christmas memories

My buddy Ryan pretty much nailed it on his blog post about the nostalgia of Christmases past. Each child that celebrated Christmas has their own unique memories of the holidays. Some lose their innocence of the mystique behind it later than others, and some never understood it or lost it at all. T The theory of Santa was never ruined for me. I was never told that he doesn’t exist, so I was never crushed from reality. I instead pretty much realized it on my own, more than likely around the age of nine or ten. It was a slow and gradual transition of realizing that there was no way that the fat man could be at two places at once. So…he’s live on TV, but yet there is a thinner and more lively version here at Grandma’s giving out presents.
After that I slowly embraced the “idea” of Christmas. That it was a time of giving, forgiveness and celebration for not only the birth of Jesus and the highpoint of various religious faiths across the planet, but a coming together of family and friends to express joy and love for another.
It’s a spirit that we usually lose around January 2nd, whether it be from the accursed hangover from New Year’s Eve or the inevitable return to the working grindstone.
There are memories that I do cherish for my own around the holidays from my youth that can never be replaced, yet are now substituted with current traditions. Back then, one of our uncles would go dress up in the shoddiest of Santa suits in the garage of grandma’s house and then come strutting up the block ringing a cow bell on cue from uncle Frank as he was in the living room telling stories to all us kids. He’d make us all sing carols and would call the “north pole” to find out if Santa was inbound In the air or not. Usually my Godfather would wear the suit, it really only fit him well. Some other uncles did it a few times, and even a few of my cousins or aunts, and yes, even I donned the ancient garb once to play Santa. That year Santa was the buffest and tallest he’d been.
There was always dinner and foodstuffs out on my grandparent’s dinner table. Turkey, bachaiau ( salted cod fish), desserts aplenty, appetizers and the always present bowl of M&M’s. There was always my Grandma’s Portuguese rice pudding that was well, too damn good for words. You never noticed it as kids because you were too involved with playing with each other or eagerly awaiting Santa, but man there was booze all around. Our aunts and uncles could, and still do drink like fish.
Grandpa used to have a warm fire going as he sat in HIS easy chair watching the family enjoy themselves around him. Then usually about 10:30-11pm, We all got dragged to midnight mass at church. In my family’s earlier days as Portuguese Catholics, it was mandated that you go. Now it’s a stark contrast as only a rare handful go to mass. My parents have been the only bastion of reliability on that part, due to no small part of them being dedicated to the choir.
The air back then for a 10 year old was damn near ball freezing. There was always frost on the roofs, and as you walked out of a toasty warm house to get into the icebox of a car, you’d see your breath all the way. In fact, you’ll see your breath during the entire car ride to the church. Midnight mass back then truly was midnight mass. It would start at midnight and end at 2am Later on during my high school years, the parishioners decided to try and get a bigger turnout by starting it at 11pm. It increased the turnout for a while, and then the demographics of the attendees and the housing area changed to a larger Hispanic population, which changed the mass further and eventually forced the change of priests, choirs, parishioners and finally the entire attendance. My parents finally gave up on Mt. Carmel church when I was in college and they moved, along with a choir director and other members to their current location at St. Pius, a few miles to the southwest.
The only true feeling that hasn’t changed all that much is there has always been a reason to come home Christmas eve after the festivities and mass. My parents and I would turn on a Christmas carol or Pope mass program, have a light snack, maybe some tea and give each other our gifts and maybe have one waiting in the morning for us.

Still getting shots in

Ok, so this year hasn't been the bestest of years. It had its fair share of uplifting moments, but encompassing the financial and political quagmire we are in, along with family and friend illnesses, general malaise and discontent, and a earlier this year failure of a needed change in direction in life, come this Christmas I was ready for the new year to start fresh. This holiday wasn't going to let me off with just a whimper though.

I got back to Cali Sunday night. I was supposed to get in early Sunday afternoon. Let the drama commence. This is where i think global warming is a crock of shit, and I am forever trusting in my recently read farmer's almanac for 2009. Man may be dumping astronomical amounts of pollution in the air and causing little events to go off, that I accept. Considering how small we are in relation to this planet though, the earth has the power, at any time, to set things straight. That includes a cooling trend. I've seen countless specials on the discovery channel, PBS, science channels and assorted educational places that are saying just that. But "global warming" is a nice attention getter by the media lately either to make you watch their broadcast or to sway your opinion towards one faction or the other. The 2009 farmer's almanac predicts record cold, snow, and rain for the majority of the country for the winter of '08-Feb 09. No joke dude. As of Dec. 25 2008, three-fourths of the country was either covered in rain or record snowfall. The exception- Miami, Florida at 81 degrees.

That all came to fruition on Sunday when I tried to fly out of Phoenix. My plane, Southwest 1411 was to fly from Phoenix to San Francisco for its ending leg after coming from Buffalo, and then Chicago. Four hours later I was able to board my bumpy-ass flight flown by, I swear, Stevie Wonder. Or at least should have been, because a blind guy would have flown better.

It could have been worse. That day as I waited, every airport along the west coast north of San Fransisco was shut down. People trying to fly to Portland or Seattle were grounded until Christmas Eve...3 & 1/2 days later. I guess I'm lucky.

It rained every day here. Not that I don't mind, I love the cold and rain. When it's a arctic storm barrelling down on you with 70 mph wind gusts, it sucks. Makes fireplaces and coffee so much better though.

Monday and Tuesday were easy days. Shopped with Mom, cooked dinners, just hung out at home. Tuesday night was when shit started going wrong.

I noticed that on Tuesday afternoon, my computer was acting strange. I hadn't really used it since the airport Sunday afternoon, so I thought it was odd. I cleaned it up, ran a virus check that came up negative, and then ran a spyware check that turned out a result that led to a two day struggle to save my system. The results turned up the infamous Vundo Trojan. Its a nice adware pop-up virus that nestles deep in your start-up and registry which produces ads and pirates vital personal info to whomever is lurking around as well as slowing down your computer by more than half. I try to remove it. Program removed. Restart. Run check again. Program not removed. Do it again. Same result. Did I mention that this fucker SELF-REPLICATES???!! I had to spend 2 days, buy one $40 virus program update, download 5 (yes five) additional free spyware and registry removal programs and spend a lovely time to try and eradicate this menace. I just now think I eradicated it. I'll know for sure in the next 24 hours. If I get another pop-up, I'm still screwed, but for now its all good.

Back to the timeline. I went to the cemetery to visit my grandparents, then to Kepler's books to get a pair of new books. On the way home I stopped by the old Union Army cemetery off of Woodside rd just to walk through. Its small, run down and covered with leaves of hundred year old oak trees. I had never been to this Heritage and historical site. In fact, up until I was about 11, whenever we would drive by, I'd close my eyes and duck in the seat because I was terrified of this place. Granted, at night, this place is spooky and formidable. I guess it was a bit of closure for me to walk through it. Lastly, I stopped at Chuck's to get a couple donuts for home.

Dad made beans and ham in the slow cooker for dinner Tuesday. Crazy tasty by the way. Unfortunately it wasn't sitting well with my that night. Jenny calls and wants to head out to the Orchid Room for drinks. Cool, we cab it, head there and have an awesome time. For the record, her friend Candice is hot. Anyways, I know what I can handle before things get crazy. I have a couple jack and cokes, a beer, a shot and sipped a jack on the rocks at the end. Not much by my standards at all, and on a very full stomach. We make last call, grab a taxi and head home. I have a buzz, but nothing major. Get home, make a quick and light sandwich on a small roll, eat and get ready for bed.

Usually when one vomits, it's preceded by several stages, especially from drinking. Most of the time there is spinning involved. Followed by profound sweating, saliva rising up to lube your throat, and the first few chew-backs. But there I am, happily in bed when I get awakened by my own stomach retching without me knowing it. I instinctively grab my trash can and heave it all in there. The contents? My sandwich of course. Hardly any liquid. Most vividly though, Dad's beans. I cursed my ass off, as I, now soberly, grab the blankets that got soiled, the trash can and storm into the garage and slam them in the washer at 3 am. All the time cursing under my breath and thinking " what the hell is with this shit??!" I get back to bed and sleep with my thermals, sweat pants and a blanket. I get up in the morning to awaken to, not a hangover, but mudbutt. I crapped more times in a day and a half than I do in a week. The whole day too my stomach was in a constant state of nausea as well as having sore abs from chundering and anal purging. It was a nice Christmas eve. I wasn't social and felt like crap.

Mom, Dad and I agreed days before that a nice crab and lobster dinner would be nice. It's one of my favorite things to eat, but let me tell you that in the condition I was in, having to cook live seafood and then disembowel and devour said critter on your plate was retched. The only thing that saved me was the taste of it and my hunger pangs. I didn't spend the night down with the family at my Godfathers. I ended up actually going on my own to meet up with my parents as they sang at their midnight mass. I was sure I was going to burst into flames on entry to the church, but being Jesus' birthday, I guess God felt merciful. I figured a little theology and self reflection would do my system better than hanging and partying with the entire family.

After church, we all made a quick stop by to visit the family and drop off gifts. We chatted for a bit before heading home to a needed rest.

A second and more vicious storm dropped down on us Christmas Day. It was in the fortys all day with hurricane force gusts that knocked out the power here for over an hour and snow topped the local coastal mountains, which is very rare.

I had my appetite back today and felt well rested. My nausea is gone, but the mud-butt is slowly being replaced by mostly stinky gas. Our trip to my uncle Frank's house was good. I was definitely more social and ate a lot of excellent food. On returning, I (hopefully) eliminated my computer virus and was able to relax finally before I catch up the storm that just rampaged through here on my flight back to Arizona. I'm happy that everything turned around to be ok after all.

All mine

I recently came across an idea of spawning a new blog. A private one actually. I was browsing around on my friend's site and came across a few secondary spawned sites that were created. The things posted were basically the same, but the use of language and topics were a little more extreme and from the gut. I was surprised to see them from DR, but it was refreshing to hear my friend's voice telling the same or different stories in a different way. Needless to say, I think I am going to try and create a new place just for me.

Why not just create a journal on my computer and not publish what I type? Well, for one, it gives me a peace of mind that I feel like I have actually gotten something off my chest, or knocked a chip off my shoulder, or even confided in someone. Second, I don't intend to, if I do decide to create another site, to make it 100% private. Chances are I'll invite only the closest of family or maybe a friend to access it. Otherwise, well, sorry, the info isn't meant for you to see. I still have to decide.

Flying the friendly skies

Ah air travel, remember back in the days of the younger years? Hell, I still remember when smoking was allowed on flights. Along with complimentary meals, extra snacks, free headphones, more legroom, hot stewardesses, no threats of terrorist takeovers ( and speaking of, I miss not being able to take my pocketknife on a flight in case I need to defend myself or open a rogue bag of unopenable nuts).
I’ve noticed certain things when I fly. I’m not exaggerating on these next few items either. First, it doesn’t matter if I show up an hour early, two hours early, or 15 minutes before boarding, I am always one of the last ones to board the plane. I can remember once, I was on a night flight to San Diego back in 1994 to shack up with Ryan for a few days and check out some colleges to go to. I boarded in San Jose, and there was literally about 12 people on the flight. I still got a end of the line boarding pass and had to sit through the gate attendee go through the usual rigmarole of having to follow row calling procedures. Second, I always…always end up sitting behind a person who has to recline that damn seat back into my face. Pardon me, do you have head lice? Well I can see them. I’m also writing this on the plane right now at a 30% twisted side angle because of said lady who is in fact, having her head relaxed back far enough into my chest. At least I have the entire row to myself and I can spill out into the next seat with my gear.
Lets discuss the peanut situation now. I like nuts (not that kind of nuts you pervert). I like mawing down on an occasional peanut or 40. Now, there is something magical about that small pack of fourteen $236 airplane peanuts. It’s like, even if you don’t like nuts, the fact that you forked over two hundred bucks makes you a instant fan. Some people are fanatical about them. In fact, if they don’t get that nut sack, it’s as if the world is ending. Now pay attention to the nut eating etiquette. You have different classes of eaters. You have the solo artists, who try to moderate and ration the peanuts as if there is a planewide peanut shortage of biblical proportions which makes them either save the bag for later private time off the plane or more commonly, they’ll sit there eating one peanut at a time like some rabidly obsessed squirrel. On the opposite spectrum you have the peanut glutton, who will inhale the entire nut sac in one fail swoop. The human peanut vacuum they are. Guard your nuts on your life, less they will suck your bag into the gaping abyss too. Myself, I am a happy medium. I get about 5 nuts in my hand and toss about 4 of those sized handfuls into my gullet.
Now then, as for other observations…hmmm…lets see. Let me look around the flight here…you have the old salty war vet and his wife up front. Both are above 80 years old and smelling of a curious concoction of ben gay, mothballs and sauerkraut. Granny saved her peanuts in her purse for later. No doubt that in that bag of hers there is at least 10 other bags of nuts, a pack of sugar free gum, butterscotch disks, tissues, big red blood pressure horse pills, and assorted trash bits.
There’s the young make-out couple across the aisle. They are taking cuddling to a whole other level. As well as making out. Yeah, ok, we know you guys are so in love that its sickeningly sweet. Its as if I downed an entire bottle of pancake syrup and then brushed my teeth with butter-cream frosting. As for you two lovebirds thinking you’re being slick by trying to cuddle underneath a tiny sweater…I know what various hands are doing under that thing. Find the salami anyone? Possibly a rousing game of stinky pinky.
There’s the mid twenties sports dude who’s dying for a beer but in no way can he afford the exuberant cost for a small adult beverage in-flight. Instead, he resorts to trading barbs with his buddy across the seat from him in a adolescent, fraternal, closet gay way. He’s not gay though, no way dude, he loooves the ladies, and GO (__insert local favorite sports team here to validate masculinity__)!!! I joke though…but he is an Oakland A’s fan though…
Of course, there is always that taboo single traveling hot chick that you in no way feasible have the cojones to talk to, but you damn wish you were sitting next to the entire flight. The only problem is that if you were sitting there, you would no doubt get caught at least a few times starring at various sexy body parts. Yeah horndog, I know, I know. You would like to give her a tour of the cockpit, but face it, your best line would probably consist of something along the lines of offering some airline peanuts which would end in one of two ways. One, she’d take personal offense in thinking something is subliminally meant by offering her to put your nuts in her mouth to chow on, or two; she would be one of the two earlier discussed peanut eaters, which would either make her a crazy nut hoarder or a disgusting nut consumer. Either way, you lose, so go back to reading that skymall magazine and imagining fantasies with her every 30 seconds or so on average that guys think of things sexual.
Amazingly, the one thing that I am missing on this flight is either the 300 lb behemoth of a person that is sometimes crammed into the seat next to you (that you usually get instead of the hot chick, and he smells of a wonderful goat cheese & acidulous B.O. stank) who asks for (actually demands…and you will comply if you wish to live) your spare peanuts, or the lovingly loud screaming child that will scream for no damn reason. I swear, you could have the most fantastical perfectly heaven-send breast that you or the entire world would want to suckle on in front of you kid, but instead you decide to screw the entire flight’s passenger’s universes by yelling your head off. Remember kid, one day when you’re thirty, you’ll be sitting next to a super-hot babe making your move with your peanuts and there will be a mother and child in front of you who will interrupt your stinky pinky game by reclining all the way back into your chest to scream its head off. Karma’s a bitch kid.
Now then, let’s put up that tray table and seat to it’s full and upright position and prepare for landing….*ding*

Up til today

I'm at the airport at the moment after working last nite and a 3 hour nap. I'm flying home for one day, my Dad's birthday. 70 years ago in a tiny town in the near third world Portuguese island territory of the Azores, Papa Alfredo was spit out into the world. It proves to show that nobody knows where they're going to end up being in life down the road. I should probably thank him for getting out of that backwater island town or I wouldn't exist today.
So, tonite, we are having a small dinner with two of his brothers and us. We're making a ham and some sides, and we ordered him a nice birthday cake. It will be a long day for me today since right after I get off the plane and in the house I will be cooking and prepping. I shouldn't be able to relax until about 11pm, and then its off to sleep before coming right back here to Phoenix tomorrow. It will be worth it though.
Mom decided to get him a nice watch for a gift and I booked all of us a trip to Kauai in March for a long overdue, relaxing family vacation. Unfortunately due to a unforeseen credit card hiccup, the surprise was blown for him as he got wind of what I was doing. He doesn't seem to be putting up a fight for right now, but I'm sure he will try to be pessimistic about it. He's already tried to drop the "we can't make far future plans because we don't know when doctors appointments are going to be" excuse. I told him to shut it, seeing that the trip is 5 days and he can schedule around it.
I think its a trade off now days for what we have to give and learn from eachother. He's shown me temperance, financial smarts, do-it-yourself skills and determination. I think it's my job to show him how to enjoy life a little. Outside of roadtrips to Arizona or southern Cali ( which usually always have a tie-in to a business agenda), the last vacation, or family vacation at that too, was in 1994 when we all went to the Azores. Over 14...FOURTEEN years ago. There's something inherently wrong with that.
Outside of plans for today, this week has been a, um, average week with some interesting nuances. It's been week two of being off my vitamin supplements, and my sleep has continued to be better and more resting. The awkward part about it is that as I sleep, my dreams have gotten exponentially more vivid and intense. The strangeness of the dreams varies, but two nights ago I had a strange dream about a lobster king disguised as a human attempting to kill us all. With the assistance of my boss, some of my work crew and my ex girlfriend, we lured him into a steam tunnel with abandoned cars in it and "steamed" him to death.
Crystal has been making near nightly cameo appearances in my dreams. Some are disturbing, most of the time we have an argument in the dream and things are just awkward for the mostpart in them.
Work has been good for money this week, unfortunately the clientele has been lackluster. Assholes and elbows mostly. There was a pair of fights last night, including one outside that starred a chick vs a dude. I'll give the dude some credit, he let her wait on him for a bit before common sense clicked in his head being..."alright, if your talking shit like a dude, starting a fight, and hitting me like a dude...it's on." He ended up hitting her a few times in the face, giving her a lump on the head, a busted bloody nose and a fat lip. Some customers and employees broke up the fight, but no repercussions were made on the dude seeing that everyone agreed that the girl was deserving of him defending himself.
I made 30 clove garlic chicken Thursday. It was delicious.

A grand experiment

It was a bit strange not having people over or to go out for Sunday football today and not tearing it up. I did have a productive and as ease day off however. I got up at 11:30 after a 6 hour sleep feeling refreshed. I put some ball on as I got a light breakfast together and defrosted a steak for dinner. After that, I gathered a bank deposit and walked Jenny on a 4 mile walk to the bank and back. I took my time and even drained my iPod battery on the stroll. I got back, paid my bills off, finished laundry, had some lunch, picked the last crop of my peppers before winter claims back the plants, reorganized the patio and played some games before having dinner and watching discovery tv.

The past few days I've been working in the garden, planted a tree, baked some banana and cranberry breads, tidied up the house some, Christmas shopped and other small stuff too. I was wondering how I suddenly got enough energy to do things again this week.

Well for one, I wasn't hungover after a Sunday party day, so yes, the refrain from liquor is definitely a plus, but I experimented a bit further. For the past few months I had been maintaining a steady regimen of supplements for my meals (or lack thereof). I was taking a daily dose of Vitamin B-12, echinacia, DHEA, and another multivitamin. The echinacia and the DHEA aren't the problem, but the vitamins, I feel, were throwing my body even further out of sync. The B-12, while not harmful to your body, effectively acted like a energy booster. Unlike a drinkable energy drink like Redbull or Rockstar which have a heavy vitamin and sugar crash, usually B-12 doesn't have that serious of an effect.

Unfortunately mixing the supplements with a hangover caused a very ugly rollercoaster ride that made me even more moody than I usually am. So this week, without taking supplements and not drinking, I am sleeping less but with more rest and have been very productive this week.

I'll see how this next week progresses going into my Dad's birthday next Sunday when I go home for a day.

drudging up the past

I was digging around for old photos of family to make presents for some of my family when I dragged up some pics of Doug, Dirty Ryan and I from well back in high school. It's amazing how fast time passes!

At Pescadero beach in January of 94

Ah, Dirty Ryan on one of our many bike rides back in the day. I bet Dirty missed that good ole bike.

Ryan and the Dog Broad Izzy at Pescadero

Douglas "reflecting" on something at Bean Hollow beach

Ah, the infamous trizan hack pick in front of Ryan's house after a hacky sack session back in 93. I really...really miss those shorts. I literally wore them until they were nothing more than ripped strips.

Making it look like Christmas threw up in my house

There, that's catchy! Raaaalph!! Or should I say Rrruudoooolllfff Christmas all over my house!

Besides that, I really do love the Christmas season. I had a productive day today on my day off getting the house ready for the holidays. It's always ironic though that in my 13 years out here in the valley, I've only decorated and stayed here for Christmas one December 25th. On a side note, I'll never do that again because that year was the last Christmas my grandfather had alive, and I missed spending it with the family.

So, the house will get all decorated up and have nobody here for the holiday as I always go home for a week. I do put up a mean little tree though.

I do have 2 traditions here at my house for decorating. One is that every year I buy one new ornament for the tree that has some kind of meaning.

I think I have 10 years of unique ornaments on this tree this year. This year's ornament is a red, green and silver handpainted glass ornament I got at the Phoenix art museum when my parents and I visited it in October. Most of them have a small story behind them, good or bad.

Secondly, I am unique with my outside lights. All my neighbors have a constant theme, either all icicle lights, all multicolored lights, all white lights, stars, blow-up snowmen, or those damn automated wire reindeer. Me, no...I go for the tackiest house on the block. I got them big old-school, suck the power company and my wallet dry colored bulbs right next to a rouge string of white mini-lights, next to a bunch of flashing blue & white minis, next to solid blue big lights, next to a bunch of oddball placed lights. It's organized chaos.

It looks good. You know why it does? Because its different, yet traditional. Here's how its going to play out. The Smith family is going to be rolling around the town one night looking at light displays in their mini-van with little Jessica and Thomas in the back, and they'll be saying, " There's another house with all icicles...there's another blow up Tigger Santa Jes....WOAH! Hey, there's a different house guys!"

Point for me. Take that you icicle whores!

So yes, productive day, woke up at 10:30, had a cup of coffee and some cinnamon toast then spent the next 7 hours decorating the inside and outside of the house. At 6pm I headed over to Sam's club after a brief phone call to my Godfather to get a bag of Jenny food and a take and bake pizza for me. I had a few slices for dinner, went through the mail, started writing blogs and Christmas cards while keeping the Christmas music channel on til my ears bled red and green.

Funny, I walked into Sam's club and everyone I passed looked at me kinda funny. I thought I had a stain on my shirt or a booger bungee jumping out my nose, but when I checked, the only thing I found was a big smile to give to everyone from having a good day dealing with Christmas stuff.

Climbing out of the rabbit hole for a dose of reality.

I had a tiny experience of a moment of clarity last week. Now, as it's widely known, I like to drink from time to time. Lately it's been getting not only boring and repetitive, but the next day gets rougher and rougher as I get older and it isn't that I do anything stupid, damaging or bad when I do drink (with the exception of occasionally lifting a bottle of hot sauce from the local bar). In fact I'm usually a happy, entertaining, accommodating and sociable drinker, but it's more so the likelihood of what I may likely become as the years creep up on me.

As my family's history dictated, my father's side is Portuguese-so we not only drink a good amount, but we also are known for making our own booze to support our habit. On my mother's side is French Canadian, and believe me my grandfather and my uncles (who were all in the services) loved and still do love their beer and whiskey in grandiose amounts. I remember tales of my father meeting his brother in-laws and tearing it up around town back in Rhode Island in the 60's.

I tend to stay closer to the flock on my Mother's side. Not only to I look more like my deceased grandfather who died with a pickled liver, but I may be his soul re-born as per a tale my father told of he and I in his truck when I was 3 and talking to dad like said deceased grand-dad whom I never met...but that's another story for a later time.

Am I using heredity as a crutch? No, of course not, but it helps to know where one comes from.

My parents do not drink, or at least any longer. That stopped years and years ago before I could remember.I can recall though, my father buying a case of Lowenbrau and trying a sip of beer when I was 5. I hadn't had my first full taste of booze until I was 20. I didn't get drunk until I was well after 21. So it's not that I was a rebellious kid in high school, or even fully through college. The irony of it is that I've worked in a bar for almost 12 years and have half my kitchen turned into a full bar.

The question I have for myself is, do I have a problem with it? No, i do not have an addiction, nor am I dependant on liquor to have a good time. When I come home from a day of work I do not have a drink. After a closing shift when everyone else on duty has a cocktail or four, I have none. I don't crave liquor nor do I need it to function. I DO like to have people over and have fun on my days off if I so elect to do so.

When I do get that one or two days off, I decompress so fast from not being able to let go all week or two that I really tear it up in one day. Its the next two days after that hurt. Lately that's been wearing on me.

When I do not drink for a while, not only do I drop weight, feel more energetic, become less moody and save money faster, but I generally feel healthier, motivated and more centered instead of being on a rollercoaster ride of a good high to await the crash and burn low.

Accepting and realizing the possible future physical ramifications as well as the cost of a good time, dealing with the dregs of a progressively worsening next day hangover, I wish to leave the secondary rabbit hole world for a while and balance out a bit. I'm going, to the best of my ability, take a break off drinking for a while, at least 3 months.

Maybe I'll go for a hike instead.

Advents of Technology

I have reasons for my impulses most of the time. Yesterday my impulse was to upgrade my TV to a 46 inch LCD HDTV and to get a Playstation 3/ blu ray player to go along with it.

It's nice, beyond nice, and my old TV is very jealous right now after being moved into the bedroom.

The methods to my madness? Simple self indulgence for my birthday.

Not that I'm hunting for attention or goodies, but outside of my parents getting me a few gifts, love and affection, my buddy Ryan sending me a box from Japan, and a few cards and happy birthday wishes from friends and family, my birthday wasn't much more than another day. In fact, my day, and entire weekend was spent working my ass off. So, in a nutshell, it was a Happy Birthday to ME day yesterday.

I do have to give credit where credit is partially due though. That goes to my pop. He instilled money management, working and saving cash to me. What he doesn't grasp yet is, what are you doing with all that money if you can't enjoy it from time to time? Can't take it with you when you go right, so may as well live a little while you're here.

I'm pleased with it, and its paid off with cash, cash that will be replaced within a month. Now if you would excuse me, I need to watch I am Legend in Blu Ray.

A lost weekend

As expected, I worked my entire birthday weekend on Halloween. My work decided to throw a block party that weekend, so all hands on deck. The idea was a good one, but as usual with a block party, everyone gets overworked and some kind of drama usually happens. At least this party went a WHOLE lot smoother than the super bowl debacle back in February. I dressed in my western outfit for Halloween propper, and it was the busier night. It was insane Friday night. I got home at about 430 am that night. I expected Saturday to be a lot calmer of a block party than Friday seeing that most people went all out then and wouldn't have much left in the tank for a second night. I was right, Saturday was far less crowded, even slow at times during the night. I dressed like one of my bosses, Capt. Mike that night. I fooled everyone, it was freaky. Its an easy enough get-up, and I had all the things I needed just laying around the house. I stuffed a pillow under my shirt and stuffed my old pony tail under my hat to replicate my boss, got his mannerisms and shuffle walk down. It was actually a fun night.

Only thing I was not looking forward to was the breakdown of the outside. After breaking down fences, tarps, tents, decorations, lights, trash and sweeping the street, I got home at 6am. I had Sunday off, but after working today (Monday) I'm still sore and very tired. It will be an early night as I will need to catchup on my sleep.

The mystery box

I received a box in the mail the other day all the way from Japan and Dirty Ryan. The irony is that I was prepping a box of stuff to send to him, so it was a bit eerie to get one for my birthday. Ryan did listen to my holiday requests in that he sent me a bunch of exotic foods and a recipe to try. They're all laid out above, and as a running joke, that small can in the center is of course...horse cock. Ah the memories of our last escapade in San Diego a few years back wherein Ryan was able to convince a drunken Marc and Doug one night in the hotel to take a big bite of a canned mystery meat. Tasty horse cock...yum!

It was a pleasant surprise to get it, and I thank him immensely. I will be trying his wares this week at some point in time. Maybe this weds or Sunday as Doug has the day off and we can both revisit the horse meat.

updates

I've added a few new elements to the blog and tweaked a few settings, locations of gadgets, changed songs on my player, etc...One of which I kinda like, off to the right, which is "follower of the blogsite". Its easier if you are already a member of blogger.com or blogspot.com, but you may still be able to follow anonymously. It lets me know who likes to consistently read my site. I always wondered who is webstalking me. Feel free to explore around.

Week 2 so far

Well, so far this week has been calming and relaxing. I worked Tues and Weds, and on Weds night we went out to Frashers in Scottsdale for a nice dinner. We all had the dinner special, grilled Ono tuna with greens and a citrus cream sauce and our choice of sides. We all opted for creme brulee for dessert. Its a really nice restaurant that is dirt cheap for what you get, plus the atmosphere is relaxing. We ate in the dining room, but they also have a lounge and a bar area. So far all the times I've eaten there, I've been very happy.

This morning we all woke up, and since I had the day off, we headed out for the day. While we were out, we had the option to pass by a apartment building listing for sale. Wasn't worth it. In fact, it was in a area I was sent to before, so once I arrived I knew that it was no good. I'd rather not go to a building I own to check up on it and have to bring a sidearm.

We left the building and headed over to the Phoenix Art Museum for a few hours. It was a good time and we all saw a lot of good pieces there. Their monthly special gallery was cowboy art, and a few of them were so greatly painted that it was surreal. You expected to step into the painting. Dad really liked those. We went through the abstract, classical, fabrics, sculpture and mixed media sections for a few hours before making a pit stop in the gift shop to browse. I picked up my annual Christmas ornament for this year there, along with a pair of "Buddha Boards". Best way I can describe it, its a slate board with a strange finish on it. They give you a calligraphy brush to dip in water, then you make brush strokes on the board. The wet areas turn dark and stay there for about 5 minutes before it dries away, supposedly leaving you and the board with a clean slate. I got one for me and one for a undetermined gift.

We got out of there about 2 and headed over to the Chinese grocery store to pick up dinner and some other items. I love this store. Its dirt cheap, with good quality items. The downside of it is that its 16 miles away from home. We ended up getting 3 mackerels, 2 packs of whole sardines, 2 packs of whole mussels, some spices, taro root, shallots, chilis, fresh rolls and one whole large red snapper. We had the snapper, baked Portuguese style for dinner. It was tasty, but the fish was a bit mushy. Its the breed of fish. Usually we use a rockfish or other firm fish, but this one looked good, so we tried it out. No matter, we ate it anyways.

After dinner, Dad watched his Thursday wrestling and I made a banana bread and a pumpkin bread. While they were in the oven, I tackled updating my desktop computer. I never use the thing hardly since I have this laptop, so it keeps out of date. Two hours later, its done.

My folks made a few points today. Its true what they say, that as you get older, you don't have much time for bullshit, so you say whats on your mind. So far I've gotten out of them that I need to hurry up and try to move home, that I should get a better job, that I need to be even more careful with my money than I already am, and that tonight especially-I need to lose weight because I have a little belly. Thanks guys, and yes, I know. I've gained about 15 lbs and I have a little belly. I'm also self-conscious about it and unfortunately unmotivated to do anything about it. I just can't get in the mood. That goes with a lot of things though. Generally unmotivated. That currently sums it up.

Anyways, manana is another day, and another work day at that. Hope to make some cash.

Mom & Pop's week one

Apparently mom and pop found it necessary when they first arrived here last Sunday to try out the foosball table in the first 5 minutes. They ended in a tie. It's just funny to see two 70 yr olds dueling it out in a slow grudge match for foosball supremacy. It's been a mixed week so far of randomly shifting weather and social outings. They arrived to a 70 degree cow front only to have it go back up to 98 degrees four days later. Dad does what he does best in working religiously in the yard to surpass my standards in lieu of his own, walking jenny once or twice a day, napping on the couch and making sure to watch his wrestling. Mom uses me as a outlet to get out of the house when time permits and go shopping or go out to see or do something with cultural value.

I ended up taking them to a Broadway show at ASU last Thursday. We saw The Rat Pack, a touring impersonation song and comedy show based on Sinatra, Sammy Davis and Dean Martin. It was a very good show and the actors sang, danced and acted exactly like the original artists. Dad really liked it, which is funny because he is always...ALWAYS pessimistic about going and doing anything outside his safety bubble, but as always, he finds himself really enjoying himself. Such a hypocrite at times.

I had asked off the weekend at work to have a good family dinner and possibly to head out of town, but the trip fell through. Saturday I made a roasted turkey, green bean casserole, stuffing and pumpkin pie. A early preemptive thanksgiving if you will seeing that I never make it home for turkey day any longer. I invited some people over, but only my buddy Chris and my cousin Chris were able to make it over. It was good to have my cousin over and let him have family time. Since he moved out here for school he has been very homesick and in need of release. After a long dinner and talking, Both Chris' and I decided to give him that release he needed and walked up to the bar. We chatted and laughed for hours and even gave an impromptu karaoke singfest via the jukebox at fox & hound before i decided to get my cousin out before the bar did. Captain stumbles however was...how can I say...unable to walk without support. Hello shopping cart. My cousin had his own personal taxi service back to the house. Dragging him inside was another daunting task. Trying to guide and carry a 6'4" boy inside to pass out was near impossible. He made it to the bedroom floor where he passed out cradling a bucket. I stayed up to watch over and make sure he passed out alright. The boy had fun and he thanked me, but it may be a while before he can hang with the big boys. I'll give him advanced training the next few sessions.

Sunday was a nice long, lazy hungover couch day. Leftovers for dinner and a early bedtime.

Today dad and I decided to excavate the recently dead 13 ft palm tree in the front. Two men, sharp instrumental tools, a chain saw, brute strength and an hour and a half later, we had palm tree logs, a new hole dug and a new navel orange tree planted in the front. Dad is passed out now and will be for a few hours. It was good exercise, which I definitely feel is needed-twenty axe and pick axe blows and I'm sweating and panting in 90 degree heat. It was good bonding time too, and we got something done. I'm making slow cooked rib tips in homemade bbq sauce for dinner, which we will gobble up before dad has his wrestling on tonite.

We'll see what week two brings.

seriously?? fourteen thousand??

Today I got a very unpleasant wake up call. I was balancing my books and paying a few bills when I turned on the TV to see that the stock market crashed down 700 points again today. Curiously...or warily, I went to double check my investments to see that in the past 5 days I had lost over fourteen...yes, fourteen thousand dollars in the market. That's a car...a down payment on a property or something big.

I know that there are a lot of other people out there with investments too that are hurting too...my buddies Ryan and Doug, friends at work, and family. My dad is getting owned big time. His three major accounts were with Wachovia, Washington Mutual and Wells Fargo. Two banks went under. His two accounts should just transfer over to the new bank, but he also has a ton of investments in the same American Century brokerage that I do that is tanking based on the market too.

My idealology though is not one of dispare. On seeing that crash today, I put a market order to buy in the morning while the market is still crashed. Simple logic....buy whatever you can when the market is low, wait, sell high. It still stings though to lose over 25% of your investments that you worked so hard at in making and putting faith into the markets with.

Ouchie.

all I want for Christmas

I was poised with the question from a friend recently about what I would like for Christmas. Really? This early? I can't say I'm not guilty, I've already started my Christmas shopping. I don't have to deal with crowds, traffic, and insane holiday prices. Most of my shopping is online and shipped anyways. Usually too, on the rarity that I am asked this question, I always play it down and say that I never ask for anything. Well this year I have some ideas of useful items that I could benefit from having around.

A shower suction cup shaving mirror-My old one of 7 years finally broke the other day and I'm fairly certain its toast.

Socks & chonnies-they're old, holey and just plain ugly.

A weight bench with a leg lift option-fitness, plain and simple, need to do it.

A new cooler-my large camp cooler is still good, but my normal cooler is just not pulling it's weight any longer.

Dog toys for Jenny- nothing small, preferably fuzzy and squeaky to replace her beaten old ones. She hates rawhide & indestructible kong toys btw..

Playstation 3- sorry, I need my token needless gaming, but I don't see this one happening, so It'll go on my own personal shopping list to get myself along with a 50 inch LCD flatscreen TV, a spa and a new bike.

A new blender- Like my shower mirror, my first blender ever took a crap last week. I am smoothie-less currently.

Weird and exotic foods and spices- I'm a foodie and I love trying new things in the kitchen. Besides, chances are I'll cook something up or serve them to you, so in essence, you are treating yourself too.

Lastly, either come and visit me or go on a trip with me- The time spent, along with the experiences are priceless, whether it be going someplace local, or new, or out of town.

There, that should be greedy enough of me.

the start of...fall??

Ah yes fall. The long days of summer are long gone, the nights are cooler and the days perfect. The start of the soon to arrive winter breezes are arriving, blowing through the mix of vibrant warmly colored leaves that line the streets.

Then I moved to Arizona. For 13 years I haven't had a fall. It's October first today. It's also still 100 degrees. It won't reach "fall" temperatures until about December 1st. Then it'll be winter soon. See here in Arizona, we have two seasons. Nice and warm and ungodly hot. Occasionally there will be a two week fluke of sub freezing temperatures in the middle of January, but then it'll be 65 degrees and clear again. There isn't any vivid signs that the seasons are changing here either. Here's the scenery in Arizona, seasonally, in a nutshell...

Spring-dusty and brown

Summer-dusty and brown and fucking hot as hell

Fall-dusty and brown and still hot

Winter-see spring.

That said, tonight I got back from work off my double shift into a opening shift today, made leftovers for dinner, balanced books and paid bills, and then took Jenny on her first walk since before June. The night time temps finally dropped below 80 degrees and the 100+ day temps are not being held in the pavement late anymore as to burn her paws. She was excited to finally get out and make our 2 mile walk. She's out cold now in the middle of the living room now.

I'll be passing out soon too. I need to wake up early and do yard work & chores all day on my day off, including cutting down a dead palm tree. Maybe...I'll take a closer look before I do, but I haven't seen green or new shoots in weeks.

something smells funny

Continuing with my nostalgic mood, there are certain smells that I can vividly remember to tie in with my past. Experts say that the sense of smell is the strongest sense that humans can relate to in terms of memory. I can agree with that. Its a direct correlation between the past and physical memory. Certain things just smell like...well home...

1.) Apple crisp via my mom

A lot can be said about mothers home cooking. Everyone had a mother, and despite her cooking prowess or failures, a mom is usually known for a certain dish that is memorable. My mom, to me is memorable for her apple crisp. You can have apple pie, cobbler and apple what not all you damn want, but my mom is the end all be all of apple crisp. It definitely helps that my mom's apple dish stems from the fact that we grew, and still do grow our own apples. That store bought apple byproduct crap just cant hold a candle to home grown loving. The mix of granny smith and gravestine apples slowly cooking in a mix of cinnamon, sugar, other spices and a tasty crumbly crust would make a stern man swoon. I've gone as far as driving 30 miles for a pizza here in AZ, but I would easily drive the 740+ miles or the circumference of the planet for one spoonful of my mom's apple crisp.

2.) Hospital sanitarium

As much as I would like to anally clean my home, and I try to do, The cleansing smell of a sanitised hospital ward smells eerily good to me. I like the pristine conditions that a hospital provides. Unfortunately, as with the times that I have been in a hospital, most times that you are there, whether it be visiting or as a patient, it is masked by the fact that if you are in a hospital, it's usually is a bad time. Not that I wish for my home to smell 100 % hygienic, but there is some sort of comforting feeling for me to smell clean.

3.) Noxious car odors

Everyone loves that new car smell. The first time I truly smelt it was when I was 8 and my parents bought themselves a new 1984 Honda civic. Every time I smell a new car smell in it's destructively chemically new car goodness, I say to myself.."Hey, it smells like my parent's new Honda." Self explanatory.

4.) Sea salt

Whenever I drive home, I look forward to reaching Los Banos, which is within 60 miles of over the river and through the woods of reaching home. At that time, the San Joaquin valley and the eastern deserts give way to the offshore breeze of the pacific. Your skin feels the moisture and is no longer starved for lubrication and your nose smells the change in the air. I know I'm home. It's one of the most comforting feelings I can think of. The air is cold charged, but it still wraps around you like a childhood blanket. I always turn off my air conditioning there and embrace the home air.

5.) My Dad

It's proven in animals that certain scents of pheromones will identify a family member from outside sources. Such is that with my Dad. His scent is one that only myself or my mother can identify with. It's musky and somewhat sweaty and sweet. Hinted with flavors of old spice and toiled soil and plants, it is my father. Others outside our intimate circle may find it repulsing and dirty, but I do not, it smells like my father, and for that, I wouldn't change it for anything.

6.) Sao Jorge...Saint George cheese

Sorry, its a Portuguese thing. To most of the other people in the world, cheese from Sao Jorge smells like the business end of a NFL sock. It may very well taste the same if you are not of the adventurous side. Going into a Portuguese market in Newark, California and buying a pound of the smelly dairy goodness is a rite of passage for me. I love the cheese, and embrace it's stench with open arms. There is a saying wherein it goes something like, if you're buying Portuguese cheese and it smells that bad...it must be from Sao Jorge.

7.) Baseball leather

I spent many a year and many of baseball gloves playing little league back home in Cali in various teams. We played from late spring to early fall, but that fresh leather mitt smell was always the same. The smell of the mitt was a solidifying agent to all that was going on around during the baseball season...the late afternoon games on the field, the camaraderie with your teammates, the ice cream truck coming by at 5 pm, the coolers full of sodas awaiting you win or loss and of the age of your innocence in general. Its true that they say that of kids of all ages, baseball is America's pasttime. With one whiff of a glove, it all comes back.

8.) Pigeon dandruff

My Dad raises pigeons...there, I said it. Apparently its a rite of passage for men from Portugal coming off the boat to raise pigeons. Some to eat, and some for show. My dad raises then to eat. He breeds king pigeons, which are about or bigger than a chicken. A bit gamey and tough, but hell, if you stew them enough, it tastes better than a shoe. I'll eat it, but I've never been a dark meat man. Anyways, when I was a kid growing up, I used to play with my Dad's birds. Occasionally I'd bring them outside and let them loose on the grass ( they are too fat and stupid to know how to fly ), and have my way with them. Eventually I was able to make a good amount of them tame. Somehow I usually picked the ones that Dad didn't eat as my pets..or Dad didn't eat them because they were my pets. Either way, the birds always had a certain smell about them. It was musty, with a certain spice to them. Like if you hadn't washed your bed pillow for a while. It was warm and dominating seeing that you were holding a live creature that didn't know if it was to live the next day.

I'm sure there are more, wet slow rains, damp warm oak trees, salt flats, spring nectarine blossoms, pine trees, rose blooms, the incense of a catholic church's frankincense, your hair after a summer's day of swimming lessons, but that encompasses all I can muster at this time.

10 songs that shaped my youth

I think I really started listening to music on the radio about 7th grade, with most of my media beforehand coming from TV and movies. For most of Jr. High at McKinley, it was radio, but towards the end I started to branch out and actually buy cassettes and later on CD's. High school I was a mix tape fiend. Buying, compiling, recording and playing them over and over again. Once I had access to a car, well it was all over then because I was mobile and able to crank my tunes on the road. Today however, I sat down and thought of how much music influences my life, past and present. I tried to nail down 10 songs, from my childhood to my 18th birthday that had the most impact on my life. Henceforth, I present them here, with a written description, and I have also uploaded all 10 to the mp3 player below for you to hear. They will play, and I will write about them in my personal chronological order when they became important to me, not in actual discography dating.

1. Duran Duran, A view to a Kill-1985

I think this may have been my first actual recorded song. How I got it was as stupid as the song itself. My folks had a illegal HBO box on their TV...you know the kind where you had to turn a dial and tune in Tokyo?? Well, when it did work, we got the fledgling HBO network. One day, as a spry 8 yr old, I was watching the James Bond flick- A view to a Kill. Not only was I introduced to Mr. Christopher Walken (so cool), but James Bond himself ( not as cool, but ok). The only recordable media was a handheld tapedeck player/recorder, probably circa 1970-something. I would pop in a unknown tape, press record, and hold the damn thing to the tv speaker to record not only the song, but the movie itself. Little did I know that the tape I was recording on was my Dad's recording of all his brothers & sisters singing Portuguese songs as a gift to my grandparents on their 50th anniversary...oops.

2. LL Cool J, I'm Bad-1988

I still use this song at the gym for motivation, and always will. My buddy Ryan and I went down the rap route while others went mainstream rock. Ryan also went to karate class, so we would spar with each other in his living room. He only ad one set of pads, so we would alternate wadding up socks for gloves and punch the heck out of each other. It would usually end up resulting in a trashed room, bruises, sweat, and a whole lot of stupid laughter upon a errant ball shot. We would go ballistic on each other during certain lines of the song. We knew the lyrics were coming and we individually braced ourselves for the upcoming onslaught each time. Ryan's was- "Kamikaze! Take a look at what I've done! Used to rock in my basement, now I'm number one."

I was " I'll treat you like a stepchild, so tell mommy bye bye! So all you other MC's, I'll never get whipped, when I retire I'll be worshipped like an old battleship!"

Amazing how the undertones of each line can directly relate to what or where we are in life now.

3. Depeche Mode, Blasphemous Rumors 1992

I fell from grace, and my religion about when I first listened to this song. I was going to the catholic church at Mt. Carmel for all my youth and I hated it. I hated it because I was made to believe in something that I not only didn't understand, but had no interest in learning about. Now days I am more open to the topics of religion and faith, and will freely talk about any of them. I do not actively practice a faith now. At the time, I was starting out in high school and was entering my rebellious stage. I would either sneak out of Sunday mass, feign oversleeping or sickness until it came to a point where I'm sure, my parents just stopped making me go. They would still ask me after that if I wanted to go, and more times than not, I would say no. I also started questioning the ideas of faith and death with this song. I had not experienced death up close, so I had no concept of how faith would interact during that situation. I had no idea of how soon it would hit home.

4. Alphaville, Forever young 1991

My first experience with this song co-insided with my first rememberable death and funeral. During the fall of 1991, my cousin Sonya was killed in a drunk driving rollover accident after riding in the back of a car without her seatbelt on, driven by a 16 yr old boy leaving a house party in the surrounding hills. Going highway speeds down a one lane curved road should be explanation enough of what happened.

I remember walking into the funeral home with my parents to see a packed house. Family, friends, neighboors all packed the pews. There was a mob of people up by her casket, mostly of her friends. The director ushered them aside to make way for us family members. In a flash, there she was. It was odd. She looked alive and I expected her to open her eyes. I noticed that her forehead looked odd. From all the family members kissing and crying over her, her makeup was slowly coming off, revealing the blackened trauma that killer her.

Despite that, I walked away numb and sat in the side pews next to her. In the background the chapel was playing a tape of her favorite songs. This song came on and I tuned in. By the first chorus, I understood, and then broke down. I tend to still become misty on this song, or I change it.

5. The Cure, Pictures of You 1992

I borrowed this tape compilation, "All Mixed Up" from my cousin Tina during the summer of 1992 and it took constant persistence and nagging for me to give it back to her. I was obviously starting to notice girls at that time, and this song seemed fitting to my numerous minute long infatuations of girls walking down the halls of my high school, or at the park, or driving around in Ryan's car during that summer. Yet I had yet to actually make a girlfriend out of any of them, let alone talk to one with confidence. It would take a long time, about 6 more years before I actually called someone a girlfriend. Until then, those "pictures of you" varied from Sears catalogues, yearbooks or prom pictures.

6. Stone Temple Pilots, Plush 1993

Enter the rebellion years. Doug and Ryan were graduating high school and I was entering my senior year. Doug had a mustang and a drum set. In both places we turned the volume up to full strength and belted our lungs out. We didn't know what the hell the song was about, but it sounded rockin and loud, sexual and manly, so we abused the hell out of this song. That and we sang it very well too. We were thrust into the grunge genre. Flannel tops, jeans and a degenerative malaise that accompanied the music. It was dirty and different, and we liked it. You get Doug and I in the same room, car or bar when this song comes on, go grab your earplugs because its going to get loud.

7. U2, Until the end of the World 1993

This song, if not the entire "Achtung Baby" album, may very well be my number one favorite song ever. All the aspects of the song appealed to me. The beats, the guitars, the effects, the lyrics. It wasn't a happy song, but it didn't sound depressing at the same time. You were just entwined in the song itself. Everytime I hear this song, its as if the sound reaches in my head and grabs my squishy brain. I'm thankful that my music was progressing from tapes to CDs at this point because I burned out that tape a very, very long time ago by always playing it in the car. There isn't really a single story to this song. The album was almost always playing in the car when I drove somewhere or in my stereo at home. I first started hearing this album in the summer of 1991, but it took 2 years for me to fully appreciate it. My most vivid memory would have to be tagging along with Ryan to his piano lesson in San Mateo in his white Honda just so I could stay in the car and listen to it for the 45 minutes or so while he was inside. I just sat there in the alley that Saturday morning and listened to music, singing my head off.

8. Journey, Faithfully, 1994.

My first heartbreak and the start of hating Journey. I was midway through my senior year in high school. It was Christmas time and I had been talking to a girl named Sarah Fisher for a month or so. She was about 5 ft tall with a D size rack. She was acquaintances with my friend Sue and I had asked her to the winter formal dance. We went out once to catch a movie-The Pelican Brief, and afterwards we drove around and ended up at a rest stop on Skyline that overlooked the reservoirs and cities below at night. I had my first kiss there. During Christmas break we talked daily on the phone and hanged out often. On New Year's Day, I went over to her house before my family showed up at mine for the day's party. We made out for a few hours and got pretty heavy, but no sex. All the time, she had Journey playing on loop on the stereo.

Less than a week later she told me she was done with me, but would still let me take her to winter formal. Turns out she was notorious in her circle of friends (or dwindling circle), that included my crush Sue, for moving in on a guy just to squash any hopes of her friend dating a guy first. After I left high school, I found out that she was stuck working at a baskin robbins up the road and got pregnant within a year of graduation. Hope she got knocked up to this song...bitch.

9. Pearl Jam, Release Me 1994.

Unlike other people, family included, I love to just go and drive. My favorite time to drive is late at night when there is nobody on the roads. I would get off of work at my godfather's ice cream store at about 10pm and just drive around for an hour listening to music. I'd take the long way home, the out of the way ways, the highways, the forest roads. I'd go get a donut or taco bell. I'd drive by family member's houses and see if any lights were on. I'd just drive. It gave me a escape to drive...a "release".I'd usually drive around with a mix tape of slow, not too intense songs, and this would be the best one. There are obviously a lot of undertones regarding the title itself, ranging from a release from my parents, from work, from a girl or life in general. Today it still is the best song that I can sing. I still cue it up once in a while when I drive home from work at 4 in the morning.

10. Catherine Wheel, Fripp 1994

This is the only song I don't wish was on here. Don't get me wrong, I like the song. Its very relaxing and mellow, and usually helps me relax after a long day with a bottle of wine. I need the bottle of wine to get rid of the memory along with the song. In the summer of 1994 my parents took me to see the town in the Azores islands where my father was born and raised. I wanted nothing to do with it at the time. I went with them because I thought I was made to go. I was done with high school, in the best shape of my life, and was "training" for a potential swimming career at ASU as I took a semester off before starting college in January of 1995.

My father wished to show me around the town, the island, the buildings and farms where he walked, played, worked and raised his family. I however could have cared less at the time. When we walked around town, I walked separate from them. I didn't like eating with them, nor much at all talk. A lot of the time I spent listening to my walkman in the hotel room. This, out of all the other songs, I listened to the most.

It was a stupid, stupid, disrespectful and regretful act. One of which I beat myself up on to this day. I can never go back there with them again for they are too old to travel that far. It's a part of myself that I ignored to learn about, that because of my shitty attitude, will be lost to me forever. All I can try to do is try to make up for lost time now.

the ups and downs of a week

Man, this week has had its ups and downs to the point of absurdity. I've been camping, gotten sick camping, sunburnt, came back and got pretty tipsy on NFL's opening weekend with Smitty, made good money all week, finally made myself do some overdue clothes shopping, had a cousin almost die, have a grandmother almost die and is still in the hospital, had another cousin get engaged, partied hard again last sunday with a bunch of different people at the bars, had my bank send me the affidavit i need to sign for them to process my fraud claims only to get it in the mail 3 days before it needed to be turned in ( praise jeezy for priority mail), have all my stocks take a shit today after the market fell (monday) and finally was able to properly affix my grapevines in the back on a rigged trellis system. I'm tired. I opened today and made an astonishing $30. Loves my day shifts I tell ya. Easy night tonite...dinner, laundry, a monday night game and bed.

I work a double tomorrow, which should be a blast. A double shift going into a opening shift on Weds. My boss is out of town again for his quarterly trip to Thailand for debauchery reasons. That means for the next 3 weeks we are all working like dogs.

I'll say this much, I won't be going out to party on Sunday this week. I'm staying home, sleeping in and taking a break. Besides, there are no massively interesting games this weekend. I'll see how this next week goes.

ho ho already?

You all better hurry up...only 94 days until Christmas. Seems like every year I start my Christmas shopping earlier and earlier. This year is no exception. I will be shopping a bit more on the cheap side however, and the shopping list is significantly smaller in terms of people. That is once again, gone the way of the Christmas party in terms of why should I go out of my way to give a gift to someone that I only hear or see from when they think they are getting something out of it. I know it defeats the general premise of Christmas by not acting nice to others like that, but seriously, if you aren't around all year, why should I go out of my way for you? Maybe I'll get you a fruitcake.

I did see a Christmas Ad today, which was kinda scary. It was for a local news station, advertising auditions for their 2008 Christmas angel campaign, looking for a poster child for their ads. There's only one last step left before the holiday rush...I expect Walmart and most big stores to start putting up their Christmas aisles within the next 2 weeks.

There are things to look forward to however-well besides the football season kicking off already...going home for Christmas to see family, winter weather, the cold crisp chill in the air, the Christmas spirit.

Just because you see sunlight doesn't mean the storm is over.

As you know, my well needed getaway to California was called off because I couldn't get all my time off that I asked. Understood, but still disappointed.

Instead, Chris and I hammered out a quick camp trip to northeast Arizona, somewhere we haven't camped before. The intent was to find a new spot to replace our old standby that has gotten overused and trashed from others. So, I worked that Friday,Saturday and Sunday nights and stayed up after work to make a 6am departure time. Hello redbull and caffeine. Still, something still felt wrong about the trip.

You know that feeling, that even though you still are doing it, something in the back of your head feels above and beyond the feeling that you didn't intend on doing this and may pay the price for it?

To add an an additional omen to go along with my mechanical, physical and financial bad karma this past week, I show up from work to pull into the driveway to see that the main line of the irrigation system had burst and was spewing water out into the streets. Wonderful, which means that my plants won't get water for 6 days and I'll have to dig up a corner of my yard on returning to fix the pipe. I turn off that section of the system and throw a huge rock on top to stifle the jet steam into the street, pack the truck and meet up with Chris to leave the valley.

Initially, the trip went according to plan, with no hangups or delays, with good weather and good attitudes.

After a few hours driving up to the north country, we arrived at our turnoff to see the area socked in with a really eerie fog. It was 8am, with about 50 ft of visibility in front of you if you were lucky. You could tell the area got dumped on with storms over the past few days as predicted from the numerous deep pools and puddles around peoples RV's. Everyone was just rousing from a miserable sleep. One little girl wandered out in the fog in her PJs, eyes blackened from lack of sleep, we thought we were arriving into a Romero zombie flick.

By the time we got to the area we wished to investigate after driving through the organized campgrounds full of Labor day campers, the sun broke through and the dirt roads were empty.

We picked a good site and started to setup camp. The first day was good. Beers went down easy, laughter was loud, surprisingly my cell phone worked, and sleep was wonderful.

Day two, three and four went progressively south. I started to get sick with a cold on day two, which culminated on the third night with sore throat, congestion, cough, sweats and chills in my universe consisting of a 6x8 tent with a stinky dog, an equally stinky self as I slept on my camp mattress doped up on the only medications I had- a few advils washed down with vodka and fruit juice.

The good news was that the weather stayed calm and not very cold, and as per my usual traits, my body processes sicknesses quick and spits them out faster, so by day 4, I was recovering, and today, day 5, all I had left was a stuffy nose and chapped lips. Still though, it was a major buzzkill.

At least we found a new area to explore, had some good discussions, saw some nice sights and made it home in one piece. I was eager to get home though, unpack and rest.

Karma continued

Apparently my karma still isn't cleaned for my off luck has continued. I still haven't gotten my credit card issue cleared, for now they said that I need to sign an affidavit in order for them to rectify the false charges on my account. So I need to wait for that to arrive in the mail.

I got my cable fixed, turns out that people digging in my front yard and the neighboors yards were contracted out by the cable company to reinstall new coaxial cable lines. They still cut my lines, and turns out that it needed to be looked at anyways. My reception was crystal clear since Monday, but now its fuzzy again. I don't get it. Seems lately like nobody wants to do their job right.

Well, I was supposed to drive back to Cali on Saturday with Chris and Jenny to spend a few days with my parents, but when I checked my schedule, I did not get the first few days off as requested. I guess there is an expected mass workload to be delivered to the bar on labor day weekend. Whatever. Not my fault that they don't hire any more people and work everybody too hard. There's guys there working 12 days straight and a handful working regular double shifts. Hire....more...people.....

Chris cancelled anyways because he was too short on cash after his truck repair.

So, I thought I may be able to book a flight home, but that's not going to happen. In 6 hours, the airfare changed from $176 round trip, to over $380. Obviously the flight isn't booked full, so....what the hell??? You wonder why the airline business is struggling so much...

Oh, and my iPod screen got cracked.

So I have 5 days off starting Monday with nothing to do. Will I stay in town? Go camping? Go insane?

Then again, the way my luck has been, I'd get eaten by a bear.

My lucky streak...the wrong way

Apparently my karma may need laundering due to the wonderful streak of bad luck I've had the past 4 days.

Without telling me, the gas company decided to dig up my front yard along with two of my adjacent neighboors yards to assess a gas pipeline or a leak or something...whatever it was, they didn't tell us, they just came in and dug.

In the process, they severed my cable and internet lines. So now I'm sponging airwave internet waves. At least I half a half competent receiver to access it on a minimal level.

The other night I got back from work, which, in the past few nights we've had 3 fights..fun..I came back home and decided to check my email and pay some bills before I went to bed. On checking my credit card statement, I saw that someone had jacked my number and started charging things from a website on my card. The service centers were not open 24/7 for charge disputes, so I had to wait til morning to deal with it. Got up after a few hours sleep, spent an hour on the phone trying to deal with it, and ended up getting the typical pas around rigamaroll that ended in a new card number and card issued, but the charges are still not off my original account. Talking with them today, I need to call Monday to the disputes department and get them removed. Obviously nobody co-operates at the bank because nobody knows whats going on and I have recommendations varying from not paying the bill, waiting for reimbursements, dealing with the company directly, paying my bill minus the charges or calling tomorrow. WOW.

After dealing with that the other day, I took my truck to the shop to get road ready for my trip to Cali next week and took it up the ass for $600 for a front brake job and needed maintenance.

With all the fights Friday night at work, it was amature night, and at the end of it all, we barely walked with over a hundred bucks. Considering I made fifty the next morning when I opened, that verified that the night sucked.

At least my foot is better and I got plenty of sleep last night. I ordered a body cleanse package from a health store the other day and am starting that off on a good note as my immediate energy is already up. Plus, with the cable off, I am forced to do other things like read, write, clean, do chores, so its not all bad.

I just can't wait to get out of here next weekend and have a week off to relax in cool weather with friends and family.

Carpe diem

Carpe diem
.
Carpe diem is a phrase from a Latin poem by Horace (See "Source" section below).
It is popularly translated as "seize the day". The general definition of carpe is "pick, pluck, pluck off, gather" as in plucking or picking a rose or apple, although Horace uses the word in the sense of "enjoy, make use of, seize."


seize the day
seize the day
seize the day
seize the day


bless you all......

Static Flow pt 1 of 2

I had taken a break from reading a book and was lying on my back on my sofa staring at the ceiling at one of my planes hanging motionless from fishing line.

Earlier on in the book I was reading, Steven Kotler touched on the subject of flow. The state of being in which an individual no longer recognizes certain conscious elements as time, or being a separate being from the element or activity that the person is experiencing. His experiences with surfing, as well as mine playing around in the ocean encompass this.

Athletes describe this as being in the zone. Your abilities come into full fruition and top out on your own ability to match the activity at hand.

A mountain climber may not remember most of the technical parts of a 2000 ft climb and describe the scenario as if his body acted on its own, all the while their mind hovers in between a conscious and subsconcious dreamstate.

Most of my experiences with a flow state occurred in high school wen I was in swimming or water polo matches. Being a longer distance swimmer, my experiences were more profound than say a sprinter who's zoning session may only last 30-90 seconds if that. On nearly every meet I swam a 500 free, it meant about 5-6 minutes of being in a different state of mind. You get over the initial shock of the starting gun and the cold water greeting your body upon entry, and soon enough, you are going through the motions.

I tended not to remember much while I swam my events. My body was there, and occasionally it would remind me of the efforts given, but my mind was definitely elsewhere. Your senses dull, and some become non-existent. Touch became muted, as if your skin melded with the water. Obviously taste and smell were eliminated while in the water. Despite the thrashing arms, legs and whitewater, you heard near nothing. Sometimes when I have access to a pool deeper than 6 ft, I swim to the deep end, dive down to the bottom, blow out enough air to become neutrally buoyant and just sit on the bottom.

The silence is peacefully deafening. Its a state of suspension, and until recently, a comforting experience.

Static flow pt 2 of 2

It was that element of suspension that I was becoming aware of as I was staring at that plane hanging stoically from the ceiling. That is one boring plane, I told myself. Day in and day out, it just hangs there. I wanted, in that very moment, for it to snap off the lines and plummet to the carpet below. Just for the sake of change and movement.

That's when I started to compare my routing existence to that plane. Daily, the routines are the same. Minutes whisk away into hours, hours into days, days into months. Next thing I know, my years are flying by and I've been sitting static, comfortable with my surroundings and numb to the world. Usually that happens when you experience the flow, but I haven't been in that state for years. That's what's disturbing.

As kids, we are not too wise in the rational aspects of life. We try things out, and if they are pleasurable, we do it again. If they cause trauma, chances are, we know its bad so we don't do it again. As we have gotten older(though sometimes not really wiser), our rationality prohibits us from just going and doing something. We talk ourselves out of things because gas costs too much, we may get into trouble, we may get hurt, something is too far, too dirty or whatever.

My point being, is that we don't jump anymore. Experiencing something different takes that leap, or that jump from ourselves to do that new experience. Comfort and rationality now is the bain of adulthood. Next thing you know, you're near elderly, haven't done your share of jumping and are to the point of not being able to do anything about it.

I've dished out a lot of introspective talk about taking that next leap but haven't done a thing about it. Is it getting over fear? What made that first recreational skydiver leap out of a perfectly good airplane? Or the bungee jumper to step off the ledge? Ask most bungee jumpers or people with falling phobias what scares them the most about it and they will say that its not the fall that scares them, but the landing that puts the fear in them.

That fear of landing, the crashing uncontrollably to your demise is the premise to trying new things. It's not the journey, or the falling into something new, but if you try something new and fail by landing on your face is the downside. The reward however should supersede the potential failure. The journey of attempting something new gives you that ravenous opening up the Christmas presents under the tree feeling of giddiness coupled with the success of achieving your goal while you sit amidst chewed up wrapping paper in awe with your new toys.

There's a Maori saying that to experience a spiritual journey or heightened enlightenment, God has to know that there's blood on the line. Its a roundabout way of saying that the reward is equal to the risk. Live a static life, and you're not going to have much excitement or very much to talk about. Find you're flow in life in experiencing what you can to the fullest and that flow state should be endless.

All it takes is that first jump. Think of doing the hardest thing you could do, then go do something doubly hard. After that, everything else you used to do is cake. Probably because its been on my mind, but I had a dream of jumping out of a plane last night.

Its time to jump. I may need a shove, but I need to jump.