Wednesday, December 29, 2010

great expectations

I have a theory. Well, I have many theories. This theory pertains to expectations and success. The other day I was watching a Lil Wayne interview that was done just after the release of "The Carter III," and all the success of the initial several weeks of that album. The interviewer who was not shown, asked Lil Wayne if he had expected this album to be such a smashing success, and if he expected to be this successful as a result of the album. Lil Wayne at first tried to say that he had expected this album to be a major success, but then he corrected himself and told the interviewer what his mom told him when he was younger. His mom had told him to never expect a lot because then you wouldn't be disappointed when things didn't go your way. Hearing this really upset me, mostly because I have been raised by a mom that said just the opposite. I thoroughly believe that if you expect greatness, you will be motivated to put forth the effort and hard work to make your expectations a reality. I also believe that if you expect little, you will get little. So any mom that tells her children not to expect much is crippling them. In psychology we call this a self-fulfilling prophecy. Robert Rosenthal was one of the first psychologists to study this phenomenon. He found that teachers who expected less out of certain students due to their prejudices ended up confirming their suspicions, this was mostly due to the teacher's bias argued Rosenthal. The teachers treated these students differently, they dumbed down their instructions and expected/demanded less of these same students. So when test time came, these students were less prepared for the rigorous and objective tests that they had been inadequately equipped for. In reading Machiavelli's "The Prince" I stumbled upon this quote that I found very inspiring. Especially since I know that this was written just under 500 years ago. "He should behave like those archers who, if they are skilful, when the target seems too distant, know the capabilities of their bow and aim a good deal higher than their objective, not in order to shoot so high but so that by aiming high they can reach their target." So the moral of the day is to expect great things. Expect the best from others-and definitely expect the best from yourself. I always tell my friends when they are suffering from self doubt, "I always bet on me" you need to do the same.

By far the best song from The Carter III: Lollipop

Guess my favorite line in this song.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Flip through some pages!

Is there anything more delightful on this earth then a garage sale that has only books? I certainly can't think of many things better. The other day I spent a good hour and a half sorting through hundreds of classics being sold for 1 and $2. I thought I hit the lottery, and I came home with handfuls of greek lit. and the book I'm currently reading, Machiavelli's "The Prince." What a tragedy it is that no one reads anymore. I think it is terribly sad that some of the most eloquent and beautiful things ever written will never be read. This is why it is impossible for me to consider as a friend or otherwise, anyone who doesn't read at their leisure. So, read more, write more, stretch that mind of yours! The mind is a terrible thing to waste.......

Just one of those things.....

you're my favorite of the women in my life
though you love me one day
and hate me the next
you're as beautiful to me-as the sky you reflect

you're my lover
though you caress me gently one day
and thrash me fiercely the next
you're delightfully intricate- and infinitely complex

you're my confidant
though you listen patiently one day
and interrupt me constantly the next
you're a salve for my wounds-you negate their effects

you're my favorite contradiction
though you may kill me
and take my body far from home
I can think of nothing more eloquent-than your seas forever to roam

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Return to poetry

I took a poetry class at Cal Poly. I loved every second of it till I pulled a 48 hour straight massive poetry fest where I put together a gigantic portfolio with my heart and soul bared for my teacher to grade. I received a "B" in that class and I'm afraid it soured my experience so badly that I haven't written a line of poetry until now. And now I am forcing myself back to the sanctuary I used to run to. So tread softly you who read this, and keep in mind that corny love poems are my favorite topic. I only want to share the first stanza with you.


You’re a collection of glances
Each of them stolen
And all of them the contraband of my dreams
My imagination is no substitute for your beauty
And like the addict I’ve become
My appetite for your loveliness is no match
for the shortage I endure

Someday I hope to marry a woman who's beauty is contraband.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Love or something like it

This is just so perfect. I know I've felt abused by love before.

Friday, December 17, 2010

So true!

There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a great deal of good. ~Edwin Denby

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Feature Artist: Inna

How do I describe Inna and her music? Well, I don't. Usually after watching one of her music videos I am incapable of coherent thought and describing something is far down on the list of activities I would like to be doing. Anyway, don't take my word for how amazing (great song) she is, listen and watch for yourself! Her music videos all feature beautiful women (Inna takes the cake in all videos) and some sort of high energy activity, whether dancing, fighting, surfing, clubbing, whatever! So I guess I like the videos for the combination of beauty and activity. Did I mention it's good music?


Sun is up

10 minutes

Deja Vu



Hot (Dancing in the dark Video Remix)

Saturday, November 13, 2010

More funk please!

I hate to be a bandwagon music lover, but I got caught up in the soul music (the soul train?) and I just had to join in on the fun. So thank you B-daddy for the inspiration!

Whatever happened to music like this:

P.S. Bonus points if you can guess my favorite part of the song.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Song of the day

I'm going to make a concerted effort to blog a bit more in the coming week. This shouldn't be too difficult since I am doing a facebook fast. I met a very cute girl this week, so I might just have a few things to say about that. We'll just have to see!

Not the girl I met:

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Appreciation for the human form

I am a Kinesiology major. For those of you who do not know what that is, please allow me to explain. Kinesiology is the study of movement. Kinesiology majors take a plethora of science classes, many of which focus on human anatomy, both form and function. I personally love all of it. I have been a huge fan of the human body my whole life. I chose Kinesiology as my major in part because I am fascinated by the body and everything to do with it. The more I study this marvelous machine, the more I am convinced that we are all "fearfully and wonderfully made." I think it is impossible to believe that the incredible complexity of the human physiological system is an accident. The body is a magnificent self-sufficient organism that maintains homeostasis through hundreds of complex feedback loops that constantly adjust to our ever-changing environment. I could talk about this for days and days, but I won't (at least today).

Anyway the reason I am posting today is that I have a complaint. The other day in my track/cross country class I made a comment about one of the male athletes I saw exercising nearby. I said, "Wow, he's ripped-look at that six pack." One of my classmates instantly made the comment, "That might be the gayest thing I've ever heard."

I find it unfortunate that a male can't admire another male's physique without being considered gay. For the record, I am straight as they come. But I don't find it compulsory as a straight male to find my body or my same sex peers bodies repulsive. I admire the human form everywhere, I enjoy seeing fit individuals both male and female. I am not sexually attracted to fit males, and I am not necessarily attracted to fit females. I can admire certain qualities in both sexes as being rare and difficult to acquire, such as a a particularly chiseled set of abs. This doesn't make me gay or bisexual, it merely means I cherish the human form and I wish to compliment those who exemplify all that we can achieve with the set of cells we are given. End of rant.

Sunday, October 10, 2010


Armani has always been my favorite designer brand. But within the span of one year Armani managed to hire my favorite soccer player: Cristiano Ronaldo and the most beautiful actress: Megan Fox, it's almost like Armani is taking cues from me. Anyway, I'm sorry for not blogging. And I won't give you false promises of blogging more in the near future, because I am overwhelmed with 18 units and graduate school applications. Maybe I'll blog in a month, we'll just have to see.



Sunday, September 19, 2010

Sex starts in the kitchen

My mom told me a long time ago, "When you are married someday you will need to help out in the kitchen." As we were doing dishes that night she explained to me that a healthy marriage can often be spotted in the kitchen after dinner. If both the wife and husband are involved in the cleanup process, then often times that is an indication of a healthy marriage. When I grew older my mom explained this to me again, but this time it really clicked. She said, "Sex starts in the kitchen." Asking for clarification (I tend to be a very literal person), I found out that this was a very logical truth. My mom explained to me that after a long day of dealing with kids/working and then cooking and or cleaning, a woman is tired and the last thing she wants to do is clean up after dinner. A wise husband, my mom explained, offers to clean up after dinner and tells his wife "Go relax, I know you worked hard all day, I got this." Now the reason this is wise should be apparent, but my mom explained anyway. "Happy wife-Happy life. A woman who is tired isn't going to want sex." The lightbulb definitely went on in my mind after this talk, and as a result, I am a kitchen fiend. I always think of my mom's advice whenever the kitchen is dirty or has dishes laying around and I smile and happily go to work because I am practicing. I don't understand why my dad never got these things. And I will never understand why he would ignore my mom when she told him that dinner was ready, only to come in 30 minutes after we'd started eating. Any woman that cooks for you had better be listened to when she says it's time to eat. I live to be the antithesis of my dad.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Green thumb

My grandma on my mom's side was an avid gardener. Every plant she touched thrived and was vibrantly alive. Patricia had a full flower garden and at the time when cancer was found in her, 12 house plants. This love of gardening somehow passed effortlessly on to my mom who cared for the 12 house plants after her mom was stolen from her at the age of 17. Though my mom "killed," as she would say, the plants her mom could no longer tend, she still found joy in the green life that sprang from the ground with the effort of her hands and a smile from God. My mom has gardened all my life and I have seen many tears shed over squirrels stealing her tomatoes, raccoons traipsing through her herbs, and dogs peeing on her plum trees. But the joy gardening brings my mom makes her exuberance for life shine through even more. But the best part? I too have acquired this gardening gene. What started as my first job working for an elder lady in my cul-de-sac watering her roses, geraniums, and all sorts of random twisting trees has turned into something deeper. I feel it in my blood; the call to get my hands dirty and grow something beautiful. Last year in my apartment I could resist the call no longer. So even though in a 3 story apartment, I decided that I needed to get my green on. I bought a basil plant and it thrived in the window, soaking up all the sun and bringing LIFE to my living room and fresh basil to my sandwiches and marinara sauce.

Before I left home to finish my senior year and get my bachelors in science my mom and I gardened together. I had decided that I wanted to expand my "garden" and start growing more things in my appartment window, and the day we gardened we were going to begin that venture. My mom had an aloe plant that we could separate and make into two plants, one of which will travel with me back up to Cal Poly and sit in my window. The whole time it felt very natural to be out in the sun getting a lesson from my mom in gardening. One day I intend to have my very own garden and I can't wait to continue what is getting to be a tradition of green thumbery! On my current "garden" wish-list is a rosemary plant because I love the smell and it is a useful herb in cooking.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Diary of a helpless romantic Part 2/ Ghost Loving

Alright, so I'm sure at least one of you guys wants to know how my plan worked out. Here's all the juicy details you could ever inquire about.

Saturday morning I woke up at 7am to the blaring cell phone alarm that usually ruins my peaceful sleep. Immediately regretting setting my alarm for an hour before the farmers market even opened, I cursed at myself before hopping out of bed and sauntering to the shower. I had picked out my outfit the night before and I took hardly any time to get dressed and ready. Skipping breakfast so that I could eat at the farmers market, I set off in my car (thank God for GPS) for Little Italy. When I arrived I decided to scope out the place and see if she was indeed there. Sure enough, she was manning the booth for Lisko Imports with a bevy of delicious food. I promptly bought a bouquet and a croissant along with a few other trinkets before finding the courage to head over to her section of the booth.

Feigning as though I didn't remember her or didn't recognize her from wednesday night, I began looking at the goods for sale. Her face lit up and she started to say something just as I too started talking. Apologizing for cutting her off I said, "What were you going to say?" She then replied, "Weren't you at the OB farmers market this week?" "Yes I was!" "How did you like those eclairs?" "Oh they were delicious, but boy oh boy if I keep coming back here I will be fat in no time, everything is soo good!" laughter "So what do you recommend?" (referring to the olives she is standing near) "Well, I personally like the garlic olives, but they ruin your breath like nothing else" "Ok, may I try one?" (as she jabs one with a toothpick, I am beginning to get concerned that my plan will not work because she may not ask about the flowers) She hands the olive over saying, "Ok now, don't go for a hot makeout session after this!" "Oh, I'll do my best" At this point I am realizing that she's not going to ask outright about the flowers. After ordering more ciabatta bread and sundried tomato dip then I can consume in two lifetimes, she asks, "Is this all for you? Having a feast?" I see my opportunity come at me and I take it. "Well, the Croissant is mine exclusively, the Ciabatta I might share with my mom, and the sundried tomato sauce I'll probably share with her too, but the flowers, the flowers are for you!" "For ME?" She asks inquisitively. "Yes, for you! thanks for everything" And it is at this point that my very cool deed becomes something of the past. I hadn't thought my plan out past the point of giving her the flowers. This is my patented invention called: Ghost Loving.

Ghost Loving is doing something fabulously romantic with no plan of action or pursuit. It is a coping mechanism that romantics like myself find themselves doing inadvertently because all this passion has to go somewhere. Why not put this zeal to work in spreading the love? I certainly find myself dreaming of a life with every girl I meet. So doing tiny little things here and there just appeases my need to do this eternally with someone I don't just picture a future with, I actually desire a future with. Goodness, this whole story seems like a giant digression. So what is the point? Is there a point? I don't really know, but I guess the beauty of blogging is that you feign as though you are enlightening those who read your blog, but in reality, it is the author who finds the true knowledge gained by expressing their innermost thoughts and feelings on the world wide web. Blogging is the single best way to get to know yourself.

Tonight this song was inspirational. It is a classic in my book:

Friday, September 10, 2010

Diary of a helpless romantic

I bought exactly one flower for a girl I was romantically interested in many moons ago. Since it was only one flower, I guess you know how that story ended. Tomorrow I think I'll give it a try again, different girl but same tactic: Flowers as aesthetic bribery for romance.

So here's the story. I went to the OB street fair wednesday night with my best friend. We toured all the different street fares and found lots of delicious food. In our first loop through all the stands I found a pretty bouquet that I thought my mom might like so I purchased it. A few booths down I saw a gorgeous brunette manning a booth full of dessert baked goods. She was occupied with a decent sized line of customers when I saw her, so I was very pleased to take my place in the back of the line. I tried to think up something witty or funny to say, but nothing came to mind (there's not much you can say about cheesecake and eclairs). When my time was up and it was my turn to order I was pleased to see that she was in no hurry to rush me on out of her presence (very different from my technique at a certain retail establishment). She asked me how I was and seemed actually interested in conversing. Pleased, I decided to stall as long as possible, I tried cheesecake (I hate that shit) and remarked about how good it was (really it tasted gross, but she was pretty enough to elicit a smile and a compliment). Noticing the bouquets my friend and I held in hand, she remarked, "Flowers for your moms?" After I answered "Yes" (and then she said, "awww what wonderful sons you are.") I inquired about whether she always worked at this booth on Wednesdays. She replied that she did indeed always work there on Wednesdays BUT she also worked saturday mornings at the Little Italy farmer's market. This delightful sparkly eyed dessert goddess then invited me to check out the Little Italy farmers market, which brings us back to present time and my endless subterfuge.

I'm notorious for over-thinking my every move when I try to talk to beautiful women. But I can't help myself. So here's the scene: beautiful day, beautiful girl manning a booth full of delicious desserts (and cheesecake) in a farmers market in the picturesque Little Italy. A guy with a fresh bouquet purchased at said farmers market arrives. The queen of the desserts recognizes this flower toting gentleman and remarks about the flowers, "Flowers for your mom again?" To which our hero responds, "Not this time, this time the flowers are for you."

This whole shebang is rather simple to me. My options upon meeting this beautiful woman were: A) To return to OB farmers market every week till I could sweep her off her feet. The obvious side effect of this plan is that I would become an obese man from consuming copious amounts of eclairs. Or B) Try something daring and perhaps find the woman of my dreams. This is why I hate being a romantic. I imagine a future with every girl I meet. And I have been wrong soo many times. Oh, and there's the whole creepy aspect of it too. Everyone thinks you are a stalker extrordinaire because you take every chance you get or invent in the pursuit of a mere second of time to spend in the oft hopeless attempt at conjuring up a relationship out of thin air. I am just afraid that one day I will stop caring. I'll become jaded to that giddy feeling of immense hope and opportunity and end up a lonely old man who quit trying a moment too soon.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

The dangerous thing about looks

“The Look” by Sara Teasdale.

Strephon kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.

Strephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010


I was recently advised that the best way to get over a girl is to sleep with numerous women. I found this "solution" a bit tempting because I'll be honest what 21 year old guy doesn't wish sex could solve his problems. But I know it won't and I know the cure for one girl isn't another one. I find it troubling that as I continued to think about her words (yes a woman suggested I do this, can you believe that?) I really did try my best to make it all work out in my mind. But morals and ethics are not so easily persuaded, and though I could push and tug and twist all I liked, this piece didn't fit in my puzzle. I do not know what the cure for loneliness is, but I know that "there are worse things than being alone" a quote of my mom's (she usually follows that up with, "I would know, I lived with your father.") Whatever the case, I know that I will not be sleeping around in order to get over one girl or to try to assuage my loneliness, and as I like to say, "Anything worth having is worth waiting for." For me, that includes sex.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Time to think

I'm being lame and not blogging like I promised because I've got some introspection to do. However, I'm giving you the opportunity to go dance, the first two songs here are especially great songs. Sometimes loneliness just means you enjoy some music and envy the heck out of people like this:

Friday, August 20, 2010


Love is to enter into someone else's life and share all the beauty that lies within; but the real beauty comes in returning the favor.---Jesse Madera

Love is sitting in a motorcycle sidecar with a guy who is clearly Cristiano Ronaldo's great grandpa and being soo in love that you don't realize how silly he looks. You just stare with that all too familiar lover's gaze and love with a love that "bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things." 1 Cor. 13:7

And then one day:

At least that's how I imagine it.

Song of the day:

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Song of the day

Bad boy songs are my favorite. I love all the worst music. I love the music that advocates a lifestyle I don't condone. Is that bad? But this one's catchy.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Great music

I apologize for not blogging more. I promise to do a bit more in the coming weeks. I'm studying for the GRE and applying to grad schools while working full time. But writing is therapeutic so I will continue to blog.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Did I say 10 days?

I lied. But to make up for my fabrication, I have a work anecdote for you. The other day I had a customer (in a completely serious and very inquisitive voice) ask me "How many times a year is your Anniversary Sale?" At first I cracked a huge smile and would have laughed far too loud for the present setting, except that the look on her face told me that she needed a serious answer. So I replied, "Our ANNIVERSARY sale only comes once a year." but what I wanted to say was, "Well, we broke up two or three times so we celebrate two aniversaries." People are incredibly obtuse.

other idiots:

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Day 7

My best friend is MIA----Missing In Australia. And tonight is my last night house sitting. I had a drink or two and relaxed in the jacuzzi before taking a lovely dip in the pool and drying off. Tonight I realized that the dogs are just as rowdy together as my best friend and I are. But ONLY when they are together. It's like they get this whole cocky--take over the world attitude that makes them total pricks to everyone on the outside. But to them; it is the time of their lives and they wouldn't have it any other way. Well, in 7 days, my dog will be less happy than I. But he's had his fun, and I want my fellow shenaniganer (a neologism of mine) back. I lack sleep and I definitely lack motivation for the work shift I decided to cover tomorrow. C'est la vie

Friday, July 30, 2010

Day 6

The guilt I feel for living in this immaculately clean room is starting to hit me. I quickly made it evident that someone is living here and that someone is not as clean as the previous occupant. There are clothes strewn haphazardly all over the room from someone who can't decide what to wear and uses his work schedule as a decisive tool (who's working tomorrow? Do I care how I look?). Along with the clothes, there are an assortment of books (I recently started three books..... and no, I do not get confused) laying among the clothes. But the best part of this chaotic collage of carefree life is by far the mattress I put in the dead center of the room. Yes, there already was a bed here in this room. No, it didn't feel right to sleep in it. Yes, I realize I am strange. But with all the mess, I like to imagine a scenario that might occur. Lets say that some random person stumbles upon this room and must use the evidence therein to make a conclusion about the resident (kind of like a show they had back in the day on MTV). I imagine it might look as though a librarian had a book party/orgy here. In conclusion, I guess I should probably clean up or else someone might get the WRONG idea, because no sex is going on here. Trust me, I'm as chaste as a moose on a mantle.

WARNING: this is not a pg13 music video. If you have high blood pressure, avoid.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Day 5

Today I ate my way out of unhappiness. Gobstoppers galore saved me from wishing I was in Aussieland. And two dogs who wanted to walk really really bad gave me a little bit of exercise as I enjoyed a sunset that begged a romantic audience. I am definitely planning a date that ends in this part of town. I have two spectacular views of man and God's creations within a mile of each other and both spots are uncharted by anyone but the most keen of native residents.

In other news, I decided that I need my passport pronto because I want to do some traveling. One trip I would like to take is south of the border with my surfboard and perhaps my salty and streetwise father. On this trip I would like to pursue my newest and most favored hobbie: surfing. I recently had a major breakthrough in the waves and I want nothing more than to have some space and time to perfect the new things I have been trying.

Day 4

Today I killed a centipede in the backyard (disconcerting). Before that I had drinks with Jimmy, and before that I Jacuzzi'd. Before that I got off work at 10. Before that I dealt with bitchy spoiled girls/women for 8 hours. I feel obligated to continue blogging about these miserable days I have while my best friend is out of the country, but only because I said I would. If he were here, I'd be having too much fun/we'd be in too much trouble to blog. It's 2:30 a.m. and I work at 8. I am a bit tipsy, but still cognizant enough to use the word cognizant properly in a sentence. Goodnight my loves good evening my family down under.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Day 3

This is getting old real fast. Yet again I return to you here on the world wide web to tell you about my house sitting adventures or lack there of. Today was rather uneventful, except that I discovered that this house is haunted. I keep hearing footsteps coming up the stairs and I am positive that someone is coming. Except they never do! It is slowly driving me nuts. But then again, I guess I had a head-start there already.

The dogs (my german shepherd and my best friend's lab) are having the time of their lives. They seem like they are so excited to see each other that they don't really know where to start. So they fall back on the time honored favorites of generations of dogs: sniff each other's pooper and wag their tails into oblivion.

Bed time now, but play time later.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Day 2

I woke up to an empty house. Terribly depressing. So after having not one.......but two dogs slobber all over me, I put on sunscreen and headed to the beach. I strategically sat near the cutest girls I saw on the beach. Baywatch style I ran into the water and then James Bonded (Daniel Craig version) out of the surf and back to my towel. Well, those girls had no chance. After giggling and a few more shots from their "Snapples" followed by NOS chasers, the one in the european styled black bikini came over and asked me to watch their stuff. "Sure thing," I replied as I pulled out my book and feigned a lack of interest. 5 minutes and 3 pages later the dangerously cute duo returned and thanked me generously for "guarding their valuables." To make a long story short, I ended up taking shots on the beach with an Aussie exchange student from Melbourne at around the same time my best friend was landing in Melbourne. Ironic? I thought so.

P.S. Did I mention the part where I bought a handle of Skyy and smuggled it with a cute girl past San Diego's finest. Ahhh, what a great way to celebrate my 1st time getting carded. Would have been much better had my favorite accomplice been present. Oh well, he's probably putting shrimp on the barbi right about now.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Day 1

Today marks the start of a 10-11 day journal that I will keep chronicling what it is like to housesit your best friend's abode while he is away on vacation.

I sit here wondering why the hell I want a big house some day. This house is massive and I and my family are only three. Yet someday I want a giant house. I guess this is a life lesson. Big homes are only fun if they are filled with people you love. The house I am sitting in/ sitting is one such home every normal day of the year. Today is not normal, the next two weeks are not normal. I hate abnormal. I hate loneliness. I also hate pancakes, eggs, waffles and white picket fences. Oh, and vanilla ice cream. This may sound like a digression, however, it is nothing of the sort. The ones who occupy this home love to goad me about my "picky" tastes with breakfast food and my mom objects to my disliking of white picket fences. But all my dislikes are easily decoded by one simple yet dangerous idea that pervades my mind. I have an innate distrust of normalcy. The white picket lifestyle of 9-5 boredom and cookie cutter homes with boring housewives who drive boring minivans isn't for me. That is all so vanilla. I don't want a plain jane life (and I certainly don't want a plain jane wife). I want an exceptional one, exotic, free, fun, and dangerous (much like the woman I seek). So how does house sitting give me all this? Well, I guess it would help the reader to know that I am sitting at the very desk of a certain individual who I believe is very fond of doorbell ditching death. This unnamed but highly respected individual used to run around his backyard with a backpack full of bricks simply because he wanted a "workout." His exploits are far more than the played out impish quasi-badassery that we see so often on youtube. This is a genuine nutcase. I would know, I've heard some of his ideas of what would be "fun." Here's one: "Jesse, lets drive out to the desert with a handful of rations and a few essential tools and just survive for a weekend." So when I talk of living a exceptional life, I know that you need exceptional people in it. The desk I sit at belongs to one such person. A person who, if I have my facts straight, is on a plane as we speak (or I type) and headed to a land where badassery is not unusual, it is the status quo. So to you my friend, bon voyage! I hope and pray for your safe travels and I want you to come back from the future!

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Home Alone 4

Some of my favorite movies as a youngin' were the home alone videos. I loved the ingenuity and brilliant schemes the heroic youngster came up with in his battle against the malevolent dunces who wished him harm.

The last two days I have been home alone--well almost alone, my dog Sherman has been my ever-present companion. I almost wish some bad guy(s) had tried to rob my house. I could have used the entertainment. Instead, I found out just how miserable it is to be home alone. I LOVE people and with my Mom and Brother out of town I think I regressed as a social human being.

I guess I did the whole Tom Hanks Castaway thing, I had very stimulating conversations with myself. It's funny how I could always counter my brilliant arguments--It was almost as though the other party could read my mind. I entertained myself in ways that may seem odd to those who are introverted and have long since discovered socially appropriate ways of keeping bordom at bay. One such event was my dance-a-thon with the broom as I blasted music through the house and had a fantastic time salsa dancing/sweeping the house. My dance partner and I swept the competition and were very pleased with how clean the dance floor was when the music stopped. I could go on for days about all the interesting and socially disturbing things I did in search of entertainment, but alas, it is time for bed because I have work in the morning.

Friday, June 25, 2010

Is this ironic?

I work retail in a very large three story building. This building has state of the art security measures against earthquakes. It was explained to me a long time ago that "The building is on rollers so that it will sway in the event of a large earthquake." Today I counted 13 customers who asked whether we were having an earthquake. This was over the span of about 8 hours. To explain why the customers asked that question I have to give a little bit of background on the daily vibrations we feel in our department when there are a lot of people in the store. So here's the low down, when a couple hundred people come in to this state of the art building and start trooping around looking for fashionable clothing and all that jazz, the building shakes shivers and rolls--but we're safe as can be from an earthquake. So for those of you who missed it, that means we experience earthquakes on the daily so that we won't have to experience an earthquake. Or in still other words: Our fear of earthquakes has created a never ending earthquake.

I'm always down to boogie, so I just sway to the sound of the music and smile as I help the countless startled customers who are sure the building is going to fall on their perfectly coiffed hair. I guess I kind of like the swaying, it makes me feel like I am on a ship travelling to financial security and fiscal freedom. And indeed I am!

Are you tired of Seal yet? I sure hope not!

Thursday, June 24, 2010

I'm no Trekie

Star Trek! Oh how I loathed that show. I have never been a T.V. guy. The thought of sitting down for hours upon hours watching a colorful box makes me antsy. I much prefer the outdoors. God didn't bless me with a badonkadonk, which I have always taken as a sign that I wasn't meant to spend much time sitting--and I haven't.

Back to Star Trek. My dad loved that show. He thought it was the coolest thing. Even back then (I guess I must have been 5-8) I knew I wasn't into that silly space crap. I have no interest in outer space, never have, probably never will. Space has always seemed so cold and empty to me. I love THIS world, so why the heck would I try to explore elsewhere and risk meeting aliens and prove my best friend right. Anyhooo I could give you all my anti-space lecture some other time. For now I'll just show you a video that probably would have made me a Star Trek fan, had it been anything like the actual show.

p.s. Sorry for not posting in a while. I was exhausted from finals. And now I work full time. So I will do my best to post more.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Where will I meet her?

My best friend and I love to ask silly questions to each other. We basically live life as though it were one long slumber party. You know what I mean. It's those questions you ask at a sleepover: If you could be trapped on a desert island with one girl, If you could eat only one food for the rest of your life, If you could......You get the picture. Well, the other day I had a question for my friend. The question was, "Where do you think you'll meet your future wife?" Basically I was asking where you'd ideally meet the woman you'd be willing to spend the rest of your life loving.

Most of the time when I ask hypothetical questions, I am hoping the person I ask will turn the question back on me so that I can elaborate on my pre-thought out and clever answer (well, I usually think it's clever). So naturally when I asked my best friend the question I was ready with my response. My answer to where I thought I'd meet my future wife was well thought out. I said I saw myself meeting her volunteering somewhere, either with people in need or the homeless or with people (probably children) who are cognitively challenged. I answered this way because these are things I know I want in my future wife. I want someone who cares. Someone who isn't selfish and considers other people's needs above her own. Someone who is intimately acquainted with the hurt and pain in the world and doesn't turn a blind eye to it. I don't believe that the world's problems can be fixed in my lifetime, but I do believe that I am responsible for doing my part to end them. And I think the perfect place to find the person who will fight by my side in this battle against injustice is probably somewhere volunteering. But things like this are serendipitous and they must remain that way or they won't be special.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

So bad, yet so good?

I like the worst music. But the dancing in this video makes me smile. Sorry for the lack of quality posting as of late. It's finals week here at Poly, and eloquence is hard to come by when you're getting little sleep. If you want some good stuff to read check out my "Featured blogs." My friends are far better at this whole thing than I.


This commercial makes me jealous of someone who poops their pants. So why is it banned?

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Who am I?

The question we should all ask ourselves. The everchanging evolution of self. I'll be different the day I die. Michele Riehm (The very wise and pretty mom of my best friend) has a sage bit of advice as to how one should "find themselves." According to Michele it is as simple as taking one hand and placing it on the butt cheek of your choice and taking the remaining hand and putting it on the remaining butt cheek. Viola! There you are! Stop being a dumbass and go take the world by storm. Now I may not put much stock into the whole "finding oneself" BS that the new age loony tune characters on daytime television shows tell us we need. However, I do believe it is very important to have a clear idea/concept of self.

I think that having this blog has helped me get to know myself a little bit better. I know that often I just sit here pondering my innermost thoughts and saving twice the number of posts than the ones I have posted. I don't intend on ever posting half of the stuff I write about, for the most part I am just happy to have discovered some new part of me. See we all think that we know ourselves; that is till our ipods break and we are left in the silence with our thoughts- what a scary/delightful time that is. So I have a challenge for you this coming week. Leave the ipod at home. Let your mind wander and see where it takes you. You might be pleasantly surprised.

It's been a while since I gave you a song. I know this song is rather old news. But it has new life for me because I saw Cage The Elephant live at Cal Poly and they performed this and a few other gems. I burnt my nose standing in the sun and I couldn't hear anything for an hour afterward but even so, I still had this song stuck in my head. So enjoy!

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Childlike joy

Now this blog is not one where I intend to spout off a bunch of rhetoric pertaining to my moral beliefs regarding certain issues. But today I read something that angered me in ways I can't describe with mere words. I read a pro-choice advocate blog giving reasons why abortion is necessary and should be a protected right of women. One of this unnamed idiot's views for why abortion is justifiable was that it would prevent our society from "having a bunch of deformed" people and would "save" society from the complications that certain abnormalities would pose on the "normal" populace. I wish I could meet this asshole in a dark alley. Who of us is "normal" and who gets to decide when someone is a hindrance to someone else? I have spent enough time around people with special needs to know that just because they look different, think different, or act different, none of that negates their humanity. I would argue that people with special needs have a joy unmatched by those of us living the vita activa. I personally think that we who are sound in mind and body ought to spend a minute and ponder why we're so unhappy and where can we find happiness that is not circumstance based.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Sexy Stalker?

This video has been one of my favorite music videos for a long time. I'm thinking of doing a top ten music videos list and when I do I am sure this one will make the cut. So after seeing this video again after a long time I had an epiphany: Why not accept sexy stalker applications? So this is me posting the job opening for an extremely attractive woman to stalk me. What a dream world I live in! Actually, correction what a dream world the maker of that music video lives in.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010


Women, my absolute favorite subject. I have exactly five women that are unnamed memories. Women who I saw exactly one time yet their beauty scarred me, left an indelible image in my mind. Each time I was permitted the scantest glance possible. And after I recover my breath (long after they are gone) I am left wondering how anyone is an atheist. How could anyone look at women and believe that the best artist of all time didn't sculpt their majestic form and breathe life into their rose red lips. I can fathom the antithesis of the atheist argument; perhaps women are gods. I know the five faces that haunt me would make a goddess turn green with envy. The point of this whole discussion? Well, I guess I just love to remember the girl Brandon and I stared at with mouths agape as our ice cream cones dripped on the hot July pavement. Even 10 year olds know a good thing when they see it. I prayed to be stronger, handsomer, taller, and older so I could look in those brown eyes flaked with gold and propose on the spot. Forget ice cream, Mr. Frosty is delicious and PB wouldn't be the same without it. But the real reason Mr. Frosty's has been my favorite ice cream place for the last 10 years isn't because they have the "Banana Boat sunday" or because it is a stone's throw from the beach, or that I conned my parents into getting me ice cream every time we went within a five mile radius of the establishment. The real reason is some anonymous girl who I saw once when I was 10 and have been unable to forget since that day.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Line dancing!

I told you all a while back that I wanted to go line dancing. Well, I finally did it! Last thursday while my best friend was in town, I dragged him to my good friend Hannah More's apartment so we could get a crash course on line dancing. Hannah and I had planned to do this for quite a while, and we had a pretty large group of about 10 gathered.

Now for those of you who don't know, I loath country music. I prefer nails on chalk boards to the steel guitar and twangy sound of country. But I'll tell you somethings I do like: Daisy Dukes, Midriff, cowboy attire (on girls only, I look silly in it), and of course DANCING! So the pros for line dancing outweighed the cons.

When we arrived at the 18 and up club, I was immediately stamped as "underage" and banned from getting a drink (38 days till I'm 21). When we opened the doors and entered the club the sounds of country music assaulted my ears as my eyes got really large because it was too much to take in. First of all EVERYONE on the dance floor was facing us the moment we walked in which was intimidating to say the least. Second of all, I couldn't believe all the pretty girls that were getting their groove on. I knew right there and then that I was in! All in!

My friends however, (all over 21) quickly scampered over to the bar and let the liquid courage take its marvelous effect. I sat on the side of the sober with my hands in my pockets waiting for the rest of our group to arrive. I hate being poor at anything. I always want to be the best and I look down on the fools at the bottom. Unfortunately the way things work in this world is that you start from the bottom and work your way to the top. I am most definitely at the bottom of the food chain with line dancing. And were it not for the most patient and delightful dance partner: Hannah More, I would be trapped forever as an amateur. Hannah coached me for a good hour and a half in at least 10 different dances. She endured a 187 pound gorilla's size 13 feet as they stomped all over her dainty little ones in the two step, she survived (barely) as that same unnamed gorilla backed into her during the electric slide, and she somehow managed to keep that delightful smile of hers plastered eternally to her face. I am very fortunate to have such wonderful friends.

So line dancing has become my most recent addition to a plethora of hobbies that are dear to me. I intend to get good--really good-- so that I can charm all the fetching ladies in their cowboy couture. Tomorrow I go line dancing for the second time! Wish me luck.

One of my favorite dances of the night:


Here's a trend I have spotted. I hope it becomes the next big thing. The Spiderman kiss is so yesterday. This kind of reminds me of when I was a kid and I loved to wear large shirts because when I wanted a place to hide I would just sit down and tuck my knees, head, and arms inside my shirt. Instant hide-out! It was great because it afforded me the privacy a 5 year old needs when he wants to disappear for a while. This new kiss can't decide if it's first or second base, but whichever the players decide, I would play baseball if it was as exciting as this looks. I'm adding this to my bucket list.


I've got a random (but not that random) thought for the day. How would you respond if an alien showed up on your doorstep. Now just to clarify, we're talking E.T. not illegal alien. I know I would probably respond with a mix of violence and hospitality. I would invite the bastard in for tea and cut him to bits. My best friend and I disagree on whether there is life outside of our own lovely planet. He thinks that there is a strong probability that we are not alone in this universe, I on the other hand rather enjoy feeling as though we're the only show in town (granted, we are a shit show, but still).

I do feel as though most of my negative reaction to the thought of aliens is due to how hollywood portrays them. Green slimy buggers (kind of like boogers) that have giant heads, funky looking eyes, double barrelled shotgun noses, and bad attitudes. Now given that description I feel it necessary to point out that I've met a few humans who have two or so of those very same characteristics. I guess my biggest complaint with the idea of aliens is the fact that if we aren't alone in this universe then we are just a part of a bigger picture, one that includes those who are foreign in ways our science fiction writers love to dream up. I choose to believe that we here on earth are strange enough and we don't need anyone vying for the attention with their bug eyes and goofy heads.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Who am I writing to?

It struck me the other day while browsing my past posts on this blog that I write primarily to the female reader. I was pondering this for a while and wondering why I seem to be constantly talking to women on here. The theories I came up with were as follows:

I am in a field of study that has a strong majority of women.

Largely due to reason #1, I have a TON of close female friends at Cal Poly.

I find a lot more in common with the women my age than I do the "men." There are a plethora of reasons for this, but I'm sure I'll delve into those again at a later time.

I know far more women that read for fun then I do men. This upsets me greatly, but once again, more on that later.

I secretly hope that I will say all the right things on here and miss wonderful will pop out of the oblivion and say, "You're amazing, let's run away together and live on a tropical island where we can play soccer and a non-PG sport all day."

So in review, I have been writing primarily to women. I like what I've been doing, I'm not changing. However, I will try to write a bit more on topics that might interest both sexes.

Song of the day: Angel on my shoulder-Kaskade

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Nutrition Now!

Ok, so for those of my readers who are not aware, I am a Kinesiology major. As a Kinesiology major there are certain things that fascinate me (or I wouldn't be studying Kinesiology). I personally find everything to do with the human body riveting. I am considering getting a tattoo that says "Fearfully and Wonderfully Made" because the more I learn about the body, the more I am convinced of the truth of Psalm 139:14. The disciplines relating to the body that most interest me are psychology, nutrition, exercise physiology and obviously anatomy/physiology. I am going to start a new segment in this blog centered entirely on nutrition.

Not long after I came to Cal Poly I discovered the human performance lab. I quickly joined the student run organization named PolyFit and was thrown headlong into a professional setting where I as a student was trained in how to conduct fitness, body composition, and flexibility tests on paying clients (Stuff just like the woman in the video below was doing with the skin calipers). I have been involved in PolyFit every quarter since I first tried it out and I enjoy it as much now as when I started. I have been a group leader for the last four quarters, which means I am responsible for the four to six students in my group. It is my responsibility to train them in the proper techniques necessary to conduct our battery of tests (more on those later) and also manage them as they do so every week of the quarter. As a group leader I am CPR and First Aid certified and were anything to go wrong, I am responsible for resuscitating the client. I have greatly benefited from this experience that Cal Poly has offered me and I can't wait to work in a simular environment in the not so distant future!

Nutrition/Exercise video. I agree with most of what's said here!

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Thursday, May 20, 2010

Fun video

Ever wondered how those models get changed so fast. Well, this video might shed some light on exactly how they do it!

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Cancer sucks

All but one of my grandparents were taken from me in the coarse of one year when I was in elementary school. The one grandparent that wasn't taken that year had already been stolen by the same thief: Cancer. My very first friend was taken too, he wasn't even in first grade. If cancer were a person we'd have serious beef. But since it is an amorphous evil I am left with a huge amount of anger and no real place to put it. But wait! NO, that can't be legal. Or is it? Streaking for cancer? You can't be serious!

Friday is Cal Poly's fourth annual Streak Hathaway event (Hathaway is a raucous party street near campus). An event marked by drunken debauchery and voyeurism but also somehow decidedly philanthropic. You see, Streak Hathaway is a fundraiser for cancer. The leaders of this event sell t-shirts and this year for the first time they will be selling pasties. All profits from the sales of the t-shirts and pasties go to breast cancer research. In the past over $2400 dollars has been raised for breast cancer research. I think this is a noble and fantastic way to come together as a community and fight cancer and even have some fun doing it! This year for the first time ever, I will be streaking, and I couldn't think of a better way to scratch "Go Streaking" off my bucket list.

Here is a video from the inaugural event. Obviously it didn't start out as organized as it is now.

And who could go streaking without remembering "Frank the Tank"