An Appalachian Education

 

‘An Appalachian Education’

Written Submission

Elizabeth ‘Too Damn Short’ Wellner

160423_Sweet Rock_0072I am a professional survivor.

In 2000, I was diagnosed with Bipolar II, anxiety disorder and chronic depression. I’ve lived through incest and the fallout has been severe. In 49 years, I have made it through suicide attempts, hospitals, weight loss, weight gain, self injury, OCD like tendencies, panic attacks, PTSD, alcohol abuse, too much food , not enough food, too much sleep, not enough sleep, thousands of hours ‘on the couch’, multiple psychologists/psychiatrists and at least 20 different medications in as many years.

Sometime in 2015, the AT came up in conversation with my husband and he casually said, ‘You should do that’. I said, ’Ok’. Much like the rest of our 28 years together, he had no idea what was about to happen and to be honest, neither did I. As a survivor, I’m constantly looking for things that will make me feel that my fight with ‘The Big Black Dog’ is not what defines me as a person and the trail felt like a challenging, or insane, way to investigate a new type of self care.

10336827_10208538379843842_4805238601920642318_nI boldly declared 2016 ‘The Year of Being a Badass’! Some of the items on my list included: Picking up a snake, removing my own stitches after knee surgery, spending a wedding anniversary apart from the hubs (I was on-trail, he was in another country), getting a tattoo, donating 8 inches of my hair and becoming a published author. I was convinced that my bad ass moves would make Chuck Norris stand in awe. Ok, well, maybe not, but I was sure impressed

I’ve been a hiker/camper since I was 6 months old so the newbie knowledge of the outdoors was safely tucked in my hip belt pocket. But 2,200 miles? In the rain? In the heat? In the snow? In a row? In 6 months? *gulp*

As so many times before, the doubt came crashing in and I routinely weighed my chance for success with the scales of my past. I was determined that this was a chance to lighten the load of those moments of self-doubt and helplessness that I have waded through all my life and carry a very different kind of load. One that would have me laughing, crying and wondering why the hell I packed deodorant.

I went down the magic rabbit hole of Google for detailed information and Facebook provided endless groups to join to get my inner happy hiker dance going. Once I got to the forum on managing menstruation on the trail, I ran screaming from the computer shouting, ‘No f*cking way! Are you kidding me? I am not dealing with THAT in the woods!’ In time, I realized that this too was part of Momma Nature and that’s just who I was looking to hang with. I managed to pull up my big girl gators and slid that information into the ‘That’s all part of it’ side pocket of my pack for easy access.

13434940_10209848400753546_1123223904262782826_nI read so much that it became shockingly clear that this was going. to. be. hard. We all know the physical game is often dwarfed by the mental game so the trick was to find balance between the two and stick with it like a tick in New Jersey.

 

I pointed myself north, to Maine, in late April on a flip flop from Harpers Ferry. I headed into the known, the unknown, the divine and the outrageous. Blisters, chaffing, twisted ankles, aching hips, knees swollen bigger than baseballs, critters, bears, bugs, everything wet for days and days and days and something called the ‘Deuce of Spades’ filled every day. It took a little while but I eventually saw and embraced the way of the trail— and the hiker box.

I hiked along thinking of things off the trail and kept waiting for some phantasmic epiphany to strike me in the middle of enjoying my Cliff Bar that would open the universe to me. Somehow, I was missing the message, the meaning and the answers.  That moment never came. At least not that way.

rocksI spent my days fumbling over boulder fields in Pennsylvania wondering how my relationship with my parents fell apart. I spent my nights in Maryland listening to crickets while thinking of how to manage the side effects of my medications. I trekked through New Jersey mulling over major life decisions and coming up with nothing. After the first week, I started to feel worse about the whole proposition and sat in my tent on a cold and rainy afternoon saying to myself, ‘What in the hell am I doing?’ I felt lost, confused and could still see doubt peeking out from every tree I passed chuckling and flipping me off.

While waiting for my Ramen to boil during a lunch break, I though of the question that so many people asked me before I began following the white blazes. ‘Why did you decide to hike the trail?’  I never really had an answer. To walk 5 millions steps? Because I like to poop in a privy? To control my pain and put it where it belonged? To see how long I could go without a shower? I had always wanted to run a marathon but even after years of trying, I just wasn’t a runner. Maybe this was my marathon? I still didn’t know. I kept walking.

I found that pushing the limits of my physical and mental game started to morph into confidence. Just knowing that I was hiking the AT, solo, began to make me feel fierce, empowered and undeniably ‘Badass’. Depression and hopelessness began to fade ever so slightly like the setting sun every night while I stretched out in my Big Agnes. I was happily exhausted after a day of fighting the terrain instead of anger and misery. I started to do what many hikers hike for; taking joy in the simple and pure moments of dazzling views, cold clean water, a ride to Walmart and dry socks.

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Struggling with BiPolar, means I am just not capable of making modifications without help. I can’t, ’Just be happy” or ‘Just change the way I think’. Depression is never that kind. If I was able to do so I would, but the chemical imbalance in my brain just doesn’t allow it to happen. Mental health, so much like the AT, can find steady and even footing. The cycle is always revolving for me but there is calm to be found after traversing seemingly limitless rising, torturous falling and taking the twins, Lexapro and Lamictal. ‘I love being crippled by anxiety, depression and isolation’, said no one ever.

During my odyssey on the trail I found these few things to be as valuable as a Snickers bar: See the goal but remember that it’s only the goal, not the end to every day. Keep track of what’s in front of you, what might be coming up, ask for help and let others perform their Trail Magic. No one ever does it alone. Practice ‘Leave no Trace’ and collect those bits of reason and place them in your biggest stuff sack. I triumphantly came away with concepts to adapt and cope when I’m not on the trail fighting with mice over my peanut butter.

I hiked 350 miles in the summer of 2016 and finished 4 states. With all great struggles, I needed a break to reflect on my new-found capabilities and how they could boost my mental health now and in the future. Physical health relies on consistent attention and monitoring to reach your personal best and mental health is no different. I will be returning to the trail this summer (2017) to log more miles and gather more pebbles of courage, confidence and conviction. With my ‘Sanity Stuff Sack’ holding more weight than a porter in Peru, I won’t worry about the load. It won’t be anything that a badass can’t handle.

I am a professional survivor.

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Surprise! You’re In A Rail Yard Space Shuttle Book!

Dreams are funny things. They reveal a side of the mind that can be very different from ‘normal’ thought. Heck even the notion of normal is a bit of an odd designation given that we spend something like a third of our lives dreaming. And what about surprises in dreams. You are walking down the street in your dream and are stunned to suddenly be hit by a bus. How can you possibly be surprised when your mind is also responsible for creating the bus that hits you.

In any case, I had a fun dream last night.

As many of you know, I wrote a book last decade about grid computing. A boring book with a limited audience (interestingly we sold about a third of our total volume in India), it served it’s purpose even while the world of computing moved on from grid computing to the cloud.

In my dream it was present time (2012) and my publisher called to convince me that I needed to talk with all my friends and get them to write reviews of the book on amazon to increase sales. I was flattered, of course, to hear that they thought a seven year old book about an unpopular and misunderstood technology was still worth reading, but they made a strong case that most of what we talked about was, in fact, central to the notion of cloud computing and we should be recognized as pioneers and not the authors of a book best used as a sleep aid.

Deciding that they were right I hit the phones and started calling people. Of course, in real life not only wouldn’t I be so easily convinced but I would have a very difficult time calling my friends as I only have numbers for perhaps 10% of them. I started wandering around the office while talking on my headset and noticed a freight train climbing into the beautiful clear blue sky.

Well, that’s weird. It seems my office is in a railroad switching yard.

As I wander around convincing my friends to write amazon reviews I’m fascinated by the complexity of getting freight loads positioned on the right trains, but I keep coming back to the loaded trains that are climbing into the sky.

On further inspection I notice that our yard is in a river valley and the trains aren’t flying at a 45 degree angle, but are actually on rails that have been painted the same color blue as the sky. (My ‘normal’ mind knows fully well that 2% is a steep grade for a train and tracks are generally more like .5%. Who knows where that knowledge went during the dream.) The steep tracks raise the trains up to the level of the surrounding terrain and off they go to their destinations.

My phone rings and I get called by a customer who wants to know if I can see the space shuttle from where I am. They are in Texas and I’m, it’s revealed at this moment, in the Mississippi river valley near St. Louis. But I look up and sure enough there is a giant delta wing aircraft with the space shuttle attached to the top of the left wing. It’s doing a series of low passes so everyone on the ground can get a good look at it. As you might imagine (certainly I did), it’s majestic. The delta wing is larger than any ever constructed (in order to carry the space shuttle, of course) and the shuttle looks like a trophy in a display case mounted, as it is, in a completely unflyable location on the left wing.

Everyone is excited that I get to see it and, as my customer and I begin a conversation about the future of cloud computing, I wake up.

Cedar Point

For as long as she’s been alive Sarah has always had an adventurous streak. As a toddler we once went remote camping in Mammoth Cave National Park and were swamped for three straight days as the remains of hurricane Erin dumped inches of rain on our tents. Sarah never complained though and when the adults decided it was time to decamp for town she happily carried her stuff in the rain down the muddy trail singing “I love you, you love me, we’re a happy family” (aka The Barney Song).

She grew from there to be someone who eschewed gender rolls and played travel soccer on the boys team, ran cross country and track and hurtled down the ski hills with reckless abandon.

And she’s always loved roller coasters. I remember taking her to Great America and riding coasters all day. My favorite was always the American Eagle, an absolutely massive wooden racing coaster. She prefers steel coasters with faster speeds and loops like the Deju Vu.

Since getting my pilot license we had talked about flying to Ohio to go to Cedar Point (the roller coast center of the world) and decided finally to do it.

We watched the weather and were delighted to find ourselves in a window of perfectly clear skies after a week or so of rain and thunderstorms. Today’s plane has great avionics, including two GPS units that can be configured to display weather and any other planes in the area. I pre-flight the airplane, judge it to be airworthy and we taxi into position. After a brief pause to allow an incoming plane to land, I push the throttle to the firewall, watch the airspeed gather itself and quickly we find ourselves climbing to the east as the skyline of Chicago shines to our port side.

We’re still sitting underneath the O’hare airspace and level off at 3,000 feet until we can get clear of it. Soon we’re east and can climb to more respectable levels legally, but I know from experience that Chicago Center will request that you stay lower to accomodate flights incoming to Midway. Rather than climb to 7,500 feet as planned I loiter around 3,500 and eventually begin a climb after getting well clear of the area. Unfortunately it turns out I’m not far enough and soon ATC says, “773SP descend to 3,500 for traffic incoming to Midway”.

Descend I do and before too long I get a thank you and clearance to climb however I like. We climb to 5,500 and decide that’s high enough for the moment.

Sarah has been interested in piloting lately so I tell ATC that we’re going to do a few maneuvers and then continue on our way. First we fly a couple steep turns. One to the right, losing a couple hundred feet of altitude and then one to the left with better altitude control.

I ask Sarah if she wants to see what it’s like when a plane stalls. She asks if I mean when an engine dies, but that’s not it. An airplane stalls when the angle of attack becomes great enough that the airflow over the wing separates and fails to lift the wing. This can happen at any airspeed, but we do our training at low airspeeds as when you are low and slow and getting ready to land is typically when stalls happen in small airplanes.

We idle the engine to reduce airspeed and gradually pull back on the yoke to increase the angle of attack as the aircraft slows. As we get slower and slower the stall horn sounds alerting us to incipient stall. In a normal flight this would be the warning that something has gone wrong and it’s time to correct by either adding power, lowering the nose or, more likely, both. Since I’m demonstrating this for Sarah we keep holding back the yoke until the stall fully develops and the airplane, by itself, swings the nose down in a fashion that makes it feel like the thing is going to fall out of the sky.

Needless to say, Sarah loved it.

Approaching Griffin Sandusky Airport we get a weather update from a nearby field. KSKY doesn’t have on-airport weather reporting. We select runway 27 and enter a left downwind. Getting the airplane configured for landing I notice that the bulk of the approach will be over water and adjust to keep things closer to land. Usually I’d fly a fairly casual approach and not worry too much about how far out from the runway threshold we are, but with no place to land other than the lake I’m going to run things a bit more strictly.

Turning left base takes us over the water and I keep things a little bit higher while adding some flaps. Turning final it becomes obvious I’ve got more safety margin than I need and do a slip to land to lose some altitude and speed and show Sarah what it’s like to land a plane sideways.

On the ground we arrange for fuel and jump on the shuttle to Cedar Point and road coasters all day. We road all the big ones with our favorites being the Millennium Force with a 300 foot drop (the tallest in the world when it was built), Mean Streak (former tallest wooden coaster int the world) and Top Thrill Dragster. Top Thrill Dragster is 400 ft tall and accelerates you from 0 – 120 MPH in 4 seconds.

Leaving the park we call the taxi company for a lift back to the airport and relax while talking about the rides. After the 20-30 minute estimated wait time expires I call the taxi company again to make sure we’re in the right place. “Sure you are”, we’re told and promised a callback with more information. Not receiving a callback and finding their phone to be kicking over to voicemail I abandon that plan and call a shuttle company. They show up, as promised, 20 minutes later and we’re on our way back to the airport.

Turns out we’re not the only ones. Some of the other folks in the shuttle are also heading to the airport and we determine that we have the same planes. They are from Pittsburgh and we talk some about our flights before arriving at sunset and getting things ready to go.

There are no winds so we take off on runway 36 to allow us to fly a bit closer to the park before departing the area. The setting sun and an amusement park with all the lights on make for a lovely end to the day indeed.

The Aviation Community Has Cancer

He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it – Martin Luther King, Jr.

This is not a post that I compose lightly. Those in aviation have been among the most friendly, open and sharing people that I’ve ever had the pleasure to get to know. In the four years I’ve been flying I’ve had a number of people go out of their way to teach me things, show me things and leave the airports, campgrounds and airplanes we use better than they found them.

I’m a very thick skinned person. I ran a popular political blog for five years during the end of the Clinton era and the beginning of the Bush one. I have been interested in politics and culture for as long as I can remember and my interest in psychology has lead me to an understanding of the Dalai Lama’s call for us all to be compassionate that resonates deeply with me.

Let me be clear that in every example that I’ll be writing about, the people or companies involved have every first amendment right to be doing what they did. I will not name any names because I’m perfectly willing to assume that I might occasionally run into people that don’t represent the attitudes of their management. I don’t want to cast a shadow on an otherwise fine operation because I had the misfortune to meet someone bad.

All that said, when something bad is happening it is the obligation of moral people to make efforts, small and large, to stop it. This post is one of those small efforts. It will offend some people. For that I apologize. It may also be a painful outing of a poorly kept secret in aviation. For that I don’t apologize. Instead of cursing the darkness I’m going to light a candle.

My first exposure to the dark side of aviation was in Utah. We were flying around the Rocky Mountains hiking and camping and stopped in Utah Valley for fuel and a flight briefing. We used the self fuel and walked into the office in search of a briefing box or wifi. Upon opening the door we were greeted by Rush Limbaugh blasting throughout the entire building.

This FBO was a privately operated business and the person working that day was not only pleasant, but on seeing my expression turned down the radio and actually cleared his desk as there was no other place for us to lay-out our sectionals to prepare for the next leg. For that, I was happily able to overlook the surprising fact of an extremely polarizing figure being played in a place of business.

On that same trip we stopped near Little Rock, AR. The FBO in question was a beautiful new building with coolers of drinks and a bunch of brand new flatscreen TVs. Unfortunately, when we arrived the flat screens were playing Glenn Beck. As above, it was really, really loud. I have no idea if proponents of the far right are more prone to hearing problems or if it was just a coincidence.

In either case, I walked to the counter, paid for my fuel and said, “man, the country is really going down hill”.

FBO Guy: Yes, it sure is.

rw2: People need to learn their history in a bit more detail.

FBO Guy: How about it!

rw2: I mean, listen to what this guy is saying (waving at the TV). He seems to be forgetting about why social security was created in the first place. (chuckling) Look, he’s just really not my cup of tea and I’m surprised to see him in a place like this.

At that, the FBO guy smirked a “well, I guess I walked into that one” smirk and bought me a Gatorade.

Again, person to person, the encounter was pleasant enough. But there was a surprising lack of awareness that not everyone walking through the door might be interested in ‘rants from the right’.

Heck, the gun range that I go shooting at in Texas doesn’t even play those kinds of guys on the radio.

It was also sad to go to Airventure last week and meet the guy with the NOBAMA shirt where the O was a hammer and sickle. I had a handful of food that I was walking back to our table and frowned and shook my head when I saw the shirt. That was all it took to send this guy off. He jumped off his scooter and just about bumped chests with me. His overreaction was itself comical, but made doubly so because I’m a tallish guy and he barely came up to my chest. He proceeded to call me a “union hack”, “teacher” and “ignorant”. The first two certainly aren’t true. As for ignorance, who knows. But I do know that opening a line of discussion with insults rarely leads anywhere good. At the urging of this man’s friend, I just walked back to my table and the friend got the man back in his scooter and on his way.

Later, I went to a presentation by Rod Machado. While I enjoyed his jokes about flying, it was a shame that during his comments about flying a plane via brain waves someone in the audience thought it would be funny to yell, “It won’t work for Democrats”. Rod gracefully deflected it, but the audience laughed heartily and those of us who aren’t on the far-right felt that familiar sting of being in a roomful of people that don’t particularly like or respect us. It’s apparently not that we disagree, it’s that anyone not on the far-right is stupid.

Finally, I was aghast walking out of one of the pavilions to overhear a couple guys talking about how they had to go back in to talk with a vendor and “jew him down”.

Make no mistake about it, these kinds of things are sand in the gears and keep people away from general aviation. In a time of continued long-term decline in pilot population, is that something we as a community want? Is it something those on the far-right want? Would the folks on the far-right prefer to have a larger pilot population, or would they rather have a smaller one that is homogenous and thinks Glenn and Rush are great? Actions speaking louder than words, I guess we know the answer.

Unfortunately, those stories are only the tip of the iceberg.

On the 4th of July AOPA posted a screen shot of presidential TFRs for the coming week. President Obama was going to do a bus tour, just like every other President I can remember (which at this point is seven). Let me share a few of the comments from our brothers in aviation (notice, all these comments are from males):

Chris: Kinda looks like the destructive path of a hurricane or tornado…
Ken: No he has done much more damage than either of those…..
Mike: Same difference chris. The only difference is we not only knew this was coming, we put it in power.

Scott: I object to this ABUSE OF POWER with the use of TFRs! They are abhorrent, COWARDLY, and UNNECESSARY! We need to do AWAY with the concept of such COWARDLY ACTIONS as “TFRs” and the like. I have had ENOUGH.
Scott: I don’t care WHO or WHAT they are for- THEY ARE COWARDLY and UNNECESSARY,and I want the damn things DONE AWAY WITH! THAT is NOT the AMERICAN way of living! Living in fear is ANATHEMA to me, and MOST Americans- and this is NOT an “ounce of prevention”-it is PURE POISON TO US!

Thomas: I don’t think the average American is aware how much the constant campaigning (not just with Air Force One) of this prima donna impacts air travel. Hey, you have public housing in DC at least until next January….STAY HOME!

Terry: Thou must use caution to not intrude on his majesty’s royal airspace…..if you do, his majesty’s royal fighter jets shall come for you!
Terry: I did call him “His Majesty” and I’m not part of a “fringe group”……TFRs are unconstitutional and that’s all there is to it. So is employing the military against civilians. It’s not just TFRs though, it’s the federal government’s increasing power…..it ought to be enough to scare any freedom loving American….but then perhaps you wouldn’t know freedom if it bit you in the a$$? Just go along with what they tell you to do and what they say is right and necessary and everything will be ok…….

Brian: This bullshit needs to stop.

In fairness there were a handful of people pointing out how absurdly over the top those sorts of comments are, but things got so heated that Craig Fuller (CEO, AOPA) finally had to step in:

Craig Fuller here….people….it’s a TFR. I spotted it when I checked before a Husky flight today. Just wanted to create awareness for the thousands that may be flying in this area….TFRs are not partisian…we’ve had them for a long time.

At this point in the story we’re no longer talking about a couple folks in FBOs listening to the radio. We’re talking about aviators massively overreacting and demonstrating a lack of civility unappealing to many of us in the field and even more people who might be interested but read these kinds of things and decide they’d rather take up a different hobby.

Of course, sadly, we’re still only part of the way drilling into our iceberg.

Ever wonder why women only represent 6% of pilots? Here are some examples.

Eduardo: A hair saloon(sic)

Robert: My worst nightmare!

Allan: i see 4 cockpits

Derek: Why cant girls fly? because there is no such thing as a cuntpit! [1]

Those got multiple “likes” on facebook.

Allan: women are supposed to be on their knees.

When a woman tried to join in with her own joke:

Summer: Wait a second, there’s a woman fixing what a guy f**ked up…
Kristopher: That was a good joke though Summer, a woman fixing somthing(sic)

James: Looks like she’s just scrubbing the bottom of the plane a completely acceptable reason to be out of the kitchen!

Need more? I’ve got a dozen. How about this one:

Because, you know, women are whores. By the way, the woman pictured above was apparently some sort of elite Soviet pilot.

Or this one:

It goes on and on and on. And the worst part introduces us to the next level of our now thoroughly metastasized cancer as we segway from angry politics to mysogenism to, at last, racism. Look, even our girls are better than you Mr. Person-With-Brown-Skin:

Minorities are extremely underrepresented in aviation. I wonder why…

Side note: While researching for this post I did come across a genuinely funny joke that deals with race in aviation “What do you call a black pilot…………. A pilot, you racist.”

It is every persons responsibility to make this community stronger. We are mostly really great people who love to fly. The handful that think that everything has to be partisan even as we, as a community, enjoy bipartisan support in congress (55 Democrats and 63 Republicans recently co-signed a letter to the President requesting that user fees be taken off the table), should not be allowed to go unchallenged. The folks who think it’s funny to say that a woman’s place is in the kitchen must not go unchallenged. The racists who lurk among us must be helped to see the light of day.

Every one of us has an obligation to step up (calmly and politely, but still step up) and help end these things. If not for the good of aviation, then just because it’s the right thing to do.

=========== Footnote ===========

1. This made my day. Nearly a year after this was posted, one of the people quoted saw that he had been and wrote the following. As I mention several times in this article, most people in aviation “face to face” are great people. It’s just a community that sometimes forgets that it’s not homogenous. Good for Derek for owning his comment!

“I completely agree with your article on your blog and am thoroughly embarrassed that I actually posted that. I have since deleted that comment. I too am very proud of aviation and the community that we have for the most part. I also try to promote flying to as many people as I can, and i think it is wonderful that more women are starting to come around and learn to fly. I do want to apologize for posting those words, it was very wrong and like I said quite embarrassing. It was a play on the words of cockpit, and my college geared mind didnt quite think that through before i went ahead and posted it. although it was supposed to be a harmless joke, it was a very poor choice on my part and i’m glad you brought it to my attention because I had actually forgot that I posted that. So thanks again, and I hope you can get more people in the aviation community to change their ways so we can again raise the number of pilots to what it used to be.
-Blue Skies
Derek”

Top Eleven

All music is beautiful. – Billy Strayhorn

We have a busy weekend coming up and it will involve a lot of driving. Having not updated my iPod in a while I hooked it up to get the latest podcasts and create a few new playlists. Surprisingly, until just now I didn’t have a list that was based on frequency of songs being played. I found the variety in the top eleven to be both interestingly focused, unfocused and a couple surprises.

10: Lily Allen, Smile
9: Sufjan Stevens, Jackonsville
8: Sufjan Stevens, The Man Of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts
7: Lily Allen, LDN
6: Sufjan Stevens, Casimir Pulaski Day
5: Public Enemy, Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos
4: Public Enemy, By The Time I Get To Arizona
3: Gorillaz, Feel Good, Inc.
2: Beck, Hell Yes
1: Beck, Qué Onda Guero
0: Bill Withers, Use Me

Focus: In the top eleven, there are only six artists. I knew well that I tended to like a fair amount of stuff from any given artist. By the time something makes it onto my iPod I am generally buying an entire album rather than specific songs. But I was still surprised to find this list so focused.

Unfocused: One certainly can’t claim that this list represents a narrow focus on a particular genre. The top 100 list is even more broad, including samba (first appearing at 20 and dominating 20-40), disco (first appearing at 14), mexican (first appearing at 40, with a lot between 40-70) and political (first appearing at 54 and widely scattered from there through 200).

Beyond the variety of music, there is also a surprising artifact in Sufjan Stevens appearing three times in the top eleven. Mrs. rw2 doesn’t like him at all, so for him to make top eleven means he has been in pretty heavy rotation when I’m alone in the car.

I wonder what other interesting things I can learn about myself by making some new play lists…