How dare you!

It is a well known fact amongst those who know me best, that I am ALWAYS early. To help you understand this fact I will run you through a typical school morning.

When I have a 7am class I will wake up at 5am. I grab my outfit that I picked out the night before and my towel and I head to the bathroom. I spend 20-30 minutes in the shower marinating. I then eat a very leisurely breakfast (what I eat is another topic for another time). During my relaxing and slow breakfast, I usually read the newspaper in its entirety. I love knowing what is going on in the world since I intend to take it over soon. If I don't have the newspaper then I read a novel of some sort. After my breakfast is done I pack my lunch and brush my teeth. I use listerine if I think I'll be talking to a particularly cute gal. I then grab my backpack which I packed the night before and I walk briskly out the door to my bike. Before unlocking my bike I grab my ipod (Aubrey) and I put on the jams. Once on my bike I am Lance Armstrong, I have no clue how to ride slowly. I usually make the mile and a half ride to campus in less than five minutes. Because I have ridden to school as though it were a race, I usually end up breathing heavily and have beads of sweat on my forehead. It is now 6:30-6:40am and class is thirty minutes from now because at Cal Poly classes start ten minutes after the hour. I feel late if I am less than 15-20 minutes early. During the 20-30 minutes before class starts I usually go to the classroom and sit down in my favorite seat. I usually sit there and think while listening to music. However, because I am all alone, I sometimes sing along if the whim arises. My other classmates don't typically arrive until 6:55-7:10am, by which time I have thoroughly sung my heart out and planned my day's activities.

If you haven't noticed, I am a creature or habit. So imagine my dismay when I arrived to class a week ago and danced my way into the classroom twenty-five minutes early only to find someone in the classroom. Imagine my consternation when I realized that this individual was in "MY" seat. Not only was I being gypped out of my personal karaoke time, but this guy was sitting in the perfect center of the classroom. The seat that I had inhabited every day prior to this unfortunate and wretched day.

There were no songs this morning. No melody could escape the clenched lips that were an upside-down half pipe on this grim morn. I sat one seat behind my new foe and proceeded to glare with all my might at my nemesis. My mal de ojo did little to persuade this villain out of his (my) perch.

I wish this story had a happy ending but unfortunately for you and I, it doesn't. Moral of the story: early bird gets the worm. And if you get up earlier than I do and sit in my seat: I will kill you.

story of my life

Story of my life at present time. "I thought I told ya, I'm a star"

A very good music video in my opinion.

My dream job

The Great Office War from Runawaybox on Vimeo.

Is it possible for me to work in this office?

Song of the day:

My other family

Do your family members each have favorite weapons? Do they scream Katy Perry lyrics at the top of their lungs? Do they sort their laundry on the dining room table? Is there a pirate themed room in your house? How about a shrine to Heath Ledger? If you answered yes to any of the preceding questions then there is a high chance that you live in my best friend's house.

In addition to the previous paragraph's details. The family I am trying to describe, and the house they inhibit are unique. Where else can one always find thirty flavors of vitamin water in the fridge. And where else is smash brothers an olympic sport; complete with trash talk and occasional violence. Where else is there consistently spam and craisins in the cub bards? I know no other place that I can drink grape juice anytime day or night and watch "The Dark Knight" with people as fanatical about Batman as I.

This is my sanctuary. My vacation home. My home away from home.

Talented people

Funny faces are a specialty of mine. But I must say, these guys put me to shame.

I climbed the tallest mountain in San Diego before most of you awoke yesterday. I then worked a full shift at Nordys. Came home and ate delicious food. I then left for my best friend's house to swim, jacuzzi, watch a movie, and chat it up. I consider this to be a full and complete day.

Put your lips on my mouth

Wanted - Jessie James

Jessie James? Is that really her name? Maybe we're meant to be. Just a thought...............

sixth day

In 6 days God made the world and everything in it. Each day God's creations grew consecutively more great and beautiful. The height of all creation; the pinnacle of beauty, the apex of creation: woman, was created on the 6th day. And every day since woman was created, man has been captivated by her beauty. I am no exception.

Sage advise for the day: ANYTHING worn in confidence is sexy.

Secret talent

I have a secret talent that I am extremely fond of. I am "the human dry-erase board." What I mean by this is that I am able to press on my skin with my finger and draw whatever I want and it will show up in red (sorry, no other colors available at this time). It typically shows up thirty seconds after I draw it out and stays for up to five minutes. A friend of mine--who will go unnamed--recommended I propose to my future fiancee in this manner. I vote no on that proposition. However, My secret talent is enormously fun for freaking out those who don't know of my "gift." Do you have any unusual talents or random physical abnormalities?

different times

My how things have changed:

beards

did you know they have beard championships? Neither did I till now.


In an unrelated note, I decided raspberries are my favorite fruit.

What was he thinking....

And Kanye thought he was being original.

The glove

Forget MJ's glove. This is the glove I like:

Thrift store Dior

Thrift stores are like treasure hunting. Sometimes you go and you find jack diddly squat, nada, zilch, and other times you hit the jackpot, strike it rich, and win big. My mom, brother, and fellow partner in crime: Wayne are all avid thrift store connoisseurs. We hit thrift stores like Chris Brown hits women: hard.

Sometimes at thrift stores you find nada and other times, Prada. I especially love that thrift stores sell clothing from other times. Where else can you find twenty year old shoes. Relics from times past. Fashion is a merry go round and there are kids (fashions) that get on over and over again and then there are kids that have one wild ride and then exit the merry go round for good. I shop for those clothes that have returned to the merry go round and are waiting to be given their second spin.

The other day a couple of my friends were trying to define their own "style" in a sentence or two. That got me thinking. What is my style? I have champagne taste and can't afford the Armani I'd like to be wearing however, I did come up with a "style." I am the 80's meets James Dean meets GQ. Two parts Classy and one part funk. What is your "style?"

I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours

Secret about me: I love dance films/ tv shows. I am obsessed with dance. I watch every dance movie I get my hands on. Though I am not a proficient dancer, I love it more than anything. Someday, (God willing) I will marry someone who loves to dance too and we will dance our little (her) and massive (me) feet off.

So in honor of this topic. A song for you all to dance to.

The Nightmare

do not feign ignorance of what I speak
for it is you who trespasses my mind
how dare you smile so innocently
if only your face reflected the sorrow of my soul
then your potency would vanish
and up in smoke
the image would evaporate
were it not seared into my mind
then perhaps I could live
but instead I am haunted
by visions of you
I see your hair in the wind
the ocean's mist surrounds you as you gaze sweetly at the sunset
you are only a stride or two from me
yet it is an eternity away
I once caught a whiff of you
I awoke with the distinct feeling of your kiss on my lips
and yet the scent of you entranced me still
you were not there and you are not here
you reside in a place not quite real
and yet not far away
the future cannot hide you forever
a day not long from now
the kiss I feel and the scent I smell
will not evaporate with the morning
were it not so
I would surely beg dismissal from this cruel game of life

Foxy cleat

Call me cliché. But I find this woman irresistible:


Attitude is everything and this woman has serious ATTITUDE. What is more sexy than a confident woman with an attitude? Well let me answer that question with another picture:

(No, I don't actually think my new soccer cleat is sexier than Megan Fox)

I once:

-argued with a girl about her middle name
-searched my entire house for hours looking for an object I clutched in my fisted hand
-tore my swim shorts at the beach and mooned the world till my mom's friend alerted me

Have you ever done anything embarrassing? Lets hear it in the comment box. This is a no judgement zone. We will laugh with you not at you. (however because the internet affords a certain amount of privacy to its viewers, I cannot promise that a few wont laugh at you;)

that time again

This is the time that haunts me constantly. 11:11. I am making my wish. The same with I always make.

Five random

Names I like:
Andrea
Aubrey
Audrey
Claire
Renada

Favorite words that start with "B"
Beach
Bikini
Bass
Batman
Bomb

Most beautiful celebs:
Bridget Moynahan
Keira Knightley
Megan Fox
Claire Forlani
Jordana Brewster

The Switch

Today I was talking with a co-worker about relationships when a question was asked of me. "So, have you had any crazy girlfriends?" I laughed and said "No" but really I felt a bit strange. Because the truth is that I haven't had any girlfriends; crazy or otherwise. I get asked this a lot at work "Do you have a girlfriend?" and then "Why not?" as though something is wrong with being single. NO, I am not broken, no, I am not a social outcast, no, I am not a sexual deviant or other kind of freak, and no, I don't want you to introduce me to that "nice" friend of yours.

What if I haven't spotted a girl worth giving my love to. What if every time I find a girl I consider attractive and worth my time I find out something about her that completely turns me off. Yeah, lets spend a moment on that one. I can't stand it when I start to like a girl only to find out one of the "mandatories" is lacking or that some other less than admirable trait is present. I recall a particular girl who had many of the qualities I admire and was gorgeous in every way. Our affection was mutual but our values were different in one supremely key area. I wished so badly that I could flip the "love" switch and turn off feelings that had already grown over months of time spent together. There is no "roundup" for love. Love is a weed that grows wherever and whenever it pleases.

call me crazy but......

I have this notion that seems foreign to all but a few of my peers. This "notion" of mine is actually more of a philosophy that I have bought into. My philosophy is simple: it is great to wait. I believe that anything worth having is worth waiting for. I have been pestered nearly non-stop since leaving for school at Cal Poly. Pestered about my choices to wait. You see it is not a big deal to me to wait to drink when I'm 21. Some have said that I'm missing out on all the fun. I beg to differ. I would argue that they do not know what fun really is. If fun is to be equated with alcohol then I feel sorry for people. I know how to have fun sober. And I still party, only difference is that I don't need booze to get up the courage to do the things I want to do. And I will remember the victories, the failures, the feelings, the emotions, the joy of the night, and have no headache in the morning. And the "buzz" that people drink to get is over-glorified, I was born with the buzz.

SEX. Got your attention didn't I? In fact you probably skipped the previous paragraph to see what this was about huh? Don't worry, I would have too. I digress. I am waiting for sex. Waiting not only for the right person, but for the right color of dress, the right ring on the right (correct) finger, I am waiting. Waiting for that one person that I would like to spend the rest of my life loving. An exclusive love that is all that God intended it to be. You see, calling me old fashioned would be correct. But it would be only half correct: I am passionate I am stubborn, and I am waiting.

This song rocks my socks. Perhaps it will rock yours:

another random thought

have you ever wondered what you would do if you knew this was your last day? Think about it............

P.S. I know you want your song so here it is.

what if I

How difficult it is to express the way I feel about her
I know its not love
but also not lust
I want to tell her
and I feel I must
but knowledge is power
and power corrupts
so I await a better time
and contemplate me
what a crime

B@Mn & BW

Did I ever tell you that I LOVE Batman? Well, I do. It's genetic and therefore incurable. My parents saw the original Batman at a drive-in the night before I was born. Clearly they weren't the only ones watching. Let me attempt to explain why I love Batman so much. There are many qualities that I find appealing about the Dark Knight. He is valiant, he is rich yet doesn't love money, he defends the weak, he is handsome and confident, witty, intelligent, a playboy on the surface but a hero deep within. He is so much more than he seems to be. I like that he fights evil though he has no super powers. I want to be someones Batman.

Can I stop telling you now? A song for your time:

Prom Queen

There was a girl once. She was beautiful, but she was only beautiful. This girl was my high school "prom queen" I put this in quotes because I believe that every school has many "prom queens" who are popular girls who walk all over good guy's hearts. This video displays so perfectly what it is like to love someone who does not return your love. She f'ed around and broke my heart. She is the girl in this video, I am the guy. She was my prom queen. And this is what is going to happen:

update

I realize that I have neglected this blog for far too long. I apologize, please forgive me. I promise to write something worthy of reading in the near future. Literary genius smiles on those who pursue it. In the mean time, as is my tradition, I give you a song for your time.

Move For Me - Kaskade

Here's to the Crazy Ones

Here's to the crazy ones.
The misfits. The rebels.
The troublemakers. The round
pegs in the square holes - the
ones who see things differently.
They're not fond of rules and
they have no respect for
the status quo. You can praise
them, disagree with them,
quote them, disbelieve them,
glorify or vilify them.
About the only thing that you
can't do is ignore them.
Because they change things.

- Jack Kerouac

back to the past's idea of the future

Ever wondered what the future of fashion will be? I know I have. Personally, I think we'll all be wearing duct tape. But that's just me. Ever wonder what they thought in the 1930's about today?

If I could describe......

Slowly I tie up my laces while I inhale my favorite smell: freshly cut sod. As I finish tying my last bow I sit for a second and reflect upon my day; and thus my therapy begins. In one swift motion I am suddenly on my feet. I take a few steps, relishing the feeling of each cleat burrowing its way into the moist grass. My walk becomes a jog and then transforms into a full gallop. The wind tickles my face and my hair dances in it-in perfect rhythm with my every stride. As the first drops of sweat begin to bead on my forehead-I realize it has been a while. I know better than to skip my therapy. My heart beats faster and faster in my chest. I feel numb. I hear nothing. Perfect silence has enveloped me. This is my sanctuary. This hallowed plot of ground is my salvation from the hassles of life. SUDDENLY I realize that my friend has been yelling my name. The time has come. Game time! The hair on the back of my neck rises, and my body feels violently cold. A shiver goes down my spine as the the referee blows the whistle. I feel suddenly ALIVE. Fire is in my veins and lightning is in my eyes. This game was made for me! And I. I was made for this game. My opponent thinks he has a chance. He has been miss-informed.

Dead Weak

At Cal Poly the week before finals is called "Dead Week." It is supposed to be a week where you are doing nothing but studying for finals. Unfortunately every quarter I've spent at Cal Poly I have only felt dead/weak at the end of this week. Teachers are merciless slave drivers who somehow think it is humane to assign homework and tests up until finals. Sorry for my rambling, but someone needs to hear me vent. Why not you?

Here is a song for your time:
One eskimO - Givin' up (Don Diablo Remix)

Lazerwolves

This is us:

My favorite sound

Ok, well I should be sleeping, but I have something I need to get off my chest. Today I was sitting in class and then I heard it! "click clack clip click clack." Instantly, I was helpless. I couldn't put thoughts together because I was transfixed by what I consider the most divine sound: heels. I am completely obsessed with heels. I would love to explain further and offer some insight as to why my mind finds heels so irresistible, but I don't think I can. Those who know me well have their theories. But truth be told, I am not 100% sure why.

Dance with me:

feel alive - benny benassi

Another thought

So, while I'm on a role, I'd like to mention a pet peeve of mine. I HATE, wait, hate is not strong enough. I LOATHE when people flake out. If you say something, like say for instance: "I'll be at the game," then you better get your narrow behind there. If I ruled the world, people who sketch out would be shipped to siberia and flogged with otter pops (don't know where that came from, this is somewhat a stream of consciousness post). Nas really was on to something with the "If I ruled the world" scenario/song. More thoughts to come.

Peace out, I gottz to get my handsome sleep.

P.S. does anybody read this? Just curious.

Romantic #1

Engagement rings in food. Whoever thought that was a good idea was an idiot. Fo realz, food is made to be eaten, rings are meant to be worn. I shudder to think about the foreshadowing of retrieving a ring that you swallowed. Just a thought.

success

A question was asked of me today. Ok, here is the background info: My WOW mom and I were having a fine afternoon chat. My WOW mom was reflecting back on her experience at Cal Poly as she is about to graduate. She told me that she had finally come to an important conclusion on life: that everyone needed to have their own definition of success. She then explained her definition of success. For her, success is making those around her happy. So, what is my definition of success? I know for sure, my definition is not as selfless as my WOW mom's. Success is a beautiful wife that loves me. Success is a couple of kids, with toothy smiles and endless giggling. Success is going to work at a job that makes me excited to get up every morning. Success is having a fantastic large house with a pool in the backyard and a Benz in the driveway. Success is old friends. Success is a puppy with a incessantly wagging tail. Success is all this and soooooo much more. So, I guess I still don't really know what my definition for success is. I only know that I want it ALL.

bus girl

Since my bicycles untimely demise I have been riding the bus home. On my numerous excursions on SLO transit I have observed a certain girl who rides and reads. And boy oh boy does she ever read. I haven't seen her with the same book yet. Each time it is a new book and each time she looks completely engrossed in what lies between the covers. I love a girl with an appreciation for literature. A girl who loves books is equally sexy as a woman who cooks. So I'll keep you posted on whether she cooks or not, I plan on asking her about her book next week. Wish me luck!

girl talk

I have many doubts as to how attractive I am at 7am, however, today I must have done something right because I sure as heck caught the attention of a certain girl in my english class. Now, usually I would be concernicus (dane cook anyone?) about the unwarranted attention of a woman whom I have no interest in. Yet as I sat there in class yawning, I couldn't help but feel amused as she stared conspicuously. But my amusement soon faded and I was vexed, didn't anyone teach this girl that it is impolite to stare? As class continued, and I pondered my situation, I began to smile and realize how odd it was that I should actually catch a girl eying me. You girls are sly, guileful creatures, and are as likely to get caught looking as a guy is to get caught in panty hose and high heels; both happen, but it is a rare occurrence. I believe that girls have a sixth sense about when you are about to turn and catch them stealing a glance. This sixth sense has only evolved in women, because I know as a guy that I have been caught staring on more occasions then I like to recount, and I consider myself a particularly stealthy admirer.

I have considered the option that I am completely wrong on this whole affair. Maybe the reason girls don't get caught staring at guys is simply that they don't! Nowadays It seems like girls (I divide the whole world into girls and guys) have lost interest in guys. Now granted, we are not as easy on the eyes as the fairer sex, however, when push comes to shove, I should think it natural for at least a few of us to be deemed handsome. No?

Sleep disorder

It is just the strangest thing. Every now and then when I am very stressed I wake up convinced that my alarm has gone off. Now, this would not be at all tramatic were I getting up at say six or six thirty. However, I get up at two or three in the morning. What makes this so tramatic for me is the fact that I take a twenty minute shower, eat a full breakfast, brush my teeth, and proceed to head out the door. Upon reaching the door, I look at the time and realize that I have made a serious miscalculation. Who gets up at three a.m. when they don't have to? Meth addicts, thats who. I am not a meth addict, so why am I so confused? I need answers, I need sleep, I need to be put in a massive crib and have my mom wake me up at the end of nap time.

Otter Pops

They say the first step is admitting you have a problem, so that is what this is. This is me admitting my complete inability to resist otter pops. I have an addiction.
-200 otter pops bought at costco.
-100 eaten in three days.

In other news, I went mothers day shopping today, I totally lucked out and found these really neat earrings that I hope my mom will love. Some student made them. I envy people that can create beauty so effortlessly. I am a great admirer of beauty, however, I am not gifted in making it. In order to make up for what I lack in creation skills, I collect beautiful things. Sometimes the beautiful things I collect are not really things at all. For instance, I collect sunrises, not pictures of sunrises, MEMORIES of sunrises. A video camera or still picture cannot capture the feelings you get when you see the sun rise, or set for that matter. A memory is so vivid and has dimentions to it that manmade machines can't achieve. I could talk about this all night, but I won't, because I'm avoiding statistics. so in the words of Eminem, "Back to the lab again yo."

P.S. My newest song obsession:

I Remember (Caspa Remix) - Deadmau5

Cribs minus MTV

Showing your abode when it is not a mansion, and the people viewing it are not holding video cameras, is considerably less glamorous.  It isn't quite the same when your "Crib" has 1.5 bathrooms.  How can you have one and a half bathrooms?  We have two toilets, in my mind that means we have two bathrooms.  I digress, the true mistique of our apt lies not in the bathroom(s) but in the clothes strewn hap hazardly around the floor.  Or how about the kitchen?  I am pretty sure, when Snoop Dogg give a tour of his crib he doesn't have to say, "The spagetti sauce on the ceiling has an explanation."  Alas, the bedroom is probably the one area that might save me.  When I give a tour, I always give the cliche line: "This is where all the action goes down."  Its true you see, though no woman (or man for that matter) has set foot in my bedroom excepting my roomate and a few close friends, there has been plenty of action in my room.  I freestyle soccer here, kicking a soccer ball repeatedly through the air mere feet from my desk where I continue the "action" everyday, with countless english papers and other burdensome bits of boring prose.  This apartment--with its marinara ceiling and messy unkempt atmosphere--will always hold a special place in my heart.  It will because it was my first apartment, and good, bad, or ugly, this was where I traversed the tricky incline that is true adulthood.  Here in this apartment, I paid my first rent, electric bill and cable and somehow managed to smile as I watched my bank account stagger.  The Bat Cave will go down in my history book as the place where Jesse Madera went from slacker to macker.

Oh, and here is what I am currently listening to.  

100 Yard Dash - Raphael Saadiq

In For The Kill (Skreams Lets Get Ravey Remix) - La Roux

This song is currently playing non-stop in my head.  I rather enjoy it.  Maybe you will too.

NO, I didn't misspell it

To whom it may concern, I did not error when I titled this blog.  Though currently my last name is spelled Madera, it pays no tribute to my ancestry.  My grandpa fought in WWII.  While there he changed the spelling of his last name from Madeira to Madera.  I am currently unsure as to why he changed it.  I only know that I am not hispanic, I am Portuguese.  As such, I decided to title this blog with my last name as it should be; the Portuguese way.  The dog tags I wear around my neck have my grandpa's name as it used to be on them.  These tags were worn by him when he was fired at by a panzer (read: tank).  They saw a considerable amount of Europe, including Italy, another country where I trace my ancestry.  Who knows how many bullets flew past my grandpa as he wore these dog tags--any one of which, could have prevented my existence.  I consider these dog tags a link to my past; a past I didn't live, but I frequently ponder.  I am convinced that one cannot know where they are going till they know where they have come from.  

Alpha

Alpha is the greek name assigned to the first letter of the greek alphabet.  This is my inaugural post, hence the title.  In this blog I reserve the right to random.  You can expect to read whatever happens to be running through my mind at any given time.  Enough talk.  In the begining............