&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1481117597049844182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/1481117597049844182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2004/11/mutiny-on-high-seas.html' title='Mutiny on the high seas'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK66RZZRTI/AAAAAAAAAGA/sLt7nYAtjNA/s72-c/Dolfin.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-51220416383402532</id><published>2004-10-13T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:17:08.178-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not your sheep</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK6SxZZRSI/AAAAAAAAAF4/9K0SyLg1_HQ/s1600-h/02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK6SxZZRSI/AAAAAAAAAF4/9K0SyLg1_HQ/s320/02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098842559797085474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So tonight concluded the debates for the masses. It too bad, because I think Mass Debating is so healthy and important. I can only hope that one day I will be in front of millions of people...Mass Debating... &lt;div&gt;Anyways, I hope everyone is registered to vote...for Bush. Because if there is one thing that I love more than Mass Debating its... Bush. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;But let me get serious on you for a minute, Please, Please get out and vote. I don't care who you vote for...But if you are smart like me, you'll follow the rest of the fuckin' sheep and vote for THE BRAVE, THE FEARLESS, THE SON OF GOD HIMSELF, bush.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-51220416383402532?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/51220416383402532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=51220416383402532&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/51220416383402532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/51220416383402532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2004/10/not-your-sheep.html' title='Not your sheep'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK6SxZZRSI/AAAAAAAAAF4/9K0SyLg1_HQ/s72-c/02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733731688919247419.post-3092128724247035109</id><published>2004-08-15T13:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T21:17:23.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Iowa decline</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK5pBZZRRI/AAAAAAAAAFw/rptuteoJnW8/s1600-h/rv.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK5pBZZRRI/AAAAAAAAAFw/rptuteoJnW8/s320/rv.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098841842537547026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I looked at the clock as we left the first bar. 9:45 wasn't too bad I thought until I stepped outside and the sun began to blind me. We had been up till 2:30 that morning so when I picked up my aching head at 7, started peddling at 7:45 and started drinking again by 8:30am I was still a little out of it. y marys were passed around and this naturally sent me to the bathroom to purge my system from the night before. Feeling much better i stumbled back to the group where another round was ready along with some bud lite. &lt;div style=""&gt; &lt;div class="RTE"&gt;There is a strict "coozy" rule that the men I was with abide by; leave it on an empty can and walk away and thats a round for the group. Be that its still early for me, I am the culprit and step to the bar. "Twenty two budweisers I say" but all I here is a laugh. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="RTE"&gt;"Go next store and buy a case because we dont have that many left," is the reply of the other bartender.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="RTE"&gt;Mind you its only 8:45 in the morning and the bar is already out of Budweiser. Naturally the liquor store is able to oblige me and the drinking carries on at the bar for another hour. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="RTE"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="RTE"&gt;Once my eyes adjusted to the morning light outside the bar, We proceeded to hop on to the next town of the day via road bycicle. One would truly be amazed at how the breeze on your face and the simple act of peddling can transform 22 drunk and dirty old men into 1 fine tuned machine. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="RTE"&gt;This day would continue on with 4 more towns like the first and 70 miles on the bycicle. Sinnce it was my first time touching a road bike in over three years the consequences will be severe. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="RTE"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="RTE"&gt;But for these men that I was riding with (my father included) this was just the third day of a seven day trip. I have since gone back to my previous position of driving the RV. It is only 42feet. Of coarse when you add on the 20 foot trailer it tows it is longer than a semi truck. It took me an hour to get into a parking spot the other day and the driver was actualy impressed that I was able to perform in about 30 turns back and forth. After setting up camp I am usually not able to start drinking myself away untill about one or two in the afternoon. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="RTE"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="RTE"&gt;There are few things I know but one is this, my generation and my fathers generation have two very different ideas when it comes to taking a vacation.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="RTE"&gt;I bought a book from a homless man this morning at breakfast, dan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6733731688919247419-3092128724247035109?l=danzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/3092128724247035109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6733731688919247419&amp;postID=3092128724247035109&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/3092128724247035109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6733731688919247419/posts/default/3092128724247035109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danzahn.blogspot.com/2004/08/iowa-decline.html' title='Iowa decline'/><author><name>dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01249012044280184348</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t7Htf8EZo9k/RsK5pBZZRRI/AAAAAAAAAFw/rptuteoJnW8/s72-c/rv.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
