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

may we grow to be a tree

Every once in while my family and I visit my grandfather. It started out with just me visiting him when I was working for a summer in Phoenix. My dad gave me his number and I was put back into contact with him. It started as a weekly visit to go out to eat, walk the temple grounds, and get ice cream. We had some neat endeavors. He is very ripe in his old age and seldom gets visitors. Once he asked me that he wanted to see the city at night. So we drove from one end to the other. His eyes lit up with excitement and wonder as the city he knew in younger days was no more but a monstrous gathering of belt routes and high towers. In the temple visitor center all the missionaries would gather around him as he would always have stories to tell. They marveled at his descriptions of his past while being out in the middle of the desert, or in the army. He always likes to reiterate to me what to order him for dessert, even though I have ordered the same thing countless times. It has been almost three years now and we still visit him, though he is weaker. That still does not stop him from having a good time. This one's for you Bob.

peeling off a bandaid

It is really hard at first to try stay head above water. Maybe not with just finances but everything. We are in a world where things rust, corrode, and accumulate unpleasantness (like interest). Take the chores for example, you walk by the trash almost everyday. You see the grass, the dog bowl, the kitchen sink. You know when you are being honest with yourself. You start to feel that nagging in the back of your conscience. But you tell yourself; "Oh it will be alright, I will take care of it tomorrow, I promise." Pretty soon, tomorrow becomes this weekend which then turns into next week, and before you know it you are freakin' swamped. There is no way out but to "face the blood" and just deal with it. I can see why people may incorporate alcohol when it comes to opening their credit card statements (for me its clam juice with pepper,some vinegar, dallop of mayo,root beer and a hint of tabasco). There's only one way from not going down and thats going up! When I have mental to-do-lists, it overpowers me with dreaded anxiety and it takes over my emotions and the will to move forward. There is a solution that I have found though, knowledge is inspiring, just by listing the things to be done is 99.99999998% of the battle. Think of it like a band aid, it has to come off sooner or later, so just bite your lip and go for it!

my spanish inquisition

"CONFESS! CONFESS!" I do not enjoy the phrase; "The principal needs to see you," I was summoned in a large room with other kids my age. We were waiting, but for what? We waited and waited with anxiety thinking we were in some serious trouble. One of the security guys comes in and was like; "What is everybody doing here?" We could barely muster up any words to explain. He then brought up an issue. "We need to know who has defaced school property". I knew inside that I wrote my name under my desk and even did a doodle as a sort of tradition but never thought it would get me this far on the menace-to-society scale. No one said a word. "Anyone?" The cricket even held his peace. "OK, I see how it is. No one wants to talk. We will just have to inspect the classrooms and the desks all ourselves. If we find something and learn its from you, suspension indefinitely," Still no one said anything. I was like that kid on the old Corn Pops commercials how you overplay things in your head and panic about getting in trouble and then seeing it escalate to being a runaway and then state prison. He dismissed all of us with that but knew that if we were found guilty of our expressed artwork, it would be over. I then out of desperation raised my hand to admit my crime. He looks amused then asks if anyone else has something they want to share. About the rest of the room raised their hands. It was over the relief swooped in for I could taste the freedom of my pardon and continue to be a citizen of that junior high. "I gotta have my pops,"

yeah, it was definitely something i ate

Ever had those dreams where you are falling and your legs get really tense along with the G's tightening your stomach? What about the ones where you are playing cat and mouse from some creature you saw from Ghostbusters and if you move or make a noise, it will find you? I had this one dream where the T.V. in the living room exploded into thousands of pigeons flying everywhere. It was quite entertaining. Have you ever had the ones where you're aware that you're in a dream and try to wake up? You do wake up...or so you think you woke up but it turns out that your room is not what its supposed to look like. So you try to wake up from that dream and then end up in another dream.

Once I dreamt that I was walking through a neighborhood and Chazz Palminteri (Common in mob movies) met up with me on the sidewalk. He was like; "You gotta a lotta nerve showing your face around here. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? THINKING YOU CAN COME AROUND HERE?", He paused and we both just stood there for maybe a good 10 minutes without saying a word. Then it got a little weird because he started to ask me if I had 5 bucks he could borrow. I replied that I left my wallet in the real world. He was like; "Ok, see you later." So that was interesting!