This reminds me of when I was little and would get excited about the smallest thing. I wonder where that spark and complete abandon of fear went. Nowadays, I'm so afraid of what people would think if I were to raise my hand up with my favorite toy and triumphantly declare its venerated title. I love how Bruno Taylor challenges us to listen to and encourage the child inside us that never grows up.
After a grueling three hour ordeal of lifting, sweating and organizing, I am moved in. I still have a few more things to tweak here and there to improve things, but for the most part I am done. The room mate hasn't moved in yet, and I wonder how he'll like the room so far. I tried to follow the rough sketch as much as possible, but I ended up shoving the futon under the bed and moving the shelves on the opposite side of the room. The room is a lot bigger than I thought it was going to be and leaves with plenty of wiggle room if I want to make adjustments.
Hung out with some friends and then headed off to a house warming party that a bunch of friends were throwing. I dropped by and just hung out with them, semi-catching up with them and feeling awkward the rest of the time. I don't usually do well in party scenes. Not sure what it is, but I never feel comfortable. I can't relax and thus never seem to get in the swing of socializing in that setting.
I didn't a lot of sleep last night. This is evident seeing that I'm completely awake at this hour. I'm not sure what it was, the futon or the fact that it's the first night at a new place. Maybe a bit of both. My back feels a bit stiff. The futon is not as sleep friendly as I thought it would be. I'm considering investing in some sort of mattress pad to help lull me to sleep.
Despite all my grumblings and complaints about moving in, I'm completely willing to help my friends move in. Weird huh? Not sure how that works, but it does. And my services might be needed today while everybody else begins to move in. Guess this is what I get for moving in early. Bad night's rest and a full day.
After the disappointment of last night, I couldn't gather up the will to start packing for school. Yes, I haven't packed for school yet. Despite the fact that I am planning to move in tomorrow, I don't feel a real sense of urgency. I guess it hasn't really sunk it or a more realistic answer is I'm trying to prevent the inevitable. Hopefully when I wake up tomorrow, all my gear will be packed and stowed in the trunk of my car. Not likely.
I drew up a rough sketch of how I'd like to set up the room when I get there. Keep in mind, it's a rough sketch. There's no need to bash on my MS Paint skills, or lack thereof.
I'm sure the setup will change a bit depending on the availability of space and room mate's input. I hate moving in. So much work to be done.
Yet, I'd gladly suffer the labour of moving in just to leave home. Nothing against my home or my family, but it's definitely reached that boiling point where tensions are high. Everything turns into a debate and our indoor voices become booming projectiles of stings and barbs. Distance helps neutralize the hostile situation and lets us cool our heads. Losing my wallet did not go well in my favor. I'm sure to hear about this latest mishap for quite a long time to come. I'm so thankful I have parents who are blessed with impeccable memory.
I intended to talk about something light hearted and cheerful. Probably use 'Tropic Thunder' as a springboard into more hilarity, but the situation took a turn for the worst after coming out of the movie theatre. First off, the movie is ridiculous. In the sense that it's filled with laughs and extremely crude humour. If that's your cup o' tea, head to your nearest theatre and check it out. Now onto the tragedy. I came out the movie all cheerful and light-hearted. We discussed a few topics on the way to the car. After we got to the car, I realized that I didn't have my wallet on me. That instantly plunges me into alert/panic mode. The only thing on my mind is, Crap I gotta find that wallet! in not so eloquent terms. I crawled around on all fours poking every nook and cranny near our seating location for where it could be. I even rooted around in a trash can for the off chance that I or someone else had thrown it in there. No luck. It really sucks to lose something that important. I guess you don't realize it until it actually happens. The rest of the night, I was sick to my stomach. Filing a useless police report did not put me at ease. By the way, I think that was a completely pointless usage of time. Trying to find a lost wallet is next to impossible. I think the officer who typed up the report was trying to convey that notion to me through his uninterested eyes.
I suck at life sometimes. New lesson learned: don't put anything important in gym shorts.
Well the time has come for me to start packing up for school. Problem is, I don't know what I need/should pack and I hate packing in general. It's such a chore. I think I would rather mow the lawn, wash dishes and clean out my hamster's cage rather than pack. This year, I'm going to try to bring only the bare minimum: laptop, speakers, casual clothes, work clothes, guitar, camera, etc. Hopefully the list isn't that much bigger than that, but knowing the pack rat mentality that I have, there will probably be a lot more stuff stuffed in boxes. I hate packing.
Part 1: Can't wait to get out of this hellhole... Chapter 3
Two hours later, the planes touched down on the tarmac of LAX. The hustle and bustle of the terminal was a welcoming sight after spending the last couple of hours crammed up like a sardine. Dave and I headed out of the terminal to meet up with a mutual friend. She goes to school at Caltech and was spending her Christmas break at school. When I told her that I had a seven hour layover in LA, she jumped at the chance to show me around.
We hopped into her car after exchanging greetings. LA wasn't what I expected. I guess I had the notion that it'd be really posh and affluent, but we drove through areas that reminded of me of Warren or Pontiac. Not all of LA, just parts of it. We drove around aimlessly, Cali-Girl asked us where we wanted to go. Neither Dave or I had a clue what LA had to offer, so we said the first thing that popped into our mind. Let's go see the Hollywood sign. "Alright, now lemme see where the sign is. Hand me that map." Turns out she didn't know how to navigate around LA. After doing a distant drive-by of the famed sign, we decide to head to Venice Beach.
Having no idea what to expect at the beach, I make sure to bring my camera along in case there are interesting sights to capture. Good thing my intuition paid off. As we took a stroll down the boardwalk, we came across booth after booth of eye catching ware. A few locals came strolling up to ask us to hear their "jamz." Dave and I obliged, but we quickly learned that it was the wrong thing to do. We spent the next 10 minutes trying to convince the guy we didn't want to buy his CD.
A little further down, we came across this street performer. I think it's common to find a living statue in just about every major city. And why not? For the cost of paint and incredible patience, you can turn yourself into a attraction for next to nothing. People love taking pictures of living statues. I snapped off a few shots and moved on.
We decide to grab lunch on the boardwalk. After surveying a few locations, we decide to hit up this snazzy looking joint. Let me tell you, I am not a big fan of the California sales tax. No wonder it's hard to afford a living in California. They have a tax for almost everything. Plus the food wasn't even that great. Afterwards, we head off to search for a pair of sunglasses. I figured that it would come in handy while I'm in NZ. We spent 30 minutes trying on various styles before settling on a shape that semi-suited my face. It's always been difficult to shop for lens. It took me three days and four picks for me to settle on my eyeglasses. We head off towards the beach. I checked the time, we had about four more hours before Dave and I had to be back at our gate. The sun was beginning to set as we walked along the shoreline. Dave, being the water junkie that he is, decided to soak his feet in the ocean. He spent the majority of high school in the pool, involved in all sorts of water sports.
The local scene is alive. There are people participating in random activities. From spray painting a wall to surfing the cold water. My camera barely got a chance to rest as I snapped off shot after shot of the action all around. I got sucked in watching this group of guys surfing. I've always wanted to learn how to surf.
I feel surfing is one of those images that remains me of California. It's such a West Coast thing to go surfing. Grab your board, your suit and jump into a Wrangler to catch the waves. The surfers were just entertaining themselves on the small waves that build up as the water nears the shores. A few times they were able to get decent rides.
We moved further down the beach and started digging in the sand for kicks. Dave got worked up and enthusiastically made a tunnel in the sand. When I was little, we would always make these elaborate system of interconnecting tunnels in the sandbox. Eventually the structural integrity would be breached and the whole thing would collapse on our digging hands, but it was fun while it lasted.
The sun started dipping below the horizon, cue for us to head back to the airport. We had back to the boardwalk and rinse the sand off our feet. On the walk back to the car, we made a pit stop to stare at the people working out on Muscle Beach. There was this one woman who was jacked as could be. From the neck down, with the exception of the obvious, you couldn't tell that it was a woman's body. It was incredibly ripped, each muscle jutting out like a razor edge. My self-esteem propelled me away from the scene, I felt smaller than I usually do. Good sign to leave the beach.
Cali-Girl drove us back to the international departures gate and we said our goodbyes. I told her that I would probably call on her again when I made my return trip to the States. "Sure thing, just give me a call. Have a safe trip." Yeah I will, don't worry. Have a great break. Thanks for showing us around.
We were actually early because the rest of the group was not there yet with a few exceptions. Having nothing else to do, we decided to make small talk with the other group members. Guess you could call it my first attempt to break the ice with the rest of the group. The desks calls out our flight and picked up our gear to line up again. I had to get used to this because I would be doing this multiple times during the trip.
The setup on this flight put the other flight to shame. Not only did we have large cushy seats, we also had personal TVs with a large list of current movies to select from. I started getting excited about the movies that the flight had to offer and made a mental checklist of movies that I simply had to see before the 15 hour flight was over. I figured if I worked in a methodical fashion, I would accomplish everything on the list. If this is what the rest of this NZ trip is gonna be like, I'm already in love. To make matters even better, since we were flying in international waters the drinking age didn't apply. *Mischievous grin* Can't say I didn't abused that privilege.
After gorging myself on all sorts of luxuries, exhaustion finally overtook me. Right before my eyelids won the battle, a thought popped into my head. When I wake up, I'll be in NZ. I could hardly wait.
When I was in fifth grade, I sent one of my best friends to the hospital with a concussion. To my defense, it wasn't intentional nor was it entirely my fault. It was a cold winter, back when it used to snow on time; yes it used to actually snow in December. We were outside for recess bundled up in our snow gear, having a great time playing in the snow. Someone said we should make a giant snow man, as big as we could possibly make it.
The tasks were delegated and we set forth on recreating a real life Frosty. The "legs" of the snowman were enormous; it reached as high as my chest. I was given the job of making the 'body" portion. Well one simple thing we didn't take into consideration before making the snow man was how we were going to assemble the monstrosity. We had to take a) a finely packed ball of snow as big around as three watermelons and lift it with b) our scrawny prepubescent, underdeveloped arm muscles. The equation didn't work in our favour. Guess that's why I've always hated arithmetics.
We decided to give it a try anyways. No luck, we couldn't even lift it up with our combined efforts. Then the brilliant idea of rolling it up a human "ramp" was born out of desperation. The idea was to have someone be the "ramp," while the others would gradually roll the body into place. I drew the short straw, not literally, and was given the position of ramp. My friend, Matt, was given the task of being on the opposite side of me to hold the legs in place while we executed this operation. We finally got the ball rolling on this plan [har har har ball get it?] and began to push it ungracefully on my back.
Somehow someone slipped and instead of pushing the giant globe on my back, pushed me. I lost my footing since I was completely off balance and slammed right into Matt's face. I don't quite remember what happened afterwards, but I do recall an ambulance coming to whisk Matt to the hospital. It was a few days before Matt came back, he had a good size goose egg on his forehead. I apologized to him during an awkward encountered, but everything turned out fine and we remained friends. A few months later, Matt and his family moved away and I lost contact with him. Now we both attend the same college. We're not friends anymore, more like friendly acquaintances. Too much time apart I guess.
The snowman was never finished and the dismembered body parts melted into indistinguishable lumps. I never made another snowman since.
Part 1: Can't wait to get out of this hellhole... Chapter 2
Dave and I found an empty bench and plopped down in exhaustion. I looked out the window and saw that it was still dreadfully early, the sun still hasn't peeked over the horizon. We sat near the rest of the group, all jet-bound for New Zealand in less than 24 hours. One of the girls pulled out a giant freezer bag full of cookies and assorted pastries. She glanced over and extended the bag while asking, "Do you guys want any cookies? My mom made me a giant batch so I wouldn't get hungry on the plane ride." Dave took some while I decline the tasty proposition. It's too early in the morning for me to eat. For some reason, eating and early mornings don't mix well with me. "My name is Sally, nice to meet you." We both grunted back a pleasant reply and our names. "Oh, you're both Dave? That's cute." Except she sort of has a sarcastic tone when she said that. The conversation died after that point. Sally pulled out her Mac book and scampered off to a pillar that had an outlet.
I remembered that I forgot to call my credit card company and tell them that I'll be out of the country for three weeks. The last thing I need is to have my credit card account frozen while I'm traveling in a foreign country. I called them up and proceeded to inform the kind lady of my flight plans. She is nice about it and asks me if I am visiting any other country. I tell her I wished and thanked her for her time. That's quality customer service right there.
Shoot. My phone beeped letting me know that I only had half a charge left on the battery. At that moment, I regretted having not brought my battery charger with me on the trip. When I packed for the trip, I didn't think I would need to use my phone outside of the States; however, I completely forgot about needing it in LA. Crap, I am so retarded. I powered it off to conserve as much battery as I can. You'd like to think that half a battery would last me a while and that I'm just overreacting, but I'm not folks. Let's face it, my phone sucks. One charge lasts me about a day and a half...if I don't make any calls.
After a few more hours of waiting, my flight is finally called. I grabbed my gear and waited in line to board the plane. I got the preflight jitters. I have nothing against flying in general, but I detest the ordeal of having to adjust to the varying atmosphere. Plus, the disinfectant smell they use on planes conjures unpleasant memories of dental offices. 17, 18, 19...20A. I found my seat. Great, an aisle seat. Guess that means I won't be getting a comfortable inflight nap. That's the problem with sitting on the aisle. You suddenly have the responsibility of adjusting your seating position whenever your row mate wants to take a trip to the loo. I stored my gear into the overhead compartment except for my camera bag that I tucked neatly under the seat in front of me. The flight crew did their usual spiel about safety. I usually zone out during this, I trust the experienced men and women to handle the logistics. My body is eager to catch up on lost sleep.
Ever wonder if there is more to life than what you see? Does it seem like some coincidences are too good to be true? Alright, I know the possibility of this being true has the same likelihood of Michael Jackson obtaining rights to open a daycare, but sometimes I feel like my life is a reality show and I'm totally oblivious.
Well obviously I wouldn't be completely oblivious because I've made the connection that it's a show, but you get what I mean. Ever since watching the Truman Show, I've wondered if it's possible for Corporate America to do that to someone, specifically me.
What would my life be like if it was a TV show? Honestly, it would probably be incredibly boring. Take the humor out of Seinfeld and combine it with poor acting and lack of funds to hire additional actors, that's what you'd get. Maybe I'll give it try by starting up a video blog or web-series. Who knows. I will say this though, if my life does turn out to be a TV show, I'm sorry for the poor plot line and distasteful acting.
I hit the pool today for 2 or 3 hours. Soaked up the sun and took a nice dip in the cool waters. Unfortunately, I came back with a souvenir to remember the trip by. I hate getting sun burns. They're like a mix between itchy, dry skin and throbbing pulses of heat. My skin is incredibly dry after this affair. I should probably go moisturize before I dry up into a prune. I managed to turn a shade or two darker but no luck on the legs. The legs never seem to respond to any sort of solar stimulation. I've just about given up hope on them because I don't feel like slathering tanning lotion or gradual tan on my legs.
I miss having late night chat sessions with people. Usually the selection of people to talk to is limited based on bed times, but when I do find someone the conversation is usually worth it. Haven't had a chance to have any recently because my parents usually yell at me when I stay up too late. Plus, it's hard to convince people to stay up and just talk. Luckily that's why I make friends with losers like JGK. Kidding, she's not my friend.
Went to Logan's Roadhouse or Steakhouse or whatever the hell it's called. I can't believe that I've never noticed that it was there the whole time I've lived in Troy. I guess somewhere in my unconscious, I've noticed it but it didn't really register to me. It was a pretty cool place to eat, more of a casual get together. The floor is littered with thousands of cracked peanut shells. I would hate to have to sweep all that up. Although I'm sure the wannabe OCD personality in me would have a field day with it. I thought the steak was decent, good enough for the price.
Afterwards we went to the movies to catch a late show. Ended up watching Pineapple Express. I thought the movie was knee-slapping hilarious. There were a lot of random scenes where the plot didn't really flow and it was completely unrealistic, but I loved it. This movie fulfilled my retarded funny movie quota for the Summer. Good times.
Well it's finally here folks. The 2008 Summer Olympics hosted by China. I sat down to watch the opening ceremony today and I gotta say I was completely blown away by the spectacle. The Chinese people have really made it hard for the next country to host the Olympics.
I bet the planning committee could have been mistaken for another episode of "Super Sweet 16." Alright for the ceremony, I want a giant TV...no wait a giant LED screen that unfolds. [Insert whining about getting a super expensive car here] Raff out roud.
The story of the kid was touching, completely selfless. Hopefully he'll stay that way when he grows up. Kind of sucks about the missing patch of hair, maybe Rogaine will help? My favorite part of the ceremony was the torch lighting. That was amazing. Props to whoever came up with the idea of suspending a guy in mid air to light the torch on the roof of the stadium. Although, it must have been incredibly tiring to make the guy mock run the whole length of the track. Was it just me or did it seem like he was going to fall out of his harness a few times?
This has got to be one of the best opening ceremonies I've seen so far. Vancouver better have an amazing comeback.
I remember this one time when I accidentally called 911. It happened a long time ago when I was too young and naive to know any better. My brother and I were sitting around at home alone, my parents used to leave us home alone a lot, and I started playing around with the phone. I randomly dialed in numbers and giggled when strangers would pick up the phone. Somehow I managed to dial in 911 during my sporadic number selection, because the voice on the other line said, "You've reached 911, what is your emergency?" Snap! I hung up quickly, but I wasn't slick enough because the operator called me right back and yelled at me for calling 911.
I bring this up because of what happened recently in Jacksonville. Basically the guy was mad because he didn't get what he ordered and called 911. The cops ended up arresting him for making false 911 calls.
I just wanted to say that I can see where this guy was coming from. There have been many times when I've encountered incompetent customer service and wish I could have "Bruce Wayne'd" it. By that I mean purchasing the establishment in front of the employee and then firing him or her on the spot. What a thrill that would be. Completely a jerk move, but I think certain allowances can be made.
The past few days I've been obsessing over clothes. It can probably be attributed to the recent shopping spree a few days ago. I feel ambitious this year. With the mounting pressure of having to balance an internship with school and KCF, it seems like the best time to turn over a new leaf. I've been asking around if I should try to merge GQ with "indie/scenester." They're both entirely different styles and it'll be a bold maneuver. Here's my logic, I figure since I'll be donning a suit twice a week, it shouldn't be too much of a stretch to continue wearing clothes of that nature on my off days. On the other hand, I've always had a fascination for the "vintage too-cool-for-conforming" style that is popularly depicted by stores like Urban Outfitters or American Apparel. This is the real challenge, trying to fit my shapely body into skinny pants. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Unlike some guys, I value my crotch space and prefer things to be loose instead of cramped. Balls need to be aired out folks.
Here are a few styles that I like.
Besides just changing my style, I want to undergo a personality shift. I'm reluctant to say "change" because I doubt it would happen. Whereas to "shift" would simply mean emphasizing specific traits over others. There are certain personality traits that I would prefer letting go of. We'll see if that happens or not.
I recently sat down to watch the critically acclaimed Internet musical "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog" starring Neil Patrick Harris, Felicia Day and others. At first I was hesitant to watch it but curiosity and a fondness for Felicia Day overwhelmed me. First off, it should be noted that the musical would probably not be what someone would expect; it's not Broadway caliber performances we're talking here. Keeping that in mind, I throughly enjoyed the musical. It was witty, silly and heart-breaking. If you haven't seen it yet, go give Dr. Horrible a try. Plus, Felicia Day is just so adorable in it. Yeah, I would just throw that in there.
In other news, I have to go help out at a local church this Friday. I'm suppose to play a part during their games, I play the role of the Joker who tells riddles. We'll see how that plays out. There's a softball game coming up and I still need to hit the batting cages to work on my swing. Walter keeps hyping me up, forcing me to play good or face rejection. That bastard.
Random side note: I don't tan very easily it seems.
My first crush was when I was in first grade. There was this girl named "Jamie" and she was in the grade above me. I'm not sure if they still do this now, but back then the school district used to have joint first and second grade classes. Usually you would end up having the same teacher for both grades. Anyways, I forget how the whole situation started but for some reason I was mad at this one guy and the teacher decided to pair me up with Jamie. It was her job to try to calm me down and cheer me up. Well needless to say it worked, but I couldn't let on that it did. I had to pretend that I was still mad at the guy so she would stick around. Like most crushes at that age, my attention wandered to the next thing that struck my fancy. However, I did share a "Couples Only" skate with her back when skating rinks were the place to hang out on weekends.
After the life lessons talk that I had with Mr. R today, I've come to realize that I need to plot out my future more carefully. I definitely need to sit down with my counselor and come up with a plan; as well as decide if a path in anthropology is the right one for me. It's frustrating that I'm still so unsure of what I'm going to do with my life, because at this stage I'm already deep in debt. I'm so idealistic sometimes that it gets in the way of actually accomplishing anything. It's easy to say "well I want to help others by doing this, this and this." Mr. R stated things that needed to be said and now I'm back to the drawing board and come up with a strategy that works. Constructive criticism at its finest.
It's official. My hamster is a lazy ass sack of fur. All he does is sleep, eat and poop. In that order too. Guess he must be getting old or something, because when I first brought him home he had quite a youthful energy. [We "celebrated" his first birthday in May.] Nowadays, I'm lucky if I can get him to use the wheel once every few days. Despite his sloth like behavior, I still adore the little rat. Even though my parents were opposed to buying another hamster after the first one tragically passed away, they've learned to accept Oreo as a member of the family. Quite honestly, Oreo is spoiled. He lives in a giant 172 ounce tub with plentiful food and adoration. My mom practically gushes over this creature with such a fervor that it makes me wonder if it came down to it, would she choose Oreo over me? I sure hope such an occasion doesn't occur.
The plan to go for a refreshing morning swim turned out to be an epic fail. Standing there in front of the pool with my swimming gear, I decided that it was in the best interest to back out. The swimmer to lifeguard ratio was not in my favor. In other words, I deemed it would be too awkward to swim. There simply was not enough people in the pool area. This may just be me, but I feel really self-conscious when people watch me swim. It feels creepy. Oh well, I'll make up for it by going for a dip elsewhere, preferably with the sun blazing down on me. Lord knows I am in desperate need for a tan. Almost makes me want to consider paying a visit to the tanning salon, almost.
Afterwards, I headed to a friend's house for a jam session. One of my guitars needed to be restrung because it was missing its G string. The process was quite tedious and completely not worth the time and effort. I think I'm going to cop out and pay to have my guitar restrung by professionals. It's not worth the hassle in my eyes.
Went to Somerset with a grocery list of sorts. I had to get all the items for my professional wardrobe. I hit up store after store, taking my sweet time deciding which color brown dress shoe I preferred and picking out delicious ties. I love ties and I was like a little kid in a candy shoppe when I stood in front of a table of ties that were marked down 60%. Why are dress socks so big? If I were to put one one, it'll look like it's swallowing my leg. What's the verdict on pocket squares? I wasn't sure if I should buy one or not. I've heard both sides, that it's needed and that it's purely optional. I'm not sure where I should stand on that issue yet. Afterwards I left to go pick up my suits that I had ordered the week before.
Came home from the exhausting spree and took a phone call from the State Champ. It's not really her name, just something I tease her about all the time. We got to talking, updating each other on our lives and what we've been missing out. The usual protocol for conversing with an estranged friend.
Took off with the 'rents for a late night dim sum in celebration of the occasion. A much needed break from the busy day that I had. I gorged myself on tasty food and only wished that I had my camera with me to document the event. Sadly though I still cannot find my battery charger for my D40. I've pretty much given up hope that it is still hidden somewhere in the house. Probably should go purchase a new one before a dire need for the camera should arise.
That's pretty much how I spent the "day." A rather productive one, I might add. I have a softball game coming up sometime next week. Should probably starting conditioning for that soon. I would rather avoid making a fool of myself in front of my peers. Anyway, there is only a few more weeks until school starts and my social life goes down the drain. I should make the most of it while I can.