really now?

before I say what I was going to, I have a little funny.  I got on the computer to transfer some money from savings to checking, and to check myspace for any messages.  my mom asked, "Para que buscas en la computadora?" and I replied "dinero y felicidad."  and sadly, it's true [:

ok, that being said... ahem.  

really?  three times in a month?  the first time i can understand. that was the biggest party in East County, no question.  of course it would get rolled.  and I chose to stay so I could keep the keg, so that one is on me.  that's my first run-in with the law.

then about two weeks ago I got pulled over because my back license plate light was out.  allegedly.  ok fine, that almost a legitimate reason.

but last night was one of those nights where I honestly and sincerely was doing nothing wrong.  Scot and I were sitting in Chad's car outside taco bell waiting for Chris.  next thing we knew, two patrol cars blocked us in, turned on their spotlights, and asked for everyone's ID.  of course they accused us of doing /selling drugs, tried to scare us, and eventually realized they looked dumb and said, "well I guess you could be considered loitering."  then they left.  we ended up driving around Kohls a few times so as not to loiter.

the month isn't over yet.  maybe we can make it 4 times!

also, I thought of my new year's resolution this morning in the shower.  is it like a birthday wish, where if you tell someone it won't come true?

stay classy.

there's so much to say, so I'll get right to it.

leaving everyone is going to suck. that's the only drawback to moving, and it's a huge one. I'm grateful for everything each of you has brought to my life. the laughs, the talks, the nights out, the conversations lasting til morning, the concerts, classes, hearings, ditch days, camping trips, bonfires, nights spent star gazing, lifeguard tower talks, moonlit beach walks, games, jam sessions, trips to the gym, five-mile runs, parties, confrontations with police, writing sessions, hot tub dips, trips to the fair, aimless drives, shopping sprees, the hill, fifty-message conversations, guys nights out, family gatherings, road trips, starbucks talks, beach days... too much to remember. To everyone who was a part of any memory... my life is great because of you. I don't want to sound like I have a week left to live (even though it sort of feels like that). I just want to take this time to say some nice things that need to be said.

Chris, I remember freshman year at D-teams sitting across from you and thinking to myself, 'Why does this guy think he's so cool?' But slowly, and I don't remember exactly when, we became best friends. You've been there for me, and you helped me through some of my roughest times. I hope I've come close to being as good a friend. I admire you for all your ideas and ambitions, and I'll know you'll go far. Keep writing.

Max, when I tell stories to my kids about what I did in high school, I'm pretty sure you'll be in all of them. Obviously you were one of my best friends throughout the past four years, and more so as time went on. I regret leaving you more than anyone else because I know how opposed you were to me going. I can imagine it right now - me going up there, wanting to start a band, realizing I can't find a bass player as creative as you, coming back home, and asking you to be in a band with me again. I'll miss you, but I know I'll see you again sometime soon.

Scot, first of all you're my most musically talented friend, and I wish I could have half the ability you do. I'm grateful for having your support as well through my tough times. We've had some very interesting conversations, which were possible because you think on deeper levels. You know how I like that in a person. I'll miss your company. (I know you might get sad that other people's paragraphs were a little longer, but I don't have much else to say, other than that you've been my greatest friend in how you cared so sincerely about me.)

James! I'm not leaving you back in Rancho, but I'll still miss you over there in Davis. You are my oldest friend, all the way back from Ms. Yamaguchi's class. We really need to stay lifelong friends or I'll be sad.

I love you Jamie. You and I both know that twenty years from now, after we've both played the field, had our fun, and given up on any hope of marriage or love, we're just going to get married. Let me know if you want to give up early, we can move in together. Don't worry, separate beds.

Chad, the past few months we've started to hang out more. Looking back, I'd say you've been a great friend even though you weren't my closest. What I mean is the times we do hang out and talk you're always supportive and accepting. Thank you for that.

Mike, I think it's so sick you got your own place. You've always seemed independent and self-sufficient. Enjoy yourself like I know you do, but don't forget to become a doctor (if that's still what you want). Also, I love your attitude of "my shit is your shit." Few people are that selfless, so it's a conspicuous quality.

The same goes for you, Zach. Just this year I realized you might be my nicest friend. You don't talk shit, but you put up with it, and I respect that. We should have hung out more.

Anthony, you're dedicated in everything you do. I know you're going to become a wealthy restaurant owner / vacation planner / whatever it was you told me you wanted to do (sorry I forgot) because you have your mind set on it.

Gina, I'm sorry. You're such a great person... anyone can see your outward beauty, but after getting to know you, I realized there's so much more beneath that. I admire you for thinking about others and trying to make them happy. My wish for you is that you continue to make other people feel as great as you made me feel, and that people would do the same for you. And I'm sorry.

Daina, you give me shit, I give it back, and it makes me laugh. I'm glad we met.

Janet, you're a witty one. I told Chris you were fucking awesome; I'm pretty sure it's true.

I have a thing for these witty girls... Brooke, you crack me up. My only regret is that we didn't become friends years ago. Your intelligence shows in your endless wise-ass remarks, which I love. You better come visit me.


Derek, Jayme, and Steven: junior year you three provided me with a much-needed intellectual outlet, maybe like a pressure valve on an air compressor. Thank you. Dan, you're in the "I wish we hung out more" group.

Chris and Christian, I had a great time on tour and in Man Band. Lots of good memories with both of you.

Stephy and Mama! You both helped me out a lot by being there after my expulsion. Your support meant so much to me. And thanks for convincing me to do that play. Stephy, I hope I see you before I leave; it's been a while.

Kevin, you were a great mentor. You have a lot to say, a lot to teach people. Your life is a great example to people who need one, so keep at it even if you get discouraged. Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me (and all of us). Also, thanks for being patient with my argumentative tendencies. Hopefully I didn't piss you off too bad. Brie, even though we didn't talk as much, thanks for being there those time you did help me out. Sorry we drank all your iced tea.

I could keep going for a long, long time - there are so many people I'm glad to have in my life. All the family, JR, Becca, and everyone else: Brianna, Meg, Diana, An, Thomas... Everyone. Thank you.

Please don't feel bad if I didn't mention you. If I knew you, I liked you.

christmas time is here

I'm part of what is most likely a very small group of people who finds the Christmas season depressing. Those old Christmas cartoons like It's Christmas Again Charlie Brown and the old Grinch movie, don't ask me why, make me depressed. Maybe it's hearing the lo-fi recording of the children's choir singing "Christmas time is here!" in their creepy dirge, and thinking how most of those kids are probably dead now.

Or when I'm stocking shelves in the toy section I look at a toy and imagine the kid who's going to come through, leaning over the side of the shopping cart, arms outstretched, wailing "I want that!!!" Then I see the toy a year from now, faded, dirty, and neglected under the bed.

Christmas lights are slutty. Plus nowadays everyone has those stupid white icicle lights that are in no way aesthetically pleasing, which makes the whole concept that much dumber.

Most Christmas carols remind me of when I was younger, and for some reason that depresses me too.

Probably the only reason I don't rip December off my calendar is the smell of Christmas. That's the only redeeming quality. I love it each year around late fall when I walk outside at night and catch that first whiff of thick, cool, winter air that smells faintly of smoke from some neighbor's chimney. To me, tolerating the Christmas season is worth it.

I'm always trying to find satisfaction, and I always convince myself it's right there. if I were to be honest with myself, I'd admit that it's not this cigarette, not that bottle, not it or her or that or somewhere else... but then I get hung up because I don't know what it is.

actually I think I do. but I don't want to believe it's that, so I'll settle with trying the "somewhere else" option.

dear diary, ...(instead of doing hw)

I woke up from my nice little nap and it was dark outside. I had like eight new texts and a missed call, so I looked at the clock and realized I'd been asleep for over two hours. whatever, I earned that nap and now I felt much better.

my parents were relaxing in the living room watching tv. I guess they came home when I was asleep. we chatted for a bit, and I told them about my team winning the Mud Run today (it's a 5k run with an insanely long, insanely steep uphill in the middle of the course, and a bunch of mud pits to run / swim / crawl through.) my parents told me about their weekend visiting friends in El Centro. I cleaned up pretty well from last night, so this time they didn't accuse me of having "one of those beer parties."

my stomach was a-bubblin' and a-growlin' for some food, so I left to pick up some Las Parillas. I got there, ordered my carne asada burrito, and Senor Cashier says, "Anything else, guero?" smiling, I shook my haid and said no. he said, "four eighty-five. nice jacket." thanks. I took a seat and waited for my booo-ree-toe.

I was sitting there wondering why I got called guero. I mean it wasn't bothering me at all, I was in a great mood. I still had that post-run high going. and then the jacket compliment... was he being sarcastic? I dgaffed, it was a nice jacket so I didn't care if he thought it was gay.

"sixty nine!" that was me. I went to the counter, where the other guy asked me, "you want hot sauce?" a lot. he grabbed five little capped cups and slid them into the bag. "here you go. nice jacket." I smiled, "thanks," and left.

I got back in my car, wondering if they were screwing with me. was there a big cum stain on my jacket I didn't notice? WHY there would be a big cum stain on my jacket, I don't know. that's the first thing I thought of.. cum stain. that's probably weird. anyway I got home, inspected my jacket for ejaculate (though none was to be found), and ate my burrito. at the time I thought today would make a nice little blog post. now I'm realizing this has become just a waste of everyone's time. sorry about that.

need to go

I have three stories for you.


at the end of freshman year I had to decide whether I wanted to enroll in the AP English and History courses next year or to take college prep. I knew I was gong to take AP. until that point I had never received anything below an A- on any report card. I would go home every day, sit down, and do my homework. that's just what I did.

I had my registration materials spread out on my bed, filling out packets and cards. the last one left to do was the thick, yellow course selection card. I was kneeling next to my bed, looking at the card, and I already knew I was going to choose AP. I had always challenged myself with the most difficult courses available until that point, so obviously AP was for me.

I looked at the card and knew I was going to choose AP, and I hated it. I hated that I was so predictable.

sophomore year I took college prep English and history.


my second story: my family used to go to Old Town once every month or two, and we'd always stop in the old cigar shop. the place feels old and wooden in general. there's a deck out front made with dark, old planks - the same ones used to make the awning and the posts supporting it. on the deck there's some old wooden barrels, and a weathered-looking, life-sized carved Indian. not just the facade, but the whole building is made of white-washed adobe, with some brown shutters covering the windows. leading inside is a pair of those old, wooden, swinging bar doors.

inside it's dim and fragrant. against the back wall facing the entrance is the counter, with all kinds of tobacco products for sale. along the right side of the store is a display case with all different shapes of pipes. along the left is another smaller display case filled with hundreds of lighters, mostly Zippos. some are eighty years old, some brand new. there are Jack Daniels Zippos, John Deere Zippos, Dale Earndheart Zippos, plain ones, shiny ones, silver, gold, everything.

about three years ago, my brother and I were in the cigar shop looking at the Zippos in the case. I saw this one Zippo in particular that stood out from the rest. it was revolting. next to all these shiny brass, steel, or silver lighters is this neon orange, flat-finished Zippo. I turned to my brother with a smile and said, "look at that! that's the ugliest Zippo I've ever seen." he agreed.

I ended up buying that lighter for twenty-five dollars. I still use it.


my third story: this one isn't finished because not all of it has happened yet.

I am living at home, working at Target, and attending community college. I'm sick of everything and I want to see something new. but don't think it's my job or some bad classes that ruined it for me. really, I'm not sure what it is. I just want out.

earlier tonight I spoke with my uncle. he said if I chose to go, there is a job waiting for me in Seattle. the pay would be from two to four times my current hourly rate. it's enough money to live off. eight days from now is when I'm supposed to register for next semester's classes. I'm thinking of not enrolling in anything and moving north. I might come back in a year, in time for spring semester 2010, but then I'd be so far behind my friends that I'd get discouraged and not want to stick with it.

I want to go. for those of you who can stay in school for a few more years and tough it out, good for you. I wish I could. I can't stand this and I don't even know why.

I know leaving is exactly what I SHOULDN'T do.

we'll see how this story plays out.

maybe

maybe I actually am as full of shit as I sometimes think I am.



I get frustrated when I hear people talk and talk and talk and ultimately say nothing.  It bothers me.  I want them to shut up.  I want to leave and not talk to them again.  (I should mention I'm specifically talking about people's world views, big conceptual statements, or - like today - my teacher's interpretation of an author's message.)

BUT.  that is only me thinking they aren't saying anything.  how arrogant of you, Brian, you ass-hole.  

is ass-hole hyphenated?  

who says you, Brian, are worth anything?  why would you even think you have more to say than another person?  why would you think you have anything worth saying at all??

my theory: I don't want to hear people's views on life because I'm an arrogant shit who's afraid he's wrong.  

haha just kidding, that's only part of it.  maybe most of it.  here's the rest:  I'm an arrogant shit because if someone else has come to a different conclusion than I have about the same thing, I think they must be wrong, or else I would have come to their conclusion.

today during English my teacher was boring me, so I took out my journal and wrote a little something.  here is part of it:

I've been over this before.  You can see the exact same reality as someone else from a different position and come up with two valid statements that say different things.  If two people saw Earth from opposite sides and each painted a picture of what they saw, they could try to argue about whose is right, or they could realize there is more to it than what each could see by himself.



now I just have to believe it.

why do I feel so shitty? oh yeah..

is there a worse feeling than knowing you couldn't do it, but someone will come after you and do it better than you?

maybe the death of someone close to you. I don't know how that is yet.










watch London, with Jessica Biel, Chris Evans, and Jason Statham. (YouTube no longer wants to host the clip I'm thinking of, so I'll have to explain what I'd rather show you.) watch it just for the climactic bathroom scene, this intensly heated tirade by Jason Statham's character, called "Bateman." most of the movie takes place as he and Chris Evans' character, Syd, talk in the bathroom at a party, getting to know each other. Bateman lets loose on Syd for complaining about how painful it was for Syd to know that his ex-girlfriend was now fucking a guy with a ten-and-a-half inch dick. Bateman had been trying to avoid going here, but Syd pushed him.

Bateman yelled with wild eyes:
"you don't know what pain is, mother fucker! PAIN, you cunt, is having a beautiful wife who wants to fuck you four, five times a night AND YOU CAN'T!!!"

Syd is taken aback. "wh... why?"

"BECAUSE... mother fucker! I'M AN IMPOTENT MAN!!!"

he told Syd if you can do it at all don't sweat the samll stuff, just get out there and do it. it could be worse.







it could be worse.

you could be an impotent man.



(and no, I'm not literally impotent.)