Estrogen Fix

Can't say much because I need to go to bed, but I have to say that I watched two chic-filcs today that are worth a mention.

The first was Enchanted, which I immediately pegged as grossly obnoxious, but eventually fell in love with. I'm just going to have to come of of the closet and say it, I really love musicals. It was so over the top, so mushy, so lovey dovey, and so unrealistic that it captured my heart.

The second was P.S. I Love You. Again, not a big Swank fan, and I am admittedly tired of the studly Irish musician love stories. A la Once, and August Rush. OK I can name three Irish dude romance movies... Anyway, again thought the movie would be totally lame, but seriously it had a very compelling honesty to it. Movies, relationally speaking, are, in my estimation, becoming far more realistic, and I will tip my hat to that as I see at as socially responsible. I did check out for a little while in the middle of this movie, but over all I was very touched and inspired by the story.

I love my mom. I love my sisters. Happy estrogen day.

(I swear I was raised on the stuff. A mom and three sisters... I'm an estrogen baby)

Bring it.

Lets scream at the moon
Sit and question why
Never understand and alway wonder
Share a longing

I can wait, and I know I will
For anyone and everyone who can face the souls chill
Who can pony up their skin and let their blood pay the bill
Who will join me, another human, sitting on a hill?

We can drink wine until our fill
The longing deepens still

More Emo Than Tattoos.

It is rather amazing what two depressed people can accomplish.
Just goes to show that timing is everything.

Because the second she was happy was the second I got upset.
And the minute I'd remember was the minute she'd forget.
Just like the hours we spent together we now spend apart.
It was time brought us together, and time ripped us apart.

I leave my mark on the heart not the sleeve.
Call it whatever, may it seem meaningful, it is not my deed.
Because the worse the pain, the less its seen.
Or should I say scene?

HE HATE? O, LEARN

I wish that the silence would cease its incessant screaming.
Because I miss, all honesty and maturity aside, something beyond.
But what I see is broken.
A bittersweet revelation that proves a love unreal.
Broken vases, glorified dust, pieces thrust upon the ground.

Growth is perceived, but shattered pieces only continue to splinter.
The gradual cutting of ourselves against our jagged edges.
Making, in no uncertain terms, an impossibility.
I won't choose it; love still has to make sense.

But you linger so near in my thoughts, and in my heart.
Agitating my fear that I hope will not always make me wonder:
Is it love how one knows all along yet dares not ignore the siren song?

I hate how you inspire me.
Just by being you.
You don't need me.
Stop saying that you do.

CHI TOWN

Here it is the moment of truth... the very reason why I was sent out to Chi Town: The EX Awards! Event Marketer Magazine is about to award my company 1st, 2nd, or 3rd place based on our hospitality element that we created for Vivendi Games. Not being an industry person at all quite yet prevents me from being too excited about this. (Even though we are up against the company that did Superbowl XLI and the company that works with Infinity.) OK... actually I am really excited. One: the lobby is full of cool people... FINALLY!! No more drunk old people... Two: There is a way less awkward energy now that the awards are in a few hours. Awkwardness exchanges for excitedness with great relief to my anxiety. I HATE awkwardness. I think I can be so awkward just depending on who I am talking to.

SO far in Chicago I have purchased cigarettes for a bum... perhaps not the greatest idea. I ate way too much deep-dish pizza, and would be happy not to reflect on that moment on my life again. I played beer-pong with some locals right next to Lincoln Park. I walked around the city for several hours. I took a cab to Wrigley Field and observed the pandaemonium that follows a successful Cub's game. (Its like TJ run by white people). I made a few networking contacts (harder then it sounds, awkwardness remember?) I successfully linked my G4 to the internet via bluetooth from my cell phone (basically THE most awesome thing ever!), I strolled through Millennium Park, and saw the Art Institute of Chicago's Winslow Homer and Edward Hopper exhibits. I love American art. I most enjoyed Homer's watercolor it was absolutely inspiring.

Now off I go to shower put on my suit and shake some hands... hopefully I don't have to give a speech!

Wild as the Wind is

I am off to Chicago for the weekend kids... hopefully when I get back I will write of pizza, blues, women and booze.

Blogger is my Wilson

Instead of church it is a coffee shop
She traded her robe for a low cut top
Decided to live life and never stop
She can laugh without one drop

Instead of a prayer it is genuine care
Instead of the Bible a book
She opts to kiss instead of shake hands
Her standards precede her looks

She isn't always doing well and so good
When honesty takes place of lip service
She now thinks about where she belongs
Blinded, forlorn, and nervous

But she knows and that is what flatters
She makes her decisions on all her life's matters
An island as deep as the dark blue sea
A calm beach complete with coconut tree

Bottom Side Up

Do you want a surefire method that will ensure you are sad and miserable the entirety of your existence?

It is easy. Just ask yourself on a regular basis, "Why am I so sad?" 

It starts immediately with a confession that you indeed are sad, and there is nothing wrong with admitting you are sad at all. However, that isn't the intent instead you are trying to figure out WHY you are sad, and this has always left me much worse off then when I began. Long story short: There is an infinite amount of things that we can be sad about on a regular basis. 

It seems the same goes with disappointment, frustration, and hopelessness. 

Yet, I find it rather absurd to practice the opposite. 

Why would you want to find out WHY you are happy? 

I find that I can easily just BE happy, but I struggle, repress, and analyze the urge to BE sad. 

Besides what shock or mystery is coupled with joy? Doesn't true art bleed out of the conflicted, the dreary, and the frustrated? Take myself for instance, I wrote the most during a time of my life when I felt the saddest... actually not true. 

I wrote a ton more before, the only difference it was for me. I had a LJ at one point, yes, but I have 3 journals full of writing that precede any writing I have accomplished online. Yet, now I have neglected my journal and opted to display my "public appropriate" postings for all to see.

Ohhh aren't I smart? OOOOhhh what a good point. Or OOOOOHHHHH I just love reading your blog, but I have no opinion on anything you have written.  

I just want attention. 

PS: I still smoke... wondering if I really am addicted or if I should stop caring all together. 

PPS: I tried to drink just wine and it made me feel like shit. So I am drinking my regulars. 

PPPS: If you are familiar with my previous entry about women in the workplace I understand better now. Women at my work walk fast because they have a ton of work to do, and a family to get home to, unlike me, and they have deadlines, unlike me.

Thank yous

I would like to say, in an internet way, thank you to all those who made it out to the Ship on Friday night. Personally, I drag ass usually on friday nights so I really appreciate the tired folk who gave that extra effort to eat dinner with me. It means a ton. If you fancy photography, I have the pics from my phone here on my Flickr account. There aren't many so if you can share some please do. 

I loved all of the cards I received this year. Usually I have no second thoughts about trashing Birthday cards, but this year I am holding on to them for a while. Especially those that took obvious thought, time, and effort. Brian C gave me the most thoughtful card... its hard for a guy not to look gay giving a card like that. So props Brian. Elisabeth B gave me a good one... it was a Father's Day card... who's yo daddy? Brian D gave me his always hilarious pointless card with funny illustration, and best in show card from the amazing selection at the $0.99 store. The remainder are still kept. The thoughtful variety. My type of card. 

I also got a few MUST SEE movies. If you are perverted like me and you have a sense of humor come watch Romance & Cigarettes with me. A brilliant mock-musical with ALL of my favorite actors/actress in it written by John Turturro and Coen Bros. I also got No Country for Old Men, also a Coen film which I loved. Finally, I received Monty Python's Meaning of Life. I haven't seen anything in it yet except some skit with an incredibly fat man vomiting the whole time... disgusting, but may make for an entertaining evening... perhaps. 

All in all I feel so lucky, and so stupid at the same time. Who has over 20 people at their dinner table in their honor and ever has the right to feel lonely? How do I ever have an excuse to feel unwanted or despised? How could it even be logical that I feel depressed, alone, uncertain, etc? 

With that said I have made a decision since my birthday. I will not ever feel that way so long as I am able. I quit smoking cigarettes and other such incendiary herbals. I am temporarily reserved to drinking only wine, and only to my cheer not to my buzz.  I forgot somewhere along the line that I am a healthy person. A clean person. And that health and cleanliness must indeed extend to my lungs, brain, and heart as well. 

Spring is a time of clean. New beginnings. And I intend to make this Spring my platform for the inevitably beautiful summer that is on the horizon. 

And nothing is going to stop me.

Another Year in the Books

My friends,

I hope you can make it out to celebrate with me this Friday at 8pm at The Olde Ship. I will reserve a table and I will be there ready to eat at 8pm. Come out, buy me a beer or three, and come over to my house for a BJYB (Bring Justin Your Booze) afterparty around 10:30ish! Crashing options available... Also I am open to any after-party event ideas... I always default to putting on some music and hanging out. Perhaps even a Hookah session will be in order.

So come and hang out, eat dinner, drink, and meet the people I hang out with that aren't you. Really, all I want to is be surrounded by loved ones on my birthday. If you have ANY questions, ask! If you aren't sure if you are invited... you are.

No obligations ever... BUT,
Gift Reccommendations: Money and Beer
Alternate Gift Reccommendations: Beer and Money
(Functional and gender appropriate gift certificates are also acceptable gifting methods)

Seriously Serious

Before I rant I want to plug my amigo Matt's new non-profit: Free Kick!

It is a really cool idea for soccer lovers all around the world. Take a minute to check it out.

Now on to something I noticed and pondered today while I was at work.

It is really funny to me how some of the women I work with are constantly speed-walking through the hallways to each other's offices. I have always enjoyed working with women in an office-type situation. Women are very hard workers. One thing I have noticed after working in predominantly women employed businesses, however, is the intensity at which many women work. 

I notice that I feel like many of the women I have worked with force themselves to prove their metal constantly. Maybe its because I'm a guy and they want me to feel like they are just as good or better at what they do then I am, (and boy are they!) but either way the women I have worked with tend to become speedy stress-balls. Always jetting from place to place on a serious mission from God even if its to ask to go out to lunch. 

Often, the women I have worked with create chaos in order to maintain their environment of stress because perhaps they work best in a stressful environment. I assume the male counterpart would be fear. A unbalanced male manager would ensure that his subordinates are afraid to loose their job, while an unbalanced female manager would create chaos to the point that an employee would forfeit their job. I don't know. All I know is that after a while I have learned to sift through what is important to stress about, and what to completely blow off. 

The man's secret to cohabitation: pick your battles. 

Obviously this is just based on my own experience, and says nothing about how I feel about having woman superiors... Yet I find it so interesting that I have had very few male managers and co-workers in my life.

In other news, I am now a proud owner of a 2002 Honda Civic. It is an awesome grandma car with a luxurious champagne paint-job. A commuters dream. Even though I only drive 20mi. to work it still makes life more interesting. Now I can visit my friends who live farther then 10mi away without wondering if I will make it home. 

And here is a more meaningful and artistic picture.

The Eagle has Landed

It has been a few weeks. So much has changed! As a quick update, as I am at work, I have a job! It is so cool/funny how it all worked out. I emailed a friend's boss who I met about a year ago. She owns three companies so I figured what the hell... Sure enough after about 3 weeks of job searching, suit buying, and interviewing I met with Frederique Georges at the Ohana Cafe.

Freddie is a saleswoman. A talker. I think she told me the history of her companies, the latest gossip in the office, and what my job would be in the 10 minutes we had before we ordered our breakfast. For a brilliant businesswoman, as she is, she is not intimidating to me, and unlike many other business owners I have known and met she is a comfortable presence. Lucky for me, I'm her new Executive Assistant.

So even though she doesn't know I'm writing a blog at work, albeit it IS my lunch break for the record, she gives me plenty to do. If you want to see my company's website click here. I am happy about this job. I really dig the commute, seriously its awesome. I drive to La Palma and that means it is the opposite of traffic both ways. So not only do I get the advantage of driving on a wide open freeway, I get the pleasure of watching all the poor commuters going the opposite direction sit in a parking lot at 7:30am. I don't believe in karma, but I have a feeling I'll get mine for that.

Anyhow. I will do my best to continue writing amidst the new business of the 8-5 life. Leslie and I are doing really well, and we are happily adjusting to the new schedule that we both have.

Life is really awesome right now. I feel like I'm living it instead of being trapped between avoiding it and living it. I am living.

Also, to celebrate life, this Saturday I am going to risk mine. I am going skydiving for my friend Brian Crain's birthday, which was a few week ago. So if this is my last blog the answer is no. You cannot preserve my brain in hopes that one day it can be implanted in your head. Seriously, leave my brain alone.

Cirque du Soul

There once was a place where I grew up. The people always smiled and cheered each other up. They understood a sad world and met together to plan a way to make it happy again. They cried, and yelled, and played their music loud. They protested, lobbied, and threw their money around, but nothing made the world retreat away from its saddened frown. 

I also was one who tried. I realized that deep inside there was so much pain to hide, and so I turned my frown upside down to cheer the world like a depressed clown. I worked, and tried, and strived, and strived, and strived, but instead of making many changes I only increased my pride. 

The people saw my wondrous works and my happy face. They gayly applauded while I laid my life to waste. They loved me but did not see my face. I didn't even know my place. "It didn't matter," I would say, as I continued on to play, "I'll gladly give my life away."  The people knew I was there to stay. They could count on me every day to bring a smile whilst I play. 

They felt they had accomplished their task. That my happiness was not a mask, but a proof of their accomplishment in which they could bask. Their cheers increased in support galore. They held themselves on their shoulders and screamed for more. But they forgot what they were fighting for. The world had since been laid to waste. All the time sadness proving its case. That happiness is foolishness to embrace. I jumped and jeered. I had no fear. Happiness was mine and for all those near. I never even shed a tear for the world which sadness commandeered. 

Until one day it came to me. While crying on the beach. I fell into the proximity of sadness' reach, and I was the spokesman for the saddest piece. The people of whom I gave my smiles were the saddest ones all the while. The saddest are always in denial. I fought this thought with all my heart. I knew there had to be more to this world torn apart. So I devoted my life to studying their smarts. "I will teach all these fools," I swore, "surely they are merely sad because they lost sight of the rules they had!"

So I studied, and spoke, and I worked, and I joked like the happy people I once knew. I wrote volumes of optimistic views, and made good friends who had good news. I became more confused. I thought I had the secrets nailed. How could I avoid the sad and then prevail to be the perfect man they all would hail. They would speak again of my wondrous works, my eternal smile, and my endless perks. And even though I could see our selfish thoughts I would ride them to the top, and never drop until my model of happiness could not be stopped. 

It was working, I would think, I could feel the sadness shrink. So I thought I would call a friend to drink, to celebrate my wondrous works, and share away my special perks. But when I looked through my contact list, I realized all the times I'd missed. The people evaporated like mist, and left me with their sediment. So I toasted to myself. A victory to my personal health, and kept my head up swimming in wealth. 

The next day it happened like the fiercest storm. The premonition proved its scorn as the storm ripped away my hearth. The roof, the floor, and even my bedroom door. The wind swept me up with nothing else, and dropped me battered out of the blue at that happy place that I once knew. I managed still to crack a grin through bleeding lips and bloodied skin, but the people wouldn't let me in. Their hero once was then in need, but they themselves had found a deed more worthy of their special breed. "To be healthy," they would say, "being happy is so passe." So here I lay, an unwanted clown, with dried blood make-up and a natural frown. Neglected, alone, with life unfound.  So I dusted off what was left of my clothes, and walked away feeling justifiably morose. 

I stuck through learning all their rules, and worked wading through their positive drool. I told myself, "I'll be no fool," I would learn the sad world's rules too. So I read some books that changed my view. I met some people that did that too. Yet, I kept my rules hidden out of view so I could play both sides in lieu. It worked for a short time, and I learned some new trades. Instead of waving incense I smoked out my brains, and instead of sacramental wine it was liquor I craved. But then again my whole world caved. 

For seeking to understand, control, and impress it was myself I decided to neglect. I lost my life, my friends, and my will. There was no janitor to clean up the spill. My mother couldn't help nor Dr. Phil. It was me. I'm the one I repressed. My boxed up self restricted to progress. Denied the right to express. My soul melted in its cage, and it left quite a mess. 

Now I am here. In the world of the sad. I hope you don't hate me for the past that I've had. Perhaps we can be friends and make ourselves glad? For an instance, a moment, for one passing fad? Because I know that happiness is real and so is the sad, but neither one really can be eternally had. At least in this place both share this space, and here I am not displaced. For I was here all along. I was born to be healthy and raised to be strong. Not ever again will I dare to long to deny myself to impress those who sing songs. Now I know to facilitate false happiness is undeniably wrong. And as God as my judge I will go on, and I will tell the tale of what went wrong with this clown and his solemn song. 

Love Actually

Today one of my students, upon mention of my not to distant departure, just yelled out, "WE LOVE YOU JUSTIN!"

 This high school aged guy has been through an incredibly rough life... not only disabled developmentally, but disfigured (looks burned), and emotionally distraught. I don't know any details but he was very likely abused and neglected despite his developmental position... sad as hell. 

But out of all the kids on my bus, even though he can act up from time to time, I know that he simply adores me. I heard what he said quickly and almost immediately began to think of other things, but it was too late, it hit me right between the chest. I savored those words today, and as I fought back tears, as I am now, I wrote this on a paper towel at a red light:

"Love in its fullness is when you don't try to figure anything out. You scream it out at the top of your lungs- just because you do. Love is identity. Love is who you are." 

So often I make myself justify loving others. Just as well I justify disliking others. Based on what I know of them I make my decision. Love, hate, or indifferent. On rare occasion I can immediately love someone or dislike them, or at least feel that way in a short period of time, and never say or do anything about it. What is great about my student is that he has no inhibitions. He will yell love or yell hate depending on how he feels. If only we all could be so honest. If only we could all be so loved. 

If I may borrow a quote from a close friend and an esteemed colleague: 

"We should speak what we feel, not what we ought to say"
~William Shakespeare

Job Search Update

So the job search continued today... 2 terrible interviews down, none to go. The first one was so corporate that I felt underdressed in my Italian Suit, and the second interview was so bogus that I made a decision to not ever call back random companies who "just happen" to find my resume on Monster. 

Interview-wise I felt OK. My tongue was so dry in the first one that I was probably smacking it at the poor HR lady that was doing the initial, and since my hearing  sucks I couldn't tell. I felt very out of place, and distant from who I am and where I want to be. The good news is, however, I knew I would feel that way. This interview was just practice because I knew I didn't want the position anyway. (Starts too early)

The second one was one of those Insurance companies that hires you as a 1099... The kind that don't tell you that until after your second interview and an hour-long presentation on how "amazing " their company is, and how they will make my dreams come true. There was even a guy there who when asked to tell the group, YES GROUP, about himself he said he is ready to "Climb a new summit." OH MY GOD WASTE OF TIME. Stupid. 

So needless to say I felt pretty down about job hunting after today, and it is hard as well having to leave a job that is so fun and familiar. The rewards of driving Special Ed kids goes far beyond monetary compensation, but I just know it is time to leave.