Pieces of Something #4

So you know that feeling where you are writing and you get to the point of feeling tired like there is no more that can be said. . . KEEP GOING! Dig further, push and push. Like Natalie Goldberg's book Writing down the Bones, there is so much more you can put out there on paper after you think all is written. It is always those dire moments where we are at our whits end and the voice is dead or the detail isn't fully there. Push yourself to paint the scenery more clearer, describe the emotion of a character with more truth. Don't be afraid of this. You will not spontaneously combust (though, I would hate to be liable for such a promise). Give it your all. Even when you feel there is no more, THERE IS ALWAYS MORE. I think of writing those last moments like the cream of the crop. That is the best part, that is butter! And if those extra ten minutes of writing is the cream, then it is the savory stuff you put on your potatoes or toast that take your tastes buds on a journey. Stick with it, try it out, see where it takes you.

Pieces of Something #3

here

Here is something that came to me in the wee hours of the morning. Did you ever think of how your kids would act and talk 15, 20 years down the road? Or how about imagining yourself meeting a public figure, historical figure, celebrity, or a hero - ANYONE like Sacagawea (I know I probably butchered that). With this writing exercise, try to imagine meeting anyone you have ever wanted to meet. Get creative with how they would act and respond to your comments and questions. What could be their interests, favorite food, good book to read while on the John. Try imagining the outcome, and create a fictional means of how you were able to speak to your now-grown-up-son. Maybe you only meant to set the Microwave on HIGH for 30 seconds and the door blew up, shooting out rays of high radiation causing you to warp into the future. How would you speak to them? There are no rules to this, just write it out.

Pieces of Something #2

Hello everyone and welcome back to a sort of creative writing blog designed to help anyone break the ice of the halted inspiration every writer needs to bring to life their words and imagination. I have before you a scene from a really good film about a con man always on the run. This exercise deals with the art of observation. Sure this film has been shot and featured to millions, but from you watching it. . . how would write this scene? How would you explain the characters' reactions and expressions, the atmosphere of the room? There are no rules to this, just write it out. Enjoy!

Pieces of Something #1

So Missy and I the other night were sitting on the couch dead tired after the kids went down for bed. I was about to fall over and succumb to my five-hour coma when she came up with this neat idea of writing words on torn pieces of paper which afterwards goes into a mason jar. We would shake the jar up mixing the papers and then we'd each pick out one. We were given about 10 minutes to write whatever came to our minds from the words we received. The word could be anything like oranges, New Zealand, farting - ANYTHING. It didn't have to make sense, it didn't have to be correct. The important thing was we were in the moment writing. It's a really neat exercise, you'll be surprised with what you can come up with. Try it out!

monkey bars or the slide?

Very often after a grueling day of activities including the long hard commute to work, answering and making phone calls, trying hard to look and sound "important" and the commute back, homework with my daughter, the steam rising at my face while in the kitchen, the screaming generated from the inevitable sibling rivalry that is my off-spring and many other things (gasping for breath, because I am overdue for a comma), there is a place where I take my children. . . the playground. There are many social queues that tie to this event. For the kids either option is presented to them. They could 1: Run away bolting to that magical place that they have longed for and finally have it within their sights forgetting completely about you the parent. Or they could 2: stay as close to you as possible seeing that they have feared ever leaving your sight. Once you arrive to the bench you tend to feel like an athlete leaving the field going to the sidelines and now your kids take over. There are times where you are feeling adventurous and join them on the swaying draw bridge, the twirly slide that shocks you 50 times as you go down, or the monkey bars where your feet already reach the ground just from standing. Most likely after an already "adventurous" day, you might tap out. Other parents gather in the fold monitoring their kids while accompanied by their phones. You get to witness the various styles of parenting. There are those who make their kids overdress with helmets, knee pads, or even that marshmallow suit that the police wear to test out their K-9's ferocity. Then you have the ones that argue with their kids about having to use the bathroom even though the kid already went before coming out to play. It's like their watering grounds with how animals come together to socialize (no, are kids are not animals, I'm simply giving an analogy, although my children tend to bark and quack). We really have no idea how to interact when other kids tackle yours down. You don't want to be anyone else's authoritarian (it's more awkward than dancing with your sister). You leave it to good faith that that kid's parent will step up and relieve you of having to bring balance back into the playground. One time, my son and another kid were wearing the exact same outfit and had the same haircut (only the other kid spoke French). I had this thought that my wife and I would mistaken the French kid as ours and the other parents would take home our son. What if they raised him as their own and likewise with us and their kid? And then after 20 years they meet back up somewhere in college? What a crazy idea. So I guess the moral of the story is to mark your kids with a Sharpie before heading to the park.

the "super toy run" theory

Life is too short and so is one minute - sixty seconds. There used to be a kid contest sponsored through Nickelodeon where the lucky winner would be deemed one minute to run through a Toys R Us store with only one shopping cart, he had to shovel in as many toys as he could. This kid had to really book it seeing that there were Legos, action figures (the timeline was around the early 90's, so you know this was all high quality) Matchbox cars, and countless NES/SNES/Sega Genesis video games to be claimed without the nagging of parents and washing your dog for a couple of nickels twice a week to someday be able to afford a fraction of what lied ahead of him. What made it even more "at-the-edge-of-your-seat" was the finish line. It didn't matter the bulk spoils he piled in his cart, if he couldn't cross that finish line within the minute time frame, game over. All would be lost. I can't shake the feeling of how precious time here can be modeled after this contest. For me it might have to be books and music. With music there is sooooo much out there. It's like outer space. You could spend a lifetime in a single genre (or sector of planets) and still have galaxies of other really good sounds sitting there unexplored. Like that kid on the Super Toy Run contest, I bolt through the spacious warehouse with my left arm out scraping in everything from the shelf into my cart while struggling to steady my direction. With books, it's even more difficult, I do enjoy reading A LOT, however I can be a slow reader and it takes extra time for me to soak into a book while work and family are my main concerns. Have you ever felt like that? There is only so much we can be exposed to, also like a gourmet buffet line, there's only so much your stomach can hold.

Interstella 5555

My friend showed me this when we were installing security alarms in Tallahassee. It might've been our day off but we got onto youtube and here it was. Daft Punk made an album and the songs on them are designated to a animated movie titled Interstella 5555. For 14 tracks there are 14 videos. It totals about an hour and some change if you have that much free time to spare this is a real treat. I think I pulled it all off from a sick day. There is no sound except for the tire screeches with the car chase scenes. It is beautifully done with a unique plot and GREAT music. So there is this "guy from the oatmeal box" (you can't miss him, they make him out to look like the most evilest man alive) and there are distant worlds were these smurf people jam out on their home planet and are taken (almost like poached by this ninja force) and brought back to...Earth? Anyways I don't want to spoil it for you but they definitely illustrate the "no-nos" of creating music STRICTLY for marketing purposes instead of just letting it out in true form and spirit. That's probably a good reason why fans today are insecure about the music they love because maybe they feel that if the artist gets too good they will "sell out" and become "corporate". The number 5555 is the number of gold records this evil man wants (he's a big time producer). He is like a game collector almost like how a hunter travels exotic locations specifically to add to his collection (how does he sleep at night). There are so many neat things out there with the dilemma of not having enough time to enjoy those out-of-the-blue marvels that so often cross our paths in life. ENJOY!

Track 1 - One More Time

Track 2 - Aerodynamic

Track 3 - Digital Love

Track 4 - Harder Better Faster

Track 5 - Crescendolls

Track 6 - Night Vision

Track 7 - Superheroes

Track 8 - High Life

Track 9 - Something about Us
'
Track 10 - Voyager

Track 11 - Veridis Quo

Track 12 - Short Circuit

Track 13 - Face to Face
Track 14 - Too Long

fortune cookie 500 companies

One of my favorite things at the end of a Chinese meal whether take out, dining in, buffet, etc. . . is the fortune cookies. It really feels like Christmas. Almost like inside the individual cookies lies a forbidden secret that was meant to tell only you something that could change your life. One that really stuck out to me went like this: "In great attempts it is glorious even to fail" and then there were small numbers below it. Those little messages might get overlooked (especially with the bill being given the same time). What if the check alters your mood about the message that awaits. Maybe it would be more positive to give you the cookie first then wait 10 minutes and then out comes the really high check. Another thing I have pondered about the fortune cookie is the author. Sometimes I recieve the same message, to one that could just mean that its commercialized and there are only a certain number printed OR something is trying to tell you something important and you are not listening. What if there was a secret wisdom circle of about 10 Mr. Miyagis who gathered every full moon (once a month) and sat in a dark room with an overhead light, they put on some sounds-of-the-ocean type of music and let their inner spirituality wisdom pour out with a typewriter in front of them and stuffed them in each cookie and mailed them to all the Chinese restaurants IN THE WORLD and they were individual messages for certain people (they are so wise that they can pretty much predict the future)? What it?  

"...you bred raptors..."

Thank you Michael Crichton for writing such an amazing story made believe that modern science could actually concoct such prehistoric giants in our day. Spielberg caught the vision of its potential on the big screen and voila! Out produced the first film to ever incorporate CGI animation, along with an incredible cast, with one of the most moving plots about family and survival, an increased study of paleontology in colleges nationwide, more dinosaur books than ever before checked out from public libraries, and the never-ending use of movie quotes amongst friends and colleagues. What an example to look upon. Spielberg drove the production and the direction the story needed to come out spectacular. Something I have learned from him is to never settle for less. Phil Tippet was the one in charge of the visual effects of the dinosaurs. They were originally going to use stop-animation with life-like puppets replicating the animals. Phil worked hard to make the movements natural and swift without any glitches. He actually did work it to look real, but Spielberg was still not fully convinced that it would work. So he was frank with Phil and for a little bit, they went back to the drawing board. Someone caught wind of a developing software where you could do stop-motion through the software. So Phil went back to work and "BINGO DINO DNA" (not exactly in the right context) but with the push to better special effects you would think they really went back into time and stole them. Imagine the outcome if Spielberg just thought; "Well, we have a deadline with Universal so....let's just go with what we got." Yeah, it would probably be ranked next to its "wanna-be" Carnosaur.

the evil lawn

I was asleep for a month and finally woke up. Outside in the backyard I inspected patch of grass (its not much but it matters to me). I approached it with caution and discovered that it overgrew to a monstrous creation. It started to talk to me. I asked what it wanted. It told me that its sole purpose in life was to take over every living creature and to eventually grow so vast and dense so as to block off sunlight.

 It was at that moment where I let out my battle cry and charged at it with vigor and courage. "OH NO YOU DON'T!" I pull out my mower and commenced my attack. "It's either IT or the world" I thought to myself. As I ran the push mower over it started to laugh at me. In spite of the taunts and intimidation I continued the fight. Blades of grass flew at me, sweat coming down my face. "IT'S NO USE, I'M INVINCIBLE!!" My hands were stained with green-ness. My efforts to slay the lawn started to seem fruitless. I got on my knees with a sense of defeat, and while my head was down, it extended the dreaded invite that no hero ever should hear, with green blood sputtering out it says; ".....join me....". With rage I am brought back into the fight and came out conqueror. Next time, I will just slay it more frequently rather than wait a whole month.  

Day 8: Mike & the Mechanics - The Living Years

Hello friends, neighbors, esteemed colleagues, teammates, battle buddies, and loved ones! I am writing you this last post for the month of June. Due to my summer schedule I will be "out of town" until this August. I want to let you all know that it is really exhilarating posting each day the things that roam my crazy mind. Its like they are free body ghosts and I am wearing an Australian explorer outfit (the man in the yellow hat with George, only I'm Mexican without a monkey - nevermind) with a net. I go out catching these specters and release them through this blog. This song always makes for a great departure, like how the lights come on after the movie is over and the credits are rolling. OK, sorry to get all "sentimental", I will now proceed to shut my mouth and look forward to sharing more wacky stories and adventures next next month. Thank you everyone for your support and reading these, I can't express enough how much that motivates me to keep going. I love to write, I love to run, I love to live. See you all soon. . .

a champion at age 3

This kid cracks me up. He is so little and yet talks like an angry New Yorker when he gets worked up. Such a hot head. He came to us by surprise (the cutest whoops by far) and the moment he was born, the nurses took him to a sort of operating table at the side of the room and was met by three others running a defibrillator to him. As I attended to my wife I looked over and asked while sensing the thick cloud of uneasiness "Is everything alright?" With the four of them huddled over my son, a head pops giving a jolly reply like a mechanic would say coming out from under your car; "Uh-huh, we'll have him ready in no time!" Then you here the words; "Ready...clear, one two three, clear..." (yeah, you're not fooling anyone doc). He pulled through and we took him home with this space blanket that glows alien green (Jaundice). I kiss my wife good night and then hit the lights and then our "plutonium baby" lights up the room keeping the monsters under the bed at bay. Now he has grown a bit and some of the things that come out of this kid's mouth make me pull a double take. Seriously last night, I was called out by eating most of the cookies (my wife tends to play detective) and my son caught wind of it. I go into the kitchen and from behind I hear this taunt; "Yooo don' get no mo cookies, hhuuuuuuh daddy?" while shaking his head walking like a drunk man. Like your typical New Yorker he loves to use hand gestures to further his point. He also leans his head from side to side to further this drunken attitude. Where did this kid come from (don't answer that!)?

Day 7: Bill Evans - Peace Piece

I think the best part after a run is the moment where I jog to this sidewalk in between the housing developments with grassy hills on each side. Almost like a small valley, there are no lights at all there. Large power-line towers shadow over the sidewalk through the neighborhood, they are maybe 50 feet high. Its nice when the moon is out, the whole area is lit up like there is a light coat of silver snow, in the moon's absence, the stars paint a picture of the majestic Milky Way and there are millions. Anyways it is my favorite part of the jog, I lie on my back and let my body sink into the ground while feeling it rise and fall with every breath. I can hear my heartbeat while closing my eyes. I am free in a natural state of bliss. The sweat rolls down my face, exhausted I am, but what a treat to just soak up in the void of the haste. Reflecting on what matters all in this privileged absence of time (unless you have to be back somewhere at a certain time). This I relish in. Meditating on my week, my family, work, projects. I just lay there like a starfish at the bottom of the coral reef watching the ripples dance before me and hear the current moving in and out.

say that to my face

It is here!!! The new and improved technique for me to get my thoughts all in it's entirety without scribbling like a maniac prisoner on the Chateau D'if who has the world's longest beard (nevermind the reference). The point is I have a tape recorder thanks to my trusted colleague, mi amor para siempre AKA wife. Things will look much brighter in the future with this puppy (it's not a puppy, it's a tape recorder). Usually after my jogs the ideas get going and I have to sprint home praying that my memory will not fail me (I'm barely 30, it's sad I know). The words will be more sincere and raw. True, I will now give out the impression that I am one of those people on the subway that carries a completely normal conversation with a trash can while the general public sit at least three seat widths from me but regardless I HAVE A TAPE RECORDER. Let the world know of this beautiful invention and watch out paper here I come!

Day 6: Cursive - Staying Alive

I couldn't say no to doing this, but rest assure..that there is no real guarantee for anything planned. OK, I first heard this song while I was in the back of a friends car riding to another town during the 4th of July. The sun had already set hours ago and the fireworks were going off. This song's duration lasted the length of the trip. My eyes were focused on the overhead bursts of many bright colors of light blasting in intensity while others were dying, the whole process repeated itself over the open water. The song was cranked in the car making it feel like a soundtrack. We were in a state of awe. Giving reverence to something that was not planned and rarely occurred to us. It was such a peaceful feeling. I was amazed so dearly at how coincidental this lasted the drive along the Puget Sound. There was no accomplishment, we didn't cure a disease - we did nothing to feel this small sensation of success (like we won the Super Bowl), it was just this track that in the moment was quietly observed. I thrive on these moments. This very feeling generated from such music and beauty (to me) is what unites the brush to the canvas and together create something entirely beyond ourselves. This is what gets me up every morning and to fight for another day, there is always a story to tell.

Bill Cunningham

 here

A man who is known to roam the streets of the Big Apple to capture and expose the latest trends of the common commuters only to log that day's post for one of the largest newspapers in the nation - maybe world. His eye is trained for what to look for and to not be distracted by the over-the-top elegance and flashy styles (not that I could tell the difference). The passion and charisma that is put into what he does from waking up early bicycling out on the streets and fine-picking those expressing themselves to late night developing the films, sorting, rearranging the optics of the day is incomparable. I am blown away by his work ethic. He really inspires and pushes me (without him even realizing it) to go an extra step above and beyond. Often times I admit that my work is not up to par, I do feel defeated as to just 'send it out' and call it quits for the day, quite the opposite with this guy. His art director sits next to him editing the page spread with the photos of people for HOURS literally. Frustration is radiated out of this young man while Bill remains oblivious to his work changing and swapping photos, sitting on it, thinking hard as to where the best pieces would be. On top of being a legend he never lets that get to his head AT ALL. He stays unchanged, never compromising, and stays fiercely humbled in spite of his iconic symbol to the world of fashion. He is known by millions for his masterpieces in mapping styles and creating a timeline (for over 40 years) of art through what people wear that stand out. He is a beacon to me showing me indirectly how you must always have compassion doing what you love to do. I'm sure he wasn't born with eye for style, it came through much practice and getting out there everyday. His life is one that stands unique by having absolutely NOTHING else but simply what he does best with how much work he puts into what he does and lives for. He is an artist of the photo medium and does not settle for less. His whole life is enveloped around taking snapshots at what people wear while never getting tired of smiling at complete strangers that could warm anyone's heart. This ones for you Bill.  

my scatter brain

So, as of now the dialogue has been tamed and drawn out, the order of events are in place, ink has met the paper, first round edits have been applied and now.....the query letter. That single page that everyone dreads. Too little info or heavy blue waves of information surging at those inquired to read, will be rejected. On that note, I sit in a life raft stranded in the ocean waiting it out trying to piece together crucial phrases, sentences, key words to pop out in order to make them come back for more. So much information with so little time. All you are doing is creating a theatrical trailer for your book, article, memoir whatever it is, how would you want it to look on the big screen? That's what I keep telling myself anyway to calm myself down and focus. You are pitching an idea to someone. How and where do you begin? How do you conform to simplicity. Lately I've been practicing with movies that I know so well (front and back) and try to sum it up in a few words. I've been told that it is supposed to be the main core of the story, what does your character desire the most? Why should they want to read on? What stands out from the thousands of other book proposals?

talking for two

Alright so let me share with you how I started writing my book. I commenced my project with dialogues, which also happens to be my arch nemesis. I knew that in order to come off conqueror I needed to grab dialogues by the horns and giver'ale. So I tackled that first. With other books in the past I have shied away from those moments of composing words between two or three people. It can intimidating to try to think of a fictional conversation. Regardless of the challenge I broke the barriers of worrying and wrote down anything that came to my mind. Imagine it like jumping in the lake or bungee jumping, don't just stand there - JUMP! It was a thrill like throwing a grenade and dropping to the ground to hear the boom. Your characters will automatically develop as you give them lines to use. Try to picture the scene playing out and throw in phrases. I had to remind myself that no one else would read it so that took the pressure off of 'making it good' but to just let go of the wheel and be coo. I did have to keep remember one important rule in all this, this rule will save the world of film, literature, and/or art, it is very key and cannot ever be overlooked...have fun. If I wasn't having fun, the inspiration was lost. Believe me, you know when you are having fun. The ideas will pour out like a crystal clear waterfall in Hawaii (not sure where that image came from). You will be surprised with yourself and feel like you can't keep up, like you're the reader not knowing the outcome. When you feel that awful stump of inspiration is when you treat it like work. It starts to feel like a chore and then you get bored. Having fun is crucial even when you have a deadline. Just have fun with it.

awaking from a dream

Hold the phone on everything. I have awakened today with a sort of a revelation as to my calling in this whole endeavor. The curtains are open letting in the sunshine and the furniture and knicnacss need to be dusted off from the time they have spent in utter disuse. Some things need to be refined, others left to the side for another date and still others balled up and tossed in the trash.( Lets hope for a three pointer.)
I will be honest with you all. I have a book in need of representation. My story I feel has been refined to the point of setting it in front of a professional editor (but I won't because funds are a wee bit tight). I do have big plans and goals for this hefty piece although I know that I have a long and lonely road ahead of me along with a bzillion others like me. I would like to share with you all the progress and steps that have taken me where I currently am (for the sake of time I will spare you that for the next post). I am more than happy to receive feedback and advice about all this and comments are greatly welcomed. I feel like Frodo, setting out with his hobbit buddies on the way to dispose of the ring, except I wear shoes...

Day 5: Earth, Wind, and Fire - That's the Way of the World

The sunset lit up the Albertson's store front. A group including myself were waiting for more to arrive in the parking lot. The plan was to take a trip to the university the next state over to see a friend perform in an orchestra. I stood there waiting with scrambled thoughts and preoccupations on something else. My mind was not in it's current surroundings while others were socializing. A car pulls up next to us and there she was. Getting out of the car, I see a work of art, beauty herself. Time stood still and at that moment, I realized that what I knew right there changed what I knew before. The thought of someone so beautiful entering into my existence crashed at me. There was almost a panic of what to do. How would I approach her? I've done this a couple of times with others but with her it felt like all the books and rules were thrown out. Shoot! I'm stuck. Recalling advice from my brother, I remembered something key about all this, that was to "be coo." We as a group had our laughs and did converse on various topics on our way to the school, but I felt that my fruition was still not met. Getting to the college destiny and the alignment of the planets made it possible by coincidence to have us sit right next to each other. I knew that this sort of thing doesn't happen often and I'd be a fool to not take advantage of this so I simply opened my mouth and out came the right words. It was just the two of us. We were in a sold out show, and yet I felt I was alone with her, like a spotlight shined above us with no one else in the auditorium. There was a moment of silence, I guess it was a period for us to think of more things to talk on. I seized it to ask her a question which I wrote on her program guide. . . in French (she said she studied it in high school). Her reply was "what? Dumb white girl." I asked her if she wanted to hang out that Saturday. She gave a studious look then agreed with much acceptance. SUCCESS! I started to breathe again, thinking that she would've rejected the invitation. The lights go down and the music commences. The program I'm sure was exhilarating however my mind was in the dreams and melodies of being with this girl sitting next to me. You could say that this song right now playing was in my head the entire time. Imagine seeing a body of 200 students playing all kinds of wind instruments, pianos, strings, and percussion all the while hearing a quartet of funky jazz jiving with guest artists laying down the tracks of hip groovy love. I thought I even saw a disco ball drop down from the ceiling right above me. I was the luckiest man there in the entire state of Idaho, better yet the U.S., no wait the world. I couldn't believe it...she said yes. It was paradise.

Day 4: The Jets - You Got it All

I heard this song for the first time while in a waiting room to see the doctor when I was 5 or 6. It has a soothing sound to it. The only other times I heard this was on long vacation car trips playing really late at night or when I was in college studying late with the variety station playing it. In fact, this seems like one of those songs that comes on after a huge party is over and people are cleaning up. It has a quiet feel to it. True, it is a love song, but I grew up listening to it as a little kid and didn't see it like that. I recognized it as that easy sounding melody with the woman's soft voice. I imagine being the guy she is singing to. He must be an amazing person. He is being compared to another guy trying to go after her as well. However, she sees something in the right guy. She sees strength and zeal. Someone who is not arrogant or cocky, but is a good person. He was "heaven sent". I try to be like that everyday for my wife. Some days are somewhat close other days I'm not even in the same ball park. It's a nice song, almost sad but not in the sense of depressing, it just seems almost like a farewell to how that song will never be heard of the same way it was when it first came out. Like uncovering a lost artifact. I don't mean to say that the song is old, songs are timeless. Fashions, hairstyles have changed and might make a comeback but for now the song kind of gives you a "moving on" feel like it is locked in its era and can never be in our present day. You almost have to get into a time machine to listen to it.

Day 3: Camera Obscura - If Looks Could Kill

I envision this song playing during a movie trailer. The movie could be the story where I once took a motorcycle road trip from Washington to California. I see it all go down like this: At first there is no music, but the opening shot shows this kid walking his bike in the high noon desert (in the middle of June, HOT). Cars are passing him, no one stops. He continues to walk it. An exit sign shows there's a gas station 11 miles away. He wipes his brows and is drenched in sweat. More cars breeze past until an old rusty pickup pulls up in front of him on the shoulder. Two Mexicans exit the truck wearing sombreros. They are waiting for him to get up to them. One starts to smile revealing a gold tooth. The kid doesn't know any Spanish, just enough to stutter out 'HOLA'. One of the strangers points to a gas can in the back then to his tank. The boy nods in approval. With one kick-start the bike is brought back to life. He offers some money, to which they refuse. Now this song plays as he drives away. It shows scenes of him during other parts of the journey. He is wearing a vest and has a fat bag on the passenger seat all strapped down with bungee chords. Now it shows him with his bike breaking down and he kicks at it in frustration. It changes over to him trying to flag down semi trucks passing at night with his helmet in one hand. Next it could cut to him visiting his grandparents and he is sitting beside his grandfather. He is on his deathbed while holding his hand and laughing about something. Another scene shows him crossing the Golden Gate bridge while the sun is setting. It shows his life in high school where he meets a girl and they date. At a rock show there are kids mosh pitting and thrashing with some crowd surfing. The scene changes to him riding with other bikers. He gets on a Greyhound bus and meets people, they talk. Now he's running through the streets of Seattle trying to catch a ferry from the Greyhound station. At his high school graduation he sees his now ex-girlfriend walking off with another guy. As the song concludes it shows him shouting at a high speed passing freight train with the railroad crossing sign making that ding-ding sound.

  

Day 2: Justice - D.A.N.C.E.

By far the greatest dance song. My friend showed me this while on the highway to work. My world was "electrified" and I could not keep up with the melody and those FAT BEATS blazing in my head. Its almost spiritual with how great it sounds. It opened a world to other similar types of music. Usually after a long day of work I am faced with some mediocre task waiting for my attention (whats left over by the end of the day anyway). I plug in my wife's i-phone (yes, I know that I am too cheap to get my own) and play this song first and start to jive and electric slide while taking care of the house. My kids recognize this song and on the queue of the opening will run to me with their hands in the air knowing that it is "dance time" as they so like to put it. I usually teach my daughter how to do some kind of robot move, I'm still not sure exactly what to call it, but she likes it. My son just likes to be carried and spun around really fast, which proves just how much older I am getting seeing that I get dizzy quickly. I have so much to be thankful for with this song. I am grateful for the grandfather video game systems (no disrespect to the Commodor 64, Ataris, Nintendo) for producing such sounds in the first place to someday inspire this type of music, Michael Jackson for his lyrics to be used in this song, and electricity because without it the instruments used in the song would not work. Thank you to those three elements!

  

Day 1: Tears for Fears - Everybody Wants to Rule the World

This song used to scare me. What is a three year old to think of it? The beginning intro shoots out these jazzy synth notes like lasers into a deep distant black hole. That produces an enigmatic mystery to me. It also reminds me of being outside in the dark around midnight and looking into the wide black open sky. Those two notes that repeat each other give a soothing feel with that chime once in a while peaking through between the clouds. I heard this played most frequently when we lived in San Diego. There was some negative association involved during my exposure to this music. My mom and the other neighborhood moms would gather their children and meet at my aunt's house (which was like a mansion) for daycare. There was at least 15 kids! The mothers would organize us in shifts having some awake and playing while others took a nap. Anyways, back to the bad vibe, my aunt had three or four full size dogs. I was in the crib with this song blasting through the house while one of the big black labs was freaking out. To me it was a monstrous beast destroying the room I was in, jumping and sounding off hysterically. His tail kept knocking everything off the tables and his scared beady eyes anxiously trying to find an exit. He freaked me out even more when he'd whine and howl. I was boxed in this crib while he was on a rampage. Almost like a diver in a cage with sharks swimming about. Now that I look back, someone just forgot that the dog was locked in the room. He probably needed to go relieve himself. To this day, I somewhat shift in my seat with a hint of uneasiness, but overall I thrive with inspiration when I hear this and their other numbers as well. Mad props to these guys.

a letter to my mom

Dear Mom,

If somehow you are able to read this from Heaven, I would just like to say how much I love and miss you. Not just me but dad and Tash. You have given us so much love with the way you raised Tash and I. When dad was out to sea you held the fort with birthdays, church, long road trips for vacations - EVERYTHING. I cannot imagine how you did it all and I thank you so much for that. You always taught us to never settle for less and to push ourselves. You are someone I can always count on. I remember talking to you whenever I needed someone to talk to. We have experienced hard times and cried together and the good ones and laughed. I always think of this song by Bette Midler. It's your love song with dad which was sung at your funeral. I can't listen to it without crying like a baby. It has always played at the most coincidental moments or better yet the Lord knew when I needed that extra strength. It came on the radio once right as I turned the car on to park it. Another time was in basic training, I was having a really rough day and some soldier was singing it in a mocking manner but I took it as a tender mercy that you are there for me. Its been about fourteen years since you have passed. You were in a coma at the hospital and there was nothing that could be done. People drove and flew in from all over to be together. There were people from church to mourn with us silently while you were in your current state. The air was stale that day with overcast. By noon that day your room was filled with friends and family.  We were playing a few games of cards. We were starting to bring a little joy and life into the room. During a game you slipped off quietly around noon. There was a pause while someone ran to get a doctor. Within ten minutes you were pronounced dead. A chaplin who is a good man sat us down and talked on things beyond the veil and how your Savior is with you. You lived a very good life mom. Things are not the same here, but don't worry though. Tash and I are still growing and dad is still moving along. I know this is only temporary. I guess I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday and all, also to let you know that I will never forget you and look forward to seeing you again someday.

With love your son,

Mark

 

an announcement

Hello there friends and family, I am writing you today to inform you that I will be posting for the next two months music that has influenced my life. This will start on June 3rd which marks my passed on mother's birthday to the end of July. I call this an experience music project. OK, I totally ripped that title off from the Seattle music museum. This is very unusual for me to do this, but we only live once. So find your favorite headphones and a nice bean bag chair and wait by the computer every afternoon (except Sundays) at six o clock. Prepare yourself for a wondrous journey through time and space! I hope you will all enjoy it.

the crazy dude next door

When I was in high school we lived in Washington, we had some interesting neighbors. There was this family that moved in next to us who came from one of the islands in the Pacific and they loved to throw parties and get smashed drunk. They were loud laughers. It was pretty funny to hear them bellow it out, sometimes. My sister was friends with this one neighbor down the street from us. This is the neighbor that has earned the above mentioned title as "the crazy dude". He was known to shout randomly at people passing by. Once he tried to sell his trash from his front yard and all kinds of stuff. So, we had a cat once by the name of Brandy. She was very outdoorsy and would come and go to fill up on cat food every now and then. Sometimes she would not come back for three or so days however this time it was maybe a week since she returned. I grew concerned and wondered if she was hit by a car. I was about ready to start printing out fliers with her picture on it until I get this phone call. I believe it went something like this, oh and keep in mind that this guy speaks slow and has a low tone;

"Hello?"

"Yeah, uhhh is this the owner of the cat named Brandy?"

"Yeah, I've been looking for her. Is she with you?"

"Yes, I've been keeping her here, and she seems to be doing well."

"Well, that's great and all. Do you think I can get her back?"

"I'll let her decide on that."

"You're keeping my cat?"

"I need a pet and she is a great animal to have around here."

(Saturated with much sarcasm)"...awesome..."

"Well, the reason I am calling you, is I have a question."

"....what's that?"

"Well, I was wondering if you might have any cat food for her."

"We have plenty of cat food here for her. If she wants some, she knows where to get it."

And I think right at this moment, he attempted to drop the F-bomb while hanging up on me. Hilarious.

i'm losing it

Recently there has been a series of events where I have misplaced something or forgot to pick up an order. I can't really explain why, seeing that I am barely thirty years old and already the Alzheimer's is kicking in. Tis ridiculous. Let me give you a couple of examples of what I mean. Short story number one, the vacuum cleaner. We were all packed up in New York ready for the long haul back to Arizona. We had a little uhaul trailer and I thought we had closed the hatch. I was wrong. We drove about 10 miles down a country road while the hatch was wide open and nothing fell out that WHOLE TIME. Not until we pulled into another small town and yes the entire vacuum cleaner came out and crashed instantly becoming a pile of plastic mess. HOW COULD I FORGET? Short story number two: Missy needed a new charger for the battery of her camera. I decided to bring the battery with me to the store to show them the type it was. They found me the right one and I left the store. Getting home she asked me where the battery was. I searched my pockets and nothing. All around the house...nothing. I even drove around the area to double check that maybe it fell out of my coat while on my bike...nothing. It just disappeared in thin air I guess. Short story number three: I go to walmart and buy some toilet paper - TOILET PAPER and yes you guessed it, I misplaced it somewhere. That one was redeemable seeing that I forget it was in the back of the car. Like Marvin Gaye once sang; "What's going on?"

for you my darling. . .

Flowers. I have been acquainted many times with the ceremonial passing of the flower to the "one and only" girl. In the Perez history books you can trace everywhere I have lived based on the types of flowers I have given to the typical girl next door. Most importantly though, I would like to reflect on my wife. The first flower I gave her was a dandelion (yes agreed, this makes me look very cheap, but hear me out). We were dating at the time and I was in a car with some peeps (not the Easter candy that you put in the microwave and watch it fatten as it melts) my homies. Anyways we were driving along and someone basically called me out about dating her. He said something like; "Dude, you know she is seeing an old friend tonight right?" I calmly replied; "Yeah, I know we are technically just getting to know each other so its cool if she sees other guys." What a moron I was, and still am at times. He then dug deep on the situation by proposing this question; "What if he sees things differently, like asking her out?" To my dismay the thought of her being with someone else seemed to play in my head with the fast forward button pressed down. Images of her dating, marrying, and having a future with this guy while I missing my chance made me snap; "STOP THE CAR!!!!" "Whats your problem?" I bolt out like the flash. Sure the car was still maybe two miles from her apartment, but I didn't care. A little cardio would add to the dramatization of expressing my true feelings for her. What the crap was I thinking? Of course I want to spend the rest of my life with this gal. In a hurry, I stopped and thought up what I was going to say to her. I needed some flowers but everywhere was closed - CURSES! Instead I picked some dandelions and knocked on her door. As she opened, I mustered up the courage to officially ask her to be my girlfriend. PHEW, that was close.

home sweet home

I brand myself a Mexican, even though while yes it is true that I didn't earn that title until AFTER I learned Spanish. I still am proud of my heritage. Most importantly I was born in this great country that I have to come to know as I have been to nearly every major city through living along the west coast of California to Washington. I have ventured to God's country in Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming. Eight cross country trips on bike and car from Idaho to Florida, Pennsylvania, and Kentucky. I witnessed the vast plains and rolling hills in Texas from Beaumont to El Paso. The weeping willows and swamp lands from Alabama to Louisiana. Throughout my travels I have noticed much change. We have witnessed movements, disasters, heartaches, and so much more.  I have been blessed to have been brought to earth when our nation was established with laws and regulations. Where the we have the right to appeal, and a say for who is in office. I feel like as its a large kids club where we vote on issues and try to come to an agreement. We have democracy instead of dictatorship. We have rights instead of heavy lade burdens. We are proud and tough. Sure we get scared but together when our rights are threatened or our neighbors are in trouble we lose ourselves and roll up our sleeves picking up a shovel or driving a convoy with disaster relief supplies. Despite various trials and issues we face, we are united in our cause for freedom. I still believe in our nation, I value her for everything that She stands for. I am ready and willing to defend her and the constitution for which it stands. I know that by the hand of the Lord, He has blessed our nation to have prospered and to become free. This is my home sweet home.

its good for you

The only thing constant is change. I hear this phrase nearly every day in the construction industry. The design gets approved and we are johnny-on-the-spot with building after passing through countless hours of meetings planning and coordinating everything over and over again. Once the stamp hits the paper and we are green to go, they find errors and call it off. The contractors call an audible and its back to the drawing board. Change. I have come to know it quite a few times already in my 28 years of existence. I used to and still somewhat am afraid of change. Its really good for us though. Without it, we would be with mushed brains rotting away (metaphorically speaking). Change is apparent with the physical world. Think about how the seasons bring in the rain to cleanse out the foliage and compost. The wind cycles the air keeping it fresh. Anything stagnate can never produce good results. We are always evolving, improving, creating and producing. I could see how I was afraid of change. It felt like a threat to my comfort. The comfort was just familiarity. If I stayed where I was at, true I might be somewhat happy in a perpetual state not knowing the better, I did and am glad that I have always moved on. Granted it can very hard. I used to live with my best friend and his family. After two years serving a mission and returning back to them, I decided to live on my own completely. I was still in the same town and found a single bedroom apartment in downtown through my work. The first night I was there I was freaking out. I was along and scared. That was progression at its finest. The aftermath was that I could be the ruler of my destiny with no hesitation and continue to take the next step. It usually is better to go through those hard moments than to feel at ease for too long. 

it was as big as my hand!

So today I was reading an email from a friend of mine talking about the camel spiders overseas. That was enough to get me to keep looking over my shoulders while carrying holy water in my pocket along with the cross. Later this afternoon, I was cleaning our bedroom closet going through all my ish and papers that I feel are of worth but not enough to be organized. Moving towards one of the shelves I found. . . a visitor. To my imagination it was about eight feet tall weighing in a whopping 300 pounds with red eyes and fangs oozing with venom. I froze then calmly left the room. My wife trying to diagnose my issue as to why I was pale came to the conclusion that it was a spider. "If you lose its position, it will hide somewhere." Those words rang true to my ears. I dutifully went back in with a shower curtain pole and a shield of some sort. I crept back in our closet checking and clearing every nook and cranny with my defenses up. Surely enough, I confirmed IT'S location in the corner behind the clothes. "Did you kill it yet?" I knelt there staring at it as it was probably staring back at me. I guess you could say that we had ourselves a little stakeout. I just don't get it. The holy scriptures teach that all living things testify of God, but I think that the spiders testimony was omitted. It was a tense moment as I contemplated how I would execute the kill. Why couldn't I just smash it? Why is it so hard? I am a soldier trained to kill, so what was keeping me back? The clock was ticking and it maintained it's position. I imagined the spider wasn't moving as a means of intimidation almost like saying; "What? You gonna kill me? Really guy?" Missy peaks in around the door and instantaneously I gave out a battle cry as I went for it. I missed (even though it was three feet in front of me). I must've had my eyes closed. She ended up killing. I had to leave the room. Tonight a part of my dignity and personal courage has left.  

aww, the power of . . .

Here

 

Cheese. Fromage. Queso. This is it's own food group in our home. The most coveted possession to be consumed by our offspring. It does not matter AT ALL if you were to cook up the most elaborate feast with produce imported in from the rarest countries along with the fixin's and sauces all in its purity. The heavenly scent and unforgettable aromas would bring in neighbors who never knew you by name and all of a sudden you're their amigo, friends from as far back as three different zip codes would swing by as well, even the Food Network would even sneak a peak at what would be cooking and yet our children would just mutter those three oh-so-familiar words; "I WANT CHEESE." I try to convince them that sometimes we are out of cheese and they feel it is a trick. They look at me in such sweet innocence (with the puppy dog eyes) and continue the plea; "I WANT CHEESE." I can't blame them though. Quite frankly, cheese is da bomb. I used to grab a brick of Colby accompanied by a butter knife and would go to town. Like Uncle Buck once said; "Sometimes I feel like a big mouse." Heck even this blog name was inspired by cheese. Only if you were to translate it, it would say Sea-Cheese, that sounds distasteful, but I digress.

don't think too hard

Sometimes when we forget something we tend to think critically at recalling the lost piece of information. What usually happens is it slips into the abyss of forgetfulness. What I have tried to do in the past that sort of helps is to let it go and use my "peripheral thinking" to get it back. Like I said it sort of helps. Its never a good thing to continue about your day with that awful feeling of "I know I'm forgetting something". That's when I have to just stop and think. Even then I am flying blind with trying to piece together a puzzle that I don't know what its supposed to look like. It can get really indirect fast. I hate also when you have a meaningful conversation with someone and you have a nice thought to share but when it is your time to speak you forget it and then end up improvising something completely different. Oh the frailties of a mortal mind can be taxing and burdensome. Now sticking to post its is a good alternative to a half working brain. The night before I plan the next day through notes on bright colored pieces of paper lying around for me to find like 50 first dates. I just don't trust myself even at my age.

  

Perez Trek: The Next Generation

Growing up my dad would always catch me in an act of mischief. I could never figure out how he would know and quite frankly it drove me to the point of madness. Especially since the only line that he used to sum up his omnipotent abilities was simply; "Because I'm dad, I know everything." I remember nights trying to sneak out of my room tip toeing taking extra longer to get from one end of the hallway to the next, I would double check to make sure the coast was clear and right when I was to make my move stealing that piece of chocolate cake I hear from the other end of the house; "GO TO BED!" How the crap did he know????? Props to that man. I thought for sure he was born from another planet with special super powers, that was until I had my kids. Something similar occurred in our home a couple of nights ago. We wrapped up the night with some ice cream. Once we were done the kitchen was cleaned (at least most of it) and the kids were put into bed. I was in the other room talking to Missy when I hear careful steps towards the kitchen. I see two head shadows, one slightly taller than the other bob past. My oldest started to whisper to my son. I go all rainbow six on them making my way towards their position and press against the wall peaking out at them. The refrigerator door is open with their intentions to snag another piece. For kicks I shouted out without being seen; "GO TO BED!" Immediately after I hear cries and moans my son especially was really upset that I caught them. What an experience. Seriously it was like I was peering through a time portal.  

i want to cook my goose

Those were the words that came to mind once I beheaded my goose on that late winter afternoon. Breathing in and out the Idahoan semi-frigid air feeling instant remorse of killing a living creature bigger than a fly. My friend got them for free from a ranch north of town and we were looking to become more self-reliant by killing our own food. I thought of this as a great start to living off the grid. We did take it very seriously and even said a prayer before taking their lives. After they were killed, we plucked them then washed them. Later that night I felt the inner tug to have my goose cooked for Easter dinner otherwise I would forever have this regret of killing something in vain. I learned a powerful insight to how our world works. Everything has to die so that other things can live. The sun dies day by day to give off light and heat whereas plants die so that animals can live. Animals die so that we can live and so on.

i pictured this going a lot better in my head

Once in the first grade I had this stellar plan to fly. I discovered the swings at the playground. It was such an amazing feel to get yourself up off the ground. It was the first thing I would go to during recess. In fact, others felt the same way. I remember there were lines waiting for those 14 swings. That is how awesome they are. One day while in class the idea came into my head that maybe - just maybe if I swung hard enough and jumped while in mid-air, I could fly. That afternoon when I went home, I went to my desk and drew up a plan with charts and graphs showing how I could accomplish that. Out of play-doh I modeled a mock-up to test the physics and parameters of my flight. I remember making made up math symbols to give the impression that I knew what I was doing. I demonstrated my proposal to my parents and laid it out in plain text what my goals and objectives were. They agreed and concurred with my plan. That night I laid there thinking about the mission already accomplished and where I would fly to. I thought of flying around the soccer fields and then to my house. Or maybe even the to the 7-11. The possibilities were endless! So the next day at the playground I got ready and chose my swing. I even imagined a NASA launch pad countdown then started to pump my legs slowly ascending higher. I eventually reached as high as I could go. Then I ejected out of my seat expecting to soar ahead, instead I was up in the air for a good half second then quickly dropped maybe moving forward a couple of inches. Where did I go wrong? I was supposed to have glided through the open air and explore the world, but in reality I fell right in place. I must have miscalculated one of my equations or something.

don't worry, be ( fill in the blank)

Worrying. It can suck. My life has seen a number of moments where I end up worrying about something that I have no control over. The illusion of "something has to be done on your end" can be so persuasive that it eats at us. We can't shake it, and feel that false obligation to try to force the mind to come up with a solution. True, there are things that do require action. For the rest of the problems that are out of our control let us take comfort and peace while knowing that there is nothing that can be done on our end. Just enjoy the ride. For example, a passenger is in a commercial jet. He is scared to death of flying. He's heard all the statistics of how a plane is likely to crash, etc. The plane is going to take off no matter what. Whether he starts to enjoy the flight or whether he is making a scene screaming while running up and down the aisles claiming there is a gremlin on one of the wings. The plane has a destination, the pilots are licensed and trained and the seatbelts are going to come on. Besides what good comes from worrying, it only gets you in a bad mood and creates stress to your heart and wrinkles in your forehead. Nothing good can come from it.

you missed a spot

Dishwashing could be like an ignition into the work force. A hazing if you will. There was the usual routine coming in start the shift: Clean up the entire kitchen, Bring in the first load filled with coffee mugs and half eaten salads, run them through the steam box (not to be confused with the hot box) which comprised of steamed water that would jet blast away any possibilities of germs even thinking about reproducing. Once all that was said and done you would wait. I still to this day have in a way post-traumatic stress from the sound of the glasses clinking and the plastic wheels on the hard floor getting louder and moving into the kitchen. Only to find diseased scraps and unknown creams all left in my custody. It was all up to me to dispose of the left-overs. Saturday mornings were bitter sweet for me. I shared the same work place with the bakery lady. She had me working twice as fast (Saturday mornings in a family restaurant). She would throw in mixers, sheets, pans, bowls on top of the ongoing demands of clean dishes and silverware from multiple servers. The cooks and food prep would join in on the requests with their hardware too. That job has branded me for life. Underneath the sink contained a metal box which almost all of the restaurant workforce already knows whats up, but anyways its called the. . . . excuse me for a moment while I fight to not gag over the keyboard. . .the grease trap. One time it clogged and I out of courtesy will just leave it at that. Nothing else in this world phases me in comparison to that box of horror. For a high school kid making a little over 6 bucks it wasn't too bad. Oh wait one more story, so the cook was known to be a loose cannon (which he was) and once he asked if we had any salad left from the food prep containers, I said that I didn't know. I went back to cleaning and washing dishes when all of a sudden I see this empty container fly through the back and collide with the wall shattering the hard plastic. I guess he really needed salad.

by the numbers

I had this idea once about how through small and simple things, GREAT things can come to pass. If eveyone in the country were to donate five dollars a week for one year, we would have over 80 billion dollars a year! Think of what we could use that towards. Think of the charities or research for diseases. Maybe we could become self-reliant as a people? Let me make sure I have this right:

5 dollars X 52 weeks X nation's population (314 million) = $81,640,000,000

Now if we did this continually for lets say 30 years it would look like this:

$81,640,000,000 X 30 years = $2,449,200,000,000

That could help us become a more fortified body in creating a mutual goal to be sustaining with businesses, debts, even our own welfare. It is hard earned money, so imagine this idea on an individual scale. If everyone in the nation were to put away in a savings account $100 a week for the next 30 years without any investing or compound interest it would look like this:

100 dollars X 52 weeks X 30 years = $156,000

Or what if we donated 30 cans a month per family in our country? Lets say there are roughly 78.5 million families in the U.S. So multiply that by 30 then take that and multiply that by 12 and you should get over 28.2 billion cans of food a year!

30 cans X 78.5 million families X 12 months = 28,260,000,000 cans a food/year

That was just something in my head today. . .

its shocking I know

Lightning is really neat. I have had my fair shares with it all throughout my growing up years minus getting struck (while knocking on wood). If you think about it, it's unharnesses energy ejected from condensed clouds striking to reach the positive charges with the least resistance from the heavens. What an awesome force! What power! Once at scout camp it was maybe in the middle of the night and there was a loud crashing tumble. Everyone was awake. I at first thought someone was firing the black powder muskets at the range. It rumbled the entire forest. Another time my friend and I were bouldering up some magnetic granite mountain when dark clouds were gathering above us. WE RAN OUR BUTTS, I thought we would've been fried for sure. Right outside my window during my job training in the army a bright flash lit the whole room and the coolest thing about it was that you could hear the echo of the thunder pounding further away. That was the first time I heard something so natural that close. Good stuff.

at dusk the nautilus bandits come out

In high school I worked at a family restaurant as a dishwasher. One of my shifts fell on a Friday night! Yes, a Friday night. So as you can see, I was desperate for fun when my shift was up around 10 in the evening. My bestest friends in the whole wide world would swing by to the rescue me in a blue Civic, we called it the Blue Crush. We had this one crazy idea to have a sleepover and give ourselves a name. We were sitting on the couch in front of the TV and I thought we will name ourselves after the product of the first commercial that comes up. Lo and behold the Nautilus sleep system came on the air. . . and so that was the milestone birth of the Nautilus Bandits. Our primary objective was to consume as much Surge soda, Root Beer and candy as the human body would allow. Our secondary objective was to stay up as late as possible and then when the clock struck 1 in the morning we would hop into the Blue Crush and go to a grocery store and buy Depends (adult diapers) along with the typical condiments for a BBQ (relish, mustard, wet cat food, etc.). You put those items together and you have yourself a "wet nasty". A song from Weezer was the nautilus bandit's anthem. Our missions were daring and we knew full heartedly that we might not make it back, but we were to go out and seek others we knew and leave one of these wet nasties on their doorstep or if we really wanted to have some fun, we would leave them under their windshield wiper. Most missions were successful except for one night. We were meaning to go to a girl's house and raid her car however, the road to get there was heavily guarded by dogs who would never sleep. They were behind fences so that wasn't an issue. However, when we tried to walk the road to her house the dogs would sound the alarm. So instead of tip-toeing, we drove slowly up to her car. We get out and go to town. All three of us moving with a purpose until one of us hears something. He then tells us to hurry up and that something bad was about to happen. But what? So we heeded his psychic abilities and started back for the car until we hear the sound of tiny metal pieces clinking. IT WAS DOG COLLARS, and they were moving fast towards us. I remembered looking back and discovered that they were DOBERMANS!!!! The driver already had the car fired up while the two of us dove through the passenger window as the car burns through the driveway at 70 mph. I kept hearing the metal clinking sounds and we were in state of panic. So never again. . . .for that weekend at least. 

please tell me i'm good, tell me i'm wonderful

What can I say, we as humans love our 'atta-boys'. We thrive on compliments and being recognized. It drives us to be better. Sometimes it can get carried away and like Buddha once taught, "there needs to be a balance and moderation in all things". Maybe looking for it too much can hinder us. It could be like a drug and have the same effects like how you absolutely have to have that compliment or else you will not function clearly. I don't imagine one could ever OD from compliments though. I learned through some hard lessons that recognition is best from within. The fact that YOU know when you are doing crazy awesome and there are times where YOU know you need to spit your hands and go to work. In basic training I understood and embraced the 'hidden message' that we must reach deep from within and realize that we don't need outward compliments to feeling better about ourselves. They would shout at us like we were scum and were worthless, but what they were trying to do was piss us off enough to realize that 'hey! I'm am stronger than I think'. That was the thought in my head all the while I was doing push ups until they got tired, or scrubbing the floor, or doing midnight ruck marches, or low crawling through sand with mortars going off, yeah anyway the list goes on. Self recognition is like our own Honda generator that doesn't need the grid. Although generators do need fuel, maybe that could be compared to food, because without food we would die, right?

try a different approach

There is that phrase the glass is half full or its half empty that we've all heard. A problem to one person might be a solution to someone else. It all depends on how we look at it. You could stare for hours at one of those magic eye pictures and claim to see a sailboat and then someone right next to you bets his life that its a trapezoid with the planet Saturn in it. Who knows? My story deals mainly with that concept. Once my friend's dad dropped me off at work and we were riding in a Jeep. The windows were those plastic ones with the zipper that would unzip so you could "roll down" your window. We get to my work and I tried to open the door but was having a hard time. The dad was like; "You can't open it from inside, it can only be opened from the outside." So naturally without reservation I immediately made sense of it all and unzipped the window then was attempting to crawl out of the window like a NASCAR driver would. While halfway out he shouts in disbelief; "JUST REACH OVER AND OPEN THE DOOR!" I look back at him while my upper half was outside and my legs still inside. I gave him a blank stare then thought about it. I finished getting out the way I did and then opened the door even though I was already outside. I closed the door while he had a frozen look of disgust. "Thanks...for the ride." He drives off. I guess what was funny about all this was that the dad thought what I did was so ridiculous that he called his wife in the middle of the day just to tell her about it. That's my story about why I love Jeeps. . . not really though, I mean about how the story was never about the Jeep persay...nevermind. I'll just stop right here.

lost in Mr. Roger's-land

The suburb idea is still new to me. I mean I get how the houses are identical, they all have neatly cut grass yards that are all evenly spaced, the trash comes out at the same time, and everyone most likely owns the same things. There are the usual upgrades of vehicles, equipment, and pets sometimes. I just really griping about how easy it is to get lost (that statement right there probably just involuntarily revealed the old man inside me). I was culture shocked coming down here from Idaho where you have houses that are miles apart from the farmlands (yes this is true, not stereotyped at all). Entering in the neighborhood here if you are not careful or fully prepared with a mental image of some sort of map you can get lost. Bring some bread crumbs with you. I carry mine in the glove compartment. Everywhere you go they all look the same. There's no landmarks or references unless you memorize the different mailboxes or fire hydrants. Should you have to ask for directions,  the neighbors are nice but just as clueless and will be guessing right along with you. Avoid going in unless you absolutely have to. If you do, bring a map and give your destination an extra hour of cushion. Set your global positioning system to the very spot where you started right before entering in. Also have the search and rescue on speed dial. Notify your friends and family before you go in. Tell them when and where you will be. Make sure you have your will written out, signed and dated. Assure that your finances are in order. Then you can proceed into the great unknown. This is just some advice should you happen to find yourself in a binding situation where you are lost in this cozy metropolis.

i got it!

here

After putting this book down, something inside my head started to turn. The clogs and wheels were intertwining in a perfected synchronous manner. The light bulb is a perfect icon for this story. The power of thought which can lead to belief which can lead to desire which in turn jump starts to action.The power of one individual is an unharnessed beauty tapped with unlimited potential. We all are gifted in a unique way. There is no one else to covet being but ourselves. Whether its movie stars, athletes, an appealing social class, you name it these are just some examples of what we are found desiring to be. Someone rich, creative, free, happy. The message in this book was so clear to me. Probably the most gripping quote from the author was this right here:

 "I owe nothing to my brothers, nor do I gather debts from them"

The fact that we are free from wanting to be like someone else or to subject ourselves to fitting in. We have our own styles, voices, abilities to contribute to the world. Quite frankly, this was a great way to show anyone who fears the outcomes of others to have confidence in yourself and to stand up and be you. 

here