If only you were so lucky...

Most bosses get upset with you if you call in and say you hurt your back. Most bosses would say, "Well, go to the doctor and get a note and blah blah shove it up your ass." Most bosses wouldn't rub your back for you. Most bosses wouldn't tell you to smoke a bowl to help relieve the pain. Most bosses wouldn't constantly check on you to make sure that you're okay. Good thing I don't have most bosses. My boss rocks.

Do it!...

1. What time did you get up this morning? About 9:20

2. Diamonds or pearls? Meh, neither.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Wanted

4. What is your favorite TV show? Cowboy Bebop

5. What do you usually have for breakfast? PG Tips sweet and creamy and toast

6. What is your middle name? Maurice

7.What food do you dislike? Super spicey food and red meat.

8. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga

9. What kind of car do you drive? Nissan Quest

10 . Favorite sandwich? Chicken

12. Favorite item of clothing? Currently my Crocs.

13. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Japan

14. Where would you retire to? Japan or San Francisco

15. What was your most recent memorable birthday? Leo's last birthday.

16. Furthest place you are sending this? To the internet!

17. Person you expect to send it back first? Uh... no idea. Everyone I expect to respond already responded.

18. When is your birthday? October 22.

19. Morning person or a night person? Night. Definitely night.

20. What is your shoe size? 12.

21. Pets? Dogs, dogs and dogs.

22. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? New!? No... Exciting!? The building!

23. What did you want to be when you were little? A magician.

24. How are you today? Tired.

25. What is your favorite flower? Venus Flytrap.

26. What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to? Faire!

27. What are you listening to right now? Sam and Amberjoy laughing.

28. What was the last thing you ate? Chicken and Rice.

30. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Indian Negro Caucasian Flesh-Toned Blue.

31. How is the weather right now? Foggy.

32. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Emily.

33. Favorite soft drink? Dr. Pepper

34. Favorite restaurant? Nib's.

35. Hair color? Black and blond.

36. What was your favorite toy as a child? Video Games.

37. Summer or winter? Fall!

38. Chocolate or Vanilla? Vanilla

39. Coffee or tea? Tea

40. Do you want your friends to email you back? Yes.

41. When was the last time you cried? Saturday.

42. What is under your bed? I don't have an "under the bed", but if I did, my room would be a whole lot cleaner.

43. What did you do last night? Rock Band!

44. What are you afraid of? A lot of stuff.

45. Salty or sweet? Sweet.

46. How many keys on your key ring? A bajillion.

47. How many years at your current job? Just over a year.

48. Favorite day of the week? Saturday.

49. Do you make friends easily? I can if I choose.

50. How many people will you send this to? The internet!

51. How many will respond? No idea.

52. Do you like finding out all this stuff about your friends? Sure do!

Leonidas, the Slumberer...

The wind, blowing in my face as it blows in hers. The wind is cold... it nips at our ears and bites our cheeks. Amberjoy asks me to carry Leo from the van to the tent. Inebriation grips me, the high is setting in, but I have a job to do. I lean down to retrieve Leo out of the back of the van. I am quick, yet careful not to fumble his head. I hoist him out of the van and lean his head on my shoulder and turn around to start the journey to the tent for the King of Sparta's nightly rest. It was only 30 seconds or so, but time stretched on forever as I could only hear three noises: my breath as I struggled to keep my balance, his breath as he slept peacefully against my body and the flapping of pirate flags in the background. I set him down on the sleeping bag and stepped back. "Thank you," Amberjoy said. "You're welcome," I replied. Then, off to bed as well, hopefully to have the same restful night as our sleeping king.

A place for my head...

Why do men turn towards violence as a solution? It never solves anything, in fact, it causes more problems. I cannot take this anymore. It's starting to wear my emotions thin. Especially father figures. They're always portrayed as the villainous character in media and it shows in real life unfortunately. Is this men replicating what they see around them, or is it the surrounding that's bringing out the truth of men that doesn't want to actually be admitted?

I saw my father last night. It was really unnerving. I didn't see him physically, but I saw him in my friend's father. A father that I thought was someone to aspire to be, fatherhood-wise. But the violence erupted out of nowhere. One of his children did something that wasn't anything to get extremely upset over and nothing some Resolve wouldn't clean up easily. But then, there was an explosion of anger. A rocking chair thrown. It didn't break. Cursing when it wasn't necessary. Hateful things said. The same rocking chair thrown again. I expected it to shatter into wooden splinters this time. It didn't. That seemed to upset him even more. The anger building. The rage growing. I was becoming upset. I was becoming mad. I was getting pissed off.

Then, chuckling slowly broke around the dinner table. An attempt to relax the mood? It worked slightly. Don't remember who started it. A change in topic. Ignore the raging cyclone that rips the living room apart no more than 10 feet away from me. Talk about something else. Anything. A subject that was all on our minds. Then, it hit me. A piece of baguette hit me in the eye. The crust dug into my pupil. I couldn't see anything out of my right eye. Was I blind? Oh my God, I'm blind! What the fuck?! WHY!? I'm going to kill him. I squeezed the bread tighter in my fist. My blood raced. I could feel the heat in my face and the red washing over my eyes. I wanted to rip him limb from limb. Leap across the table and smash his head through the sliding glass door behind him. A tear streams down my burning cheek. ...I'm not blind. "You hit me in the eye... You hit me in the eye!? I need to go outside." I excuse myself.

It's like a whirlwind inside of my head. The place of reason, the place of safety, someone that wouldn't ever hurt me just did. He almost blinded me. My head throbs. My stomach hurts more. I haven't been concentrating on my stomach. It's gonna come up. My head pounds like a drum. There goes the spaghetti. I can see... barely. I walk back and a friend is waiting. I calm down. I feel exhausted. Why so much violence? I almost succumbed to it. Why? A product of this society? A product of shitty father figures?

I'm sick of the tension.

Photo credit: Full Metal Alchemist Manga

Food poisoning blows...

I made French Toast Wednesday morning while at Emily's. Forgot to wash my hands when I was done... my hand which were covered in raw eggs. SALMONELLA! So yeah, i've been feeling like shit since Wednesday night. Thursday morning was horrible, puking, shaking, hot flashes, cold sweats. Washing my hands before, during and after French Toast from now on.

No on 22...

For the next 5 months.

Too high to count...

Don't let the title fool you. I'm not necessarily naming anyone, especially not myself in particular, or any of my roommates, or co-workers, or friends, or anyone that might know me, but I just witnessed two people do the same math problem 15 different ways and come out with the same answer every time because they had to do it their own way each time. But still convinced that they were doing it wrong. It's almost like when you look at a word like onomatopoeia. Unless someone says it, you have no clue how to pronounce it. Unless someone spells it, you have no clue how to either. Ah, forget it.

The point of no return...

Ever gotten mad and thrown something? Usually if we try to throw something, we miss our targets. But for some reason, you hit your target dead on, whether you were really trying to or not.

It's like if a dog lives 3 houses away and it won't shut the fuck up and you know there's no way in hell that if you pick up that rock at your feet and throw it at that dog you're not going to hit it. So, out of frustration, you pick up that rock and throw it with all your might, knowing that the rock will land 20 feet short and 50 feet to the right. And then you realize it. The second that rock leaves your fingers, everything goes in slow motion. You know for a fact that the rock is going to hit that dog right between the eyes, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. You just stand there in stunned silence, watching this rock fly through the air towards this tiny white dog. You want to yell, "Watch out!", but the words stick like a dehydrated lugee in the back of your throat. You try reaching for the rock, but it's already way too far away. Now the rock is halfway there. You start to get nervous. You begin thinking, "Oh my God, the rock I just threw is going to kill that dog", "I'm a horrible person, why would I throw a rock?", etc, etc. You want to turn around and head back inside, so that when the owner comes to discover the corpse of their once loud, obnoxious, white, fluffy, cute dog. Oh God, you're going to go to jail because you killed a dog just for not shutting up! And at that last fucking second!... the dog goes back inside and the rock flies directly where it was, sailing over the deck, not disturbing anything. The world, this chaotic, stressful place where you had no control over anything 3 seconds prior has become a world where everything is okay. You look down at your hands in disbelief. You pick up another rock and try to throw it to the exact same spot, but it lands 20 feet short and 50 feet to the right. Funny how these things happen. Food for thought.

Blackpoint Memories...

So, after putting off seeing my mom for about a month or two I went to go see her during the week. I went over there with one intention: getting my old PC so I can use it for an external hard drive, which I failed miserably. But, there is a great reason. I started looking through my old family pictures. There were pics of my first birthday, random pictures in Santa Cruz, pictures of family members and then... pictures of faire. Pictures of me at faire. I remember going to faire as a child and I talk about it whenever someone brings up Blackpoint, but when I saw this pictures, I started to cry. It brought back a flood of memories. Vendors, hawkers, food stands, games... Innyard specifically. Ah... memories.