Lapse

     This project has come to an end. It is the end of the observations. The end of daily visit. I feel somewhat accomplished that I learned new things about Lucky and the Spirit. Pinion park is not just a place anymore and Lucky isn't just a dog anymore. Both have developed into something much more than a simple place or animal. Even as I think about myself, I too have become more than just a human. Or at least that's how I feel about myself. Nonetheless, these thoughts and ideas I have about these certain things have a significant meaning to me.
     This project has enlightened me. I've learned more about myself through observing the park and my companion. I love going places just like Lucky does and I enjoy the immense quietness that the park creates. And personally, being alone isn't so much a problem as it is a pastime. Most of all, I see my character amongst this place. All these new discoveries have widen my view about the world we all live in. This feels like it'll last forever.

Or so I thought.

***

     January 30, 2008 was my tenth birthday. It was a year of wonders and good vibes. And it was the same year I would witness the park being stripped and torn apart; I saw myself being ripped apart. 

     I have always spent my birthdays there. Mostly because it was a block away and because it was always empty and peaceful. "All to myself," I would exclaim, being the center of attention that everyone would revolve around during the celebration. I felt like the park was at it's prime. The grass was so fresh and the trees were so plump and bushy. The sunsets were impeccable and the sky was breath taking.

     There used to be basketball hoops on the court on the north end of the park. My friends and I would always play against each other. Sometimes we were really rough on each other and sooner or later one of us would go home with a bloody nose or a huge scab. Other times our self-esteem was lowered dramatically because we lost. Someone would lose their temper. And after that fists would be colliding with faces and shoes with rib cages. You could say we were violent, stubborn, angry, but we were just kids. I was a kid.

     The playground on the south side was the best. Although there was no swings, the sheer size of the slides and monkey bars seem to make up for it. I would spend hours on the playground even though to me it felt like it was only there for a couple of minutes. Even when I fell off the bars I would pick myself up like nothing happened and continue to play like nothing mattered. My favorite thing to do was slide down on all of the six slides at the "Forge." (I came up with a name for the playground since I thought "playground" was too bland and ponderous; even though I didn't know what a forge was I decided to stick with it because it sounded cool).

     This was the place to be. "I am a kid."

***

     It was late March when the city of Sparks closed off the park. I was the first one to know because I was going to the park to shoot some hoops. My eyes were confused to the sight of fences covering every corner of the park. What is happening? 

     It wasn't until a couple of days later that I started to realize that the park was going to be shut down. The basketball hoops were the first to go. I saw as they pulled them out of the concrete. That was day one.

     Day two came and things started to become more frightening. The benches were basically dismembered and then carried away, never to be seen again. I used to just sit on the table with my feet on top of the seats. I felt like I was some cigarette smoking, leather jacket wearing bad ass when I did that. But now they're gone and there is nothing that can bring them back.

    Finally, the Forge was taken apart and thrown onto a truck. I watched the men as they made the Forge into nothing but fragments. Piece by piece. At the same I felt so bothered that the park was being mutilated right before me. I wanted to run across the street, jump the fence, beat the shit out of the men that were destroying the park, and put it all back together. I was fighting the urge, and the urge was fighting me. I kept telling myself, "I'm going to do it." I never did do it. I decided I wasn't going to go rogue and murder everyone, not because I couldn't do it, and believe me, an angry kid will go to extreme measures just to satisfy his revenge, but because I gave this issue some thought. I somehow came to the conclusion that maybe Sparks is going to make this park better. Maybe they'll bring in some new equipment and new benches and a new basketball court. A bit of hope started poisoning my heart and mind. It seeped in slowly and stayed there for a week. 

      How could I have been so wrong. I waited and waited for the trucks to come back with a new playground and concrete for a new basketball court. Nothing.

     Then June came and I noticed a few pickup trucks parked against the curb of the park and men with shovels and concrete bags working on the park. By now I completely gave up on the new park. In the back of my head I felt like these men weren't going to improve the park. But I just couldn't quite put my finger on it. Why are you people here? What more are you going to take?

     They left two weeks later. I expected the park to be completely gone. No trees or shrubs or even grass. Just a pile of dirt and debris. But instead I found a monument. Next to some graves of unidentified people. I wasn't sure how I was suppose to feel about dead people laying underneath my feet. One thing was for sure. I was a little happy seeing that the trees were still here.

"At least the natural things are still here."

***

     Remembering my last birthday at the park was very nostalgic. My feelings ranged from rushes of happiness to waves of fury to pulses of moroseness. 

     The truth is that I miss this place and no matter how many times I think about the past I can't bring any of that back. But what does that say about the future?

     Well, I could say, "Don't worry about tomorrow or what the future holds!" or the more famous,"Enjoy it while it last!" No. Fuck that. I don't want to have a mind set were one should be self-centered and selfish. Not worrying about a single thing other than themselves.

     What I will say is that everything is temporary. Sure the Forge didn't last long but now how long is the park going to last? How long are those dead, lifeless remains and names going to last? How long? I can't promise that these questions will ever be answered.

     I have to face the reality of things. I realize Lucky won't be here forever. Neither will the park or my mother and father. Not even myself. Everything is temporary.

     Goodbye Spirit.

Dawdling autumn

     The season of autumn has been around since October but, for some strange reason, to me it doesn't feel like fall. The park's trees still have most of it's leaves and so do the shrubs and the bushes. Even the grass is still soft and full of that deep forest green color.

     This did not look or feel like fall to me. This year is different unlike the past years where I would see the whole north fence be completely covered in bright yellow and orange leaves. Slowly, but surely, the leaves started to appear on the north fence. It was almost as everyday a new small layer of leaves would be added to the fence. I can expect the fence to be covered by the end of November or early December, but the park makes no promises, and I should not burden it. 

     And just like the leaves are slowly falling of the branches of the trees, so is Lucky's coat. His hairs are so thin that I cannot see them brush off when the wind blows against his sturdy body. I just assume that hundreds of tiny hair follicles break off and catch a drift of air that carries them wherever the wind pleases. They sometimes end up in my clothes and other times they end up who knows where. Wherever they end up I'm sure they manage to make it to the ground to decay. They become a part of this earth again. Just like every single living thing on this planet.

      Recently the days seem so quiet. Especially being in the middle of the park. Where the only sound that I hear, now, is the chime of Lucky's dog tags and the crunch of leaves with every step that I take. Silence seem to finally cast it's shadow on the park. I enjoy it. It gives me space to think about my thoughts that, during this time of year, seem to rush through my mind so fluidly like a stream of water. Silence is everything and silence is what everything originated from.
     Occasionally the silence is suddenly annihilated by F-14's that not only break the sound barrier, but also rupture my ear drums. Other times military cargo planes pass by but they are not as aggressive as the jets. Commercial airlines are the usual inhabitants of the airspace above the park. And when these aircraft do fly by Lucky will suddenly become startled. He tucks his tall in between his hind legs and timidly walks towards me. I have to hug him or do something to let him know that I'm there right beside him. He has my back and I have his.

     "The cold weather is approaching. Soon this park will be still. Less people will visit and the trees will be naked. Of course, I'll still be here and so will Lucky." (Field notes 10-31)

     I believe that most of the animals in the park are either migrating, like Canadian Geese did just a couple of weeks ago, or are hibernating, like bears do. Even the pesky insects and flies and mosquitoes are gone now too. I see and record the same things over and over again in the park like "fallen leaves from the trees" or "The stillness of the park." I soon asked myself, "Okay, am I going to see anything other than trees and grass? Maybe an animal perhaps?"
     Those question were swimming in head for about a day or two until I decided to ease the thought of it by doing some research. I went online to the Nevada department of Wildlife website to see what types of animals stay here in Nevada during fall and winter season. They gave me a list of animals that I doubt I will ever see in such an urbanized area. But, nonetheless, these animals neither migrate nor hibernate which include Mule deer, Pronghorn Antelope, Mountain goats, Elk, and Bighorn sheep. Two animals that I do believe I'll see at the park, if I'm lucky enough, are the Sage Grouse and the Chukar. The Sage grouse diet consist of sage brush leaves and when the snow fall grows to two feet or higher, they will burrow in the snow underneath the sage brush. The Chukar are very small and they have eight to nine vertical black strips that go across their sides underneath their wings. They do not migrate, however, they will head for lower levels of elevation when snow accumulates. (Winter wildlife)

"Sage grouse" Photo by Nevada department of wildlife

 
     So, now I definitely know what to look out for when snow settles in. Hopefully I catch a glimpse of either birds.

     Although the cold seasons, at least to me, feel like they last forever, I do enjoy them to some extent. I enjoy the celebrations and holiday spirit it brings to me. Or maybe I just care about all the temporary things that come with the holidays like gifts and feasts. What ever the reason may be, I still feel, and always will feel, that this period of time will take the longest to pass by. I think the only reason why I like the slowness of days is because I am enlightened by the experiences that come with it. Not so much the cold temperatures, but rather the sensations of the events that occur during fall and winter seasons. The leaves changing color in October, the scents of pies and hams and turkeys being cooking in ovens and the sight of beautiful blankets of pure, undiluted snow that, sometimes, seem to go on forever.
     From this slow period of time I do look forward to a number of things in the future. One of these things include a new album by my favorite artist, J. Cole. Not only that, I will also most likely be traveling to Mexico during winter break. But that is still to come. I still have time.
     It feels like time is just completely stopping all at once when I'm observing. I lay against the trunk of one of the oak trees and feel the grass with the extremities of my fingers. I feel the cold breeze smack my face. Serenity. I forget about time all together. I forget about the concept of time and how humans created hours, days, weeks, months, years, and millenniums to measure it. Is it incorrect to think that time is only an illusion? I think of time as drawing a straight line on a blank piece of paper that never ends. As the graphite from the pencil sticks to the paper it leaves it's trail behind; that would be represented as past events that have already happened. The past is far behind us. Yet, nothing lies ahead of time. The future doesn't exist. Time dives blindly into the abyss and sooner or later it will dematerialize because there will be no more time left to continue. Like a pencil does after there is no more graphite to continue the line. Every single living thing starts a line and it doesn't end until their life ceases to exist.

Eventually, everyone runs out of time.

Works cited

"Winter wildlife." Nevada department of wildlife. web. 17 Nov 2014.

Coton de tulear

     I remember when I first got him. He walked through the front door with awe and a little bit of fear. All he would do was run down the main hall in the house, back and fourth like a Newton's cradle. This house and the people that lived in it were foreign to him. Almost hostile since he had never even seen us before. Whenever I tried to pet him he would stop and faintly growl. Showing his front row of large teeth and scrunching up his snout. I don't think he slept at all that night because I can still remember his whimpers and how he was howling, begging to go back to his mother. I was filled with sadness to hear him cry but at the sane time I was really amazed that my family was actually getting a dog. Our first dog.

***

     Two weeks later after he arrived I still couldn't figure out a name for him. It was hard because I couldn't find anything unique and creative to name him. The past owner named him "Angel" because of his bright, white coat. I thought that name was horrid. So, I decided to name him something else. I just hadn't figured it out yet. 

***

      One early morning as I was waiting for the school bus my father and my dog accompanied me. We soon figured out that the dog has lots, and I mean lots, of energy in his small, but strong, body. So in order to satisfy his needs we bought him a tennis ball and he just absolutely loved it.

     All was going well for a while. The natural order of things were aligned and the universe was in harmony, until a car came by. The ball went across the street and the dog went after it blind to the fact that a car was coming his way. Then the ball went under the car's rear tire and he was trampled by the left rear tire. He yelped in pain and I was more than sure he was not going to survive. A woman came out of the car as my dad picked the poor animal off the asphalt. I couldn't speak because I was too concentrated on the dog's cries. I just stood there watching everything unfold.

     The woman and my dad left with my dog. My dad told me that he'd pick me up at school later to come and see how the dog was doing. Then I left on the school bus and all I could think about was the sight of an animal being run over. It felt like the bus ride took forever to get to school. Or maybe it was because I wasn't paying attention to the actual trip from Sparks to Hidden Valley.
     I was called down to the office, but I already knew the reason why. My dad was waiting for me there. We left to go see how the dog was doing at a local animal hospital. When we arrived I barged through the front doors and immediately ask where my dog was. Then a man in a lab coat took my dad and I into a room where we found the dog on a table asleep. The veterinarian told us that he suffered minor injuries and only one broken bone. He was going to live.  

     I was relieved to know that he was going to survive. We took him home and I thought of a name for my nameless dog. Lucky.

 ***

     Lucky is now approximately ten years old ( I say approximately because apparently he already was two years old when I first got him).  Yet I don't see him act like an old dog where they get grumpy and just aren't fun anymore. I feel like he is still a little puppy because all he wants to do is play all the time. Whether it's fetch of tug of war he will not stop bothering me to play until I get up and fulfill his wishes.
     What are you? I started to become curious about my dog so I decided to do some research. But where would I even start? I don't even know what type of breed he is! My dad told me the only information the previous owners gave him was that he was from an island.

     So I started my search with the types of dog breeds that developed on islands. I thought of places where he could have possibly come from like the Easter islands, Hawaii, Japan, Micronesia, and Malaysia. My search led me to Madagascar where I stumbled upon a dog breed called "Coton de Tulear" and they looked exactly like Lucky. The snout, eyes, and fur all matched the way Lucky looked. "That's him. That's his breed," I told myself.

     Coton de Tulear dogs are believed to originate from Madagascar but it is unclear whether they are indigenous or another breed was brought from another country where it mated with a native dog, creating the coton. These little white balls of fun were named after the port city of Tulear (now Toliara) on the southern tip of Madagascar and because their fur resembled a very soft, "cotton" texture and color. During the 17th century the Merina, a ruling tribal monarchy, domesticated and bred these dogs to become royal dogs. Coastal tribesmen and non-noblemen were forbidden to even own this dog as it soon became known as "The Royal dog of Madagascar." Later french colonist soon conquered most of the island and they also adopted the coton as a most noble dog. (History: coton de...)
     Who would've known that Lucky was so important to people at one point in history. And his decedents come all the way from Madagascar! Lucky, what else have you been hiding from me?

***

     In most of my observations Lucky does the same things over and over again like pee and shit everywhere. Sometimes, if he tries hard enough, he'll find a treasure of some sort--like a tennis ball or a Frisbee. In the most recent observation he found a torn pair of pants deep inside of some shrubs on the south end of the park. It didn't seem much like a treasure but to him it was the best thing he could have ever found. Of course I think that is pretty disgusting, but who am kidding, he's a dog and he doesn't really care about the sort of things that disgust us humans. Either way, I still love him. 

     Lucky doesn't mind the cold. He has a thick coat of cotton-white hairs mixed with patches of brown fur on his back. Actually the brown is very light and it stands out so much it almost looks like someone spilled their morning cup of coffee on him (Field notes 10-14).

Works cited

"History: Coton de Tulear." American kennel club. web. 29 Oct 2014. 

Event Horizon

Event Horizon
(n.) the boundary of a black hole beyond which nothing can escape from within it.

     I think of this as the point of no return. This is it. I'm going to keep on observing.

     I've been noticing a lot of "traces" of either animals or possibly other people in the park. The animals or humans just leave tracks and sometimes they even leave a piece of themselves. What I found were some animal tracks of some type of bird or small mammal.

     These prints are scattered all throughout the dirt in between the park. They seem to be abundant because in every corner of the park there they are. It fills me with wonder to think what thing left these footprints. How could I have possibly missed it? I have this minuscule idea that the animal that I think matches the prints is the White tailed jackrabbit. Hopefully I am correct.

     As I look around the south end of the park close to the memorial I spot a feather. Lucky sees it as well and proceeds to sniff it. After he's done I go and pick it off the grass. It was kind of embedded in the moist ground but it didn't blend in very well with the grass since it was gray with black edges. I think that feather is from a Canadian goose. I remember, some days past prier to this day of observation, seeing a small flock of geese moving south. Maybe they landed here to rest a little before continuing their journey. I bet they have many miles still to go.

     Trees leave tracks behind too. It may not be very obvious but I now can see these tracks. They're found all around the premises of the park. Mostly all you will see are some yellow and orange leaves that sort of stick to the edges of the park, like flies stuck to fly paper, but if you look closely you can see that there are seeds among them as well. 

     They are actually seed pods that have fallen off the branches of the trees. I think they look similar to the green bean pods but these are much thinner and they are brownish. The outside texture feels so fuzzy like a dandelion. And when I shake it a little I can hear the seeds inside rattle and rumble. Inside the seeds are smooth and extremely hard. They have the same color as the pod yet the seeds look shiny. I doubt that these little seeds will become saplings. I guess it's too late for them now since they look and feel dead.

     Trash. That is what humans can leave behind. I found a plastic wrapping of some sort and a paper plate that was torn apart into two halves. Then a tiny foam football with one of the ends chewed off. Lastly a water bottle cap. This proves to me that people visit the park on a regular basis. I think that's remarkable but I just don't like how they leave their presence here. Why would someone just throw away their shit here? I will never understand but it is what it is and I shall interfere with the balance of nature.

     The day soon turned to night as the sunset dissolved into the mountains and the moon slowly began crawling up the sky. With the moon also came my shadow. I noticed it in the midst of the park. Lucky then stands next to me and we can both see our shadows. We see it, ever so slowly, grow bigger and bigger. I find it mysterious. "That's him and me. That's us but it isn't somehow."

     Looking at my tall figure gave me chills up my spine. I feel like I will look at a horrific sight like if I was in a horror movie. That as soon as I stop and pay attention to my shadow that it will begin to move by itself. Then it'll come out of the ground and I'll stay completely still. Mesmerized by the unbelievable entity. I was more than sure that this was going to happen so in fear of it actually becoming true I ran home. Sure, I can't get that thought out of my head anymore every time I go but it intrigues me. Maybe it's the thrill that it gives me. The hope that builds up inside of me hoping that it'll actually happen and I live to tell the tale. This is the point of no return. 

Start

     An odd encounter happened on September nineteenth around 7:09 pm. People were at the park. For the first time in like five years I saw people in the park. As I walk towards the gate and slowly open it they look at me with serious eyes. They were probably just as surprised to see me as I was to see them. This uneasy feeling then hit me and I knew Lucky would take the chance to bite them because he doesn't know them. "Dude, chill please, I don't want to have to pry your mouth open off the kid's arm," I told Lucky as he took a quick glance at me and then at them.

     Lucky sees anything as a threat to me or himself. When he sees something of interest, whether a threat or just something that caught his attention, he stands still and all he does is move his ears. Usually he stands like that for about a minute or two at the most. Absorbing every detail he can get in his small, curious mind.

     7:20 pm, the people there are actually kids, three of them. They all seem like they are in eighth grade or they're either freshmen. Then two of them leave.

     As I was thinking about the events that happened in school today, which were quite traumatizing since I was really nervous and was about to have an emotional breakdown, the boy who stayed was playing with a soccer ball by himself. It looked like he was a good soccer player. Or at least he makes it look like he is good by balancing the ball on his foot and head. Kicking the ball at the gate was usually all he did after he got tired of balancing. I assume it was his routine since I've never seen kids, especially him, play here. Ever since they took down the playground I thought kids would never visit this place, I mean there's nothing "fun" about a cemetery. If I was the cemetery I wouldn't expect people, especially kids, to come and visit me often. But surprisingly enough there I was and so was the soccer kid.
     As I was sitting down on the grass on the north end of the park and writing my observations in my book I felt a somewhat hard bump that knocked my book and pen out of my hands. He kicked the ball and it ricochet off the gate and hit my hands. Lucky was about ready to bite the kid's face off but luckily I had his leash in my hand. I gave him back his ball and calmed Lucky down. Then the boy sat next to me but he didn't say a word. He changed his soccer cleats for some sandals and then he just sat there. A couple of minutes past and he took a glance at what I'm doing. Basically I was just writing down details about him and how he looked and what he was doing but I wasn't going to tell him because I thought that would be a little too weird. He broke the ice and asked me if I went to Wooster. If the sweater that I was wearing wasn't obvious enough I told him,"yeah I go to Wooster."
"Oh cool! I'm going to Wooster soon but right now I'm going to Vaughn," he said with a surprised voice.
I asked him with a curious tone in my voice, "Really? Are you in eighth grade or something?"
"No, I'm in seventh grade but I'll be going to Wooster hopefully."
"Nice, maybe I'll see you over there or something."
He left after that last remark. And I knew that I wasn't going to see him at Wooster.

Genesis

     I always knew this place existed. I already knew where it is, what's in it, and what to expect from that place. I'm calling it spirit because I feel like the park itself has a soul of it's own. Memories, Experiences, and Thoughts have all been apart of this park. At least that's how I've always felt about this park. I've witnessed the changes of seasons in that park. I remember playing on the playground and tripping on my shoelaces and getting a bloody nose and almost breaking my face on the solid dirt. Countless birthdays I've celebrated here, it's almost like every time I come back I'm there at my sixth birthday seeing myself. "Was I really that happy?" I probably was and now it's all coming back to me to give gratitude. The playground didn't last long. Or maybe it did but I didn't realize how I'd never see the park the same again. So, it's become a deserted cemetery with an unknown, uncanny, and dark feeling. With names that knew no one and no one knew them. It's good that the City of Sparks made a memorial for all those people but does anyone really know about this? Or are there people, kids, anyone like me who still visit this place and acknowledge this new perspective of the park? Revisiting this place made me ask myself a lot of possibly unanswerable questions. And all for what?

     Now that my English teacher assigned us with this so-called "Observation Project" I think I'll be able to answer some questions of my own. He's prepared us and expects some very excellent, interesting, and creative works from all his students and including me. I thought to myself, "What the hell am I going to observe?" And then it hit me: the park. Of course I've already been there but maybe I could really put my senses to use for once and maybe even thank this place for what it used to be and what it'll become in the future.

     I composed an idea of how I want to carry out this project. I'm going to observe the park and my dog Lucky because he is my companion and I felt like he is also a part of this park as well. Most of these observations will take place late in the afternoon or during sunset. I've already heard some birds chirp within the treetops and seen cars parked around the park but I doubt people even go to the park. Honestly, there are many things I don't about this park. Damn, I don't even know the name of the park! Other than the few details I've already said I know there's more to come. Listening, Smelling, Seeing, and everything else I'll be doing in that space and report for what I experienced or learned during that time in no specific chronicle. I'll become one with the spirit.