Sometimes I wish I could take some Tabasco and spice up the diction it create. Being literal isn't exactly what you'd call fun. More like fundamental, ya know? We are fascinated and impressed by those than can express things differently and creatively. A unique method of expression is interesting, entertaining, and enjoyable. On the other hand, the plain and bland is looked upon as inferior and boring.

Who wants to be that guy?

The guy that tells it exactly how it is? The guy that doesn't sugar-coat his verbal razors with euphemisms? Nope. No one. No one wants to be that guy.

Everybody wants to be colorful. It you don't stand out, you're not interesting, right? People gravitate to those that stick out from the rest. Maybe a blog writer that has a different way with words. Maybe the popular kid at school that dressed with the newest and most expensive clothes? There are so many external things that make people attractive. Unique. Desirable. Accepted.

I used to always want to stick out. I wanted to have all eyes on me. I wanted to be the guy that everybody knew for being different, unique, and funny. I wanted to talk in a colorful manner. I wanted to be accepted. I look back on who I was and what I wanted and my life and it was all about judging myself based on others' opinions of me. I identified myself through their eyes, and when I fell short of expectations, I hated myself for it. I was disgusted by myself. I had nothing if I had their acceptance. I felt into the crowd of the "normal". The mediocre. The *gasp* "regular". It was a rough part of my life because I didn't really stick out in the way I wanted to.

Well. Fuck all that. That shit is the past. It's easy to see how kids can be so superficial in high school. But I still see people my age and those well beyond my age that still seek the unique exterior without examining depth. Failing to see distinguishable detail among those that "blend in with the crowd" shows a level of superficiality that I can do without. But isn't everybody like that? Don't we all skim through books with covers that don't catch your eye, or not talk to people in the club that aren't exactly physically appealing.

Exterior is just that. Exterior. On the outside. SHALLOW. How many times have you brushed someone off or dismissed someone simply because they didn't "go against the grain" or the "blended in with the background"? It's fucked up now that I think about it. I've done many times in the past. And at the same time, being a person that's not so easy on the eyes, I've had it happen to me twice as many times. It's a part of life, ya know? But it's a part of life that I have learned to work on.

I'm trying. Slowly but surely. I'm trying.

If you don't know, now you know...

In the corporate world, loyalty is nothing and share value maximization is everything. I don't know why we always bitch and complain about our jobs when it's obvious that a content and happy employee environment is secondary tertiary to things such as maximizing the value of stocks for investors. Forget about the 4 years of dedication and selflessness of a loyal employee that hasn't experienced a raise since the day they were hired. The jobs working for minimum wage? Yeah, I could see why there is little to no loyalty in those jobs.

Working for minimum wages sends a pretty clear message to the employee.

"We would pay you less, but it's illegal." (Thanks Chris Rock)

I was under the impression that as soon as I got a job that would catapult me above the poverty line, I would find the employer loyalty that we all look for. Sure, we have co-workers that we enjoy working with. And there are those bosses that show a very high level of understanding and compassion for your needs as an employee. But the very bottom line is that unless you own the company you work for, the people who benefit the most from your work don't give a fuck about you unless the company meets and surpasses annual revenue forecasts.

I'm learning slowly, but surely. This isn't what I want to be a part of 5 years from now. You stay long enough in this environment and you lose a sense of selfworth, pride, and satiety. My drive to move ahead in life is not for my personal benefit but for the benefit of my family. Money is cool. We all want more money. But without my son an wife to share it with, it's all for naught.

So with that in mind, I press on. I can bitch, whine, and moan, all day. But just as long as I can come home to my family, I'll do whatever it takes. Even if it means subjecting myself to superficial pursuit of share value maximization.

I remember one of my instructors asking me why I wanted to marry my then girlfriend. Without missing a beat I said, "She's the only woman I've ever met that can take care of me like my mom did." My female instructor looked at me almost surprised at what I said. At the time, I really couldn't articulate why I really felt the way I did about my now wife.

Sometimes I get irritated with my wife when she does certain things that seem really selfish. I get irked when she comes out of the closet wearing clothes she just bought, even though we've had conversations about actually saving some money. I get even more irritated when she makes petty comments that a 17-year-old would say. Sometimes I get mad just because. But I've realized that for the most part she's just shut up and put up with all of my bullshit.

And believe me. There is a ton of my "bullshit" everywhere. My whining and complaining. My stanky underwear. My constant nagging and my father-like lectures about how she needs to do some things differently. She's taken care of me. She nurses me when I'm sick. She gives me a shoulder to cry on. She takes care of my son when I'm out getting drunk and acting a fool. Sometimes I forget about all the things she's sacrificed to make our family work, especially in those early days when we didn't think we could make it. We were young and grew up fast. If you know anything about my wife, she didn't have much of a childhood to begin with.

I'm a firm believer that opposites attract. I'm the ultimate selfish person and she is, in my eyes, one of the most selfless people I know other than my mother. And when I came to that realization, it all came together. She IS just like my mom. She IS just like my dad. She IS just like my grandma. These are people who have selflessly sacrificed to make my life easier. And just like my mom, dad, and grandma before her, I don't thank her enough for all that she's done for me. For us.

You're probably reading this thinking, "Man, he's just doing this so she can read it and he can get his dick sucked." And you know what? You're probably right. But long, sweat-inducing, butt-clenching, spine-tingling, dick-sucking aside, I'd say it anyway.

I promise.

"Most times, genius is misunderstood, but understand
You stand under unstable tables of foundation
My true occupation, dissemination of information
Usin' both sides of the brain, and I ain't complacent
Complain when I speak, fuck Priority Records
Like Prince, I'm writin' "slave" on my cheek, cause my kids gotta eat
Meanwhile A&R's sniffin' coke, gettin' kickbacks, fuck that
My written's like Christ wit a cross on his back
I'll breathe a total Black experience on a track
What use to be hot was what a emcee said
Now Hip-Hop don't respect you unless you platinum or dead"

- Ras Kass "Van Gogh"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I don't play that shit.

I don't give a fuck if your life sucks.
I don't give a fuck if you think my life sucks.
I don't give a fuck if you take pictures of yourself with a cock in your ass.
I don't give a fuck about how many hits your blog gets.
I don't give a fuck about who you met.
I don't give a fuck about where you live.
I don't give a fuck if your dumbass worries about being recognized from your blog.
I don't give a fuck about the weather in your area.
I don't give a fuck about what your kid said.
I don't give a fuck about what you bought.
I don't give a fuck about what you wore.
I don't give a fuck about who you fucked.
I don't give a fuck what you did yesterday.
I don't give a fuck about your vacation.
I don't give a fuck about how high you got or how much alcohol your drank.
I dont' give a fuck if Tony Pierce linked you.
I don't give a fuck if you got molested.
I don't give a fuck if he hit you again.
I don't give a fuck when you live.
I don't give a fuck when you die.
I dont' give a fuck about you.

I don't give a fuck whether or not you give a fuck. You know why? I don't need to you validate my existence. I can only hope that the feeling is mutual. But honestly, I don't give a fuck. Fuck a blog. Fuck you.

Take that shit personally.

I woke up this afternoon and flipped on the television to the Cosby Show. Dreary-eyed, I half-watched the episode where Dr. Cliff Huxtable took Rudy, "Buuuuud", and a bunch of other kids to a gourmet restaurant to have some gourmet burgers. "Mmmmmm, burrrgeers." Inspired, I decided to take a trip to one of the better burger joints in town before I went to work.

I as I pulled up to Bud's Burgers, I could already smell the aroma left by a day's worth of cooking burgers and frying french fries. I parked in the empty parking lot, jumped out of my car and headed to the restaurant. Well, maybe "restaurant" isn't descriptive enough. You see, Bud's is really located in a glorified shack. The place is about the same size as a quaint one bedroom apartment and the dining area is no larger than your average living room. I walked in and noticed that the brown wooden tables are still set up exactly as I remembered. I looked up to the high vaulted wooden ceiling that probably measures about 20 feet at it's highest point. The Bust-A-Move arcade is still located adjacent to the walk where the entrance was. Directly behind it is an old Flintstones egg dispensing machine, exactly like the ones they had in Toy R' Us's across the nation circa 1985. Next to that was your typical "love meter" that measures your libido for 25 cents. Bottom line, the place was pretty shitty compared to the Pot Belly Burgers and Nation's of this world. But you should know the rule by now: The shittier the place, the better the food. Warning: This rule strictly applies to authentic Mexican food and burger joints.

As I ordered, I couldn't help but notice all the little things about the restaurant that I became very comfortable with back in high school. Bud's was the typical hangout spot for the me and the rest of the varsity baseball players at my high school. Regardless of whether we won the game or not, we were all able to go to buds and just talk. Sometimes it was just two of us, and sometimes there were 9 or 10 of us. It was a place to unwind and forget about any type of resposibility. We talked openly without having to worry about reprecussions. Sometimes I would look more forward to the aftergame meeting at Bud's instead of the game itself.

Being in there gave me an eerie feeling at first, but the place offered a sense of nostalgia that was both refreshing and relaxing all at the same time. When I got my order, I asked for a ketchup bottle, just like I did back then. As the young lady handed me the bottle, I felt the same greasiness on the bottle that I felt back then. I sat down and squeezed about a cup of ketchup on the wax paper covering my plastic orange tray just like I did back then. And for the first time in a while, I just sat there alone with just my thoughts and my memories and enjoyed my food.

When I finished up, I threw away my trash, put my tray in the same old place right next to the spot where I left the ketchup (in it's proper place as well). I said thank you to the young lady who served me my food as I walked passed her while she mopped the floor. She smiled back and I almost uncontrollably cracked a smile as I approached my car. It was nice to spend some time in a place that I associate with such good times. Good memories stay with you forever, you know?

It was a beautiful day, that's for sure.

Okay, this is the last straw. Parents are fuckin' up. It's officially official (with a stress on the redundancy). I've been saying for years that even though our children are obviously over-sexualized by the media, parents need to take responsibility for their children and raise them correctly. This is not a product of the media. This is not a product of anything other than parents (or parent) not teaching a child the difference between wrong and right. As basic as the concept may seem to us adults, it still isn't happening in today's homes. I mean, WHAT THE FUCK?

I'm almost not even shocked. I was chatting with Leah the other night and she was telling me how her friend or cousin or somebody was a kindergarten teacher, and how she was appalled to hear about kids making out in class. I can't believe that this isn't national news.

Oh fuck it. I lied. I'm shocked. This shit is crazy. I'm going to go reread Revalations to see if this 5 year old dick sucking is in there. Are you ready to die?

(Props to my boy Anthony for the link.)

Damn, this one sucked....click only if you're REALLY bored. And if you can't sleep, you might want to click this too....