The Ukraine wounded soldiers are returning to fight for their country. They put their lives on the line again to fight for democracy and freedom. Meanwhile, the US voted to demolish our democracy and to be controlled by an authoritarian. How fucking moronic is that?

We made a commitment scrub anything related to diversity, equity, and inclusion.

Every time my wife informed me, “The exhaust fan in the bathroom is not working,” I got stressed out a little. Why did the fan stop working again? I changed the new switch. I sealed the cover to keep moisture from getting into the electrical box.

I searched up YouTube and one of the suggestions was checking the loose wires. I removed the fan and checked the house box. Both the ground and the negative wires were completely out of the wire nuts. Nevertheless the fan kept working on and off for months.

I replaced the wire nuts and made sure the wires were tightly and securely connected. It was such a dumb mistake that only someone who had no confidence in fixing things around the house could make.

I am glad I found the issue and fixed it before I called an electrician.

I woke up early today and headed to Whitetail to participate in the ski clinic. Sam was such a good trainer. I learned a lot from him. I wished he would teach carving.

After the clinic, I switched to my snowboard boots. I signed up for the City Kids who were from DC. I didn’t realize it was from 10:30 am to 3:30 pm. It was so long. We weren’t teaching. We were more like just keeping an eye on them.

By 3:30 pm, I was exhausted. The sun was shining and the heat made me sleepy. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I wanted to do a few runs, but I decided to just head back home.

Whitetail will be closed on March 16. That means we only have three weeks left for the season. It’s coming to an end too soon.

The whole family went to Whitetail today. I took Vương to the back side for the first time. He did well on the easy black and double-black trails. I didn’t have much time with Xuân and Vương. I had a class at 1:00 pm. I taught an eight-year-old boy and a nine-year-old boy. They were a bit tough to teach. They didn’t really listen.

I was free around 3:30 pm. I wanted to take Xuân and Vương to the back side. Xuân splashed snow on Vương with his board. Vương got mad and hit his forehead with his ski pole. I came down and saw Xuân cried. I yelled at Vương. He went back to the base by himself.

Xuân and I went to the double-black terrain and went back to the base. We headed home. Needless to say, I didn’t get to do much on my work day. I’ll try to get in some runs tomorrow.

I spent 28 days on this novel. It is 448-page long and I have been busy with snowboarding and skiing on the weekends. Nevertheless, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with the characters in this book. Rooney’s books had always been about character driven. Intermezzo is no exception. Peter is 32 and seeing Sylvia (about his age) and Naomi (23) at the same time. His 22-year-old younger brother, Ivan, met and fell in love with Margaret, a 36-year-old divorced woman. Rooney switches back and forth between their stories and I have to say the scenes between Ivan and Margaret hooked me in, particular their first sex scene. Yes, there are lots of sex in this book and her writing is so damn good. This is her fourth novel I read; therefore, I have become a fan of Sally Rooney. I definitely enjoyed this book. It keeps me away from all the horrible news in America.

The first sex scene between Ivan and Margaret was so damn lucious that I had to quote in full. I hope Rooney doesn’t mind. She writes beautifully:

In the bedroom the windowpane is wet with condensation, and Ivan has to kneel up on the mattress to pull down the blind. The ceiling light is off but the light in the hall is still on, the door half-open. Margaret gets onto the bed beside him, they lie down together. The sheets on the bed feel cold, maybe damp, or maybe just very cold. He unbuttons her cardigan, her blouse, and she helps him to unhook the clasp of her bra. He can feel himself sweating: his underarms, his forehead, a hot feeling. With her mouth she finds his mouth and they kiss once more. Her right breast in his left hand, her nipple raised under the tip of his thumb, hard, touching. She lets out a little breath almost into his mouth, a little sigh, as if she likes to be touched that way. Who can explain such a thing, and why even try to explain: an understanding shared between two people. Her breath warm on his lips when she sighs, and when he kisses her again, a muted sound from her throat. He moves his fingers to her zip and she lets him, lifts her hips from the mattress to help him take off her skirt. Lying on her back now she’s wearing only a pair of black briefs. You’re really beautiful, he says. I mean, obviously. I presume people tell you that all the time. She gives a kind of laugh, shrugging her shoulders. Well, no, she says. But then I don’t do things like this a lot. Kneeling upright on the mattress he looks at her. Right, he says. Me neither. With eyes glittering soft in the almost-darkness she looks back at him. You’re not a virgin, are you, Ivan? she says. I hope you don’t mind me asking. Swallowing, he laughs and the laughter catches in his throat. No, he answers. I’m actually not, but it’s okay. I guess I probably seem kind of nervous. Softly she smiles. That’s alright, she says. I’m a little bit nervous myself. A certain feeling rises inside him when she says this: like a pleasurable form of anxiety, a strange anxious anticipation of pleasure. He touches with his fingers the black cotton of her underwear, damp, and she makes another high moaning sound, closing her eyes. What are you nervous about? he asks. Laughing breathlessly she says: Oh God, I don’t know. I don’t know what you must think of me. The same anxious thrill moves through him again, and he finds himself without conscious thought answering her, rapidly and almost unintelligibly: No, don’t worry. I really like you. Don’t worry about that at all. Inside her underwear, his fingers, wet, and her hand is clutching at the pillowcase. At this moment, touching her, watching her eyes flutter closed, he wants her so badly, feels such a wrenching almost painful wave of desire, that even the increasingly likely prospect of having her, of being inside her, within only a few seconds or minutes, feels like it might not be enough to relieve this desire completely. Her mouth, wet, open in that way, he wants, and to make her come, to feel it like that when he’s in her, he wants so much, Jesus Christ. He really is sweating a lot, he has to wipe his forehead with his wrist, and his upper lip is wet, which makes him nervous again, like maybe it’s disgusting to sweat so much, or even at all. She isn’t sweating, although she’s very very wet where he’s touching her with his fingers, wet inside, and moaning from her throat. Do you have a condom? she asks. The idea of her asking, oh God. He goes on touching her still. Yeah, he says. In my suitcase. After a second he adds: I guess it’s been there for a while. Like a year maybe. But that’s okay, is it? She lifts her hand to her head, touching her hair, half-smiling. I’m not an expert, she says. But there should be an expiry date, I think. He takes his hand out from her underwear, wet, and she kind of groans. Ah, he hears himself saying. Sorry. I really love touching you like that. She makes the same noise again and covers half her face with her hand. It’s so good, she says. If she brushed against him even really lightly now, just brushing him there with her hand, he probably would come. Oh no. What if he can’t even do anything to her, imagine, and she would be awkwardly nice about it, probably. He gets off the bed and goes out to the hall, where his suitcase sits on the floor under the coat rack. It’s very bright out here with the light on: quiet also, and cold. He unzips the front pocket of the case and takes out a serrated foil square he got for free in college like two years ago, unbranded. In small black dotted print the expiry date reads: 07/25. He puts it in his pocket and goes back inside, saying: Yeah, I checked, it’s okay. When he gets on the bed she starts to unbutton his shirt, and her breasts are rising and falling with her breath, light, shallow. How much she liked it when he touched her, he thinks: and what if it’s different now, and not as good. Quietly, quickly, he finishes undressing and rolls the condom on. She helps him to take off her briefs. Dark curls, damp, and she rolls her head back on the pillow, saying softly: Oh. To disappoint her like that, he thinks. One of her arms she has laid across her body. He gets on top of her, finding her mouth again, open. Yeah, I really want you to like it, he says. I mean, that’s kind of concerning me a little bit. Just the idea, you know. Looking up at him as if amused she smiles. Mm, she says. But that’s a nice normal thing to be concerned about, isn’t it? He laughs, hears himself laughing. Is it? he says. Okay. But still, I feel that. Like even if it is normal, I would still be concerned. She puts her hand down between their bodies, and with the palm of her hand, warm, she touches him, saying: It’s okay. And it is okay, he thinks. The story of human life. All of their ancestors, his, and hers also. Life itself, the passing mystery. Very easily in the end he moves inside her. She lets out a little gasping sound, her hand grasping his arm, and she whispers something. His name. He hears her. Closing his eyes quickly now not to see. And her hips lift a little off the mattress, wanting what he wants. Jesus Christ, he says. Fuck. So close almost already feeling her so wet and her high breathing. Deeper inside she wants him and when he gives it to her like that she likes it better, he can feel. Try to remember everything, he thinks. Every breath exactly. Her mouth on his neck, mumbling again: Ivan, oh God. Because she likes it so much. He bites on his tongue for a second. Saying his name for instance. And so wet like this and breathing. Because she does. Yeah, he says. I feel like, kind of worried that I might, uh- They look at one another, her face all flushed and hot, like his, and she says: It’s okay, don’t worry. It’s nice. Throbbing inside her and wet she says this. Closing his eyes he can hear himself crying out kind of and feels light-headed, pinpricks behind his eyelids, a fainting sort of feeling, and he says again: Fuck. It’s finished then. How long, like a minute probably. Her arms heavy around his neck he feels. I’m sorry, he says. Just, uh. I guess it felt like, a little bit too good. Not to blame you, obviously. She’s laughing now, sweetly, her face still flushed, looking up at him. You can blame me, she says. I don’t mind. But you don’t have to say sorry, it was perfect. A very strong feeling comes over him then: something inside himself warm and spreading, like dying or being born. He has no idea what the feeling is, whether it’s good or dangerous. It’s related to her, the words she’s saying, his feeling about her words. She said it was perfect. And she meant what he did to her, even though it was over too quickly, she liked it, or more than liking. You’re being nice, he says. She’s smiling, lying in his arms, her eyes closing, sleepy, and the feeling is so strong, powerful, like he could lift an entire building in his hands. No, I mean it, she says. It was beautiful. Thank you. Is this how it feels, he thinks, to get what you want? To desire, and at the same time to have, still desiring, but fulfilled. It was beautiful, thank you. Ah, I feel really happy, he says. Or, I don’t know, that’s not even the right word. Her eyes are closed then. Me too, she murmurs. He’s nodding his head, feeling for no reason a powerful sense of protectiveness over her. Sensing that she wants to sleep, he draws away, and she turns over on her side to face him. He leaves the condom on the carpet beside the bed, he’ll get it in the morning, and pulls the duvet up over them both. Other people might experience these feelings all the time, whatever they are. Strong, powerful feelings of happiness, satisfaction, protectiveness. It could all be very ordinary, in the aftermath of mutually pleasant episodes like just now. Or even if it’s rare, to have a few times in life and no more, still worth living for, he thinks. To have met her like this: beautiful, perfect. A life worth living, yes.

The condition at Liberty was excellent once again. I started off snowboarding. I rode the double-black terrains and blue trails. I was working on my carves. I couldn’t tilt my board as high as I wanted. The more I bent, the more uncomfortable my feet got. Nevertheless, I could get my body to an open position and lean into my turns. I could get down low on my toe edge to the point that I could touch the snow. It was easier to touch the snow on the double-black.

After two hours of snowboarding, I switched to skiing. I simply loved carving on skis. I went a bit faster and made my S turns a bit narrower. When people asked me if I like skiing or snowboarding better, I replied, “I liked them both.” I spent more time snowboarding than skiing, but my skiing skills hadn’t declined. In contrast, I improved quite a bit.

I wish I can make a living teaching skiing and snowboarding. I don’t need to make much. I am fine with just enough to get by, but it is impossible. Even my wife got piss off when I brought up my dream job so I won’t bring that up again. Anyway, it was a great day.

Democracy is dying. Trump is taking over everything and becoming a king. By 2028, voting won’t matter anymore. American will become the Trump regime like Putin, Jinping, and Orbán.

The condition at Liberty was superb. The corduroy was fantastic for carving. I started out skiing and I carved on the blue trails. I even carved a bit on the double-black terrains.

After three seasons of learning and trying to carve, I finally reached the level of satisfaction. I could feel the smooth edges of my skis dug into the snow. I could control my speed even though I skied faster than my normal pace. I could see the two railroad tracks I left behind.

Even though I had been snowboarding more, I am happy with the progression I had made with skiing, especially with carving techniques.

I did a few rides on my snowboard on the double-black terrains and blue trails. I still need more carving practice. I still have about 4 weeks left for the season. I can’t believe we’re already near the end of February. Whitetail will be closing around mid March.

We had to take down all DEI pages and to scrub any mentions of DEI on our sites. Our institution caved. They came for government agencies and they are coming for universities. Thank you for your vote to make America white again.