Someone Once Told Me..

I just happened to stumble across this site... and I'd like to give a little shout out before I get off the computer today and do some actual work.

Every day, a new picture is submitted of someone holding up a sign of something that "someone once told them". Alot of them are very moving, some are hillarious, and some are kinda lame. But I love all of them. I spent the entire day browsing until I got to the last photo. It really is a great site.

I leave you with this man and a quote from Voltaire. I originally only posted it because it was Voltaire, but then I laughed alot when I realized what it meant. I'll leave the semi vulgar translation up to you. :)

Two Decades Later...

Yesterday, I turned 20 years old. Which brings me to my next point:

Holy Shit.

So this means that I am no longer able to blame anything on my teenage naivete, or to say that I was to young to know better, or to put things off for tomorrow. Nope, the time is now, and it's fucking scary.

I had a cinematic moment yesterday around midnight... I caught my reflection in the mirror and just stared. I had lived for two decades- and I took stock of all I had accomplished within those years. Certainly not many people my age had ever had an original composition performed in front of leading established liturgical composers, travelled to third world countries to help the poor mountain people of the Dominican Republic. Many my age are not fortunate enough to have a job that earns them some amount of respect and authority, not to mention, for my age, a decent wage.

In spite of this, I felt vaguely hollow; like there was still so much work to be done. I have only completed a year of college, and there are still so many lives I haven't touched in some way. Granted, I have done more than most, but retrospect, what had I really done?

My name is David Cooper. I have lived two decades, and I haven't even started.

People Are Visiting Me Today!

Today I went to work.

I picked up the ringing phone.

I said, "Thank You for calling the Sheraton Ferncroft. How may I help you?"

A guest asked a question. I answered it.

Rinse and repeat.

I Went to Work Today.....

I have an unnatural headache.

I mean..

it's h....................................................I can't even stand it.
.......o
........r...............................And.. I have to stare at a computer
.........r....................................................................for eight hours

..........i.................PLEASE headache- go away...

...........b................and never come back.
.............l...........................EVER
..............e

......................................................................HELP

THE PREVIOUS POST WAS A DRAMATIZATION OF THE WORLD WITH A MIGRAINE.

david j cooper

Drivin' My Life Away

This morning, after a long week that yielded me only a few hours sleep, I woke up at nine. Sure this sounds late I realize, but not when you have to be at work by eleven, with a two hour drive in between.

When I lived in Danvers, I would look at the alarm clock and press the snooze button, and bask in the luxury of time for a few minutes. What I realized today, is that really, we have no time left.

525,600 minutes. That's all the time we get in one year. How many minutes do we spend sleeping? Eating? Working? Commuting?

Far too many times we get caught up. Our daily commute, people passing, barely glancing, toll booth operators and our "have a nice day"s; when will we mean it? Is this all that anyone has worked for? To be content to go about our activities without so much a glance at what we may be missing?

On our hike on Monday I called Thera a shameless romantic when she took a picture of a pink flower growing alongside the trail. It made an artistic shot: it's pale pink leaves struggling to contrast with the dark brown of dead, rotting pine branches.

Shameless romantic. What a waste of film.

And yet finding out later, the pink lady's slipper we photographed was endangered, and the picture she took may be one of the last images ever taken of the precious flower.

How many minutes will you spend connecting with those you love; spending time with friends, spending time in reflection?

How will you measure your year?

Interior Journies (Subtitle: Happy Birthday Thera)

So I awoke yesterday morning and had just finished putting my pants on when Thera (my girlfriend, just in case you are a stalker who doesn't actually know me...) knocked on my door. Today is Thera's birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!) and so yesterday we went out on a hike and a picnic to Diana's Bath, a 45 minute drive from my place to North Conway.



It's a beatiful hike, short, easy, and with a sense of accomplishment at the end. Personally I would recommend it for anyone who likes nature but doesn't want to get dirty (AKA Thera...) and just look at what awaits you at the top!

The falls are beatiful, and if you ask me, it's the cleanest water I've ever seen in nature (I drank from it, Thera didn't.) it's used as a public water supply even! We were able to stop and eat a picnic lunch and I smoked a clove cigarette and life was good and Thera rolled her eyes.

I wanted to continue on the hike past the waterfall and trace it to it's source... but this never happened because Thera got miserable and stubborn when we lost the trail. Pssh... women. So we ended up going back. All other things aside though, if you are ever in North Conway for vacation, go on this trip. And if you are lazy and don't want to look up directions, you can find them here.

And just a disclaimer: if you are a woman or if you are another species of weak mindedness... you can stop at the waterfall and turn around, and it's still very satisfying. Bring a picnic lunch. And no, I'm not a chauvinist.


Which brings me to my next point. I find hiking to be as much an interior journey as it is a physical one. There is something about the quiet of nature that leads us to introspection and reflection. You can learn alot about yourself just by going for a walk in the woods. Trust me. Ralph Waldo Emerson himself once said:

"Do not follow where the path may lead, instead choose your own path and leave a trail"

I love that quote. Thera not so much. I don't think she likes walking through mud in ballet shoes. Why she wore them, I'll never know.