Movin' on up

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play and follow along

I picture this boy waking up in the middle of the night to a phone call from his girlfriend. It's probably 3 in the morning. He answers it half alive and her high pitch voice is hurting his ears. Hello? She starts; "Now I know how late it is, but I've been up all night giving this a lot of thought and do not feel this is going anywhere. . . are you there?" He wakes up again from falling asleep on her; "Huh? Yeah, I'm here." She continues to say that it's "over" and that she was secretly dating someone else behind his back anyway and that she only dated him because of social status, and that it was a dare. "OK," He passes out back to sleep not even fully hanging up the phone. He wakes up the next day. Goes to work early in the morning washing dishes then gets picked up by his friends. They are cruising in a galaxy. They go all throughout town. They shoot old toilets and rusted cans in a junkyard with 22's, hop on rooftops, and ride dirt bikes in the mud. They go to some Chinese buffet place then end up getting kicked out for throwing fortune cookies at each other. The night fast approaches and they are driving up to a red light. (Right at marker 1:56) They're laughing and being crazy as ever until the kid looks over and sees a girl waiting at the light ready to cross. She runs her hand through her hair then slowly looks over to him. Everything is all in slow motion while the craziness is continuing on with his friends in the background while he breaks a smile at her. She smiles back at him. He mouths the words 'hi' to her, and she responds back the same way. He then tries to get out of the car while she approaches him. (Right at marker 2:30) Then the light goes green and the car's front lifts as the driver jack rabbits slamming down the gas, he is about to jump out after her while half way out of the car and almost attempts to get the other leg out but is caught on something. His upper body bends over with his hands nearly touching the road. His foot gets free and is almost out, but his stupid crazy friends pull him back in. As the singer shouts out "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!" is when he mouths those words. He holds his hand out for her as they separate. His buddies start punching at him laughing not even aware of what just happened between him and this "new-found-love". He fights to get free but they enter the highway. Then the solo goes off as they drive off into the night.

listen to your parents

Once again in the country town of 5,000 peeps how could you not resist the urge to be more trustworthy to those around you unlike the overpowering shadiness of the Goliath cities were "you're getting shot while you're getting shot". I developed this habit of hitch hiking in Wyoming. I would often use my best friend's bike to get around. On scattered occasions however, I would fancy a walk which would usually be 5 miles worth to and fro where I needed to get to. I have met some of the most interesting people through riding shotgun with these fellow citizens. Some had huge plans, others where just living the simpler life. I always knew that this was dangerous but it never occured to me just how LIFE THREATENING it could be until one night I was trying to get home in a timely manner. It was all the way from downtown to a ranch neighborhood maybe 6 miles out. I was walking and decided to go inside a gas station to ask if anyone was heading south. One guy said he would've been glad to but wanted to see a movie. So I continued by foot for maybe a hundred meters or so until he showed up and mentioned how he already missed the previews and it wasn't worth it to see it. So I hopped in and we were on our way. He seemed somewhat a straight edge guy. His hair was a little overgrown. Some Metallica was playing on the radio and he was a talker. He went on about his family, the "conspiracy", the tax dollars being used to purchase all the bars of soap in America - EVERYTHING. Lastly, he mentioned how I was a nice guy mostly because I was not drunk or crazy. He related this story to me about a man he picked on the road and started to gripe about how much the hitch hiker pissed him off. He said he was throwing up and swearing at him. The driver then re-enacted how he shouted at the passenger by shouting at me. He then turned on the cab light and turned his head and verbatim shouted at me like I was that passenger. I knew that he was acting out the moment to show me what he said to the guy, but part of my imagination was thinking; "What if he is straight up nuts. You might have to open the door and jump out, because there is no telling what he might do." As he was acting out, I slowly slid my hand near the handle ready to eject and tuck and roll. He finished his angry monologue and then laughed about it. I faintly broke a smile then asked to be let out. "Are you sure?" "Oh positive! Yeah, yeah, yeah, just right here.", "Alright man, you take care of yourself." He takes off into the open dark of the night as I still have 3 miles to go. I was alive though. Never again.

take me with you

Our world is huge! Let me repeat that, no I'm kidding. Seriously though, I do not know if it would be possible to visit every single place all in one lifetime no matter the jet travel one could do to save time. Certain feelings arise in a nice place. A gradual calm and rest from everything else could come up. A refuge. Somewhere to clear your head and reflect inside. A place that betters you, silences your troubles. Where you can do some true spirit-animal-searching-from-within and find what you lack. The world is constantly competing for our attention. There's computers, kids, cell phones, commutes, work, honking, texting, dogs barking and so on. Our days and lifestyles have dramatically shot up on the craziness scale that there are laws trying to protect ourselves from ourselves. Like Toni Braxton; "I shall never breathe again" without taking time to slow down and go somewhere that is inviting tranquility to my well-being. I remembered traveling to my hometown in California maybe 10 years back. The places I went to as a child seemed more sacred to me on my reunion visit. I walked more slowly with reverence approaching the playgrounds, the classrooms, the neighborhoods. It would almost feel as though I went to the past in a time machine. Other places that are great can be ones you go to for the very first time. In the San Juan de Fuca Islands, Pender Island in B.C. Canada I discovered a cove beach on the southern tip on one of the islands. I sat there pondering "how I was doing" as I watched an ocean freighter embarking through the strait towards the open Pacific. What a sight it was. There are places that you can long for and save up to go to. Like Sri Lanka or the islands of the Mediterranean. I don't know, anywhere.

which way did he go George?

Do you ever wonder where your money has been before you got it? Let's take a dollar bill for instance and comes from a bank in Arizona and they send a cash shipment to a restaurant in Savannah, GA. The restaurant receives the deposit and out comes the bill. They cycle it through their tips which becomes someone's change in their wallet. They were on a business trip flying back to Washington where she pays for parking. The booth guy then uses it at the vending machine. Which at the same time is collected by the vendor. He puts that in with the purse of change. Drives it over to his work. Cycles it through the other revenues. On its way to the bank, the back doors of the armored car's open up and there happens to be a high wind blowing the bill among other ones in the wind. This bill lands on a balcony of an art museum. One of the cleaners picks it up and keeps it as a tip. At the end of the day he gets home and sends it to his son in New York City. The mail trucks picks up the envelope, sends it to the kid's address. He gets it, opens it, takes out the cash. Later that night orders takeout. The delivery boy comes by with the goods. He tips him. The delivery gets done with his shift, pays back someone he owes. The creditor takes the cash then uses some on a hot dog stand. The hot dog stand gets robbed and the robber is being chased by the police. He throws out all the cash on him leaving all evidence behind. A city dog comes up to the dollar bill which has hot dog juice on it and the dog fully consumes it. Later, he poops it out and then a storm hits washing the bill through the storm drain leading to the Hudson. A fisherman finds it then pockets the bill. He then hitches a ride to Arizona to visit his parents for the weekend and at a gas station he blows it on a Moon Pie. So there you have it. The journey of George.  

sing it Bonnie Tyler!

here

Everybody needs something. We love that feeling of comfort and security knowing we are protected - A HERO to be precise! There are so many to choose from. Bruce Lee to me has been a source of fierce power. It just felt right to say that considering he invented the "one inch punch" and could muster the internal energies of the human body to kick whomever's trash. I particularly loved the showdown with Chuck Norris and how they stare each other down with the Colosseum backdrop until the kitten sounded the start bell through it's cute little mew (which was dubbed in English).

here

Also batman played the greatest role of mystery and unharness badness. He didn't need words. He had the grin that could say "when this is all said and done, I'm taking you out. . . and I don't mean on a date". He doesn't need a huge ad campaign to spread throughout Gotham airing on T.V. saying; "Come see just how intimidating this guy is, he is crime's worst nightmare" No. He simply will grab the dude and ask for a favor along the lines of; "I want you to do me a favor, I want you to tell all your friends about me" then drops him like third period French. Classic. "I'm Batman".

Then there's my sister. She's incredible. You better think twice about crossing her. My friend was over at my house once all reclined with his legs on the arm rest and she walks in and goes; "Spread your damn legs over the couch why donchuh." He within a few seconds sat up, stood to attention then saluted. At the same time she is a compassionate person who loves her family. She has a good sense of humor and has always looked after me as a big sister especially at the playgrounds when we were growing up. She don't take crap from no one.  

third times a. . . how does that go again?

I lived in Wyoming for a few years in a town by the name of Jackson Hole. Truly it is God's country and has everything any outdoor-all-things-in-harmony-lover could ever dream of. In the summer, there are live gun shows at Pearl Ave. There's hiking, paragliding, kayaking, repelling, and the list goes on. The winters there promote a different mood. Granted there is the usual skiing and snowboarding. There's plenty of snow to go around. In fact, I imagine the man who wrote "Let it snow" would be sing a remix there along the lines of "FOR EVERYONE'S SAFETY, PLEASE STOP". At an elevation of 6200, it can take a good half hour just to chip the ice off your windshield. One night, I was in my friend's car going home from a movie. I was scheduled to work security that night at a hotel resort 12 miles out of town in a resort village. Something inside my head was fired up to run to work. I was pumped and predetermined to challenge myself. On top of this INSANE idea, it was starting to snow hard. There was a weather alert for a blizzard coming through town. Like my senseless 18 year old crazy, stupid self...I didn't care. So we get to my friend's house and were going to play a game of pool inside when I pulled my hoodie over my head and zipped up and hit play in my mental playlist of T'Pau with a little bit of heart and soul then booked it in the middle of the three of us talking. They stopped and watched me without words disappear down the street into the snowfall. It felt so good, breathing in the frigid air. Along the highway I maybe got 3 miles into the journey when my friend pulls up beside me and has me get in. I was grateful for his heroism but the ambition inside of me needed to keep going. We pulled into a grocery store and got out about to enter the store. I tightened my hoodie and continued running. He shouts in a devastating attempt to recapture my sanity; "WHAT AM I GOING TO TELL YOUR DAD WHEN YOU'RE AN ICE POP?" A voice slowly fading while moving into the darkness; ".....just tell'em I love'em...." The storm grew more intense with fewer cars on the road. There was a bright glow reflecting off the thick clouds to light the way. 7 miles into the run, another car stops by to see if I need a ride to which I politely declined. The legs kept pushing and moving. The heat was enough to keep my blood flowing. 10 miles in a trucker pulled over to offer a lift. At that moment, many thoughts gathered, one of them was maybe God saying to me; "Take this or you will die." So I stopped and just climbed in.

"You wouldn't want to be me"

Sure I would cat. They can have it so good, they don't even know. A constant meal all throughout the day, a place to poop, they can go outside, stay inside. A nice bed is usually designated for them. Bills and obligations don't even come into the equation. At 4 in the morning, they are still asleep and would continue to do so until 11. Money and work have nothing to do with them. Taxes, not even. Registering and insuring their car? Nope. Meeting deadlines? Sorry, not these guys. They just wake up, eat, sleep, wake up, eat, roll in the grass, scratch some furniture, sleep, run a little here and there, then sleep. What a life...but then again what if what they do is considered work for them? Come to think of it I have seen them stressed out. Mostly because of me. I have this tendency to keep them on their toes. They do have to make sure that they acquire adequate amounts of sleep. Also to assure they use the catbox and not the carpet. That probably is a conscience decision every time. Sharpening their nails must always be in the back of their heads or how else will they kill the local rodents and leave them at the door for their masters? Being a cat is a serious business. On second thought, I'd rather just stay human.

aw hail-naw, no he didn't!

This is an account to show just how crunk the "ish" can get through putting things off at the last minute. A friend of mine through junior high lent me a CD. He was like; "Go ahead, I don't care," So off I went and enjoyed listening to the street-vibe-urban-rhythm-and-blues jam of this one female singer. Man! She was great! Maybe a week goes by and he comes back to me; "Hey, uh...how do you like the CD?" With a natural response; "Great, thanks again for letting me borrow it." Continued to go about my merry way in life and another week goes by to which he returns with the usual inquiry; "So, no rush or anything, but do you think I can get it back sometime in the near future?" My idiotic self went like this; "OH YEAH, no problem. I'll have it to you next week." All was satisfied; "Cool, thanks man." Another week passes and the verbal exchanges started elevating to very tense feuds. Swearing was involved and empty promises of returning the borrowed item. Why didn't I just return the item? I kept forgetting about it through the mix of life science projects and learning how to break dance and by then it was too late. Then finally one horrible day I was playing kickball in the street with some friends when this car pulls up. The car drives up in the middle of our game, I am still trying to remember if they flattened the ball with the car. He brought his older brother (11th grader) with him. They slowly get out and walk up to me. I'd expect this kind of approach from the IRS or the Corleone Family. He looked quite P-I-S-S-E-D. I started with the usual BS of salutations; "Why hello there fellow comrads? I was a little uneasy by the approach. "SO! WHERE IS MY CD!" With inner frustration and torment knowing that I forgot it yet again, I attempted to open my mouth but was cut off; "SAVE IT!" The fact that he was 5' 3" made this even better. He bent down like he was tying his shoe then recovered throwing dirt in my face. Blinded I tried to regain sight and then his older brother held me back while he threw some good punches in my abdomen. His brother then pushed me to the ground. I curled up coughing on my side as I hear this evil kid voice blaring from above; "I WANT IT BACK TODAY! NO LATER THAN 5". I felt awful, this was a pleasant kid of good nature and my procrastination corrupted him. He was with the Dark Side that day. The car drives off. Holy crap, and to think this all came from a Mary J. Blige CD.

you're outta your mind

There have been maybe three times in my earthly existence that the opening title has been said to me in a serious manner. The first one was my friend trying to rescue me from jogging during a blizzard in Wyoming (That's a whole other entry), the second was when I was trying to describe something to a complete stranger, and the third one was from myself. Alright storytime, I stayed up all night at a friend's house once (no literally, his mom was so mad at us, that the next morning she lectured both of us on how if you do bad things, you go to hell). Anyways, I went home and said hi to my folks then crashed in my room. I woke up thinking it was morning. I looked outside and it was still dark. Going into the living room I saw that no one was home. The clock on the oven read 9:30. "9:30? Where'd the sun go?" I tried to call my friend, but there was no dial tone. Puzzled, troubled, and hungry, I poured a bowl of cereal, ate, turned on the T.V. There weren't any cartoons on or anything of a "good morning" feel. In fact, they were airing stuff like Letterman, the Halloween movie, and some ER episode. "What is going on here?" In spite of all the obvious clues that it was probably PM and not AM I still didn't get it. By this point I was convinced that I through my sleep I slipped into another dimension that was replicating this one. I was to reside there for who knew how long. I already started making plans for how I would return to my home. I went even further off my rocker by conducting "tests" to learn more about this "altered universe". Gravity. . . check, able to think for myself. . . check, feel pain (OW!). . . check. I was already trying to locate the "open portal" from which I came until It then hit me, I finally saw the date. The realization of regaining my bearings came so subtley. It was still the same day I got back. Everything started to make sense to me. It was nighttime, my parents went to the store and my sister was at a friend's house, and the phone. . . .still didn't have a dial tone. That remains to this day an unsolved mystery...

your move, creep!

"Dead or alive, you're coming with me." Alex Murphy said it best right before taking out the scums of Detroit. This same quote is used by me to my food prior to consuming it. Our bodies are fascinating creations capable of infinite abilities. . . maybe just for running and sleeping. Either way, they still require consistent fuel. Sigmund Freud theorized that a man is driven by two things: food and sex. I will just elaborate on the food portion. We need it for our survival but it also can be enjoyed. The opening scene in Julie and Julia shows Julia in France for the first time. The chef brings out a flounder still on the pan. There is the cracking and sizzling along with the rich color. She goes in for a closer examination and turns her head as if on a high while gasping the words; "butter". The fish is removed from the pan onto her plate and she takes a bite, then gets so emotional that she shares it with her husband who then samples. Without any facial expression, he shakes his head and then admits to the food he already knew would be bliss by saying; "I know, I know". She continues to cry being confounded by how a dead fish could be so heaven sent. Or better yet the details and attention to the textures and colors of the peppers, chiles, and the meat in Tortilla Soup (freakin' amazing by the way) will make you salivate and want to cook like Hector Elizondo does. He plays this single father of three grown-up daughters. As a retired chef, he prepares this elaborate dinner for his family. Someday, I will be able to debone a goose and make that one French dish which I can't pronounce. . . .someday.  

quit stalling

I am a people person. . .somewhat, and compassionate towards my fellowman. However, there is something about using a public restroom that makes my skin crawl. I mean if you think about it you are sharing a room with strangers doing the business you were programmed and designed to do since birth. It might seem even worse if its in a room with people you know. Imagine trying to call someone or talking to a friend outside the door. Doesn't that just feel like they are violating a code or a natural law? I might be making this more awkward than this needs to be. A couple of years ago I worked graveyards at an airport. I had the private restrooms memorized and plotted out for when to use them. My "schedule" was clocked around when the rush of passengers would be arriving and leaving to use those. If they were occupied, I was done for and would have to make the hike several miles worth of walking to find an open private one. What can I say? I like my space and privacy. In basic training, you are never alone. There was a 20 stall bathroom and you only had five minutes at best to do your business and then run like the wind. With that I knew I had to overcome the "Monk" or OCDness inside me and just go with the rest . . . also I held it all in for the first 2 days. It wasn't so bad, that was until someone started to read aloud their letter from home mentioning that his girlfriend left him for a chef, and then he started to cry while on the toilet, and then others would try to comfort him WHILE ON THE TOILET. It started to feel like the Twilight Zone. I just remembered finishing, flushing, washing my hands and leaving the bathroom without saying a single word. Once I was outside, THEN I expressed my condolensces to the poor soldier. So for those who need to change their set of crying twin babies and find that the family restroom is locked and occupied, I apologize in advance.   

hello? . .is someone there?

Have you ever heard the microwave beep and realized you had nothing in there? Or heard some pots clanking even though you were the only one in the kitchen? Or has there ever been excessive static coming through a station and you tried to adjust the dial but heard the static was saying a name? Like the Truman Show. How about that feeling of being watched. The one that gets me is you are walking alone at night and you keep psyching yourself out by thinking there is an extra set of footsteps behind you. Or staring into a dark enclosure thinking you are seeing something there. Your mind tends to make up the rest but you are unsure if its imagined images or nothing at all.

The very mediocre tasks in the twilight hours can seem to be a heart pounding edge-of-your-seat thriller. Getting your groceries from the car at night can prove to be a challenge if you are very sensitive to your imagination. You walk from the bedroom to the kitchen turning every light on in the house as you go. Some even tend to bring their cat with them just so they are not alone. Its moments like these where we start to kick ourselves questioning why we saw that one movie with the big dude and the chainsaw or the teenagers being taken over by some unseen evil force in a cabin. Why? It's too late now. Once I was in a basement moving materials from one room to the next. It was quiet and a little uneasy. I knew that the moment I looked over my shoulders, I would be doing that every 2 minutes. I then tried to think of something to set my mind at ease from my paranoia.

 

The State of Arizona vs. Marquez Perez

Feeling guilty of something is a never healthy, but then again being guilty of something isn't any better. Getting repremanded can feel like a welt on the arm after someone slugs you. It burns at first but then you start to forget it was even there. I can be very self-conscious and would walk 500 miles out of my way just to fix beef with someone. Growing up was filled with the all too familiar "chastisement" credited toward my absolute off the wall, unharnessed raw energy (1.21 jiggawatts!!). I remember in 1st grade, I chased some kids on the playground without a shirt on. We we're playing a game called monster (it was pretty much tag) and I was "it". The playground patrol were all too familiar with my shenanigans and set up the usual tactical perimeter. They had the swingsets blocked off with barricades directing traffic while the parent volunteers kept a lookout from the roof like full fledged snipers. The monkey bars were closed, the slide with the "hot lava" at the bottom was closed as well. Kids were to stay frozen in position until the perpetrator was located and identified. I would hide near the tether ball courts until some kid ratted my position through screaming; "He's over here, there he is, get'em!" There might've been a helicopter flying overhead. Their walkie-talkies (yes, walkie-talkies this was the early 90's) would blar and buzz all throughout. They had their own codes and signals. Some of the mom's were wives of military men and already knew the battle drills. There was even a negotiator on site; "Listen, we just want you to put your shirt back on and come quietly." This was a big deal and I was on the run from the PTA. Eventually, I was caught and cuffed and sent to time out for a long hard sentence of 5 minutes. You just can't beat the system. Those were the facts and that was life. It wasn't so bad, sometimes I would get visitors while sitting on the edge of the sand box. They would come by to see how I was doing and then the patrol would say; "Times up! Keep moving!" They would then leave. My teacher would then be informed of my behavior who would ultimately have to bring it up to my parents. Up to this point it was like the supreme courts. I tried to appeal the charges but I would be pinned with the evidence and in consequence of my actions would recieve community service in the house through extra chores. It's a doggy dog world yo.

be careful how you word this

A couple of months ago, someone asked me what the first few years of marriage is like. It took me a moment to come up with something but I then related it to traffic merging. From the 9 am to the 5 pm rush, there is always a jam. The jam is the newcomers trying to get onto the main highway with the already existing travelers. Of course you want to slow down so that you do not have an accident. Imagine the challenge of forcing two different driving speeds into only two or three lanes. Once the traffic is consolidated, then they can move insync to the higher speeds. Getting frusturated with others on the road never really does anything productive except makes your dashboard a good punching bag, which could trigger setting your airbags off. Patience and being courteous will most likely make the "merge" successful without cursings or injuries. Every now and then you get the high rollers who zip by as fast as they can which can cause accidents and possibly road rage creating disaster and that is never a good scene. It is wise to communicate through using your blinkers to let others know what you are doing and where you are going. Paying attention to the conditions of traffic will protect you from fender benders and by reading signs and postings you'll be spared the headaches and frustrations.     

I freakin' heart these fools!

here

This definitely maps out most of my childhood moments. The NES first of all was probably one of the greatest inventions known to our planet. I can picture thousands of kids running to the Nintendo plant with thank you banners and such. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is by far the heartthrob of my youth. From sleepovers to the endless Saturday mornings. The source of bruised thumbs and many cursings for always dying at the dam scene trying to disable the underwater bombs to the shredder boss scene when he clones himself and you have to fight the real one out of the two. Moreover it was like a gateway drug leading to their action figures, their cartoon series, THE MOVIES. Seeing the gameplay brought me back to when kids and I at the playground would re-enact the fighting scenes at recess then ultimately be sentenced to time out for getting carried away. I had it all and it was glorious! The manufacturers and marketers for the franchise did a darn good job reeling me in as a youth consumer (even though it was my parents that bought it). I wanted to be a ninja turtle so bad growing up but learned real quick that the job was taken. I was so upset. Personally, I would have to say that out of the three for the NES, the first one was the hardest one. Most gamers would agree. There were no saves, the enemies would regenerate every time you came back and it was just straight up hard. When you're outside on the streets its map view. The second one was made into an arcade style format along with the third one. Great stuff. It's heritage to me.

you must be this tall

Standing there in the hot summer sun looking up at the rails and supports holding up the massive intertwined tracks I thought; "How the crap did I get myself into this?". Rollercoasters. They were like sandworms to me if I was Beetlejuice. From such a small age I disliked them to the 1,000th power. As a child I went on rides like Space Mountain and Star Tours to which my mom probably would have permanent nerve damage to her right arm from me giving her the death grip as I was catapulted all throughout. Since then growing up I was the one who would stay behind and miss out while others in my party would go on. Not this day however. . . I was in line waiting with a friend who was my unaware moral support. Honestly, this time nobody knew that I had this internal fear, so I tried to play it cool and get in line with them. Once again it goes back to the "How the crap did I get myself into this?" He then makes the suggestion that we should be in the very front. "Sure!" with the most faked enthusiasm. The lines move up. The ride swooshes past with deafening screams all twisted and up-side down above us as we're waiting. The anxiety started to intensify and there was no turning back. I started to get stomach cramps, cold sweats, and bad breath. Eventually we were seated and the bars went over our shoulders. I then out of desperation asked if I could "use the bathroom". "Too late dude, its about to start". Aw fetch! There was a loud clank, the motors were turning. A few yelps of excitement came from the back as we were pulling forward. Right away we ascended up to our doom. My "moral support" already bailed on me through screaming; "THIS IS IT WE'RE GONNA DIE". Cheezy signs are posted saying; "No turning back now". We reached the top and it slowly rode the rails to the descent. There was a moment of silence and tranquility. At that very second my spirit animal visited me in the form of a dolphin and told me that everything was going to be alright. No, I'm kidding just a distinct thought came to me with the lines of; "Keep your eyes open, you'll enjoy it". Instantly we went rocket turbo speed with the turns and loops and twists. I could hear someone's change fall out in the back seats. I thought I heard a girl choking the person to her right while screaming in Russian (that was not me). I was in another dimension and LOVIN IT! It felt like I found a cheat secret to a video game. Something changed in me that day. HALLELEUJAH (not sure if I spelled that right), I WAS CONVERTED!! After that, I went on every other ride. I then could partake with the rest of the fold. Like Bill Murray on the sailboat, I overcame my fears and sailed; "A-HOY!" I mean I just let the boat do all the work that was my secret.

when in doubt

Write a song. Whenever words are not enough there is always the ability to exercise the divine-given gift of producing melody. Music can be a great alternative to how we express ourselves. The world would be very different if we incorporated singing into our everyday activities. Imagine a construction site with a man singing in a opera voice; "CAN YOU HAND ME THE HAMMER?" or at a big corporate merger meeting; "OUR NUMBERS ARE DOWN AND WE NEED TO SELL!" Then everyone breaks into a musical. Without music there may never be vocal descriptions to give the other person a valid layout of our thoughts and emotions. It's like trying to describe salt to someone who has never tasted it. It's salty? Yeah, that doesn't help. Or a color to someone who is color blind. How would you do it?  9 times out of 10 you are most likely to get a date through singing your invite to them (I know I've tried it). I did the "L is for the way you look at me" deal. Or maybe I should've went all John Cusack by holding up the radio letting it play without saying a word on her lawn. She probably would not have understood the reference and would call the cops on me, or let the dog out. Singing has proven to mend broken relationships. Maybe that is because they are embarrassed for you by how you are so vulnerable and they take pity on you. What I've noticed though in most "chick-flicks" is that the guy and gal break up and then he shows up in the end and they make up and they live happily ever after. So maybe thats all there is to it. You just need to go away for a couple of hours and then come back and for sure she's yours. I don't know. Music is awesome!

now pick up your pencils and turn over your tests

Inspections can be tough. They are never good for those who procrastinate (like me). The stress from it might even take a few hours off your life. There are various moments where you are left standing and hoping all goes smooth. Some examples are having your parents making sure your room is clean, your restaurant is inspected by the health department, or even walking with an inspector to pass a portion of a concrete structure along with the rebar layout to assure its sound integrity. It's all the same. The attitude can be very awkward. Usually we as the ones receiving the inspection tend to by default side to the "butt-kiss" mode. This is where we try too hard to be nice. We stay clear out of their way like they are lepors. Not a word is said. We try to laugh with extra effort at something the inspector mentions or of course ask questions to ease the tension but in return just recieve one worded answers which then kills that option. This is not always the case but with me simply put, I can be a real dork. I dislike with a passion the times where you are done, finished, and totally on top of your game ready to get whatever it is your doing checked, and then that awful feeling of second guessing usually without fail comes up right as something is being checked. Like the "Oh crap, I forgot to" syndrome, where you are just then noticing every single deficiency that comes up right as the authoritarian is staring down your so-called completed task. The cherry on top is when they catch it and you don't. They give you the all too common look that could say something like; "What do you have to say for yourself?". Usually this is when I just shrink and say in a quiet high voice; "I'm innocent".  

Tom Petty said it best

Sitting there, bored, a little tired. If there is a painless form of torture, it would have to be waiting. What can you do? It can feel like an exile to limbo. Like Jack Sparrow you could possibly find yourself licking rocks and fighting with yourself over a peanut. Granted in waiting rooms there are T.V.s and magazines. Some even go to the extent of providing beverages and doughnuts. Regardless you are still chained to that seat until they call you in. As you sit there you start to find yourself memorizing the scene. You study the layout of the chairs, the labor rights posters, the people coming and going, and the staff interacting with the customers. What usually helps me is I make lists. I have this knack for creating almanacs of my life like where I've been, the schools I've attended growing up. Watching the clock can be a bad idea and it ends up becoming a dead end. Once you see it, you will be checking it every second. It's a trap, look away. . unless you absolutely need to. You could be social and meet those waiting with you. That lasts until they get called in and then you are back to where you started. Crossword puzzles and word searches are a plus to bring with you. What adds to the awful wait is anticipation. You're at school and are waiting in the principal's office or you're at the mechanics shop and you're already trying to decide if you'll need to take out a second mortgage. Yes, patience is a virtue, but at the same time we are a species that thrives to stay productive and moving. To stay in one spot for a long period of time is almost a silent threat to our right as humans to get up and make something happen. With that being said, waiting can suck.   

bite my lips and close my eyes

There is an all too familiar situation that comes into play with how we are approached by opportunities where it can intimidate us. Why is that? Life is too short for regret. What are we afraid of? Success? The realization that you could actually do something greater than you thought you could? The fact that you might not know how to deal with that realization? True, great things do not happen overnight but takes an honest effort, practice, and work. That does not mean its beyond reach. We may feel that we are small and pointless. Like our talents and gifts are irrelevant in the world. A possible feeling of "somebody has already done that 1,000,000 times better than I could ever do it" may cloud our ambitions. In the movie Coach Carter comes an inspirational speech from a teenager who throughout the entire movie was asked by the coach what his deepest fear was. After much trial throughout the story he paraphrased the reknowned quote from Marianne Williamson like this;

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our dark that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people don't feel insecure around you.We are all meant to shine as children do. Its not just in some of us; its in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsiously give other people to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. Sir I just wanna say thank you . . . You saved my life."

Take this man for example who pursued what he always wanted to do.



The fact is, nobody is a nobody. We all have something great. The gifts we have could save and benefit others. Through a chorus of a song titled "Someday" by Tegan and Sara comes a "what if?" perspective. Almost an invitation or challenge to push yourself to break those barriers of self-doubt and fear and make something happen. The theme of the song is a "you never know what might happen unless you take that step forward" or a "you never know who you might influence or whose lives you might touch".

"Might paint something I might wanna hang here someday
Might write something I might wanna say to you someday
Might do something I'd be proud of someday
Mark my words, I might be something someday"

2,190 days thus far. . .

To my life, my love, and my all. She is my beacon of hope and source of true companionship. This day marks the event where our destinies have been merged into one. We started with great anticipation and thrill and have continued to endure the everlasting tumbles of life and make it seem like earning a merit badge one at a time. She is my friend and partner in this earthly endeavor who I treasure and look forward to being with in the eternities. To think from humble beginnings we started with little and have worked side by side to make a home for ourselves. This one is for you honey. You are the wind beneath my wings.

no place to doze

Usually I know when I'm tired but I push the envelope thinking I am stronger than I really feel. Don't you hate that? You are sitting in a meeting and they are going over some stats with power point and there is a debate on an issue and meanwhile you are giving it everything you got to try to fight off the z monsters.

For me it starts with the stare. Oh yes, the "dead end" stare. Your eyes start to glaze over and you are seeing things a tad out of focus. If your hand is not supporting your mouth, that will likely hang down.

Then it escalates to your mind not making sense of things like how you wonder if there was a civilization out there where they balance rulers on their chins. Way left field kind of stuff. You have these outrageous ideas of  mathematics or memories thinking back when your car broke down that the cause was not from bad oil but from ten labradors trying to get out from under the hood. Then it passes into a semi-dream where you are oblivious to your surroundings until someone drops a thick book causing you to jolt up in front of everyone to enjoy.

There is also the automatic self-waker-upper, where if you are that tired but your body by reaction makes you twitch awake immediately. I've even fallen asleep while in conversation. . . to a question I asked that person! I was that tired once.

It doesn't stop there, I've fallen asleep while in motion--walking! All in all, sleep is good for the body and mind and required.

 Whether it's 3 hours or 10, we must all pay our dues sometime.

give'em room to pass

here

After seeing this film I will always have that uneasy feeling about who I pass on the highway, granted we pass hundreds of people a day on the road. . .but still. One things for sure is to never make eye contact with those you share the road with on that way to where ever it is you go. The character made known his existence without taken certain precautions. What a great idea though. The truck is not driven by the driver, but the truck is a living thing. There is no driver. When the protagonist tries to identify who is behind the wheel, he fails. That is the mystery of it all. There is a personality of the truck which mimics how a predator plays with it's food before feeding.
I loved how this was all simple and the very elements of horror were  out to the max. This kind of reminds me of when I would make the long hard commute on the I-476 in Pennsylvania every night after work. The hours would range from midnight to 2 am. No one was out there but me and the trucks. There were some where you could read their moods without knowing anything about them. You could tell if one was courteous, angry, or even humorous. There would be some who would give off mixed signals by honking at random times or putting on their high beams. I was never sure if they were trying to help me or sometimes threatening me. Maybe that was just me psyching myself out. What if though? Something about the trucker in the film was that it would antagonize. It was delivering fuel. Why would it waste it's time picking on that dude? Didn't it have someplace to go before it ran into him? Point being, try not to drive with a mustache while wearing aviators because the fit hit the shan for the main character.

the invention of the radio

Lessons learned. Have you ever thought you were invincible until something put you in your place? Story time. Throughout my growing up years I have used my mouth to produce varying sounds. As a child this drove my mom to Prozac, but with time and practice I eventually was able to turn these random sounds into organized beats and melodies. The beatbox: this, for me, was like a gateway to explore different sounds and styles of music. I first saw Rahzel on TV beat-boxing to Foxy Brown rapping and I thought; "Freak, if he could do it, then so could I." So I practiced all throughout 11th and 12th grade. I would just practice whenever I would lie awake and could not sleep or was doing something mundane. Yeah I got some weird looks more than a few times. I was so into perfecting the skill that a few caught wind of it and the word got out that the attention grew like a wildfire. In high school there was a battle of the bands concert that raised money for the Red Cross hosted through my crazy awesome English teacher (She will be described in greater detail on another day). I was somewhat shy about it, but I figured you only live once and volunteered. The night of the show there were bands from all over our school and community and finally the curtains came up and there I was. I rocked it! There was a standing ovation after I left the stage. It was great. I was so shocked by how well it went. Which brings me to about 7 years later while in college. A good friend of mine is one of the most outgoing people I have ever met. In fact, he was studying to be a journalist and had aspirations of becoming an anchorman for a huge news broadcast station. Someday I'll be able to see him on TV and say to my kids "oh yeah I know that guy." Anyway, his brother had a school project where he hosted this sort of late night television show, like Conan or Leno. There was a live band and he'd have special guests. There was even musical numbers in between. He had it to the tee. He met up with me once and asked if I would like to be on his show, I agreed and mentioned about the beat-boxing talent I had. He grew excited and thought of getting others with the same abilities. Up to this point I had a secret pride about my "gift" and always thought of being the best even though my "outward modesty" wouldn't show it. The night of the show there were three others with me. They had us decide which order we'd go in. I believe I was third to perform. So the lights come on and we all sit on a couch waiting while the first one goes up. He is very decent and did a great job but I thought I had this in the bag until the second act got out there; "AY-YO HOW MANY OF YOU HEARD MY STUFF? IF NOT, AFTER I DO MY THING YOU'LL BE A FAN." Wow, such confidence. He started with the beat which sounded pretty good, he then imitated a voice on a record getting scratched, the crowd blew up with cheers and it was epic. He had the floor. How could I go up after that? No turning back now. I had a mental set list with what I would do and WAS mentally pumped and then I psyched myself and lost the fire right before going up. I went up and fell short. I even thought I saw a few heads shaking in disapproval. I was humbled and learned that I got served. I made it enough to get the sympathy cheer and that was that. I still like to imitate music but I learned something powerful that evening. . . there is always a bigger fish. Now that I remember it, the fourth act was even more insane with the skill and even the one before me looked upset to lose.

drop the watch and ride

Motorcycles. . . how sad would the world be without them. Think of the simplicity of how two wheels and a motor with an attitude can create so much passion. The sleek feel of the chassis with the rider, its poetry. If you could imagine the thrill of it all. Lets say you're leaving work walking in the parking garage about to go home and there it is a brand new bike with the keys left in the ignition. You approach it and find a note. Reading the note you learn that it is actually an invitation for you to take it. You're looking around thinking its all a joke until you see that it addresses your name on the invite. You give up trying to make sense of it all and mount it. Like the Matrix, you suddenly have a rush of knowledge on how to ride. The key turns, the lights come on, and then the red button is depressed and it roars to life. The revving of the throttle with the flick of the wrist. You then drop it in gear and release the tension of the clutch and roll on out. You crawl forward exiting the garage then slowly approaching a stop sign. Looking both ways, the coast is clear. You proceed to move on then build up the speed to the next gear pulling in the clutch. The wind is kissing your face until pretty soon its surging at you making you feel like you are going light speed as you enter the open highway. The road bends and curves and you ride them through as if you are one with the road, weaving in and out of them while looking past the turns. You are in the top gear. The ocean is to your left and a wall of rock cliffs to your right. The scent of the air has a hint of salt. You see a lighthouse by the beach. You continue on and there are more riders up ahead. You catch up and join their party. You have sunglasses and a leather jacket all of a sudden. The surroundings shift as you cruise onward. Red rocks everywhere, there is a diesel locomotive on one side and a stampede of wild stallions on the other. They are in sync with you. The train lets out the horn and the horses press on and shaking the earth as they go. You feel the power and glory of the desert road leading you into the sunset. The sky has colors of fire orange surrounded by strawberry red with voids of blue for what is left. You tear up thinking that it just might be a dream and you better well not wake up just yet.

look before you speak

Have you ever called someone by their name and was corrected by that person that that wasn't their name? Or mistakened siblings as a married couple? Oh how about this one, saying something right after somebody already mentioned that? The awful thing about blurting something out, is that you can never take it back. I know I've had my fair share of botched moments speaking without relecting on what the outcome would look like. Maybe it's the constant ongoing busy-ness of communicating right at that moment. There's no dry run, it's just go go go. It could be so busy that there is not enough time to think carefully before responding. Once at a work Christmas party I went to. I ran into an old friend. We caught up on the latest and greatest with past projects. I noticed that he had a drink in his hand and he seemed to have given me more credit than I deserved by laughing excessively at my jokes. I thought; "Nice, an easy crowd". Then as we continued talking I started to feel like the laughter was rigged. Like my jokes really weren't that funny and anything would make him roll on the floor crying out loud in bellows of delight. We continued on, then his girlfriend asked me in a joking manner if he was bothering me. I responded to something along the lines of; "Oh no, he's actually a lot nicer when he's drunk." He then stopped laughing and looked very confused. Then in the most sobering tone, said to me; "I'm not drunk". They then wrapped it up and said goodbye. There is a banner or a title that could speak for the story of my life which would say; "My name is Marquez Perez and I'm a dork" I say it to my wife almost everyday. Another instance was when I went to Canada at 17 years old. I was at the customs station waiting in line. The officer gave me a snarling look like I was a runaway. "Have you been to Canada before?" I agreed that I had been. Only it did not stop there - OF COURSE IT DIDN'T. I then told her that I lived there for a month with my friend's aunt and uncle. Before I continue with this, let me just point out that at a border patrol station the words "staying" and "living" dramatically mean two different things. So anyways, she then pulled a double take and questioned the word "lived". I thought she was going to pull her gun out on me. I then tried to redo the past by saying that I stayed, it was too late though. "Pull over there, dismount your bike, and step into our office". I was there for a grueling two hours being grilled, questioned, and interrogated about the same stuff they asked me earlier. Finally, they were convinced that I was simply "visiting" and they let me go, BUT WOW. What a pain in the neck! It'd be nice to freeze time at every response you were about to make and then you could proofread your answers before speaking them aloud thus preventing the possible humiliation that comes with not-so-smart choice of words and phrases. Maybe that is what makes life so rich. Without the mistakes, how would we grow? Or learn to speak better? We would be too hesitant to say anything and it most likely would not be from the heart. Just forgive yourself for the casualties along the way.