Quiet Birthday, But Awesome. :)

So I had an incredibly awesome birthday this week. In fact, I'd venture to say it was the best one I've ever had. I don't ever recall actually "celebrating" my birthday. When I was little, it was just another day to get presents. As I grew up, I realized that it's not really about the gifts, but instead thought it was silly that someone would give you things just because you've stayed alive for another year.

Now I know better. My 25th anniversary of being born opened my eyes to a lot of the things I never knew I was missing in life. I got off work at about 4am on the morning of my birthday. On a typical day here, I will leave work and head to the gf's room and wait patiently (ok, not so patiently) for her to swing by for some early morning work distractions. I figured it would be the same for this day, but I would be wrong. Instead when I got to her room, I opened the door to see a little microwavable birthday cake with a candle, lit in the middle of the room. The gf was waiting behind the door, and gave me a big hug and a "happy brithday" whisper in my ear. My first thought was something along the lines of 'what did I do to deserve this much awesomeness?'. We ended up sharing the cake sitting on the floor, with the only light coming from the glow of her laptop screen. Romantic, right? Hell yes it was.

A lot of things that I think about from day to day were once again confirmed as I was munching on cake, completely in love with the woman sitting across from me. I'm sure there are skeptics that would say that it's too soon to know if it really is love. Well, who are they to define it? I don't think that there is a single definition for love, because it's an indescribable emotion really and it's different for everyone. The only thing I know is that all of my fears, all of my worries, and my eternally cynical mind are all sedated when I see her smile. Everything is right in my world when she takes my hand, and it warms me inside. Dear god this is getting mushy.

You know what? This one will stay mushy.

Welcome to December, and welcome to life.

It's strange how life events will teach you things about yourself. On December 1st, my grandfather passed away in his sleep. It's been coming for a long time, and he even exceeded the doctors' expectations by over 5 weeks. He went just the way he wanted, sleeping in his bed at home after a long life full of adventure, chaos, and most importantly; love. Most people would grieve, and mourn the loss of such a great man. I just don't have that in me. Instead I reminisce about how privileged I was just to know him, and remember the years of wisdom that he instilled in me. I am sad for my grandmother however, who lost her life partner. They were married for 57 years, just 31 days shy of 58. I don't know what she's going to do now, and I don't look forward to the day that I go through that kind of loss.

I have always felt the need to show emotional strength, wear a coat of armor around my heart if you will. I am frustrated that I'm not as sad as everyone else to be honest, because I feel less human somehow. It's not that I don't care, it's that I don't see death the same way that most people do. However in turn, it disheartens me that I can't empathize with my loved ones so I end up sad anyways.

This is the time that I would shut myself off to the world, go cold and bottle everything up. I've always had to deal with my mental issues and stress on my own, mostly due to my own stubbornness. People always reach out to me, but because I have already shut down emotionally I shun them. This became painfully obvious this week when I tried to push away the one person that matters. I was short fused and unnecessarily rude... maybe even spiteful. I didn't even notice until she called me on it. There is no excuse for something like that, and not the kind of person that I want to be. I'm grateful that she brought it up, because it made me get to the root of this emotional ineptitude.

What I have figured out so far: I am not used to having someone that I KNOW I can rely on in a time of massive stress. I've got friends that will always listen, even when I'm being retarded (lookin at you AJ)... but never someone so close. I always have made myself project an image of stability and relative logic and sanity. I feel that if I'm not in control, I am useless. I hate feeling weak, and I really don't like people seeing me sad. So what do I do?? I push people away and isolate myself until I get over it so they don't see the chinks in the armor that I've built up my whole life.

The good news? I finally DO have someone that won't see me as "weak" or less of a man because I get sad every once in a while. I'd certainly like to be happy all the time, but it's not going to happen. That would be inhuman. And now that I've been called on my shenanigans, I can work on accepting the fact that it's okay to have feelings, and it's okay to lean on those you love. It won't happen over night, but it will happen.

So Steph, when you read this... I'm sorry that I pushed you away from me and acted like an ass. That won't happen again, I can't afford to drag you under when all you are doing is helping me stay afloat. Thank you for being there for me, even when I didn't -think- I needed you. (I was wrong, in case that wasn't balatantly obvious.) We'll make it out of here in spite of everyone being against us, because we can.

And to everyone else that reads this blog, which I know is a small number... Thank you, too. Thanks for not letting me drown in my thoughts, and for being there when it matters. I truly appreciate it. :)

Has the world gone mad?

I sit and ponder this simple notion on a daily basis. Has the world gone insane, or is it just me? I seem to wage wars in my own mind over whether or not my sense is common, or if it is in fact the result of some eccentric thought pattern that I possess and implement with regularity. A common complaint of the human condition, is that people don't "understand" one another. I think that this stems from a lack of wanting to be understood. The brain is the only place that you can obtain true individuality, and to share that with others might negate the conscious effort to be "special."

Is it a reasonable action to grant someone access into your private thoughts? The ones you hide from society, your family and friends, perhaps even your dog. I believe that there is a location inside the self that contains all of a persons' unabridged hopes, fears, expectations, and harsh lessons learned. Theologians place this center in the heart, Scientists consider it the brain, and still others simply define this as the soul, or total being. In order to let someone pick apart your thoughts, there has to be an unmatched amount of trust involved. Trust that the observer/listener won't take your thoughts and hold them against you, slander your name, or use your own thoughts as fodder for your destruction.

For someone that has little faith in humanity as a whole, this is a colossal task. My soul is buried deep under layers of black humor, wit, sarcasm, and a general aversion to people that I don't know. I'd like to figure out exactly how to give someone the ability to walk around and view my thoughts as if they were an organized group of pictures, ideas, and philosophies. As it stands now, I have trouble verbalizing my idiosyncrasies to those I care about, because often they are mistranslated somewhere in between my cerebrum and my mouth. I bet it's the nose that the information gets distorted in. Damn nose. Either way, the verbage that falls from my sharp tongue could probably be considered mentally profound daft. I can't begin to describe the nonlinear thought patterns that govern the traffic of my mind, that no logical person could ever follow. There are no maps, no directions, and most of the time no real explanations. All I can offer are fragmentary hints at reason, that might or might not even be correctly percieved and cling to the hope that my loved ones aren't put off by my quixotic nature.

Maybe I'm crazy, maybe I'm not. You might be the crazy one, for all I know.

Trust.

I think it's fair to say that I am a middle of the road, average person [not really]. However, my childhood was neither hard, nor easy. There are many times in my life that I have had to rely on my trust for people, and humanity in general, and they/it have failed me. I tend to never learn anything the simple way, but always by harsh lesson to be taught by the coldest of personalities.

From the ages of 15, to well... a few weeks ago, I had only really trusted a quantity of people that I could count on one hand. I have relied on myself for happiness, which has been slightly difficult to attain. In theory, I know all the keys to happiness and a life full of laughter and glee. In practice, I have found that I am apparently full of shit and just lying to myself. It should be easy, I think. I think. Perhaps that is the source of my problems in general... having an over-active brain. My brain sabotages itself repeatedly, filling with bile and hatred, imagining scenarios that have less that a .001% chance of ever happening. Those are the ones that play out fully in my mind, and take up most of my active thought. "Stop doing that" is some great advice, if I could figure out how.

The reason I bring this all up, is because I'm trying a totally different approach right now. The wonderfully amazing woman that I am seeing, makes me want to give real trust a try. The situation that we are in is more complicated than calculus to a pre-schooler. There are a lot of things in the next few months that are going to try me as an individual, as a boyfriend, and as a man in general. I hope that I can rise to the challenge, because the potential is too great to quit on. A lot of people would say I'm foolish, rushing into things, not considering the outcome, and just having a general disregard for what is reasonable. Well, who cares. Maybe I am, but this is where I am right now. I am putting everything that I am on the line, and if this fails it will be the biggest blow to my heart I've ever experienced.

I am resilient, of strong character, and I have an unsubstantiated faith that everything will turn out alright in the end like a cheesy hollywood movie. It figures that the biggest influences in my life are teachings of people that lived hundreds of years before me, in a different culture altogether. The Dalai Lama (thanks AJ), Buddha, Bob Marley, and other influential people to the world. So, I'll cross my fingers, hold my breath, knock on wood and try not to find any black cats to cross my path for the next 16 weeks.

Ready, go.

Letters Again.

These are to the people that live with or around me, I've had just about enough.

To all concerned:

First off, I know that there are actually NONE of you that are concerned about the 3 of us in the building that have to sleep during the day, thanks to our night work schedules. So we'll skip ahead to the personal attacks.

Dear Roommate,

Dude. I understand that your wife is a controlling psycho, and should probably invest in a ball gag. This is based on what I can pick up from your daytime shout matches en espanol, that makes me sound like I am on the set of a Puerto Rican soap opera. I swear to god I'm going to take apart your computer at night while you sleep, and disable your video card. And if you could please not leave your wet laundry hanging over MY bed, that would be cool as well. Oh, and maybe one more thing. Go see a medic, as soon as possible. There is something wrong with shitting yourself as hard as you do in your sleep. I saw your sheets fly off the bed one time man, that ain't right. I think it's aids.

Dear Guy Across the Hall,

Motherfucker. If you keep yelling to my roommate from your side of the building at lunchtime, I'm going to stab you. No warning, you are getting shanked in the hallway. He doesn't even like you anyways, which is why he doesn't answer. (or he is on skype screaming at his wife, again) This of course, only makes you louder to the point that you bang on the door. Keep it up champ, keep it up.

Dear Guy in the Room to My Left,

Come on man, everyone locks their keys in their place at least once in their lives. You apparently do it on purpose, because every day at some random time you must scale the plywood walls that surround our domociles, knocking shit off of my shelf and onto my head. Because you insist on always wearing the correct uniform (tool), I'm going to tie your key to a long string. The other end is going on your boot, so your key is forced to follow you around like a small child. If you fail at that, I'm just going to make it so your door doesn't ever lock. No one is going to steal your shit you asshat, which is why everyone leaves their doors open anyway.

Dear Guy in the Room to My Right,

Where the fuck did you get your lightbulb? I imagine you picked it up directly from the FUCKING SUN! Seriously, how is it that in the middle of the day, your light generates more power than what goes on outfuckingside. I get blasted with photons right about the time I'm trying to sleep because your wombat eyes won't adjust to natural light, and you can for some reason never find any of your shit.

Dear Guy Somewhere Down the Hall,

Yeah you know who the fuck you are, stop playing your cheesy ass mariachi bullshit in the mornings. "Ay, ay, ay ayyyy" doensn't pump anyone up. I want to gorilla stomp your radio back to its natural elements. Except for plastic, which does not exist in nature. But I digress, NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR YOUR MUSIC, that's why headphones were introduced to the modern world. Get on it dude.

Dear Rooster That Used to Live Outside my Window,

You were delicious.

More letters, more random people.

Dear Guy next to me at the bar,

Shut the fuck up. Really dude, I don't care that you are going to an orphanage to cook stew in the Ukraine. I'm far more concerned about this 1/2 price shot with every beer that they have going on right now. This is why I showed up to the airport early, not to talk to your Fabio haircut with non- Fabio face, guy.

Dear Japanese Musical Chair Representative,

Boarding the plane isn't a gameshow, you twat. Just because there are 39 people in your group, who all want to decide their own seats, regardless of the indicated location on their GOD DAMN TICKET, you caused our flight to leave 18 minutes late. Guess what fuckstick, you caused me to miss out on the noodle house in Tokyo. I hate your fucking face, and if I see your clip-board, I'm punting it.

Dear Everyone at Tokyo Narita Airport Today,

Really? REALLY? I still don't understand how people refuse to get into lines. It's a proven psychological fact that humans will stand in lines when they are present, even if they don't know why! Come on people, get it together. You do realize that there are 67 fucking rows on this airplane, right? Thanks for making that plane late too, by resembling a massive goat rodeo, with no clowns to keep you all organized.

Dear Northwest Airlines,

I regret to inform you that you in fact, suck ass. Not only are your planes the temperature equivalent of a holocaust oven, but your flight nazis (ahem, i mean... attendants) are rude. That doesn't sit well for a restless guy on an 11 hour flight. Especially when you short change my $5 alcoholic beverage by not giving me the WHOLE FUCKING SODA. It's a can of soda lady, don't fuck me on this one...they took my lube at security.

Dear makers of the movie "The Fall",

It's called rehab guys, look it up. That Robert Downy Jr character should still be there, he can show you around. Your movie made Amy Whinehouse look like normal enough to consider marrying. Shit, maybe it's ME that should lay off the booze.

Update.

Alright so this thing is in need of an update. Bear with me here, this might not be in any specific order.

First, and update on the girlfriend. Yeah, I'm calling it like it is. We've been talking enough to decide that it would be worth it to give it a shot as a couple. I don't have any secrets with her, which is nice. I'm still going to have to work on the trust thing, but that's a constant battle with me anyways. There is a lot of potential though, and I realize that I'm putting my heart on the line again, and could possibly get crushed. That's alright with me though, it's better than sitting on the sidelines forever. I like the person that I am right now, and she likes me for me.

Still been trying to figure out how to go about things after the deployment is over though, there are so many things to consider. We are taking things slowly though, and letting things play out on their own. Having a smart person of the other side of a relationship makes it so much easier.

My grandfather is still alive, and still making jokes.

I'm completely tired of the army's bullshit. It'll be another week before I can fly, so I'll just sit here and wait I guess. Only about 5 months to go though, I can't wait.

More later maybe, I'm going to take a nap.

Well, yeah.

[I wasn't sure if I was even going to post this, but then I considered the fact that everyone who reads this is a friend. I wrote this on the plane ride home, after the very last time I will ever see him.]

The bravest man I have ever known

His name is Edward Rich Jr, and he is truly a man among men. He is also my grandfather. Ever since I can remember, I have been in awe of him. I grew up half-listening to the stories he would tell my dad and his brothers about his life, not fully realizing just how amazing a life it was. He defined what it is to be a citizen of the world and a servant of mankind, something that more people should learn. He held jobs in the local, state and federal government. A part of more organizations than I can count with my hands, nothing has been too large a task for him. He taught me to never look down on anyone, but also never to look up either. Look at everyone as your equal, he said. You can learn something from everyone.

He is staring down the barrel of the loaded gun called life, with the promise of death. Still, he does not tremble. He does not cry and beg for mercy, he merely holds his head up high and smiles. Only a man that has truly lived can laugh at death, and not be burdened with guilt or sadness. I hope that as I grow older and [hopefully] wiser, I will face life with the same amount of courage. Saying goodbye to him for the very last time didn’t feel like much of a goodbye, really. He’s convinced that we will all meet again in the next go ‘round, and I am inclined to believe him.

When I told him that I would pour a shot out for him when he passes on, he chuckled. He told me that such things aren’t to be wasted, and if I want I can pour an extra shot in a glass, and drink it myself. The world will be losing a friend, and my family will be losing an icon and the cornerstone of greatness. He leaves behind a legacy however, of kindness, passion, intelligence, and a love of life that is unrivaled.

Things in my life that I credit to that great man; my love of science and the ability to understand it, an unbridled curiosity for how things work, the ability to bring the child in me everywhere, my sense of humor and sharp wit, a love of travel, and perhaps most importantly… my own love of life and everything in it. I am determined to become something great, even if only a few people will know it as I lay on my deathbed.

“Courage is not the absence of fear; it is merely the ability to recognize fear and walk forward boldly anyway.”

Ugly

[I didn't write this, just found it to be a good read]

Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and, shall we say, love.

The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly. To start with, he had only one eye and where the other should have been was a hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.

Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby, striped type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, and even his shoulders. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one UGLY cat !”

All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction.

If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness.

Whenever he spied children, he would come running, meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love.

If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.

One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor’s dogs. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.

As I picked him up and tried to carry him home, I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. It must be hurting him terribly, I thought.

Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear. Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying, was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring.

Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion. At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.

Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly.

Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.

Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, beautiful, but for me…I will always try to be Ugly.

~ author unknown

I punched a girl in the face

Let me give you some backstory. Last night, my friends and I had tickets to go to a metal concert (As I Lay Dying.) We got to Seattle just before dark, and parked the truck in one of the many shady parking areas downtown. We get out, and immediately a vagrant comes up talking like Willy James Huff. Go Seattle.

The line wraps around the whole damn block, so we walk to the end and have to deal with the various types of people that inhabit this foul city, and also the people that go to these shows when it's all ages. The metal kids, the punks, the skinheads (music type, not neo-nazi,) the PARENTS of said children, and of course we can't forget... the homosexuals in angel outfits handing out flyers for the circus.

We finally get in the door, and I make my way to the bar. I drink through the first two bands, because why the hell not. I have established a good buzz at this point, as evidenced by the need to relieve myself. I look for the bathroom, it's on the other side of the mosh pit. No other way to get there. I looked at one of my buddies and said " I'll meet you at the front for a.i.l.d. "

I moshed my way to the bathroom.

I came out of the bathroom, and started to make my way to the stage. I am now at the front edge of the mosh pit, so people are slamming into my back. Whatever, it's a metal concert. I turned around and started throwing people around too, now that I'm finally heavy enough to push the emo kids around. It was great, for a minute. Some girl comes flying across the floor at me, looks.. and punches me right in the cash and prizes. That is NOT cool. I push her like I would anyone, and bend over slightly to tend to my now bruised testes. I see her swinging her arms around again as she come running at me with intent to repeat her last action. So I squared up, and punched her in the face. Not a death blow, but a good jab. Right in the mouth. Everyone around us stopped, but they saw what she did the first time, and the people continued with the show. That girl left the mosh pit, and probably have lips that you have to pay for in hollywood right now.

Me, I have slightly bruised testiculars and the satisfaction of instant karma.



*Disclaimer- I am not advocating violence against women, but some people deserve to get hit in the mouth. I merely acted to serve the greater good, as she will probably not hit a guy in the junk anymore. Think what you want of me, you'd have done the same.

Weekend in the snow.

Well, I went snowboarding for the 2nd time on this long weekend. I've gotten a lot better since starting out two years ago, but I have a long way to go. I have realized that there are some things that are better started as a child, and one of these things is snowboarding. I'm far too afraid to take risks as an adult, and that bothers me a little. Going 40mph down an icy mountain probably would have been sweet when I was 10. I did it today, and I thought I was going to cry. I even remember thinking to myself, man... I am probably going to injure myself here. That's not the frame of mind to be in going that fast. Self doubt? Maybe. Intelligence? Perhaps. Could even be a mix of both. The problem that I am finding more and more, is how do I visualize the positive in the heat of the moment? When it's all on the line, how do you push through? I think that's something to work towards. More on this later.

A few topics to discuss.

Starbucks gets a gold star for last week in my book. I'm already addicted to the "Changa" bagel, it's awesome on an entirely new scale for breakfast foods. Anyways, they have a device for your coffee cup when you get it to go. It's basically a plug that you insert into the tiny hole that prevents the liquid inside from splashing out when you drive as recklessly as I do. Way to go, SB.

Now, carwashes. You know, the drive through-touchless-retardedly easy ones. I'm in line to go through, and there is a lexus in front of me. First, this car can't seem to fit it's skinny tire through the slot that it needs to go in. 2nd try gets it. I notice it's a woman driving, which makes me laugh. Not all women are bad drivers, but this one... holy cow. Then, as the rollers come behind her tire to push the car forward, the car bumps up into the air! WTF, SHE HAD IT IN PARK! Now, if that wasn't bad enough, it took her AND 4 attendants about two whole fucking minutes to get her car into neutral. Yeah, that lady fails at life. If you can't negotiate a car wash, you don't deserve a license.

Finally (for this post) we come to American apprehension. I was walking out of Target this weekend, there was a vagrant looking man in the parking lot by my car. he was taking pictures of something in the parking lot, and I thought to myself "I hope I don't have to talk to this guy." I walked to my car anyways, laughing on the inside because I have a gun and this guy probably doesn't. As I get closer, I notice his camera is actually really nice, and he's just taking pictures of seagulls. I'm instantly at ease with this, knowing that he's just a typical Washington Hippie, not a serial killer. Maybe. Anyways, I get into my car and watch a mid-twenties asian woman walking toward her car, which is right next to the guy taking pictures of birds. (Mind you, he's not even facing her.) She gets a panicked look on her face, and walks back into the store she came out of. Wow. How has it come to this? Are we all really afraid of strangers? The terrorists may have won, or our parents just fucked us up when we were little. Who knows.

Writing Again. (An Introduction)

Thanks to the persistent chicken pecking from one of my best critics, I am finally in the mood to write again. We'll see how long I can keep this up. This blog is dedicated to my former life, as a reasonable, quiet, and sensible person. My life is now full of adventure, hope, and recklessness to the point of "this is probably a bad idea." I won't hold back in this blog because hey, it's not even my real name.

Life is full of funny, so enjoy...