Who Needs a Woman?

Writing my forlorn lover; my ever longing. The one I elude as I am often eluded.

To write voluntarily is a leisure for some, impossible for others, but necessary for me. It is something I desire to faithfully embrace.

I slowly massage my page with each random phrase. Reminding, recording, and informing. The top feels the kisses of my unending desire. Slowly I move down to the neck and arouse hidden feelings, passions, and emotions. With a tender touch of the collar I feel humanity and structure. Each deep breath unlocks another minute of accelerating rapture and excitement. The breasts define the mystery of difference between our worlds. It is the mystery that constantly intrigues me and draws my attention away from myself. The ribs are origin and the stomach sustenance, which resemble the unfound, the unseen, and the always longed for. I reach for the naval, which is the tunnel of connection to the past surrounded by the bones that birth the future. I find below the intimate areas that define all pleasure, perseverance, and power. All the time knowing that the legs and arms that carry out all action are wrapped around me. Holding me close. Forever.

Put that lazy bastard out of my misery.

Every morning around 5:30am there is an individual who drives a Gold Minivan down our street. This person apparantly picks someone up who lives across the street from my house. Mind you, I am on the 5th floor over looking this street, and every morning this lazy bastard honks their horn at least 10 times beween 5:30am-6am.

It has woken me a few times, and I have easily drifted back to sleep only being casually annoyed. Yesterday was the horn that broke the camels back. I was up at 5am listening to that ass honk his stupid minivan. I vowed to do something about it because there is no way I am the only person annoyed by this. So I went to my fridge.

I picked up a hefty Roma Tomato... still too ripe would for sure break or crack a window, and then I realized that eggs are God's gift to the prankster. I grabbed one, chucked it, and missed. He had won that round.

However, today just before 6am I was awoken by that minivan bastard again. This time I was focused. Grabbed an egg, went out to my balcony, and nailed his rear passenger side window with a huge thud. Heart racing I casually strode by my roomate, who probably came out to stop me, and said, "got em."

I went back to bed, heart pounding, as I listened to the bastard drive away honking his horn down the street like an injured animal. I drifted back to sleep.

I may not have solved the problem, but hey, if he likes to wake me up there are plenty of more eggs where that one came from.

AY Yi Yi

I think it is funny when I look back at a blog I wrote and go "damn."

I often think in cartoon sounds.

I miss roller skating, but I would never just go out and do it... and going to a rink by yourself is the creepiest thing in the world.

I am addicted to cardio classes at the gym, and I am often the only male in the room. You would think that would increase the odds, but not so much.

I like when I feel lighthearted because it dosen't happen often.

Burn After Reading was pleasantly disturbing. Brad Pit and George Cloony were amazing, and the entire premise and conclusion of the movie were completely appropriate.

Sometimes life is a complete clusterfuck.

Game.

How are people so full of shit?
I am who I am.
I speak the truth about who I am.
Take or leave it.
Leave it?
I will still pick up the tab.
Why?
Because fuck you.

Easy Does It

I am playing music at The Break tomorrow night. The Break is a high school youth group affiliated with Seaside Community Church in Huntington Beach; the same group I attended as a high schooler and played at for about 3 years. I will be playing bass along side Aaron Mc Brearty and Brian Dishon for sure... perhaps more people will be there. Aaron asked me today if I wanted to play a song and I opted for bass. Life has changed so much.

I hope that tomorrow night something will happen in me that will cause me to desire to play a song. I always have enjoyed leading, but at this point I can't think of a song to play. I was thinking about it today, and all I could think of was talking to these kids, and this is the gist of what I wanted to say.

You must learn. (Thank you KRS1) If you are always listening to the person in the pulpit and not processing the thought, not understanding the meaning, and not acting out what YOU believe you are defeating the reason the whole production is arranged in the first place. Most people are raised and told by their parents in so many ways how to live, what to do, and where to go. Then we get palmed off to teachers at school, usually against our will, who do the same thing. Then we go to church and listen to a regular person explain how they feel, how they interpret the Bible, and how they have come to understand the meanings of life. I don't believe that method is sufficient. I have studied preaching and teaching, the Bible, Ministry, cultural ideologies, and people and I know for a fact that teachers and preachers always rely on their gut when it comes down to it. Are you willing to let another's experience, another's vision, another's feelings dictate your own? Many people are. It transfers the responsibility of living your life off of you and on to someone else who will eventually disappear from your life. When they go away, your grid disappears, and all you have left is the remnants of a tattered map of how to live littering your memories. Same with school... I have tons of algebraic debris in my mind and yes it has added to me and has been somewhat useful in certain ways, but if the concepts were my own, something I understood, something I applied they would be useful more to me. So I don't say, "stop going to church there is no point," I say take advantage of the fortune you have to have a consistent flow of communication, an extracurricular learning environment that is geared for your soul, a group of people you supposedly can rely on, and make those things yours.

I have spent far too long agonizing over the loss of these things in my own life. I am blessed because I made my church my own, and not only I reap the benefits but all those who see that ember in my eye. I have moved on in my life, but that doesn't stop me from coming back. I do not fear judgement, hypocrisy, or condemnation I just have a different path now. I drink on occasion to have a good time, I smoke cigarettes casually, I enjoy being around the ladies, and that is who I am. I don't think it is wrong, and I don't need to explain it.

If you believe that God loves everyone for who they are then believe that he loves me. I don't need to prove it... I am just blessed enough to know it. He created my foul mouth, my silly brain, and everything else. At least I use what I have been given. Gotta play the cards you are dealt. Fortunately I come equipped with Aces up my sleeves, at least I think they are Aces.

Democracy

Permanent psychological procrastinators
Postmortem pencil pushers
Pillaging pensive pages
Pushing presumptive projectiles
Peeling pale pigments of posthumous pride
Pining people's presumptions permanently
Pious perverted protectors of personal protagonists

Thursday night

Went out for a night of drinking, music, and good times at Memphis and the Gypsy tonight.

I got a ride home with a gay Mexican... poor guy I hope he picks up a gay guy next time!!

Passsssss out time...


Goodnight!!

<3 <3 <3

Chocolat

Brilliant, extraordinary, and seductively inspiring.

I love when a movie of this caliber sneaks by me and 8 years later I watch it at the perfect time. Another perfect Fairy Tale.

God I am so glad I had a chunk of dark chocolate tonight.

Thought of the other day.

Our live are ALWAYS the best stories and are only noticed at the right time of reflection.

There is nothing uninteresting, boring, or mundane about life.

Read your story right.

The Sky is on Fire with a Cool Summer Wind

Tonight I took a well deserved break.

I worked hard all day, went to the gym, grabbed some El Pollo, and brought it home to eat. I know it was a cheapo meal, but do you ever feel like you just ate the perfect amount of food for dinner? It was just right... Go El Pollo meals under $5 menu.

After milling about my house and checking my email I took an opportunity to relax. I went to my car grabbed a cigarette, took the elevator up to my place and poured a 1/4" of good tequila in a glass. I took my smoke and my glass out to my dark patio high above Spurgeon Street and I sat in our wooden chair at our wooden table.

I sat as I lit my cigarette and took a deep breath after enjoying a warming sip of my anejo tequila. Two palm trees are at 12 o'clock that tower a good 30' above me all the way up here, and the quarter moon was bright at 2 o'clock. There are two other palms at 3:30 that twin the others in height and beauty, and they all slightly swayed in the calm summer breeze that was floating in the summer air. I could tell that it was exactly 9:30pm as Disneyland's fireworks began to pop at 5 o'clock right over the Santa Ana Corporate complex in bright yellows, reds, and blues. Cars drove by below as I traded glances at the fireworks, the moon, the palms, and my patio just thinking about how blessed I am.

I get to enjoy the place I live. I live in a beautiful state, city, county, Street, apartment. I am not very far from work. I enjoy what I do for work, and I still have time to reflect, exercise, and write. I am not far from my family, and I have some really good friends that I can call any time to just enjoy times like these with me.

There is one thing that has been pressing my mind this week: Don't stop.

I think too often for fear of being overwhelmed or exasperated I stop. I call it relaxing, but it is not relaxing. Tonight was relaxing. Stressing out and procrastinating is not relaxing it is stopping. Stopping your movement. There is too much awesome things to do to just stop. Like last night for instance. Instead of sitting at home and stopping I played guitar by bon fire at the beach and grabbed a drink with a good friend. Sure, I worked all day, sure I had to drive all the way to CDM, but it was worth it. It was relaxing, it was relieving, it was recreation. RE-CREATION. There are so many activities that bring me alive so why stop for fear of being over-active? It is when you stop you get sick, tired, bored, sad, depressed, and lonely. Relaxing is intentionally focusing on relaxation. Treating yourself. Enjoying the simple pleasures of life.

Take a night off. If you need help relaxing, come relax with me!

Mexican

This week I went to El Torito (AKA expensivo comida de fake-o Mexicano) with a group of people from my work to welcome a new employee to our sister company FormDecor Modern Furniture Rental. It is a rare occasion when we all get to go to lunch, but usually a good one. I am fortunate to work with some people that are pretty cool. This is one of my first experiences working with people who are generally near my age bracket as opposed to banking and bus driving where I was always the baby.

Anyway, over lunch I was trying to communicate in HORRIBLE Spanish with a couple of FD employees who work in our shop. Neither one of them speak a touch of English, but they are good workers and I always throw out a que onda? to one of them on a weekly basis. Somehow it came out that I live in Santa Ana and play music, and through our HR manager I had a brief conversation with one of the workers. He also plays music and lives in Santa Ana. So naturally I thought to invite him and his buddy to the Gypsy Den to hear Cynthia and I play some music. He responded indifferently and indicated that he would not be welcome in a place like the Gypsy Den because it was too white of a place for him to go. So, feeling a little misunderstood I brushed it off and asked where I could go see him to play. He responded again completely disinterested and said something about how he plays in a house, and the conversation was basically over at that point.

I left feeling upset in a way. Obviously if you go to the Gypsy in Santa Ana it is not all white people... is it? I thought how amazing it would be if someone went up at open mic and sang a song in Spanish... who cares if you don't speak english at that point? I guess I can flip it and think about how I would probably never go to an open mic in a Mexican coffee shop by myself, but I don't know about any Mexican coffee shops.

Moving to Santa Ana has really shown me the rift between the white and Mexican community. I have noticed a lot of the white people in this area are complete pricks... I don't know why, but I can tell that there is not good blood between the Brown and White in my neck of the city. Nothing hostile that I am aware of more like passive aggressive indifference. Tolerance.

So as I pondered how my car gets backed into while I watch from my balcony, and how I get completely ripped off if I try to buy cookies from the roach coach on my street as I walked down my stairs. Tired, like I always am in the morning, I was extra annoyed by my growing angst for indifferent Mexicans in my neighborhood. A family of three Mexicans waked out of their house in my complex. The mother was going to walk her third grade looking son and her kindergarden aged daughter to the school bus in the morning, and I could tell they were in a rush. Their presence was barely noticed by myself as I was trying to tell my brain that I like Mexican people and there is no reason to be so upset about a few individuals who have made me upset. As I approached the gate to my street I noticed the rushing family and the little Mexican girl waiting at the gate. She had stayed behind from her rushing family to hold open the gate for me. There was nobody else there, just us, and as I walked through the gate without a word she ran off to catch up to her mom and brother.

I guess I can't be upset about the limits other people put on themselves, but perhaps when we limit ourselves we inadvertently rob others of a new opportunity to experience something new since we are all unique. Then again there are moments when none of that matters because a child who doesn't see skin color can show how limited we all are, and can bring the hope that all people can get along if they want to.

Shaken Perceptions

So tonight my Uncle called me out of the blue. He lives in Utah and I rarely get to see him. Growing up my Uncle was always my hero because he was a ton more spiritually and emotionally involved in my life then my dad ever could be. At this thought I realize how thankful I am for how physically present my dad always was in my life... which was probably a huge deal for him never having a dad himself. Anyway, he called me to tell me some of the thoughts he was having about God and how he has been feeling about relating to God in his own life.

Any other person I would have turned a deaf ear to, but not my Uncle. He has always taken opportunities to engage me in theological and spiritual conversations because this is something of great importance to him. I used to just casually listen and silently agree with most of what he had to say, but now the tone in his voice is different. My Uncle recently was divorced after a 17 year marriage, and his perspective on love, God, and relationships has been very much affected by that. I realized tonight that the trauma of losing one's ideals can be so crippling. Some people go on to never idealize anything again so as not to feel that pain, and others try to indulge in every ideal situation only to be left empty again.

I hesitate to say this, but I really feel like these types of situations fall under the age old, "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger," category. I say this because my Uncles idealism about church and God now seems tempered by the sting of the un-ideal situation most people refer to as real life. What inspired me most about our conversation was the point at which we were discussing passion.

Passion is quite a buzz word, whose ulterior meaning is suffering by the way, that has such an attractive connotation to so many people. I proceeded to explain to my Uncle that I am passionless. I have no uncontrollable desire to do anything, and I generally find people rather repulsive and untrustworthy. I used to feel like I loved everyone. Like there was nothing anyone could do to hurt me because I would take the higher road; I would do the right thing constantly. It was like a drug. Now I don't feel that way, and I really don't know what to do.

This is the part that will always stay with me. My Uncle proceeded to say something to the tune of, "well, I think it is OK that you feel that way. That passion you felt before was contrived, and the lack of false passion is the beginning of real passion."

It is OK to feel passionless. You may not feel attractive or desirable in the process, but don't shut off. The lack of feeling passionate is the firebrand of passion. That is amazing. If people accept you tell them everything you know, and if people do not accept you don't even bother with them for another minute.

As long as you believe in the truth, you hold the truth, you are the truth, and you deliver the truth. No matter how you feel about what the truth should be. It will be seen in and through you despite you, and that is the highest calling a person can attain to: Representing the truth.

Smell of the Sickle

Do you ever have those moments where you just feel like something major is going to happen? Like you are on the brink of disaster or your need to prepare to face a great challenge? Like death is looming around? But at the same time there is a feeling of great excitement and expectation?

Perhaps it is a misconception of my mind. That all the new beginnings I see somehow mean the end of what has been for so long. I just hope that my preconceptions are wrong. I guess, just like most people, when someone I love goes to another country it causes me worry and distress. I'm a worst case scenario type of guy.

There are a lot of people in my life that I cannot loose. I just can't say I love them enough. I just can't be any more grateful. I know there is a God and God gives and takes away.

I just want to take a minute and say thanks for giving and regardless of how it all ends my heart will truly remain yours forever.

Toxins are real

So a little update from my previous blog...

This weekend I found out the limit my body can handle toxins... not fun.

Note to everyone... when in physical therapy or at any point when toxins are roaming free in your body en masse, do yourself a favor, don't drink and smoke the night away two nights in a row.

I really think I almost died this weekend. I have never felt so sick. My self-diagnosis is toxin OD. I poisoned myself... Lesson learned.

Cigarettes are in the trash... and I am not drinking like I planned to this weekend at Matty B's bachelor party.

I still feel like I got run over by a car and I am going to see Death Cab tomorrow night. Maybe their sadness will make me feel better as is seems to lately.

Twisted and Shout

Do you know that when you work out extensively and/or strain your muscles you are actually tearing your muscles? This is good for one reason: Whatever gets torn gets rebuilt stronger. So when you get all torn up your body fixes itself using the nutrients you take in to reform muscle tissue stronger then it was before. Now if you incur a muscle related injury that disallows the muscles to repair themselves in the correct alignment your muscles still repair themselves, but the injury prevents these muscles from healing in their natural alignment. Therefore, the healed muscles become what are referred to as knots or twisted up muscle tissue. Many people have stress related knots, injury related knots, and other twisted muscles in their body, but are unsure of how to deal with them so they remain knotted. This is rather unhealthy because knotted muscles disallow the free flow of nutrients, oxygen, and blood through the parts of the body that are knotted as well the muscles begin to swell taking up invaluable space for joints and ligaments to move efficiently. These swollen muscles cause discomfort in the body and also are a harbor for toxins that are supposed to be washed through the body. At this point the muscles need to be realigned, and that is where massage comes in. The general idea of massage is to assist blood flow, break bad muscle bonds, and to alleviate knotted muscles by realigning them to the natural positions. Massage unwinds the twisted muscles, and not much unlike a dirty drain, once the muscles unwind all the toxins and bad bond tissue that were comfortably rotting for so long become released into the body.

I have learned this over the past week as I have been doing physical therapy for my legs and shoulders , which apparently have been heavily knotted for almost 2 years. My therapist, Jason, is a big burly man who digs his elbows into my highly sensitive quads, hams, calves, buttocks, and shoulders twice a week. It hurts like a bitch, it is expensive, but I really feel like in the end this is a wise decision as I do want to be able to walk when I am 50.

It is just so interesting to learn about the things that happen in my body that I have control over but in the end I don't. The better I eat the more nutrition rich my blood is, and the more I exercise the more oxygen rich my blood is, but when it comes down to it I can only help my body I don't control it. My muscles knot, I can try to stretch, drink water, and exercise moderately, but ultimately I never know if I will cramp up or run like a champion. So I guess all I can do is my best. I think that rule applied over ones life is a good standard of practice.

I want to do my best in every situation, and when I get knotted up I want to make sure there are people I can call to help me unwind.