1 Lap Down, 3 More To Go: My Quest For 100 Years

Is life is indeed a sprint then I have one lap under my belt and three more to go. I am 25 on May 30th at 7:52PM and although the full gravity of the situation has yet to fully hit me, I am not too concerned about a number. I suppose that a quarter century of life experience is quite a bit considering that I feel like I'm still 15 sometimes, but if the old adage "you're as young as you feel" is any indicator of how long I'll desperately cling to life and those I care about here on Earth (cue a triumphant theme song!), I am not going anywhere for a very long time. Like Monica on Friends, I am scrappy. On a side note, the fact that I quote that show shows ya'll just how white I really am.

But anyway.

I love life and the possibilities it still holds for me. Travel, love, family, a successful acting career... these are the things I think about when I am alone sitting in my room. However, if I died today would I be happy? Would I be able to say that I have no significant regrets? Have I taken advantage of the opportunities and good things I've been afforded by the Creator or whoever decided to make me a middle-class white kid from Central MN?

The answer, most definitely, is a resolute "No!" I have not kissed as passionately as I would have liked, I've left too many projects, ideas and dreams unfinished or not even started on the figurative work table of my mind.

The thing is, everyone can always say that they want to do something. Sure, I want to write a book, travel more, learn Spanish and do a million other things. Now obviously some of the goals and aspirations I have are time-sensitive or at least not in the cards right now because of school, my house, etc. But STILL, what have I really done that I keep saying I want to do? The answer here is a depressing, "Not much."

My goal, which needs to be reached by the next May 30 on the calendar but hopefully much, much sooner, is to actually DO! instead of just want. I can learn Spanish (or at least get a good running start) before my next birthday. The same goes for raising money to help combat the West Nile Virus in Africa by buying bed nets for children (http://www.nothingbutnets.net/) and other things of that nature.

I WILL explore more, enjoy life to a higher degree, take time out to DO! exactly those things I keep putting off (including learning how to type properly). One of the saddest things is a life filled with regret and missed opportunity. I need to realize that I can't wait for things to happen TO me but rather that I need to MAKE them happen.

"Life, Laugh, Love" and all of those other slogans people put up in their homes, dorm rooms, rear-views, etc. really do make sense. Why not make this one shot we've got the best one possible? The table is set, sure, or you could say that my cards have been dealt. Whatever the terminology, none of us chooses the family or place we are born into. We don't get the luxury of deciding the Who, What, When, and Where of our lives but we do (yes, we do) get to decide the "Why."

To me, that "Why" is as valuable as anything else I've got. Am I going to make the most of every single second, day, week and so on? Or will I just maintain the pace and progress I've already got going for me? if there is anything unique about the American psyche, it is the fact that we, as a nation, are never satisfied. Big, bigger, BEST is what we are all about. A little ego- and ethno-centric, yes, but when applied to the individual it is exciting and exhilarating.

I WILL be the best I can be. I can give more, be more, feel more. Everything is there, one just needs to take advantage of the unique situation each life really is. My experiences, knowledge (i.e. lack thereof), relationships with people and family and friends, they all make me a completely unique state of existence.

The world can be a deep, dark depressing state. Herman Melville (of Moby Dick notoriety) once wrote "I am, as I am; whether hideous, or handsome, depends upon who is made judge." The fact is, we are all to be our own judge and jury while our hearts continue to beat. Each of us goes to bed each night knowing whether or not he or she made a difference, took a chance, were decent and kind to others.

"Sic transit gloria.... glory fades." We aren't guaranteed another year of life, let alone another minute. I want to say I put myself out there and did each and every single thing that I've talked about wanting to do. This is my quest and in the end, as I am walking alone to whatever afterlife or fate that has been sealed for me, I want to do so knowing that I tried to rock really hard at life.

Cheers. Prost. Slainte. Ahoy. Take a bow, good sir or madame.

Johnny Quest Thinks I'm A Sellout: My Journey With Less Than Jake

The year was 1998 and it was finally spring. The glorious weather and free and easy life that is typical of being young were not lost on me. I had a bounce in my step and appropriately so, for I was listening to what I considered one of the greatest records ever made: "Pezcore" by Less Than Jake. The trees were sprouting leaves up in the sky just as so many new romances were popping up from out of nowhere at South junior High in Saint Cloud, MN. Rather than settle for a one night stand (as kids that age are wont to do), I decided to devote my untested heart to a band that seemed to be writing the soundtrack to my life.

I am being a bit facetious, but only just slightly. Before stumbling across LTJ I had only "discovered" one other band, Reel Big Fish. Other than The Beatles, I had only purchased a hand full of albums (by such bands at The Presidents of the United States of America, the Rolling Stones, and the soundtrack to the movie "That Thing You Do."). What is it about bands with three word names that make people want to sit back, smoke some ditch weed and get lost in melodic wondrousness and lyrical intricacies?

I guess for me Less Than Jake always combined a fun, free and fast style of play with words and songs that meant things to them. On their old website was a really cool feature where each band member interviewed one of the other guys in the group. I listened to one story and journey through music after another, to all of the crazy events and amazing experiences that surely go along with any kind of music tour in the U.S. or abroad, and I couldn't help but feel like I knew who those guys were.

I have never stopped listening to Less Than Jake. In fact, I have joined their "collector nerd" ranks and own a bunch of rare vinyls and other things (including the ever-elusive Pie Tin, though it is missing the smoker's club card, the Cereal Box and Pizza Box, etc.). The only worthwhile music to listen to are those songs and albums where emotion and truth are apparent from start to finish. If LTJ brings anything to the table, that just may be it.

The album "Borders & Boundaries" is all about touring and what it is like to reminisce about home and growing up when one is 2000 miles away and drifting along highways through cities and states that are unfamiliar. "Pezcore" was recorded over a 2 day period during breaks from three concerts and has a live, fresh and raw quality to it. I guess my point is that this band puts out music that is not necessarily created to make money, bring in groupies or get face time on MTV.

Rather, it is about life, friends, love and the pursuit of avoiding a 9-5 job and a decades of time that could have been better spent doing something else.


"The Science of Selling Yourself Short"

I've come to my senses,
That I've become senseless,
I could give you lessons on how to ruin your friendships,
Every last conviction, I smoked them all away,
I drank my frustrations down the drain, out of the way,
So I sit and wait and wonder,
"Does anyone else feel like me?"
Someone so tired of their routines and disappearing self-esteems,

[Chorus:]
I'll sing along,
Yeah with every emergency,
Just sing along,
I'm the king of catastrophies,
I'm so far gone,
That deep down inside I think it's fine by me,
I'm my own worst enemy

I could be an expert on co-dependency,
I could write the best book on underage tragedy,
I've been spending my time at the local liquor store,
I've been sleeping nightly on my best friends kitchen floor,
So I sit and wait and wonder,
"Does anyone else feel like me?"
I'm so over-dosed on apathy and burnt out on sympathy.

[Chorus]

Let the meaning slip away
Lost my faith in another day,
Self deprication seems okay,
I never thought I'd make it anyway

Lawn & Garden + Cat Treats

Today was a day just like any other...

And then Arvind called me. I bought a leaf blower and a "weed eater" from him, which sounded pretty cool due to his thick Pakistani accent. Anyway, getting excited about lawn and garder type stuff means I have officially become an adult... a lame one, at that.

So, I need to hit up a concert immediately. If I ever get the old band back together and we release an album, it will definitely be called "Songs in the Key of the Apocalypse." It only works because we wouldn't be a hardcore, screamo or metal-infused band. Ideally, it should be the title of an acoustic album, or at least an album infused with a lot of acoustic melodies, harmonies and chromatic keys.

In other news, I tried a piece of my cats food... Don't laugh, it was $17.99 + tax for a 5 lb. bag of it. Since Suki is but a kitten and is growing (and because I want her to hit the 20 lb. mark), I decided to buy her the best stuff I could find, as recommended by the employee of the pet food palace I went to.

Honest opinion: Not bad!

It got me thinking and a bit curious, so I tried one piece each of her two kinds og cat treats. Crunchy, nutty and a mild smokey flavor mean I'll be back for more later.

Really though, the cat food was surprisingly good.

And now for a deep thought that I took the liberty to surround with quotation marks because sometimes I can just tell when I've uttered a statement composed of equal parts brilliance and emotion... even though it happens less that I care to admit.

"I have never been the jealous type, but it is always hard to think about the good times someone has had with someone that isn't you."

Yossarian lives!

Last night something awesome happened. Yes, I managed to hack through a whole chapter of my Central Nervous System textbook by Snell (actually not too bad for a dry topic). I also knocked down some assignments for my Methods course and watched a few good TV shows. "Big Bang Theory" is a comedic sitcom with a nerdy twist that is pretty solid.

Anyway, I was looking at my fish tank when the lights had been off for a awhile and who did I see sitting in a rock nook but the one and only Yossarian the Bumblebee Catfish! I first picked him up my senior year at SJU in the fall. He has been through a few disease outbreaks, two big moves and also of being looked after by my forgetful and abusive (towards cats... he kicked Hoops once!) brother, Kyle.

I thought he didn't make it after the last move from St. Cloud to Bloomington because I hadn't seen him for several weeks. BUT, he is still as crafty and chubby as ever. He looks just like the one in the photo I've attached... and he eats baby fish!

The American Dream of the 21st Century

I have been using the same styrofoam cup at school for over 2 months. While a clever environmentalist, such as someone who recylces even in the face of "God" or at least in the presence of people who like to think they know what He wants us to do with those blue bins everywhere, might ask, "Why use styrofoam in the first place?"

Answer: Convenience (a true Daily Double in America, right?). Convenience is the reason for the season we've created, that being one long, tumultuous year across the globe of weird weather patterns, catastrophes and other succulent evidence that supports the global climate change view of things as opposed to the four lovely (albeit not exactly evenly dispersed time-wise) seasons we used to have here in lovely Minnesota (Note: Global warming is not what it is all about! Climate change are the keywords here).

As per my usual style, I digress.

Getting back to the subject, that being my styrofoam cup, I am surprised to see that a lot of people who have noticed me carrying and re-using the same cup for so long have begun asking why I do it. Because I wrote a bunch of stuff on it, including a stylized version of my cat's name and something I'll add later on, it is easy to identify vs. a plain white cup and thus draws the eye like a low cut blouse or a car accident (not for me, just for the people driving in front of me who have never seen a car in a ditch before, ay yi yi). It seems like I am being jokingly ostrasized for wanting to reduce my footprint.

I guess my goal is to show myself and maybe a few others who are paying attention that we live in a disposable society. Everything seems geared to be used quickly and then replaced just for the cycle to begin once again. Here's what else I wrote on my cup:

"The American Dream: Life, Love, the Pursuit of Money" although convenience is just as fitting.

Once Mike Edgar helps me get my moped running, I plan to bike or moped to school, the grocery store, etc. I figure if I need the speed/ convenience of a motorized vehicle, I might as well pull down over 100 MPG while using one.

I plan to use my cup until it wears out. I keep it in my locker (yes, my school is a converted and expanded middle school so I have a locker... two actually, one by the auditorium and one in the locker room. Both are in great locations, actually, which pleases me).

I hope I remember to write about my cat next time... or, more to the point, a typical day that we share together. Such early mornings!

A Day In The Life

There are 5 days a year that are going to be hard for me no matter what: Christmas, January 17, Mother's Day, May 30, October 10.

The only positive outcome of losing a loved one is that it can act as a catalyst to bring a family closer together.

Dreaming that someone is still around when they are actually not is a horrible trick for the mind to play.

Never assume that anyone knows how you feel about them-- speak up while you still have the chance to do so.

"You're known by everyone for everything you've done
Fuck buying flowers for graves
I'd rather buy you a one way non-stop
To anywhere
Find anyone
Do anything
Forget and start again
Love"

I won't let the bastards grind me down... I will play my game beneath the spin light. Spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light.

What book is that from? Is it an original thought or a riddle? Don't forget to leave a forwarding address even if you decide to fly in the middle of the night. If you gave me my year back I'd probably waste it anyway. I chase too many dreams to keep my feet on the ground.

"3 years, 2 months, 1 week, 4 days...

I'm always counting down cause there ain't no easier way."

I just got 5 money adjustments from a T8 intern and feel great. I guess him getting the short end of the stick with a high lottery number and having to stay at school for his intern hours vs. going to any clinic the the Twin Cities was at least beneficial for me. I asked him if he was jaded about the situation and he told me that of course it was less than ideal, but each day is what you make it.

That's important to keep in mind. The Specials perhaps said it best when they wrote the lyrics, "Don't let the bastards grind you down!" Each day has the opportunity to be amazing, especially when one lives in an affluent country such as the good old U.S. of A. Then again, some of the happiest people I've seen are those who have next to nothing in Western terms.

However, that lack of material goods sometimes equates to a decreased amount of worrying. Worrying about how to pay for stuff, how to keep it nice and neat and out of the hands of thieves and miscreants. Oi vey, indeed.

Here's something kind of fun I've had in my head for a long time and since I don't have class for 35 minutes, I feel as though I can get close to writing it all down here and now.

"A sea in which I am constantly drowning..."

As the disc slid into the CD player, he started the engine of his '94 Saab. The two friends buckled their seat belts almost in time to the opening melody coursing through the speakers and as Rick slid out of his parent's driveway, he removed his heart from his throat and placed is squarely on his sleeve as he had done so many times before. Shifting into drive, the lyrics rang out: "She says I'm much too thin, she asks me if I'm sick. 'What's a girl to do with friends like this?'"

This was not a new routine for Rick and his best friend, Wiles (usually referred to as Wiley). For as many Friday afternoons as either cared to remember, they hopped into the car and spoke of teenage love, music, and what to do with their lives after high school. As the latter was nearing its end, both were anxious to start their new lives at the respective universities each had chosen. An era was drawing to a close, though that was hardly going to get in the way of the serious topic they both wanted to discuss in full detail.

"First of all, what did she say exactly?" Wiley prodded, anxious to get to the bottom of their schools topic of the day. Shifting in a slightly agitated manner, Rick responded with a confident veneer that did not do a great job of hiding his insecurity from such a close friend.

"She said, and I quote, 'Umm...... no, no thanks.'" Continuing, he added, "I got a really good feeling about it, though, a great one even. Margot hesitated, and that hesitation symbolized a slightly ajar door into which I plan to shove part of my figurative body to keep it open. I've got a shot and..."

"Yeah, a shot in hell! Dude, why would you even think that a flat rejection carries any promise with it?" chimed in Wiley, partially in an attempt to prevent Rick from carrying on and on about a 3.5 word answer. "Umm," as most people know, is chalked up as only half a word in situations such as this. "And let me ask you something else. I heard you winked at her. You winked, man! Is this the 1980's all of a sudden? Are you going to start wearing jean jackets and dressing like an Eastern European? I think my mom has some leggings in the crawl space if you're that serious about making the transition to 20 year ago. Seriously."

Rick looked as though he had an answer already prepared as he listened to Wiley's verbal punches to his pride. "Alright, it appears that some of the less savory people at our school..."

"You mean all of them?"

"Well, possibly. I am not sure who rides the rumor Ferris Wheel at our fine institution but if anyone says I winked, they are a lair. Except Margot because she is too cute to lie... and if she hears I called her a liar, that partially ajar door will serve as a vertical guillotine to my heart I'm afraid..." Rick trailed off and looked quite perfectly despondent while Wiles rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, more as a point of emphasis that out of necessity.

"Rumor Ferris Wheel? I think you mean rumor mill, and it is not usually something people ride even in a delusional mind such as yours. And yes, I know you got a 33 on your ACT but you're still clueless about the 'Rules of the Game,' so don't argue. Another thing-- stop with the obscure and forced analogies, they are not helping you out around the 'water cooler' at school. See? I can throw them out there, as well."

Both paused as a particularly bad ass song broke out on the mixed CD ("I Want You To Want Me" by Cheap Trick) that they had been listening to all spring. On an interesting aside, a copy of that very album had been left on the doorstep of Margot's home. Rick was certain she listened to it all the time and that she was not at all embarrassed about the inscription on the disc that read "Your eyes are a sea," and that continued below the center hole common on all CD's "In which I am constantly drowning." The strength of his certainty was perhaps only matched by the force she used upon finding it to frisbee it into her neighbors yard. A riding lawn mower served to help return it from the earth from which it came.

"Poor, poor hopeless Wiley... I really do pity you. You don't have an optimistic bone in your body and that, my friend, is your downfall. You see, I make lemonade out of lemons while you make... really sour, bitter and crappy lemonade out of lemons that come up in your life. The whole Margot situation is less than ideal right now, but I am staying positive. She has my card now so I should be getting a text, e-mail or friend request any time now."

"Ok, hold up a second! You gave her a card?! Your card?! Have you ever heard of the term 'social suicide,' Rick?" Wiley was not happy. His reputation at school was in part connected to Rick's and the last thing he needed right before prom season was a blemish stemming from his friends unbelievable actions. "And if you tell me it was the very same hand-made card you came up with in lab last week..."

"Of course! That card was money!" Rick grinned ear to ear and as the pair pulled up to Val's Burgers & Malts, they noticed Margot's Pontiac in the parking lot.

"Here we go again," they said nearly simultaneously (though not in a fake way, as is prone to happen at culmination points in many a movie).

Rick had clearly gone off the deep. But who could blame him? Young love is perhaps the most complex, confusing and great thing one can experience. However, it is usually best when such strong feelings are reciprocated.

Richest Man, Poorest Person

Paycheck in so you check out
Is that what you're all about?
Money has dyed your fingers green
Is that who you really want to be?
Your disease is quite common now
Too far gone to question how
In your eyes some history
Dead presidents, a dark tragedy

You say you're the richest man
But I only see the poorest person
Married to Miss 9 to 5
What a fucking waste of life

Buying your way into Hell
That's fucking hard to sell
Business man never sees his kids
Buys their love with endless gifts
Charity is unknown by you
Ignorance is hardly an excuse
Leather chair and a plasma screen
Muted infomercial, kids are starving

You say you're the richest man
But I only see the poorest person
Married to Miss 9 to 5
What a fucking waste of life

We all own possessions
The tricky part is keeping them from owning us
When was the last time your Doc Martens said "I love you"?
Does your Abercrombie shirt send you a birthday card every year?
Look around because all we have is each other!

<<>>

"To sleep perchance to dream"

Other options for the title of this blog were:

1. "Dream of demons while you sleep/ Makes you stutter when you speak"

2. "Only in Dreams"

I like the one I chose because it was written by Shakespeare and gives the impression that I am part of the intelligentsia as opposed to the Simpsons-quote-alot-sia. Whew.

Alright, so I had a crazy dream last night even by my standards. I was in a situation reminiscent of CBS's hit show LOST sans the island and Jack. Kate was there though (audible purring noise... not from Suki but from me [on even more of an aside, I can't purr of grr or do any of those "bedroom"/"funny ways to hit on someone" noises.]) and I think she touched my knee, yowza. Anyway, there was running and shooting and other LOST-esqe things going on. I got nicked by a bullet in the calf and it really fired me up and helped me kill some of the Others because it damaged my Tupac Shakur calf tattoo (outlined by a barbed wire frame, obviously. Duh, even).

And then the craziness started... For some reason, I was in a contest that required everyone to eat a monkey brain in its entirety. Contrary to everything ever published in a gross anatomy text, the eyes were also part of the feast because they were directly connected to the brain. Why? I'll never know, since it was/is my dream and I know a thing or two about vasculature and innervation in the head. Also, insects have a head, abdomen and thorax. See? I'm well-rounded.

I was the last person to attempt to eat an entire brain. I won, but I feel a little guilty about the method in which I did so. I truly did eat the whole damn monkey brain, chased every so often with what I think was a blend of Dr. Slice (17/32 Dr. pepper, 15/32 Slice... used to exist back in the day and then was run out of town by those greedy bastards at Mr. Pibb. They got their comeuppance, though, and alas they are no more). However, the brain I was given was smaller than the others, had no eyes (for some reason they were yellow pustules for the other people) and it was also filled with unwrapped Starbursts. Lots of them... maybe some Lemonheads too, I'll never really know.

And then I woke up.

But hey, best idea for an invention EVER: A machine that tapes ones dreams as s/he sees them while asleep and records them for all of posterity. Talk about a potentially awesome experience-- there would be food, fun and fashion not to mention obscurity (moreso than is found here), horror, sexy times, and essentially the whole possible spectrum of human emotion, experience and candy. Lots of candy.

I would pay handsomely or even armsomely for a contraption like that. However, what if it showed us that we dream through our waking lives? That we are asleep when we think we are awake and awake when we think we are asleep. For example, what if upon viewing your dream for the first time you realized that it just showed you what you did the day prior? Sounds like a scary premise for a Groundhog's Day-like movie. Cue the dramatic, moody background music track... NOW!

Lots of rants, less raves and a few retro themes

(click on the title of this post for its theme song)

I'm angry.

The weather is less-than-jake and I've got my new school schedule running at almost full-steam, meaning Fridays off after 11:50. So, I'm sitting on my couch bored as a homemade freshman initiation paddle at a frat house (though, to be fair, I am less confused about my sexuality and fetishes than the burly upperclassman who use the said paddle each and every year). Options for the afternoon ranged from a bike ride to disc golf and even a trip to World of Fish (they have some Nannocara sp. cichlids in that are pretty badass).

If we can supposedly put a man on the moon (note: I am not sure I believe we ever have) and can create amazing buildings, bridges and plastic-surgery success stories I don't think it is too much to ask for May 2nd of each and every year to be sunny and carefree. Sorry if my American Dream includes less Doritos + Mountain Dew and more exercise + shenanigans.

Some things that piss me off to no end:
1. Junk mail. Seriously, it has become a nuisance. After getting my new house and upon moving in, I've been receiving all kinds of crap from churches (they send the most stuff by far), dentists (everyone knows that I am an anti-dentite bastard and love that about myself), auto shops (I drive a Camry, come on! Those things don't break, shake or hyperventilate), and a lot of crappy businesses I'll never go to. Not to mention credit card offers... good thing these people exist, I guess, otherwise the USPS would be running at even more of a deficit.

2. Driving. If a recent article I read online is accurate, some countries have gas prices as high as $18 a gallon while others have it as low at 19 cents a gallon. Either way, I am sick of paying any fee. I wish I could walk or take reliable and non-sketch public transportation. Sure, my moped will get me around 100 MPG but I'm also at risk for a Freudenthal-esqe accident where muscles in my shoulder tear away from the bone and atrophy starts to kick in before I get an appointment scheduled to get healed for the reasonable sum of $15K.

3. Ich. It is actually known as Ichthyophthirius in the scientific community (recall that ichthyology is the study of fish) but regardless is present in my tank and means I have to go buy a cannister of non-iodized salt, bump up the temperature to around 82F and let nature take it's course. Still.

In other news, I am happy to say that my new laptop is going to be transformed into a music playing machine with lots of rare tracks and converted vinyl records. Of note are the following:

1. Three days of live shows from Less Than Jake circa 2002. During the Minneapolis show that was played at the Quest Club, I can hear myself yelling for them to play "Just Like Frank."

2. Modest Mouse Live at the Crystal Ballroom. Very solid bootleg/venue recording, great chill music.

3. Reel Big Fish live at the House of Blues in Hollywood (I think).

I don't have much else to say so i'll close with some original lines I jotted down:

"84th And Penn"

I keep a suitcase in my closet just for days like this
Every second feels like forever when the sight of a city makes you sick
The buildings blend together and the street lights stay on red
It always gets this bad when the ill will lives inside your head

And I'll drive (drive, drive, drive)
Until the horizon turns to black
Focusing each and every mile
On never looking back
And I'll try (try, try, try)
To make it to the end
Of the Earth or something like it
Where I can start again

This reads cold, I know
But maybe it's not so
A fresh start always
Fixes a heavy heart