Rude Hand Gestures

You might have noticed that these last two posts are pretty much just links to other articles. Not to worry, this hasn't become the norm! Sam, Lara, and myself are working on re-acclimating to the outside world. Starting Sunday we'll be back to posting original articles. As for now, here's something I thought was pretty entertaining:

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/1LyMTI/www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/picturegalleries/8788932/Rude-hand-gestures-of-the-world.html%253Fimage%253D5

-Jaimie

PS If you like what you read tell us and your friends!

An Essay by Einstein

He was a pretty smart guy!

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/2X2BDM/www.aip.org/history/einstein/essay.htm

To an Unforgetable Season

Here's to luck, love, and fortune. May we be lucky enough to love what we do and fortunate enough for our paths to cross again. As for now, it's time for a new season.

Yes Bay Lodge: The Soundtrack

In case you haven't picked up on it from our last few posts, our season in Alaska is about to wrap up. The summer, once again, has left us cut off from the real world; extremely limited access to the internet and television has left us to exhaust our Ipods in an effort to stay entertained. Music has been a driving force behind our summer offering both empathy and inspiration. Before we get to our favorite songs this summer, here is a broader taste of what we've been enjoying:

Lara's Artists of the Summer (since she refuses to recognize albums because she hates them):

• Trampled by Turtles
• Deer Tick
• Dr. Dog

Jaimie's Albums of the Summer (since she annoyingly listens to the entire album):

• Everything is Saved – The David Wax Museum
• Quacking Ducks – Leer-Jet and the Flatulent Buttholes 
• … Of Men And Beggars – Dirty Sweet

We are pleased to present (and in no particular order), Jaimie and Lara's Yes Bay Lodge Soundtrack 2011:

• “The World at Large” - Modest Mouse
• “Alaska” - Dr. Dog
• “Sixteen” - Dirty Sweet
• “Train in Vain” - The Clash
• “Least I can Do” - The David Wax Museum
• “Turn Them” - Sean Bones ft. Norah Jones
• “Human” - The Killers
• “I Believe in a Thing Called Love” - The Darkness
• “Help You” - Trampled By Turtles
• “Wait So Long” - Trampled By Turtles
• “Hell on Earth” - Deer Tick
• “The Breeze” - Dr. Dog
• “Vagabond” - Wolfmother
• “Hometown Glory”- Adele
• “Wagon Wheel” - Against Me!
• “Navajo Rug” - Ian Tyson
• “Lime Tree” - Trevor Hall
• “Send Me On My Way” - Rusted Root

Almost Over

by: Jaimie Gleissner
 

On September 5, only eighteen days until the end of the season, I didn't check the dinner numbers with the office. An oversight which caused the worst dinner service of the season. Once I caught wind of what went down, I took responsibility for my error and spent the next 2 hours sobbing uncontrollably because that's what happens after four months of a job that is both mentally and physically exhausting. Days are long, weeks are longer, and months feel like an eternity until the summer ends too quickly, catapulting me back to a reality that has become increasingly more difficult to relate to. I don't even know why I kept crying, but I think it had to do with losing the security of rent-free housing and only having a half-baked plan of what I'll be doing once I get back to Illinois. However, it could just be the fact that I've been busting my ass all summer and being so close to the end, finally hit the wall.

Four months of frustration and lack of sleep cascaded from my eyes and nose. I'm an ugly crier and by the end of my little sob session, looked like someone punched me in the face. Everyone has given their best effort (or resented those who haven't) to make the season a success. Money is the great motivator, and in an industry where income is supplemented by tips, my coworkers and I have all become people-pleasers. I can't tell you the last time I said something intelligent during meal service because most guests want the help to be dumber than they are. Maybe once a month I've had a guest treat me like a person, but for the most part, I'm just the waitress with a pretty smile.

Then again, I didn't choose this lifestyle for people to consider me an intellectual. I do what I do because I haven't learned to sit still. Truthfully, I'm not sure if I'm even capable of permanence, and I'm scared to go back to real life and get a grown-up job and live in a grown-up apartment. I'm scared to spend a chunk of time in a place that hasn't been home in over a year just to start over in a new place a few months later. For now, the only option I have is to keep reminding myself that all of life is an adventure. Settling down doesn't mean the adventure ends; it just means that it's time for another change. With no set plans, I'm anxiously awaiting the end of the season to see exactly how life after Yes Bay will turn out. Until then, I think I'll dedicate the rest of my summer to losing sleep, getting jacked on coffee, creating flavor explosions in the form of delicious baked goods, and having good time. In the words of Mae West, “you only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”

Yet to be Determined

by: Lara Cleeland

To sum up my life in one word, I’d call it “seasoned.” I have collected my fill of adventure over the years and sought each journey to its highest of highs and lowest of lows. It’s a comforting thought, to know that when seasons change, new beginnings are predictably lingering around each corner. My seasonal work is coming to an end in twelve days, otherwise known as my life for the last four months, considering there is no definitive line drawn between work and play living at an isolated fishing lodge in Alaska. Let’s just say, I couldn’t be more ecstatic. However, the sweetness of the finale always carries with it the heaviest of emotion. Knowing I might never again see the faces to which I've grown so accustomed or listen to the same sounds of the river roaring out my window or to fall asleep to the constant repetition of the rain droplets watering the ever soggy earth. As much as I’m ready for this chapter to come to an end, I’m going to miss it greatly. 

 

All the built up frustrations, tensions, and exhaustions will soon be released into histories; filed away, forgotten and replaced by only what we choose to remember. I like it better that way anyways. It’s comforting to know that whatever hardships endured will be replenished by a sense of joy. And upon parting ways from that particular period of time, you might appreciate every incident that led to the final farewell. 

 

However, moments leading to this cathartic sensation can be, more often than not, a frenzied mess. The final countdown is in procession, and the realization hit me like the torrential downpours of last week’s storm hitting my temporary home of Yes Bay, Alaska. I’ve been waiting for this moment to come for so long, but what I will do with it now that it appears in view, remains uncertain. The drawn out anticipation of reaching the end of this particular season has foolishly distracted me from being proactive towards my future. It’s quite unsettling to understand how much time I was allotted to place things into ordinance but lacking the obvious resources and motivation to interact with the outside world has led me to nothing grandeur. However, I cannot let my lack of preparation for the future defeat me entirely considering life is a series of lessons compiled onto a scale of events pertaining to each other. That being said, the cycle of the seasons (along with my life) will continue to move forward, unphased by my personal style of winging things. Following in the direction of dreams, I will focus my attention on being inventive with every reactionary decision. Every failure brings with it an opportunity to succeed elsewhere. 

 

My need for adventure may override my strange longing of settling down one day. But that’s okay, I will continue to pursue new experiences succumbing to the idea that I may be fated towards a more temporary lifestyle. As for now, that’s okay with me. In the mean time, instead of feeling like I have to have everything figured out all at once, I will continue onward pleasantly, with an open mind, finding comfort in the fact that my life is “yet to be determined…”

Closing Up

by: Samantha Bermitz

The end of the season is near,and soon I'll be back in what we call the “real world.”

My head is swimming with questions like will I miss the cold; will I remember how to drive or sit down and enjoy a meal? What about texting? Will I still be fast, or will I be slow?

Even though none of these things are important to most people, they are to me. It might just be the stress of impending change or that I am really going to miss Yes Bay, but trivial things, like joking around the kitchen and moping the crew room floors, are part of my usual routine as opposed to texting and talking on the phone.

Being a newbie and all, I've fond it comforting to make a to do list for when I get back so that I don’t feel too overwhelmed by all the drastic changes:

-register my car

-get insurance

-finish registering for school

-get the rest of my school supplies, etc.

One thing that’s been suggested to me is to take some time off, which makes complete sense. We worked practically 4 months straight; I'm giving myself some time to relax and re-acclimate.

Since school doesn’t start till October 20, I'll be going to New York for a week to visit my boyfriend! I'm super excited because I haven’t seen him for 4 months. We've been together for three years, and this is the most time we've ever spent apart. I miss him so much! I cannot wait to see him, and I think this trip will also help me ease into a more normal schedule.

I am really going to miss Yes Bay and the amazing people I've shared my summer with. When your stuck somewhere for 4 months with people you don't know, you will make friends and some enemies. Hopefully, though, you'll make more friends and carry fond memories of the season with you for the rest of your life.

The end of the season comes fast, and isn’t so bad if you stay positive, breathe, and always remember: never bring a gun to a sweagle fight!

Sitting on the Dock

by: Jaimie Gleissner


I wish you could see the moon shining full over the gill-netters. It's nine-o-clock at night and starting to get dark, yet a few months ago I never thought I'd see the stars. The mountains are fading to sleep, and I will be soon to follow as the fresh water from Wolverine Creek flows visibly through the bay. I hope you can feel the solace that I feel lying here on the dock. My summer home hosts a number of other people. Still, solitude is abundant. Pines growing close to the shore fade into silhouettes with moonbeams playing between the branches. The image is fixed in my mind like the far away cornfields of Northern Illinois. Clear nights, like this one, are rare in Southeastern Alaska.

The season is slowly closing at a rapid pace, and though I cannot wait to see my family, part of me dreads starting over again. My hometown isn't mine anymore, yet so many people expect to see the same person who walked out a year ago. How can I expect them to understand that I've changed? They've changed too; I knew they would. Though I thought I hit pause before I left, each time I come home reminds me that stillness doesn't actually exist. Let me lay on the dock a little longer while I think of all the ways I've failed before I remember my triumphs. A moment of silence – if you will – for all the people I've hurt or wronged, all the times I've made a fool of myself and jeopardized my credibility,  and every time I've let my childish rage get the best of me.

Despite my shortcomings, being at the lodge reminds me of how much I've done in a short amount of time. I've seen the moon hanging over a bay that can only be reached by plane or boat. I've worn shorts to the grocery store while gazing at snowcapped mountains and tested the waters of both coasts. All in all, I've accomplished my goal to live fully and aimlessly wherever I can find work. Still, I feel something missing. There's a void that my travels have not yet filled: a place for my heart to call home.

Out of Touch

By Lara Cleeland

It seems that the world is crumbling beneath us, in a both literal and physical sense. With the economy plummeting and natural disasters striking mercilessly, the world’s reality seems to have been shaken.

However interesting the outside world is, it seems that we are undisturbed in the solitudes of the Alaskan wilderness. It’s although we are unaffected by the consequences of our time and completely void of worldly chaos.

Being so isolated has its ups and downs. Working at Yes Bay Lodge, you are completely out of touch with the bustling world. It’s like we are all living in a bubble, protected in a shield of natural wonder. With cash and clientèle flowing and plenty of work to be had, we are lucky to avoid the lack of labor that the rest of the job market is experiencing. The only things to worry about are if the fish are biting and why the silver salmon run is late. The rain pours every day here, yet we don’t seem to notice anymore.

We never worry about making it to the next paycheck because food is served promptly at a scheduled time; there is no rent to pay, and there’s no lack of work hours to obtain. So however rough I feel Yes Bay Lodge life can get, being out of touch with “the real world,” I should never lose sight of how rough it can be for the people living in “the real world.”