I am tempted to start a new blog because I don't like where this one is going. I mean honestly. I don't even know what kind of an audience I would even want. But I will not. I will continue with this until I find something to tell all the people out there.
Monday, June 6, 2016
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Music
I like music and who the hell doesn't. Now, although I would love to be a music expert I don't have the capacity to keep all that information in my brain. I do however place music up there with things that I love because music can instantly remind me of past times and helps me look at the present and imagine the future. I realize I sound super corny but it's true.
Well, that's all I will write today. I'm trying to keep my blogs short but I have a tendency to ramble on. Maybe this should just be a private blog... That's a thought.
On either my 8th or 9th birthday my parents got me a tape recorder that I had seen at the store. It was the hot pink street beat tape recorder. The recording deck was key to my musical past time of listening to tasty beats. I would do homework and at the same time I would listen to the radio and hit record when I would hear a song I liked. I'm sure this is the story for millions of children everywhere around 1994. I had several mix tapes that I created. I believe in those early years I would listen to Weezer, Lisa Loeb, The Cranberries and Bush. I was pretty much into alternative. I would listen to the 94.5 the Edge and my favorite show became the Adventure Club with Josh. I think most of my recording sessions took place on Sunday nights during broadcast of that show.
Well, that's all I will write today. I'm trying to keep my blogs short but I have a tendency to ramble on. Maybe this should just be a private blog... That's a thought.
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
This could've been a 90's kid rehash but meh.
I'm not as enthusiastic about this as I was last week. It's already become a chore. This is why I suck at life. I can't stick to something for long enough for me to actually be even familiar with it. I'll just write something quickly in hopes that the routine will stick.
So the summer has started! Unofficially anyways, yesterday was Memorial Day so. I'm excited about summer. Let me tell you about summer, I never used to like when I was a kid because I wasn't allowed to go outside. My mother just didn't want to deal with other kids, and I guess we lived in a rough area. I would mostly spend my summertime watching TV or playing video games on the Nintendo. For the last about four years though, I've actually done summer things. I like the summer now. I'm trying to jam pack as much shit as possible for the summer but right now I am feeling pretty tired already. Perhaps my age is kicking in? Possibly. Stay tuned.
So the summer has started! Unofficially anyways, yesterday was Memorial Day so. I'm excited about summer. Let me tell you about summer, I never used to like when I was a kid because I wasn't allowed to go outside. My mother just didn't want to deal with other kids, and I guess we lived in a rough area. I would mostly spend my summertime watching TV or playing video games on the Nintendo. For the last about four years though, I've actually done summer things. I like the summer now. I'm trying to jam pack as much shit as possible for the summer but right now I am feeling pretty tired already. Perhaps my age is kicking in? Possibly. Stay tuned.
Friday, May 27, 2016
Mua!
Now, that I have 3 posts under my belt I feel like the theme of this blog is yet to be determined. So far it is me just talking about whatever comes to mind. I told a coworker about how sometimes people tell me about stuff that I did in the past and I have no recollection of it or the recollection is pretty different than what they were saying. I watch PBS so I have seen those specials on the brain and how when you remember something you are really only remembering the last time you remembered it. Well that sucks for me because I have a hard time remembering anything. I think partly this is why I want this blog to work, so I can remember how stupid I was/am.
I used to keep a journal my freshman year of high school and I would write at least weekly. I am not sure what I would write about because it's not like I had a ton of boyfriends or even went out much. I imagine it was mostly music I would write about, who knows at this point because I threw the journal away. I think I had only written in it for about a year and then I forgot about it. When I was a senior in high school I found it again and as I read it I became so embarrassed of the things that I wrote in there that I had an immediate urge to get rid of the evidence of my weirdness. I mean even though I wasn't very interesting back then if a guy kissed me or if we made out, I would write in detail what happened. I am rolling my eyes as I type this because I ... well honestly I don't even know what to say next because you can imagine what a hormonal 14-15 year old sounds like. Or maybe you can't I don't know. I just remember I was embarrassed to read about my younger self. I had detailed my conquests with such detail it makes me cringe and I get embarrassed again. I can't remember exactly what I wrote but I imagine it sounds as stupid as my journal from middle school which unfortunately I didn't toss. That journal only has a few pages to read, but my 13 year old self had a lot of opinions and a lot of crushes. Also when I was thirteen I had my first kiss, which I remember in my mind but then I read about it and I shake my head. I would describe eye contact and hand sweat and just weird shit. Honestly my first kiss I'd rather forget, not that it was terrible its just it was awkward and weird and Blah!
Okay, I want to stop now. :)
I used to keep a journal my freshman year of high school and I would write at least weekly. I am not sure what I would write about because it's not like I had a ton of boyfriends or even went out much. I imagine it was mostly music I would write about, who knows at this point because I threw the journal away. I think I had only written in it for about a year and then I forgot about it. When I was a senior in high school I found it again and as I read it I became so embarrassed of the things that I wrote in there that I had an immediate urge to get rid of the evidence of my weirdness. I mean even though I wasn't very interesting back then if a guy kissed me or if we made out, I would write in detail what happened. I am rolling my eyes as I type this because I ... well honestly I don't even know what to say next because you can imagine what a hormonal 14-15 year old sounds like. Or maybe you can't I don't know. I just remember I was embarrassed to read about my younger self. I had detailed my conquests with such detail it makes me cringe and I get embarrassed again. I can't remember exactly what I wrote but I imagine it sounds as stupid as my journal from middle school which unfortunately I didn't toss. That journal only has a few pages to read, but my 13 year old self had a lot of opinions and a lot of crushes. Also when I was thirteen I had my first kiss, which I remember in my mind but then I read about it and I shake my head. I would describe eye contact and hand sweat and just weird shit. Honestly my first kiss I'd rather forget, not that it was terrible its just it was awkward and weird and Blah!
Okay, I want to stop now. :)
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Why did all my Profs hate me?
This time I mean business! Third time's a charm. Today is the third day in a row that I have come back to this place and have attempted my hand at this writing a blog thing. In college one of my philosophy professors told me that my writing was "poor to average." My gut tells me he was absolutely correct in his assessment, but it still made me feel sad that he said that about my writing. At least he hadn't said it was 'shite.' I had heard him tell other students that. He was an Irishman so that's how he pronounced shit. He would also say feck instead of fuck. He had a great accent and it really softened the blow when he would publicly insult you in front of the other students. Anyways, that is just a tidbit about me.
Now you know that I went to college and that I took a Philosophy class. Actually, my major was Philosophy, which I like to think makes me seem intellectual or wise or something. Sadly, the truth is I know nothing to little about philosophy. If you ask me a famous philosophical question or about a major person in philosophy my first response is"wha?" Sometimes, philosophical terms seem a bit familiar like axiom, categorical, epistemology, subjective and empirical. I know I used to know what these words meant but now I am not too confident I know exactly what they mean. It's like I was better at retaining philosophy stuff before I made it my major. So, although I would like to think I am very philosophically inclined, the evidence points to the contrary. Sigh. I would like to be philosophical someday.
Moving on, I haven't told anyone about this blog because:
1. I have just started it.
2. I am not sure how this will pan out. I've tried before and I just never followed through. There was nothing I wanted or was willing to write about.
3. I am super EMBARRASSED!
So, I think the above counts as a story. Thanks for listening!
Now you know that I went to college and that I took a Philosophy class. Actually, my major was Philosophy, which I like to think makes me seem intellectual or wise or something. Sadly, the truth is I know nothing to little about philosophy. If you ask me a famous philosophical question or about a major person in philosophy my first response is"wha?" Sometimes, philosophical terms seem a bit familiar like axiom, categorical, epistemology, subjective and empirical. I know I used to know what these words meant but now I am not too confident I know exactly what they mean. It's like I was better at retaining philosophy stuff before I made it my major. So, although I would like to think I am very philosophically inclined, the evidence points to the contrary. Sigh. I would like to be philosophical someday.
Moving on, I haven't told anyone about this blog because:
1. I have just started it.
2. I am not sure how this will pan out. I've tried before and I just never followed through. There was nothing I wanted or was willing to write about.
3. I am super EMBARRASSED!
So, I think the above counts as a story. Thanks for listening!
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
16th and K
Yes! I'm back at it again. Two days in a row. I am doing so good. I think I'll just tell stories that were told to me or that happened to me, but later, maybe, I may tell a made up story from scratch. For today I will tell you two anecdotes from my experience.
When I was living in San Diego I would walk from my apartment on 16th and K to San Diego City Community College. On 16th street there was a homeless shelter and since I had to walk that street I would often see homeless people on my walk to and from the college. For the most part the people I came across were harmless and they would barely acknowledge my existence so I never felt threatened. In fact, most of the people I saw on the streets sleeping I saw regularly so it was a bit comforting for me to see familiar faces in a town where I didn't know very many people.
P.L.L.
The person I remember most from this time was the parking lot lady. Yes, I know I am a terrible person for never asking her name, but you have to understand this about her; she had demons inside of her. The thing about parking lot lady was that I don't believe she was actually homeless. I once saw her get dropped off from a car one early morning when I looked out my bedroom window. She got out of a car and then she walked over to the parking lot and took her regular post. Anyway, parking lot lady or PLL for short, would sit on the sidewalk all day and say "Good Morning, baby, you got a quarter?" and then I would either giver her a quarter or say no and be off. Now, it did not matter whether you gave her a quarter or not. If you gave her a quarter she would either say "Oh, thank you baby!" and perhaps give you a hearty chuckle and you would be on your way OR she would say "MOTHERFUCKING BITCH, BITCH-ASS, FUCK YOU, FUCK. AINT NOBODY NEED YOU! BITCH!GODDAMN" The first time I heard her string of bitch fucks, I thought she was cursing me out and I felt very threatened, however as she spit out her words it became very clear that she was not talking to me. I soon realized that she was just cursing out the demons that resided in her ample body. Each "BITCH" and "FUCK" would lurch a small part of them out of her body. This helped her to heal. Soon enough, I was used to her cursing and I did not feel threatened by her cursing towards me anymore.
Puta Lady
One morning, as I walked to school, I saw a woman on 16th street having a particularly intense conversation with herself on the sidewalk. She looked very upset and at that point it had been my experience that people who talk to themselves must be left alone to work out whatever it is they need to talk about. Since she was leaning up against the wall, I thought I would give her some more space and started to go to the right side of the sidewalk so as to not run into her. As I got closer to her I could see that she was looking at me. Now, again, my experience has been that if a person is talking to themselves and seems to be looking at you they are actually looking past you. They have transcended time and space you are but a nothing to them. She soon started walking towards me, or so it seemed. As she walked towards me I could here her say "Yes, you puta!" I tried not to look at her because she wasn't talking to me and it is rude to eavesdrop so I looked down at the sidewalk. Soon after though, I felt my peripherals catch that she started to walk faster and what seemed to me more decisively towards me. At that point I stopped looking at the sidewalk and looked up. The whole time she is saying "You better not fuck with my man PUTA!"As I looked up I really felt that I too had transcended time and space. Like that scene from the Matrix, I saw it all in very slow motion. I saw her face scrunch up and her arm swing back to cock her fist. Then she very carefully and purposefully guided her first through the heavy air and begin her strike towards my face. As she made the passage from the air to my face I looked at her her wrinkled sunburned face, her blonde dry hair, her grimy white peasant top. I looked at the clear blue sky and noticed that the Goodwill store was about to open. I could hear the cars on highway 5 in the distance and then I looked at her fist again, now more than midway through its journey to my face. At that moment as I looked at her fist inching closer and closer I thought about life in general and how its not fair that some of us our lucky and some of us are putas. I blinked and when my eyes opened again the first was about 2 inches away from my right cheek I looked to my right and watched the fist zoomed past me. I had avoided a fist to the face. As I watched the fist miss its intended target time quickly returned to its normal speed and I quickly took a large step to the left and quickly walked away from her.
Later that day, I called my mom back in Dallas. I told her what happened that morning. I told her that I had seen this lady before but she never even looked at me before. Puta lady used to sleep on the side of a thrift store in a little nook. I always saw her asleep covered in her red blanket until that day she tried to punch me. My mom told me that next time I saw her I should throw a lit match at her while she was sleeping. I didn't do that because I'm less of an asshole than my mom is, I guess. Plus lighting her on fire would be a pretty extreme measure to get her back for almost punching me.
That's all I have for today. Please join me next time, hopefully tomorrow, for another story.
When I was living in San Diego I would walk from my apartment on 16th and K to San Diego City Community College. On 16th street there was a homeless shelter and since I had to walk that street I would often see homeless people on my walk to and from the college. For the most part the people I came across were harmless and they would barely acknowledge my existence so I never felt threatened. In fact, most of the people I saw on the streets sleeping I saw regularly so it was a bit comforting for me to see familiar faces in a town where I didn't know very many people.
P.L.L.
The person I remember most from this time was the parking lot lady. Yes, I know I am a terrible person for never asking her name, but you have to understand this about her; she had demons inside of her. The thing about parking lot lady was that I don't believe she was actually homeless. I once saw her get dropped off from a car one early morning when I looked out my bedroom window. She got out of a car and then she walked over to the parking lot and took her regular post. Anyway, parking lot lady or PLL for short, would sit on the sidewalk all day and say "Good Morning, baby, you got a quarter?" and then I would either giver her a quarter or say no and be off. Now, it did not matter whether you gave her a quarter or not. If you gave her a quarter she would either say "Oh, thank you baby!" and perhaps give you a hearty chuckle and you would be on your way OR she would say "MOTHERFUCKING BITCH, BITCH-ASS, FUCK YOU, FUCK. AINT NOBODY NEED YOU! BITCH!GODDAMN" The first time I heard her string of bitch fucks, I thought she was cursing me out and I felt very threatened, however as she spit out her words it became very clear that she was not talking to me. I soon realized that she was just cursing out the demons that resided in her ample body. Each "BITCH" and "FUCK" would lurch a small part of them out of her body. This helped her to heal. Soon enough, I was used to her cursing and I did not feel threatened by her cursing towards me anymore.
Puta Lady
One morning, as I walked to school, I saw a woman on 16th street having a particularly intense conversation with herself on the sidewalk. She looked very upset and at that point it had been my experience that people who talk to themselves must be left alone to work out whatever it is they need to talk about. Since she was leaning up against the wall, I thought I would give her some more space and started to go to the right side of the sidewalk so as to not run into her. As I got closer to her I could see that she was looking at me. Now, again, my experience has been that if a person is talking to themselves and seems to be looking at you they are actually looking past you. They have transcended time and space you are but a nothing to them. She soon started walking towards me, or so it seemed. As she walked towards me I could here her say "Yes, you puta!" I tried not to look at her because she wasn't talking to me and it is rude to eavesdrop so I looked down at the sidewalk. Soon after though, I felt my peripherals catch that she started to walk faster and what seemed to me more decisively towards me. At that point I stopped looking at the sidewalk and looked up. The whole time she is saying "You better not fuck with my man PUTA!"As I looked up I really felt that I too had transcended time and space. Like that scene from the Matrix, I saw it all in very slow motion. I saw her face scrunch up and her arm swing back to cock her fist. Then she very carefully and purposefully guided her first through the heavy air and begin her strike towards my face. As she made the passage from the air to my face I looked at her her wrinkled sunburned face, her blonde dry hair, her grimy white peasant top. I looked at the clear blue sky and noticed that the Goodwill store was about to open. I could hear the cars on highway 5 in the distance and then I looked at her fist again, now more than midway through its journey to my face. At that moment as I looked at her fist inching closer and closer I thought about life in general and how its not fair that some of us our lucky and some of us are putas. I blinked and when my eyes opened again the first was about 2 inches away from my right cheek I looked to my right and watched the fist zoomed past me. I had avoided a fist to the face. As I watched the fist miss its intended target time quickly returned to its normal speed and I quickly took a large step to the left and quickly walked away from her.
Later that day, I called my mom back in Dallas. I told her what happened that morning. I told her that I had seen this lady before but she never even looked at me before. Puta lady used to sleep on the side of a thrift store in a little nook. I always saw her asleep covered in her red blanket until that day she tried to punch me. My mom told me that next time I saw her I should throw a lit match at her while she was sleeping. I didn't do that because I'm less of an asshole than my mom is, I guess. Plus lighting her on fire would be a pretty extreme measure to get her back for almost punching me.
That's all I have for today. Please join me next time, hopefully tomorrow, for another story.
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
Hello, World!
Testing, 1, 2, 3. Hello? Yes? Is anyone here?
I will tell stories on here, hopefully on a daily basis. Today's story comes from a coworker. It is a true story. Here goes.
"So, do you know Anthony?" Richard said as he tapped the screen on his phone. It appeared that he had just gotten off of the phone with someone and now he wanted to share what he had just heard. As he walked towards the reception area where I work, I noticed his rather pleased look on his face.
"Yes." I replied. I knew most of the hourly staff since they would come in and ask for random things like sending faxes and making copies.
"Well, this morning he found a car in the parking lot, the door was open, the sunroof was open and the car was running. He saw it had been standing like that for a while so he went towards it. Dead guy inside. Probably getting ready to go home. Must've died having a heart attack or something."
Will there be a parking garage ghost?
Creepy.
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