Tuesday, June 29, 2004

The most satisfying thing about hearing on almost every news station that "Fahrenheit 9/11" was the #1 movie this weekend in the box office is watching these same dignified news anchors saying "White Chicks" is the 2nd movie on the list without even cracking a smile.

Beautiful.

Sunday, June 27, 2004

  • I am totally digging the amount of discussion that Michael Moore's movie "Fahrenheit 9/11". I don't care if people agree. I don't care if people vehemently disagree. I just love the fact that it has sparked so much discussion, especially among the 24 and younger crowd. For Bush, against Bush, shaved, shit I don't care. Just as long as people start understanding the importance of this November, and every November for the rest of their lives.


  • I went to a wedding two weeks ago and I'm going to be part of a wedding next month. In August, I'll be attending another wedding. I like weddings. They always bring me back to when I got married. When you get married, you really take inventory in your relationship with your significant other. You question yourself no matter how sure you are, "Is this the right person?" I married my wife for all the right reasons and I can sincerely say that without a flinch. I can see the doubt and concern in the eyes of the bride and groom before the wedding, but it quickly changes to assurance and relief. You know it. They'll be okay. We'll be okay. It's love, ya know?


  • I walk around life sometimes marveling at all the knowledge I've attained in my 24 years of life. I stand proud and confident in my ways. But knowledge isn't what I'm ultimately after. Wisdom is what I pursue. And wisdom isn't acknowledging what you know, it's acknowledging what I don't know and taking every step needed to acquire that knowledge.


  • My son is so brutally honest sometimes. I love it. And he means no mal-intention what so ever. I think the term "brutally honest" makes it seem like everything should be sugar coated. Our dialogue with each other is filled with euphemisms, as if the truth will "hurt". Hell, there's even a saying that truth "hurts". But does it? Or are we too proud to acknowledge imperfection?


  • I hate tabloid tv shows like "Celebrity Justice" and "Entertainment Tonight" because it shows something pretty disturbing about our society. Not only do we put celebrities on pedestals to the point where we need their daily lives spoonfed to us on a daily basis, but we love seeing them crash, burn, and make mistakes. We build them up, then we tear them down. That shit sounds pretty damn demented, so I'm refusing to take part of it. Fuck a celebrity. I'd tell their mama they ain't shit.
  • Sunday, June 20, 2004

    I like good music. From Pantera's "Walk", to E-40's "Mustard and Mayonaise" to Nina Simone's "Funkier Than A Mosquito's Tweeter". I like raw breakbeats that hit so hard you can bare fight off the urge to brooklyn rock to it like Jimmy Castor's "It's Just Begun". I want shit that I can just bang my head to with guitar riffs so sharp that they can cut through glass, like Metallica's "One". I listen to songs that can tickle your heart by the time you hear the very first note like Troop's "All I Do Is Think Of You".
    We take music for granted these days. It is, after all, the soundtrack to our lives. I can go to music to fill my heart and soul with emotion, or to find something that can articulate my feelings. From politics to partying, there is music for every moment of our lives. We associate good and bad memories with music. It's not coincidence. Music is a gift from God.


    I can't stand it when people say that "It's just music." It's not. For the people who devote their lives to their music, it is literally "life". Fuck what your heard. There is a little bit of genius in every musical artist out there who put their heart and sole into their music.


    Recognize. Learn. Respect.

    Saturday, June 19, 2004

    No frills. No bullshit.


    A conversation with Kool Keith on AIM today convinced me to just say "fuck you" to my hit counter, my comments, and my links. Well, okay. Maybe it wasn't just the conversation with Kool Keith. It was a combination of several things. Kristen over at Madpony decided to hang up the blogging boots for good, even leaving a "goodbye" post to all her "fans". Boo fuckin' hoo. Hell, I didn't even know until KK told me during our AIM conversation. I went over there to see the damage.


    Reading through the comments, I was torn. I couldn't decide who I felt worse for. Was it the sorry ass readers who longed for the insight of a girl who's biggest problems consisted of the lack of Lime Diet Coke at her regular soda machine or her lack of money to go to a prom with another blogger across the country? Or, did I feel more sympathetic for Kristen, someone who was so gassed that in an AIM conversation with Muscle68, turned a snobby nose upward and asserted that the popularity of her blog was more than his and Raymi's. She obviously wrote with the sense that she was fulfilling an obligation to her readers. They wanted her to post. They needed her to post. They wanted to live vicariously through the lives of two girls who's dad had the fuckin' ovaries to be referred to as "Dadpony".


    But damn, isn't that a shitty ass reason to write? I mean, that's not even about you anymore. This realization made me realize that I put to much stock in the feedback I received from the site. Feedback in the form of hits and comments and links became valuable to me for some reason. As if they validated the existence of my blog. But that's not what this is all about. This is about me. This is about me writing to me. This is about me writing about what's important to me. This is about me getting what I want out of writing. This is catharsis. This is healing. This is therapy. This is me.


    So don't take it personally. The links, the comments, the hit counter? That was all cosmetic. Unnecessary. Unneeded. I can't lie an say that my blog was some underappreciated piece of genius like Ridley Scott's "Bladerunner". This blog was never popular. It was never genius. It never has nor will be. But it will still be here even after everybody stops reading it. If you come and read, cool. If you don't come. Cool.


    No frills. No bullshit.

    Friday, June 18, 2004

    I had dinner last week with three old friends from high school. We all met at Applebee's, which was unusually crowded for a Tuesday night because of the second game of the NBA Finals. As groups of people huddled around the 3 or 4 televisions tuned in to the game, the three of us had your typical "catch-up" conversations that included topics such as our current occupations, recent gossip of people we knew in high school, and just over all bitching, pissing, and moaning about how we wished our lives were better in one way or another.


    One conversation tangent led me to blurt out, "I fuckin'hated high school." This statement taken without the context of where my mind was at the time could be taken as a blatant lie. Because honestly, I loved high school. I was popular. I had the cute girlfriend. I was the funniest guy in class. I was on the baseball team. I was the student body activies commissioner. I was voted "most spirited" and was even listed as so in my senior year yearbook standing next to a cheerleader. But I look back on those years with a feeling that borders on disgust?


    Why?


    Well, it's really weird. There was this time in junior high where a lot of my friends turned their back on me, leaving me somewhat outcasted from my regular group of friends. By the time I got to high school, my fragile adolescent ego wouldn't let me come even close to feeling that way again. I literally worked on being popular and well liked. I went out of my way to be funny, clever, witty, and smart. I went out of my way to hang out with people that weren't "my friends", but people I thought could give others the impression that I was universally liked. I chased and achieved status in my high school. But as we all know, high school superlatives mean absolutely nothing.


    I wrote once somewhere that high school is a cartoon version of real life. We spend a lot of that time thinking that we know it all, not realizing that we were living in a parody of reality. In high school, I thought I knew everything. I had everything under control. No one could tell me shit. I look back now, about 8 years after the fact, and I think about not only how much I've grown, but also how much I have yet to learn. I look back on high school and I'm almost disgusted by what I held as valuable and all the things I failed to recognize as valuable. I spent over 5 years of my life with my priorities all out of order and I hated my old self for it. Everything I thought was right was completely wrong.


    But after I expressed my hatred for my high school years, I had to take a step back and thing about why I said what I said. This past year of college, I've done a lot of reflecting on my life and how much I've learned. I really can't dwell on what has happened in the past, because the past is obviously irreversible. I can only chalk it up as a loss and learn from my mistakes. It was then that I realized that maybe I didn't hate high school so much. And even if I do hate it now, it is only a reflection of my growth in the past years.


    We are constantly growing, both intellectually and emotionally. Our priorities should always change, and if you don't look back a few years at the certain things you did wrong, you probably haven't growth enough to realize the errors you've made along the way. I look back on my high school years and I realize that my life was backwards. What was important to me back then really isn't important to me now, and vice versa.


    That's okay. Sometimes you have to do some things wrong in order to do some things right.


    We ended our dinner with hugs and promised to have a repeat engagement sometime in the near future. I drove home thinking about some of the good times I shared with those friends, and how we've all grown for the good.


    Good times, I tell ya. With hopefully more to come.

    Thursday, June 10, 2004

    Five minutes until midnight and I still can't figure out why I'm here.


    It's been a long time since I've felt like this. A day in the sun is a day in the sun, but not many people choose to acknowledge the beauty. The horizon may seem cloudy, but we can't stress out about what might come. That's just a waste of time, and thoughts, and emotions.


    Stop. Right there. At the period. Take a deep breath. All of us walk around with uneven suntans, but we don't always have to point out our dark sides. Be one one those people. You know, the kind that can enjoy what's on the table. The kind that doesn't cast shadows like a storm cloud. The kind that can illuminate a room with their presence and a heart with a simple smile. It doesn't take a lot, to be quite honest.


    Do we take things for granted? Well, a lot of us do. But not many of even know what we have until they stop and acknowledge that things could be a lot worse. These people who walk around with their teeth clenched tight and their emotions clenched even tighter? Yeah, it could be worse for them, too. But they'd never know it. Because they're really not aware of what they really have. You want to know who knows what he really has?


    Vanilla Ice.


    I don't think he takes ANYTHING for granted these days.

    Sunday, June 06, 2004

    We like to look reflect on our days as cowboys, carelessly roaming our Ponderosa without a worry in sight. We had people eating out of the palm of our hands as they hung on every over-annunciated word we spoke. Good looks are a dime a dozen but charm and charisma are things most people wish came in air-tight jelly jars. Our smile? Golden. Hollywood status. Camera's loved us and people loved us even more. Who needs a camera when our gait alone was cinematic? Life was easy.


    And those were the days. No scrutiny. No second guessing. No trying to read between the lines or uncover secret motives. Life was simple and all we had to do was wave, smile, and live another day. It's kind of crazy how things can change. It's rough going from beloved to beloathed. But that's the nature of the beast. That's what we sign up for. There is no grey area in what we do. Either you do it or you don't.


    So we've come to the end of the road. The part where we always thought we'd ride off into the sunset, just like one of those old cowboy films. We crack a smile at the camera, hop on our horse, say one last cliche line, and fade to black. But we see that that is not the case. It's hard to end this in the storybook manner. But it's over. Just like that. And it's kind of hard to rest in peace when peace was the last thing on our minds.

    Thursday, June 03, 2004

    Michael Moore's new movie "Fahrenheit 9/11" comes out on June 25. It was the winner of the Palme D'or at this years Cannes Film Festival. Although many people may remember him from his outburst at the Oscars speaking out against the Bush administration, many people have not watched any of his previous films including "Roger & Me" and "Bowling For Columbine".


    A lot of people have discredited Moore with the obvious fabrications, bending of the truth, and sometimes the blatant lying that he has done. But there is no denying that he provides a different perpective than the spin-doctored bias in the US media. This alone is what draws me into his work. I watched "Roger & Me" in high school, but I think it's safe to say that I really didn't understand the weight of what I was watching. I watched "Bowling For Columbine" two years ago, and I was absolutely blown away. A different and new perspective on a world I thought I had figured out got my interests stirring.


    For a good portion of my life, I've watched TV with little to no skepticalism. Especially the news. The news was news and that's all I really had to think about. It took it at face value never really looking deeper into why things are portrayed the way that they are in the media. I never took into account the many people who would gain (or lose) from how something was presented. I never understood how news coverage can influence the train of though of an entire society. With "Bowling For Columbine", I witnessed the part of the news that's not covered. It was all the stuff I wanted to wonder about but didn't have the mind to.


    But it's different now. There are people like Moore who are taking risks to portray our country in a way that was not and isn't deemed as acceptable. People see him as a threat to everything this country is about and is taking advantage of unfortunate situations such as the war and the Columbine incident for his own personal gain.


    But wait. Isn't that what ALL forms of the media do? Why is Michael Moore being criticized and chastised for what he does? How is what he does different than what CNN, MSNBC and all these other news entities?


    Well, unfortunately, it's not. It's not different. Everybody has something to gain from something and we can not trust any one news source. We cannot judge our countries standing in the world because we are biased by our own opportunites to gain and lose.


    You know the deal. I'm not into politics. But whatever. I don't like anything political nor do I like discussing it a lot. I don't make friends based on political lines. I don't shit on people who hold different political values. I just vote and have my say and pray everything turns out okay.


    Bottom line, I just want the truth. I use this figure all the time:


    [Michael Moore]------------[The Truth]--------------[US Media]


    It's out there. Somewhere. Give me a heads up if you find it.

    Wednesday, June 02, 2004

    It takes a different kind of asshole to post a blog while sitting on the toilet. But at this moment, I'm doing just that. This whole wireless Internet looked like something I can get very used to. With the purchase of a new notebook computer on Memorial Day (thanks to a relatively low price and two very generous rebates offered by CompUSA and HP), my suspicions were confirmed.


    I had a pretty excellent weekend for once in a long time. After finishing my workweek at 5am on Sunday morning, I went home and slept for a good hour and a half until my wife woke me up so we could get ready for the Giant's game at SBC Park in San Francisco. Sunday's game had a special "On-Field Photo" day, where about 3000 fans who had tickets for the day's game were able to go on the field prior to the game and take pictures with their favorite Giants.


    It was a really good time. It was my 2nd On Field Photo Day in two years, so I wasn't as shy asking the players to stop and take a few pictures. It was my wife's first time and I think the sight of seeing men in uniforms made her wet. She was so excited to stop the players for a picture, then after taking the picture she'd proceed to ask me who she just took a picture with. It was great. Interestingly enough, about every picture she took with a player looked like a boyfriend/girlfriend shot. Funny stuff.


    That night, we came home and I bitched about how little sleep I got and my wife bitched about how she thought she was sunburned. We did find out that night that we were able to watch the fireworks displays that Six Flags Marine World (the theme park where I met and worked with my wife 6 years ago) puts on from time to time over Lake Chabot. It was a pretty decent sight just below the horizon where you could see the remnants of what was a beautiful sunset. The scene was so great I had to take a picture of it and it was also a great way to end the day. That night's sleep was much needed after what seemed like three days wrapped into one.


    Memorial Day itself was rather uneventful. Other than my impuslive purchase of a laptop, we decided to have a family night and enjoyed it at home. Best day of the weekend, easily.