Mountain Man

For the last week or so, before I manage to fall asleep -- a simple task rendered somewhat difficult by school-related stress -- I've been reading this collection of Men's Journal articles entitled "Wild Stories." Within the 600-page book are numerous tales of outdoors-related activities as retold by various contributing authors.

The real-life stories provide the perfect mental escape from the rigors of studying. Right now, I would gladly trade my current task of memorizing the ways to invalidate a patent for trout fishing in Tierra del Fuego, racing open-wheel racecars at Sears Point, deep-sea fishing for marlin in Hawaii, researching Grizzly bears in Romania, and canoeing through Central America. When reading, I envision myself scaling the mountain, wading into the stream after a prize fish, or paddling down the mud-colored river looking out for piranhas -- anything to prevent my mind from dreaming about showing up to a final sans clothes or, even worse, spontaneously forgetting everything I've learned just as the exam proctor says, "You may now begin."

But other narratives, frankly, leave me perfectly content to be stuck in a study room, organizing and reorganzing my notes into outlines. Given the choice, I'd prefer a four-hour in-class final to participation in a foot race across the Sahara (the subject of the article got lost and had to eat bats to survive). I'd also rather write about trademarks than challenge the bicyclists who were competing against one another to break the one-hour distance record back in the early 1990s (the record peaked at about 35 miles!). And of course, even 24-hour take-home tests pale in comparison in terms sheer horror to being ship-wrecked in the South Pacific during WWII or taken hostage by armed teenagers in the Kashmir region between India and Pakistan.