aude facere

New Blog!!!

2010-01-31T00:53:00.000-08:00

A'ight, homies. It looks like I'm relocating my cloud-based thought stream. I'm moving to a Tumblr account. Write it down, add it to your favorites, tell your mom about it, I don't care. Just don't be surprised when months from now you wonder what that dude you used to know whose blog you would occasionally read has failed to update the thing. Consider your collective selves warned.

I will probably start migrating some of my favorite blog entries to the new one, so don't be surprised if you see some repeats on the new one. As for now, I'll see you guys on the other side!

Late Night Thought Stream

2010-01-26T01:37:00.000-08:00

It's almost 2AM, and I can't sleep. My body is giving me all the telltale signs that it wants sleep, but my mind just won't have it. I was lying in bed for a while, trying to sleep, but my brain was moving at a zillion miles an hour, which is only slightly faster than is typical. There are a million different things bouncing around in there, some regarding pressing matters in my life right now like my upcoming graduation to some I have no business worrying about yet like what I'm going to name my first kid. The best I can do is write them down and rant for a while so that at the very least I can remember them and digest them a little more later. Maybe my mind will catch up to my body and want to sleep.

I've been thinking a lot about the acquisition of wisdom. I want it sooooo bad. My uncle once told me something that I think was more profound than even he knew when he said it. He said "People can't take free advice." In context, I think he was referring to financial advice, but I believe the notion transcends finance. The more I think about it, the more I see how right he was. I refuse to take free advice. Countless times have older, wiser individuals tried to impart wisdom upon me in vain, often only to be received with "Yeah, yeah. I know. I know." Then, without fail, I fall into the exact same trap I was warned of only to think "Oh, so that's what they were talking about..." I have come to realize that in the economy of wisdom, error has become currency. Humanity, for some reason unbeknownst to me, is compelled to pay for things, wisdom included. Someone could give me something free of charge, but I won't use it or take care of it like I would if I paid for it myself. Wisdom is no different. We pay for it in mistakes, in experience, and in hardship. Why? Because we're butt-heads. "Don't go near that tree, Adam." "Ummm... about that..." You can hear wise advice a thousand times, but until you screw it up for yourself, it's not going to stick. What makes it worse is that knowing this, won't necessarily make a difference. For each failed appropriation of wisdom, the future holds a thousand more. This is especially intimidating--and aggravating--considering that I'm only 23 years old and there's still an ass-load of stuff I don't know. That means that there are a thousand more ass-loads of stuff lurking out there, waiting for me to totally screw up before I wise up. Not to mention the fact that each conversation with an older person whom I consider to be wise only yields a confession that, regardless of how much wisdom they have attained, they feel equidistant from "enlightenment" (or whatever the hell else I think lies at the end of the wisdom rainbow) as when they started. Sometimes I think wisdom is wasted on the old, but if thinking that isn't ironic, I don't know what is.

It's still early in the semester, but graduation has been breathing down my neck. I really want to graduate. Not just because I've been working for this for the better part of the last five and a half years and think it's about time to cash in, but because I am just ready to move on to the next stage in life. I have thoroughly enjoyed the crap out of the college lifestyle, but I can confidently say that I've outgrown it. I know what any working adult will tell me: "Enjoy it now, because after that, you're just going to work until you die,"--just wait, that whole "can't take free advice" thing is going to come back and bite me in the ass--but the truth is, I'm burned out. This was a great stage in life, but it is just that: a stage. College is something I think I've outgrown. Most of my peers have already moved on with their lives. If I were to draw a pie chart of the time I spent socializing, the largest slice would go to graduates and faculty/staff. They talk about stuff that I've heard of and know about but don't fully understand yet. I feel like a little kid sometimes. It's like watching a movie that everyone else has seen, waiting to find out what happens when they know all along. "What do you mean he was dead the whole time?!"

I worry about recent hardships and how they seem to be repeating themselves in the lives of those around me. For the life of me, I can't see what good has come from them, but I suppose that may not be my place. Who knows, maybe I'll never find out what their purpose is or was. It hasn't been until recently that I've been able to be completely honest with God about it and tell him that I think what he's doing sucks and that I hate it. But regardless of how I feel, I know that my feelings do not determine reality, and how I feel right now is not necessarily how I will feel ten minutes from now, ten weeks from now, or ten years from now. God knows what he's doing even if I don't. He loves me even if I don't do a good job of loving him back. I just have to trust him. Besides, who am I to fight with God? The last guy who did ended up busting his hip, changing his name, and leaving the country. And he made out well! I could only be so blessed. I mean really, I'm like a pimple on the face of Creation at best. All the more glad I am to have been granted Grace and Mercy at his hand.

Given that it's past 3:30AM now and I'm finally starting to get tired enough to sleep, I won't go into detail about the rest of the crap bouncing around in this bottomless, Chuck E. Cheese ball pit of thought I call my mind, but it's an amalgam of the wild and crazy to the standard and mundane: how awesome living on a houseboat would be, wondering how long it's been since I last washed my bedding, what it's going to be like to be a dad--like I said, crazy, girls, locking down a job after graduation, money, food, did I remember to do that thing with the stuff, girls--did I say that one already? Hmmm, weird...

Unprofessional

2010-01-21T22:06:00.000-08:00

I noticed this walking by a poster hung up in someone's room. I can't say that I'm a fan of musical mediocrity, and this is no exception. How this image went to print without anyone noticing what's wrong is beyond me.

5:45PM

2010-01-19T23:21:00.000-08:00

Class let out at around a quarter to 5 today. 4 to 5PM is my favorite hour of the day during Longview winters, so I was fortunate enough to catch the tail end. I was glad because it's the best part of the hour anyway. While anyone who knows me knows that I reserve only the sincerest disdain for Texas and all things it embodies, during this one hour, I can put all of my cynicism aside and just appreciate how beatiful the world really is and how grateful I am to be alive. Photographers refer to this hour before sunset as "the Golden Hour", and it's easy to see why. The light cast by a setting sun reveals the world as it was meant to be. In another hour, it could all change; anything can happen in an hour, but right here, right now, all is as it should be. It is well...

All of the fears, longings, desires, anxieties, insecurities, and guilt that plague every minute of every day relax with me, as if sitting next to me, watching as beams of light dart between the silhouettes of the trees. "We'll be back in the morning, but for now, rest," they whisper, believing that they have the power to grant it to me, that they have control. Sometimes, I believe it too, but not right now. Right now is Truth. Right now is Grace. It is well...

As I write this, sitting on top of my car, I can't help but feel peace as the sun begins to slide slowly behind the trees. I am overwhelmed by the desire to tell someone I care about that I love them. No logic I could ever conjure can explain this compulsion, but I suspect it is because in this moment, God's own love, the Love that sacrificed itself for my sake, is being communicated to me without my consciousness. This must be what it feels like to be content. This is what it's like to know and desire my purpose: to love my God and to love my brother. I wish I could feel it all the time. I wish I could understand it. I know the next few hours will very likely bring a change of heart, but at the very least I'm thankful for the reminder. I'm thankful for the peace, for the quiet. It is well...

"When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul."

I'm on a boat

2010-01-07T21:59:00.000-08:00

As many of you know, I'm seriously weighing out the possibility of living in a houseboat upon graduation. One of my primary dilemmas with doing this is thinking up a solid name for said boat. Here are some of the winners so far in no particular order:

Chocolate Rain
Nauti-girl
Sea Biscuit
El Niño
The Psychedelic Yawn
Sticky Wicket
Neptune's Dinghy

More suggestions are welcome. I'm also planning on getting a parrot that will also need naming.

Tattoo Risks

2009-10-31T16:16:00.001-07:00

During one of my virtual romps through the internet, I found this advertisement for bing.com. I couldn't help but laugh when I read the text. All I could think was "The biggest risk of tattoos is ending up looking like this idiot."

That was close...

2009-07-15T21:27:00.000-07:00

I almost died taking a shower today. I was standing with my back toward the shower head and tap. My feet were probably about shoulder-width apart. I had just finished washing and was just enjoying the warmth of the water before closing up shop when, out of nowhere, I hear this loud boom, feel water shoot from behind me between my knees and hit the wall in front of me. Freaking out a little, I started to look around wondering what happened. I looked down and noticed a high pressure water stream shooting from an exposed copper pipe in the wall, flowing in a straight line at the wall across from it. On the ground was the detached water tap.

As it turns out, the tap had finally had enough of the pressure and fired off the wall, hitting the wall in front of me. I'm just glad I'm not shorter.

I'm an Arsonist

2009-06-03T23:54:00.000-07:00

I realize it's been a while since my last post and that my next contribution should be of more substance, but eh...

Yesterday, I set off the fire alarm. How? I was making a sandwich on a sandwich press. Previously unbeknownst to me, smoke detectors detect smoke and lunch. Full of shame, I vacated the building with the rest of my living companions. We gathered at the designated assembly point, and campus security and the fire department shortly followed. At first I was concerned that they might apprehend my sandwich as evidence, but they were kind enough to leave it be. After they told us we could reenter the building, I ate my sandwich and tried to put the incident out of my mind.

The unfortunate side effect of this whole ordeal is that I now fear the sandwich machine. Lunch will never be the same...

What's in a name?

2009-04-27T16:54:00.001-07:00

Sometime last year, my colleague Steve and I discussed a conundrum which, as of yet, has remained unanswered. It was recently brought back to my attention, and I now submit it for public scrutiny: why is it that women can be named after attributes that are desirable personality traits or moral codes of the super-ego, while men, on the other hand, cannot?

Examples of such women's names:

- Joy

- Hope

- Truth

- Mercy

- Constance

Many of us can say that we have met or heard of a woman with one of the aforementioned names or similar ones. Unfortunately, this naming practice does not cross over to the male sex. If anything, it would make for very poor men's names. Some examples would be:

- Power

- Strength

- Honor

- Tenacity

- Leadership

You will never hear someone introduce his/her children "Hi, these are my sons Integrity and Power." Once again, we men have drawn the short straw.

Jonathan

2009-02-25T06:11:00.000-08:00

The other day, I went to this bonfire party and had a good, long talk with a fellow international student who is from Papua New Guinea. His name is Jonathan. We talked for probably around two hours or so. I had met him earlier in the week, but hadn't really talked to him for very long until that night.

Jonathan is a shorter guy--somewhere around 5' 6"--and built like a miniature linebacker. He has a dark complexion and a wide face adorned with the type of smile that is so big and warm, smiling back is involuntary. When he laughs, you can't help but join him. His hands look like those of one who knows what it means to work hard. His manner is very respectful and kind, and even though I have known him for less than a week, if I had to choose one word to describe his personality, it would be "selfless".

He comes from a very different way of life than I do. His village is up in the mountains of Papua New Guinea. They recently were able to get electricity for the first time, but they still do not have running water. It is primarily a farming community whose major crop is sweet potato. The village is about an hour away from the nearest town. Going into town is always a big deal and requires a lot of preparation. The road is full of hazards. Every trip requires the men to get out of the car and push to dislodge it from some sort of pothole, mud puddle, or what have you. Fortunately, the village is fairly self-sufficient and trips to the town are not required often.

By most western standards, his way of life would be considered primitive and/or poor, but I feel these words connotate an arrogance without ground. Humble is much more appropriate descriptor. Jonathan and his family are content with what they have and are never left wanting. They never go hungry; they have sufficient shelter; they have no need of money; and don't miss any of the "stuff" western culture trifles over. Jonathan told me that he was a little intimidated by life over here because he is afraid of offending someone with his "poor manners", but really, he is perhaps one of the most polite and conscientious people I have met. It saddens me that this was his first impression of the "1st World".

He lives in a tin roof hut that he built himself with his wife and three small children, all under the age of 7. Jonathan will be the first person from his village to go to college. Most people from his village do not even continue their education beyond the tenth grade. If they do, they have to relocate to a larger village or town where eleventh and twelfth grades are taught. Jonathan was not so fortunate.

Sometime after he finished the tenth grade, he began an apprenticeship for a large international mining company and has spent the last 16 years working for the same mining company, mining gold and copper. The last ten of which have been as an electrical technician. He is here to study electrical engineering. The mine is far from the village he is from. So far, in fact, that the mining company has to fly him back and forth between the village and the town near the mine. He spends as many as six months away from the village. Fortunately, the company he works for provides housing for him and his wife and children

Jonathan told me about how he would often come home after a long day at work and play with his children until it was time for bed. Then, he would tuck them into bed and pray with them. He told me about how he and his wife taught them how to pray, how every time they would even eat without praying, his children would speak up, saying "Hey, we didn't pray! We shouldn't be eating yet!". He told me about how his son wanted to pray before meals but didn't know how to finish the prayer and how he would stop mid-prayer and ask his mother to help him finish. Jonathan relayed one memorable account of when his son asked to pray. This time he began the prayer, his mother expecting him to pause and request help half-way through. He kept going until finally he was done. It was his first complete prayer. Everyone was so happy and proud of him that they hugged him, threw him up in the air, and celebrated.

He told me about how earlier that day, while he was going through new student orientation activities, seeing all of the other much younger students and the way of life here in Australia, he began thinking of his own children and broke down thinking about how he wanted the same things for them, for them to get a good education and go off to college, to have all of the cool stuff that they wanted.

Now, I am not one who is easily moved to tears. There are few things that can even push me close to that point--at least since I was in grade school, anyway. One of these things, however, is the thought of one day seeing my own children experiencing harm or hardship or even seeing another father endure the same. Witnessing any sort of emotional turmoil for a father really gets to me. While Jonathan told me the stories of him playing with his children, his son praying on his own for the first time, and his breakdown over missing his children and wanting nothing but the best for them, I almost had a breakdown myself. I couldn't even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to miss any of the great milestones in the lives of his children because of his studies.

He has made a huge sacrifice by coming here to continue his studies. He will be away from his family for up to 4 months at a time. I pray that God will give him peace in being away from his family and that he will be as good of a student as he is as a father. I pray that he will be able to give his children all that he desires. I am glad to have met Jonathan.

Come on, dude! Everybody's doing it!

2009-02-06T23:33:00.000-08:00

I really do detest fads, but this one kinda looked like fun. =)

1 - My favorite word is "asinine", and no, it's not for the reasons you may think. But it might be...

2 - I enjoy vegetables such as lettuce, onions, and pickles on my hamburgers, but if they protrude to far out from the bun, they bother me and will be removed.

3 - I was born with blonde hair and blue eyes.

4 - Shame scares me more than death.

5 - When I was a child, I would often fall asleep on the floor while cleaning my room. On multiple occasions, I would be awoken by my own laughter. This was due to a reoccurring dream in which I was proclaimed the world's greatest "trash picker-upper".

6 - I once saw Pierce Brosnan on the street outside of a jewelry store.

7 - My sister and I are two years apart and she will graduate before me.

8 - People who tell me that I am part of a pivotal generation really annoy me. I believe that the world is in a perpetual downward spiral and there is nothing I or anyone else can do to fix it. We just have to keep on loving each other anyway because that's what Jesus wants us to do.

9 - A couple of years ago, I made the switch to natural peanut butter, and haven't looked back since.

10 - In high school, I once played an entire football game with my shoulder pads on backwards.

11 - I really want to punch someone just to see what it feels like.

12 - One time, when I was a kid, I flicked a booger on my grandmother while she was driving. She wigged out and almost crashed. Since then, I only pick my nose under the cover of darkness.

13 - If they made a Rosetta Stone "Jive" edition, I would buy it. I love crazy lingo.

14 - I've always wanted to laugh so hard that milk came out of my nose.

15 - Wet Willies are always funny to me.

16 - One of the biggest let downs for me is walking into a restaurant getting seated by a pretty hostess near my age, and then getting a dude who calls me "bro" for a waiter. It's like winning the lottery and then losing it all to taxes.

17 - I once exposed myself for money.

18 - Numbers 6, 11, and 17 are made up. Yup, completely fabricated.

19 - Occasionally, I will unintentionally write the word "meat" down instead of the word "meet" and it makes me laugh every time.

20 - Although I am an avid music lover now, I didn't purchase my first CD until the eighth grade.

21 - Whenever someone asks me to come over for guy's night and play poker, inwardly, I start an intense debate on whether I should go or look for a way out. I'd rather just hang out and watch, but guys take the stupid game so seriously. The inquiry "Well, can we just not play for money?" is never met with success.

22 - I have been endlessly searching for caring way of telling people "I don't care." However tender, sincere, and/or loving one's tone may be, I have yet to discover an effective way of convincing the recipient of my these feelings for them, while also conveying my complete apathy toward whatever he/she is talking about. No number of I-love-you's will ever fully repair a "That's great mom, but I don't care."

23 - One of the things I regret most is not spending more time with my family when I was living with them.

24 - I am a complete and total information junkie. I spend countless hours doodling around on the internet without actually accomplishing anything. My frequent online endeavors often include: fantasy shopping on Amazon (I can't even begin to imagine how much time I've wasted on amazon and reading product reviews), reading entertainment news (unlike old ladies who read tabloids for gossip, I read entertainment news because I firmly believe that what is happening is the lives of celebrities shapes our culture more than who is president and what country is fighting what other country. It's unfortunate, but true.), and Facebooking (also unfortunate and also true). If they offered internet rehab, I would be a prime candidate.

25 - I hope to one day be the proud owner of a 1981 DeLorean DMC-12.

Airport Restroom

2009-01-05T23:38:00.000-08:00

I went to Puerto Rico with my family for Christmas. On my way back, I was routed form San Juan, PR to Philadelphia, from Philadelphia to Chicago, and finally, from Chicago to Dallas. Then a two and a half hour drive from Dallas to Longview, TX.

The most memorable part of my 22-hour return trip took place in an airport restroom in Philadelphia. As is the case with many public restrooms, this one did not have any doors in the entrance. Rather, it had an short, U-shaped corridor that winds around so as to obstruct a view of any restroom patrons from those out within the terminal.

As I turned the corner, to my immediate left was a row of urinals facing a row of sinks. There was a series of small dividers between each urinal, sticking out from the wall, and a long mirror above that, running the full length of the room. I did what seemed the most natural and approached the closest open urinal which happened to be the one on the end closest to the entrance. For some reason, even though there were dividers shielding each urinal from its neighbors, there was no divider shielding the urinal on the end--the one I was using--from the entrance.

I was standing in front of the urinal, conducting my business, for no more than a few seconds when I noticed movement near the entrance over my left shoulder. I glanced back and spied a small girl who, by the look on her face, was just as startled to see me relieving myself as I was to see her in a men's restroom. She quickly turned around and disappeared back into the corridor and out into the terminal, sobbing the entire way. I could still hear her crying as I proceded to finish up and wash my hands. As I exited the bathroom, there she was clutching mommy's leg and sniffling. She awkwardly looked up at me as I walked by and watched me walk away.

10 Things That Weird Me Out

2008-10-06T20:32:00.000-07:00

In no particular order:

1 - Families who kiss on the mouth. It's weird... just plain weird.
2 - When someone grabs my hand in the middle of a high-five. Occasionally, this type of person may even shake the hand, midair. Somewhat intuitively, I refer to these interlopers as "high-five grabbers."
3 - Men who urinate with one hand on their waists. This man is typically easy to identify: he tends to wear ties to occasions at which ties are not necessarily merited, he may have a gaudy ring from his alma mater on the pinky of his left hand, he gives a firm handshake, and he possess an overly hearty belly laugh.
4 - Nacho cheese. If it's liquid at room temperature, it's not cheese.
5 - Couples who refer to each other as "babe". This includes all subsequent permutations and other frivolous pet names that come to mind.
6 - Wirey facial hair. Typically backlit by pasty, white flesh which further deepens the contrast, this folicle anomaly is particularly disturbing on men but is even more so if found on women. Some have even coined the term "pubey" to describe this type of facial foliage.
7 - When people let their pets lick them on the face. Any tongue that has recently made contact with the ass-end of a house pet should never find itself anywhere near a human face.
8 - Mustard. It's gross.
9 - Body odor/bad breath. What makes body odor and bad breath especially nauseating is that those who typically possess these qualities also seem to lack a sense of personal space.
10 - Hearing the elderly discuss physical intimacy. Certain memories from "back in the day" should remain unvoiced until the grave.

Frodo vs. Little Italy

2008-08-05T22:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I went to dinner with my aunt, my sister's boyfriend, and his sister. We went to a small Italian restaurant in San Diego's Little Italy. As we pulled into the parking lot, there it was: some dude had double parked his car in the parking lot, boxing in not one but two other cars in an already cramped parking lot very typical of most downtown areas. Strike one: the dude is a jackass. I looked at his rear window only to find the Elvish--yes, Elvish--writing found on the interior of the golden ring seen in the film "The Lord Of The Rings". Strike two: he is vey likely fluent in a completely fictitious language. Then, as we rolled through the parking lot by his car, I noticed his license plate cover proudly boasting "Hogwarts Alumni". Strike three: a high school dropout who, against all sound advice given him by his guidance counselor, decided that owl training was the right career path for him. Right as we start passing his vehicle, he comes out, unlocks the door, pizza in hand--pizza for one, and gets in, after which he begins backing out of a one way parking lot. *shakes head* Why America? Why?

Breakout!

2008-07-22T16:23:00.000-07:00

The "Achy Breaky" heiress herself, Miley Cyrus, released her brand new album this last Tuesday entitled "Breakout". At 15 years of age, she managed to put over 100,000 copies of her sophomore effort in the homes of excited teen and pre-teen girls and "not nearly as excited" stay-at-home parents. As I remember it, when I was her age, every time I released a "breakout", it was generally very poorly received by teen girls. What's she got that I didn't...?

UPDATE - My colleague Hassig has brought up an interesting theory as to the cause for the large margin between Miley's current popularity and my lack of popularity when I was her age: talent. Although I respect Hassig's opinion, I still think it may, in fact, be superstar, ex-mullet toting daddy, Billy Ray Cyrus who is at the root of her seemingly overnight success. With his new do and his jazz bassist soul patch, it was only a matter of time before he got back into the spotlight and used his power to spread fame to his offspring. They even gave him a job as Ryan Seacrest's nemesis on "Nashville Star", which as we all know is just "American Idol" for rednecks. If his career is any indication, Miley's next move will be to follow in the footsteps of her father and Neil Patrick Harris (NPH) and become a fake television doctor. Of course, if Billy Ray keeps setting up sleazy photo shoots like the one for Vanity Fair, Miley will instead follow the footsteps of Britney.

Shaving

2008-07-09T12:57:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure that no one enjoys shaving. However, the one thing that I do enjoy is that, afterwards, my soul patch smells like shaving cream for the rest of the day. =)

San Diego County Fair

2008-07-03T23:07:00.000-07:00

Being a raised in southern California, it's a wonder that I've never been to the San Diego County Fair before. Wednesday was the first time. It was pretty standard really. All the normal fair fare was there: funnel cakes, fried Twinkies, creepy carnival ride operators, etc. Afterwards, I realized a few things about fairs and carnivals in general.

1) No machinery newer than 1987 is still in operation, particularly the thrill rides. Sure they may have masked these mechanisms of mirth with modern music and some fresh grease, but nothing could conceal the clashing, neon color schemes and poorly conceived theming concepts that only the glam rock of the '80s could have been responsible for. Every ride looks like it belongs in the backdrop of a Poison concert.

2) Fairs have the highest concentration of germs per capita after that of a gas station bathroom. It doesn't matter what you touch; it IS sticky. The only thing that can make it worse is to remember that it has been sticky with the same gunk that it has been there since Vanilla Ice was cool. It makes you think about why the only place you'll find a black light in is the House of Mirrors. What's more is that people not only tolerate the blatant filth; they embrace it. Dirty, little fried food stands that you would never even DREAM of eating from while off the fair grounds--much less pay $7 for a hot dog at--are "okay" because they are part of a greater conglomerate of dirty, little fried food stands.

3) Aside from being enormous, festive petri dishes, there are those infamous gypsy-folk known as "carnies". We are known to them as "normies". No one likes them, but for some reason people still can't stay away from fairs. My personal favorites are the ones that operate those frustrating, unbeatable games. I suspect they are in the same family as telemarketers and street vendors. Once you start a conversation or make eye contact, good luck getting rid of them. As I listened to their sales pitches though, I actually came to believe that they sound more like male prostitutes trying to solicit suitors than game operators in a family friendly environment. Everything they say sounds inappropriate just because THEY are the ones who said it. There's nothing like the voice of a chain smoker under a rack of stuffed Sesame Street characters calling out "Hey, pretty lady, come over here if you want a good time. I might even give you an Elmo."

4) The prize winning animals always look like "special needs" animals. This concerns me. What do the animals I eat look like?

4) The worthless junk show: every fair has one. Rows of booths filled with useless junk. "Italian" leather, foot massagers, sushi makers, you name it. There's all sorts of stuff. Nearly everything boasts "As seen on TV!" or "Not sold in stores!" which as we all know, really means "It's a piece of s***! Don't buy it!" However, I would be lying if I didn't admit that this is one of the most entertaining things to witness at the fair. I can't help but be mesmerized by the man with a headset microphone saw through a block of wood with a kitchen knife. "But wait! There's more! If you buy now, I'll include the SUPER-DUPER KABLAMMY SHAMMY! It's SOOOO absorbent, if it touches bare skin, it will suck all of the moisture right out of your body!"

Thought of the Day

2008-06-19T15:55:00.000-07:00

Streaking in the street: desirable.

Streaking in your pants: undesirable.

Suburban Safari

2008-06-10T23:13:00.000-07:00

Because I usually jog at night, typically, the only thing I have to worry about crossing my path is the occasional awkward couple taking taking a stroll as they work toward their infamous "ring by spring" deadline. During the summer, things change. I rarely every come across anyone strolling through the night, and most of the times that I do, they are just walking their dog. I usually jog by a fairly busy street, but it also happens to be running through a very well vegetated area. Tonight was the second night that something darted out of the trees, crossed the street, and disappeared back into the woods. Now, I suspect that they were only deer, but at the time, I wasn't sure. It was both terrifying and awe inspiring. Half of me was worried at the thought that they might have been coyotes, while the other half was awe struck by having just witnessed something wild and untamed. I'm well aware that suburban southern California doesn't even begin to approach "the wild," but it was still an amazing thing to witness.

I know what I must do; I must go to Africa.

Confirmation

2008-06-09T23:44:00.000-07:00

Today was my first day of work. It was about mid-morning, and I found myself walking up the stairwell on my way to my desk from the shop floor. It was then that I received confirmation.

I've always known that it is common courtesy--or just a good embarrassment avoidance strategy--to leave the room when passing gas. I never really believed that anybody actually did this, but maybe that's just the last four years of men's dorm life talking. I guess I just thought that the more common practice people take is to hold it in until pressure subsides or let it out quietly so as to make blame a vague, "equal opportunity" affair. As I walked up the stairwell, I caught a wiff of some dude's gnarly special blend. Someone actually did it. I guess I was wrong.

Planet Green

2008-06-05T23:23:00.000-07:00

I know that the beginning of this commercial might be a little alarming, but the ending is totally worth it. I laugh EVERY time.

Ah, Sports

2008-06-04T11:57:00.000-07:00

I had the privilege of being able to attend a San Diego Padres game last night. If you know me you know that I tend to detest professional sports. I like playing sports. I even enjoy going to sporting events, albeit mostly for the social aspects--except hockey. I actually enjoy just watching hockey--, but the whole "Sports is my life!"/"Winning is everything!" mentality pretty much makes me sick.

Anyone who keeps up with baseball, though, knows that the San Diego Padres IS the worst team in baseball. Last night, I decided that they are my favorite baseball team BECAUSE they suck--and also the local ties. In my limited sporting career, I have discovered that, as a rule of thumb, fun is inversely proportional to the collective skill of the team. The better the team is, the less fun I have. The worse they are, the more fun it is. Best example I can think of: our intramural ultimate frisbee team. We sucked. We had a blast. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't enjoy losing all the time. I like to do well, but I really don't care if I'm winning as long I'm having fun.

So here's to you, San Diego Padres. Against all odds, you've gained a fan. I would raise my glass to you, but come on, guys, nine bucks for a beer? Seriously? You've gotta be kidding me.

Poll!

2008-06-02T08:50:00.000-07:00

If you see a homeless man on an overpass, do you give him money, offer to buy him food, or do nothing and why?

And another...

2008-05-30T11:01:00.000-07:00

I haven't taken a shower in three days. Don't ask me why. There really wasn't any logic behind it. If I were to be completely honest, though, I don't really hate it. In fact, I like the way my hair will stay in whatever position I put it. Unfortunately, because I don't have a job, I have no one to impress and, therefore, no incentive to put it in any predetermined position. I love summer. =)

UPDATE -- 5/30/08 11:42 AM -- I just took a shower.

Confession #2

2008-05-29T21:41:00.000-07:00

Although I haven't been present to witness it, based on conversations with my parents, grandparents, and aunt and uncle, the Perez nest just hasn't been the same since my sister and I "flew the coop". The evenings have been quieter, the electrical bill has decreased significantly, there is more booze in the pantry--my mother claims it's just for cooking, but my sister and I really know it's all leftover from those crazy after-bible-study parties no one likes to talk about--, and the upstairs bathroom now requires a maximum of one cleaning a month.

Two major byproducts of the quieter evenings and the lack of active teenagers have been the extra free time my parents have on their hands and the fewer number people for them to interact with regularly. As a result, the home has become host to a series of bible studies, house church events, and various other ventures in hospitality. Due to my absence while at college during the school year and in San Diego for the summers, I have met very few if any of their bible study frequenters. This usually translates into awkward introductions and equally awkward goodbyes, partly because of the way parents tend to talk up the offspring to their friends.

Tonight, my dad held his Friday night Spanish bible study. As per the usual, I didn't know any of the patrons, but somehow *rolls eyes* they knew me. Many of you who know me know that I thrive on awkward situations... just as long as they're not awkward for me. All of those awkward encounters that fall under the other category, I don't particularly enjoy and try to avoid if possible. This greeting sess (pronounced 'sesh') fell under the latter of the two categories, mostly because I am not as comfortable with my Spanish in public as I am in my head.

To my elation, the aforementioned sess was over almost as soon as it began. They went into the living room to commence the bible study, and I sat down at the kitchen table to surf the world wide web and get a fix for my embarrassing, degenerate Facebook addiction--I KNOW YOU ALL HAVE IT!!!

Confession: as soon as I perceived that the end-of-bible-study prayer had begun, I abandoned my laptop, sneaked upstairs to my room, and began to read a book. I never read books. Why did I do it? Because I didn't want to have to say goodbye to anyone. I regret nothing.

Confession

2008-05-24T11:22:00.000-07:00

Right now, I'm living with my aunt and uncle in San Diego for the summer. Among other unsocial housekeeping habits they've formed, they never answer the door unless it's someone that they're expecting. Typically, I adhere to this policy even when they're not here.

I've only been awake for an hour, and no one is home. About ten minutes ago, the doorbell rang. I checked the eyehole and deviated from procedure. I answered the door. Why? Because she was pretty. I regret nothing.

UPDATE -- 5/27/2008 -- Today, I came to the conclusion that walking into a restaurant, being greeted by a beautiful waitress, and then being stuck with a large man with a distasteful piercing as your waiter has the same emotional weight as winning your dream home, moving in, and then finding out that your first property tax payment will cost you the entire sum of your retirement fund.

Dream

2008-04-15T01:31:00.000-07:00

Last night, I awoke from a dream

I dreamed my life was a lie

Like nothing that I've ever known

What was life before death arrived?

I dreamt of the things men were never meant to see

A snake on the ground and a rose veiled in thorns

I ate of the fruit and I drank of the spring

All I wanted, I long for no more

I whispered in the ear of a gun

"Please, let me go."

I opened my eyes and my brother was dead

His blood was on my head

We were loved just the same, but I envied his name

Death now seeks me out, and I've no one to blame

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust

Nerves thought to be steel have begun to rust

I asked her to bring me more wine
But all she brought was more blood

Thirst is not known to be wise

I drank it all to find it was mine

I burned down the bridge and I shot my own horse

I cannot find shelter from my own remorse

If I could only remember the day that death died

The day it hung from a tree, why didn't I cry?

How can one remember over all the noise?

Volume clouds judgment;

Intensity substance

Turn it down

"Be still..."

Today, I awoke from a dream

I dreamed that I was alive

Like nothing known before

I remember the day that death died

I dreamed of the things men had forfeit to see

The smile of the earth, the face of the Maker

I can eat of the fruit and drink from the spring

More than I need, I can ask for no more

Can they do that?

2008-02-19T05:50:00.000-08:00

http://www.theledger.com/article/20080219/NEWS/802190379/1004

Left Turns

2008-01-17T06:27:00.000-08:00

The sun sets at my back. I can't find the moon, but it's there.

Tossed down a mountain by black waves with yellow trim,

She shares my shoulder with the devil.

The voice of a friend unknown speaks
"Don't drink the water."

I'm so thirsty.

The head on my shoulder feels like a thorn in my side.

Please don't pull it out.

The smell of her hair burns like fire in my lungs,

If she leaves, I'll freeze.

The left brings her close.

The right takes her away.

I say nothing.

My heart begs her not to leave.

She wakes up, but it's like she speaks a different language.

She apologizes.

The words not native, but I still understand them.

It all seems so silly now.

The hand of the Almighty on my back. I can't see it, but it's there.

20 Reasons

2008-01-13T12:59:00.000-08:00

20 reasons why celebrities shouldn't have children

This is why I love other cultures

2008-01-02T23:18:00.000-08:00

For the rest of us...

2007-12-25T13:21:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas day, the crescendo of the preceding month's frantic search for "the perfect gift" and all subsequent materialism. I received so many text messages from people wishing me a merry Christmas today that responding with "Merry Christmas to you too!" just wouldn't do. "Happy Festivus!" was my favored response. Not to downplay the immense significance of the Jesus Christ's incarnation, but few if any take that into consideration in uttering their best holiday wishes. We all know how November 1st brings with it freshly stocked store shelves filled with all sorts of Christmas-y paraphernalia, completely neglecting the fact that Thanksgiving comes before Christmas. "Give stuff, not thanks." It's the American way.

Socioreligious commentary aside, as much as I appreciate and am thankful for the gift of God's son for my eternal salvation and pray to never forget it, I would be lying if I said that I don't enjoy all the shallow things and traditions that come along with the holiday season. Feel free to give and get stuff, just don't forget to give thanks for what's really important.

In a dichotomous effort to prolong the shallow yet still enjoyable traditions and materialism of the holiday season and also in protest to them, I will also be celebrating Festivus this upcoming year. December 23rd is the generally accepted day of Festivus, but it has also been known to be celebrated on other days of the year to avoid the Christmas rush. Taking this into consideration, the second Saturday in January has ben selected for the Festivus celebration. I hope to see you all around the Festivus pole, and Merry Christmas! =)

Home

2007-12-22T23:53:00.001-08:00

Back home. Back to the land of fancy cars, their retiree puppeteers, palm trees, and their immigrant groomers. One week down. One and a half left. I return the 3rd, and it fast approaches. Christmas break is far too short. "Half-empty" is setting in. What can you really accomplish in less than three weeks? I suppose it doesn't really matter as long as I'm able to rest. Fortunately, that's easier here. No school. No one demanding my time. Only simple requests for it. But somehow it still seems like every day is planned. On the upside, at least not one of them is spent in Texas--no offense to you Texans. Your state just isn't for me.

I used to dread coming home from college. Andy Perez had outgrown this place. There was nothing left here for me. This time it's different; I'm glad to be home. I missed it. Upon arriving in Longview this past August, for the first time since starting college three years prior, I was homesick. Before then, the concept of "home" was foreign. I always figured home was wherever I slept at the time. I think I figured it out though. It's good to be home.

Each time I return, it's as if nothing has changed. I never left. It sounds cliche, but it's true what they say; you don't know what you have until it's gone. I realize it now. I have a great family. They were sorely missed. Sure, they don't understand any of my jokes and don't enjoy any of my hobbies, but I wouldn't trade them for the world. Having only one sister and no cousins has been quite an experience. Lot's of love for each of us. Always enough to go around. I missed that. When I was a kid, I can remember sitting around the table after meals in which the whole family was in attendance. My sister and I didn't contribute to conversation. Politics, economics, talk of the "old country". We didn't know what the heck they were talking about. I remember the restlessness. An overwhelming desire to be somewhere else, doing something else, with someone else. It was never that I didn't love my family. It wasn't even that I didn't appreciate them. I just didn't appreciate them as much as I should have. I think I do now. Things haven't changed a whole lot. I still don't contribute much to post-meal conversation. But now, I don't want to be anywhere else. I'm fine where I am. Content.

Golden Moments

2007-12-10T09:41:00.000-08:00

Despite being frequently downtrodden by three plus years spent in an academic program dominated by testosterone--albeit a slightly less potent brand--and a erudite knowledge of how a computer converts a simple keystroke into a the swift and final blow that takes down Mongor, Ogre King of the Northern Hordes, every now and then there occurs an event that makes this town shine. Whether it be an all but flattering photograph of the recently crowned Ms. Longview performing what appears to be some sort of voodoo hex or listening to my neighbor, Mr. Saunders, awkwardly struggle through every note of Eli Young Band's "When It Rains" through the bathroom door, these events, though infrequent, are worth their weight in gold. If I had my way, every day would be filled with these moments. However, at the risk of becoming complacent, I try find contentment in their mere occasional occurrence.

Looking back, I am reminded of many such events that dot the landscape of my college career. One of my fondest occurred only a few weeks ago. It was in chapel. We had a band called "Downhere" perform--don't worry; I hadn't heard of them either. Now, for those who have never been to a LeTourneau musical event, it is a commonly known fact on campus that our student body has the collaborative rhythm of an epileptic ferret. We also happen to be tone deaf. The band did not know this. During one of their songs, the lead singer asked the audience to sing along. Any other campus--and probably any other band--and this probably would have worked, but at LeTourneau that kinda crap doesn't fly. Once he had dished out the invitation for participation, I braced myself. "Oh s***..." I thought to myself. The next thing I heard was one of the most humorous I had heard in chapel to date. It was like listening to an entire chorus of '90s grunger wannabes listening to to the radio when Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" starts playing. Everybody knows the tune, but no one knows the words. "...na... dum... doo.... dee....... NANANANA!!!! NANANANA!!!....." The cacophony that ensued was moving. I don't mean moving in the way people mean it when they say things like "His heart was moved." I mean it more in the way that people mean it when they say things like "That was a gnarly bowel movement." But even though it was absolutely horrendous, it still made me laugh. These are the moments that make this place "not so bad". It makes me look forward to what the future has in store.

This one goes out to all the peeps in east Texas with no rhythm and to Ms. Rebecca Robinson. I salute you.

"Honestly? I want a sandwich." - Part I

2007-12-06T21:34:00.000-08:00

I don't remember the exact situation, maybe it was in someone's house or apartment, but someone offered me something. It may have been a beverage or something of the like, but I declined. The problem is that I actually did want what was being offered. I find myself declining people's offerings quite often. I don't even know why. It doesn't make any logical sense. If someone asks you if you'd like a glass of water and is prepared to actually get one for you and you are thirsty, why say "no"? After discussing it with a few friends, I came to the conclusion that for some reason it seems more polite in the mind of the "offeree" to decline an extension of hospitality by the "offerer" than it is to accept it. That's stupid.

Things are gonna change, homies. If I enter someone's home and they offer me something to eat or drink, I'm not gonna go with the "I don't want to impose," crap. Odds are, I really do, but would typically decline the offer just for the sake of being polite, when in reality, declining is no more polite than accepting. If I want something, I'll ask for it. If they offer anything, they better be prepared to follow through. "Would you like anything to eat or drink?" "I want a sandwich."

The root of the problem is the lack of communication. People don't say what they really mean. They ask aimed questions, leading one another long from question to question until they get the confession or piece of information they were looking for. Everyone knows when they're being led, but they don't try to avoid it. If you want to know something ask. If you want someone else to know something, tell them. Here's the caveat: don't be an wiener. Use tact and ask within reason. Don't just go around blurting out whatever thought pops into your head.

Biblical truth: "Ask and it will be given to you... everyone who asks receives..."

Fire

2007-11-29T23:40:00.000-08:00

There is that which burns

And there is that which consumes

Of both, which are you?

All souls are on fire

Some will burn, some are consumed

Of both, which are you?

The world is on fire

Despite us, both carry on

Of both, which are you?

The tree that spoke truth

The heart that deceives itself

Of both, which are you?

One that cannot die

Another cannot abide

Of both, which are you?

Though all have a choice

I can't choose for my brother

Of both, which are you?

Polymath

2007-11-28T22:04:00.000-08:00

This semester I've been on some sort of whacked out arts binge. Music, poetry, photography, whatever I can get my hands on. Maybe it's three and a half years of engineering school finally catching up with me or maybe it's Longview, but I think I'm going to explode. Even though this is the first semester in a year or so that I am taking any liberal arts classes, I can't help but feel the need for more artistic releases. I mean, seriously, the only alphabet I use most of the time is Greek, and I don't use it to spell any words. It's not that I dislike engineering or anything like that though. In fact, being an artistic engineering major, as ironic as it sounds, is something I appreciate greatly. Think of the great men of the Renaissance; Raphael, Michelangelo, Leonardo Da Vinci, etc. Each one of them were accomplished in both artistic and scientific fields. What happened to those kinds of guys? I know what I must do. I must become as they were. How will I know that I have reached my goal? When they name a ninja turtle after me. Let the quest for enlightenment and well roundedness begin!