Pieces of my mind

• I was thinking of the phrase “peace of mind”….or is it “piece of my mind”? Guess it could be either. Can you think of any other phrases that have the same sound/words, yet totally different meanings? Neither can I, but I didn’t really try.
• While I was walking to my car this morning, which happened to be at around 5:50am, I saw the Moon above the Western horizon. It was full, or nearly so, and was hypnotizing. What is it about the full Moon that makes it so captivating. It seems bigger, more colorful and just different. I know there’s scientific explanations as to what makes it appear different, but it’s nice to just look and wonder.
• Speaking of walking to my car early, I heard someone’s alarm clock buzzing in the distance as I tromped out to my car. Isn’t that the most annoying thing? It always seems to happen when someone in your house leaves for the weekend or goes on vacation. You’re laying there, sleeping like a baby, then out of no where you hear that high pitched, electronic screeching that was scientifically invented to make sure that any normal human can not possibly sleep through it. You’re half asleep, but awake enough that you are thinking of going into the next room and strangling your roommate, only to realize the horror that your roommate is gone and that alarm is not going to be put to silence. You lay there thinking, “Maybe I can sleep through it”. But just as you drift off, your brain wakes you back up, since that alarm sound seems to be instinctually embedded as a fail safe so you won’t be late to work. The back, subconscious part of your brain is screaming to the other areas to “WAKE UP! Don’t you remember the last time you slept through the alarm and almost got fired!? GET UP!” So it goes, and you keep waking up, getting angrier every time, then you start to wonder if maybe it will automatically turn off after an hour. Then you start watching your clock. But, more likely than not, it doesn’t go off after an hour, and you start planning out how you're going to get over to the other room, turn it off and get back in bed without waking up fully. The only way this situation get worse, is when you’re in a hotel or apartments with thin walls and the whole thing happens, and turning off the alarm is not even an option.
• Speaking of alarms, that reminds me of when I would visit my cousins when I was younger. When I had a moment alone in their room, I would pounce on the opportunity to change the alarm on their clock to 3 or 4am and would silently have a laugh. The only downside was not seeing their face when the alarm sounded while it was still dark out.
• Don’t you hate it when something goes wrong and you have no one to blame except yourself? As soon as something goes wrong, such as leaving something at home when you were supposed to bring it with you, you brain instantly fires through anyone and everyone that could possibly be to blame. You think of the others and you start rationalizing why they caused this mistake, trying to have a reason to be mad. But eventually, hopefully, you dismiss all others, let out a sigh and conclude that you’re the one to blame and your only release is pure frustration at yourself and the situation.
• Watched “1408” over the weekend with my wife. Movie was ok. Was about a haunted hotel room that a horror writer stayed in, trying to debunk the claims of ghosts and ghoulies inhabiting it. It reminded me of a similar happening in my life that apparently I had never told my wife about. It was the summer of 1980-something, and I was in Vegas to attend my cousin’s wedding. It so happened that my best-friend and neighbor, Jeff, and his family were also invited and were staying at the Circus Circus Hotel with my family. Being that Jeff and I were underage for gambling, we had to find other ways to entertain ourselves. After playing soccer in the halls got old, we noticed something interesting about the room numbering system in the hotel. Every room started with the floor number and then with an ascending number for the specific room. So, the eighteenth room on the fourth floor would be 418. I guess it’s not all that interesting, since I’ve discovered that almost every hotel uses this system, but we just figured it out on that weekend. We also noted that there were at least 80 or so rooms on every floor. So, we did the math and figured out that the sixty-sixth room on the sixth floor would be an interesting door to look at. I don’t remember having a plan of what we would do when we got there, but just the idea of such a room was enough to tingle the spine and spawn a curiosity to see it with our own eyes. I’m sure each of us had ideas swimming around in our heads of how the door would turn into a giant monster-mouth with teeth lining the frame and the floor would start to incline in such a way that we couldn't help but slide to our untimely doom at the Circus Circus before having our nightly buffet. So, we got on the elevator and pushed in the six, watching it illuminate. After the elevator came to a stop and opened, we looked over the signs on the wall, and trekked off, following an arrow to the right leading our way. Once we got in the hallway, off of the elevator lobby area, we saw that it was long! There seemed to be almost sixty doors just in this hall alone. We started our march, 618, 620, 621, 623, 622, 624, watching the numbers gradually increase, along with our sense of dread and anticipation. I noticed that the even numbered doors were on the right side of the hallway, odds on the left. As our journey continued, we started to ponder if the room in question was even at the end of this hallway that stretched forever. However, even though it seemed like a horror movie in which the hall stretches farther the faster you run, we realized our progress as we neared the end. With only a few pairs of doors left, we could start to mentally tally the numbers up and figured out that the dubious door would be the last one on the right. Of course. I remember our pace slowing as we got closer, both of us trying to let the other go first without letting each other know that was our intention. We were about four doors away, close enough to see the door, but still not read the identifying plate bolted on. Then... it happened. Hmmmm, I guess that’s enough of that story until the next post. Trust me, it has an ending and it’s not…”then nothing happened and we went back to our rooms”. But I have to keep you interested enough to check back every now and then. Cheers!
  

A Grim Reaping (entry 2)

Here's the next entry to the story I started way back when. I had plenty of time to write while flying from Chicago to LA, so this entry is a bit longer. I'll get you caught up by reposting the first entry. Enjoy.

A Grim Reaping
The universe has been around for a long time. Millions of stories have been lived, told and read. This is just one of those.

Sara Finley felt great. Whenever she left from a visit with her father, she felt like she just woke up from ten hours of deep sleep on a Saturday morning with no responsibilities to fulfill and nothing on her schedule. Her mind was free of distractions and almost felt like a little girl again, knowing that everything in her life would be taken care of by her daddy, leaving her to care-free fun and play. She thought about how lucky she was...every one of her friends had some sort of problem with their parents. They all were so quick to dismiss their relationships as "dysfunctional" and equating that to "normal". But she knew that any and every one of them would trade places with her in an instant if they knew the joy of a true, loving parent.

Eventually she started to sober away from her emotionally induced high, expedited by the occasional siren or pump of brakes by the car in front of her. She lazily rode the dreamy state as long as she could, not wanting to arrive back in the real world just yet.

Scot Finley felt proud. The time he spent with his daughter was always better than any trip he could imagine to a Floridian well discovered by de Leon. He felt as young and energetic as the moment he looked through a hospital window and saw his hazel eyes staring back at him from a tiny angel swaddled in a nurse's arms. He would never forget how instantaneously his overwhelming fatigue evaporated that night when he saw Sara for the very first time.

His pride did not last long on this night. Like a feeling of someone walking in the room then right up behind him, an almost tangible feeling a dread crept through his body leaving a river of goose bumps in its wake. Something had happened to Sara.

ENTRY 2 How he knew, why he knew, he wasn’t sure. But he did and that’s all that mattered. He reached over to his end table and unplugged his connection to his daughter and peered at it. His cell phone displayed the hour and the minute, not taking any notice of his color quickly draining and a slight sheen forming on his forehead. Scot could only wait.

Sara awoke for a moment, overwhelmed by her senses. People talking, loud noises, lights flashing, traffic, a taste of metal in her mouth, her entire body throbbing, exhaust and burnt rubber crawling up her nostrils…she tried to focus on one…any one, but could only succumb to a deep sleep holding her by the ankles. It would not let her up, would not let her focus or breath, much less open her eyes again. Sara clearly heard a man’s voice, “It’ll be ok, you’re gonna be O.K.!” She knew that was the last thing she wanted to hear. She released an internal sigh and gave up. She drifted away.

Scot almost stood up before the sharp rap at the door sounded. He was waiting, knowing that it would come. He quickly strode across his dark living room and approached the front door. He watched himself in the bronze handle reflecting his image upside down as he got closer. He figured that his life was about to change and wanted to postpone this moment in anyway he could. But he could not. As his hand touched the metal that was as cold as his heart, he saw the peephole in front his face. He closed his grip on the doorknob and considered what he would see through the small tube if he looked, whether a medic or police officer, a badge wearing official for certain. He felt like he was in a movie. Wasn’t this always how people were informed of bad news in the movies? What year was this, he thought. Shouldn’t they call me? Sara would definitely have him listed as an emergency contact somewhere in her purse. After all of this flashed through his mind, Scot swallowed the knot that was forming in his throat. He squeezed round knob and turned.

As Scot pulled the door open, he had his eyes closed slightly and downcast. He pursed his lips, let his eyelids rise and searched for the spit shined work boots of the caller at the door. Only, he did not see highly polished black leather boots planted in front of him. He saw the boots of a Halloween costume. There were two, light brown, suede leather boots, spaced a shoulder lengths apart. Scot’s mind went blank. He started his confused gaze upward, higher, until he reached a sun-baked face with some of the most handsome features he had ever seen on a man in person. The complete man could only be described as a human, but not one of this world or time. Or a joke. However, when Scot looked into the eyes of this man, he knew this was no joke. The man’s dirty blond hair was mussed, most of it resting just beyond his shoulders. There appeared to be a day or two’s growth of a beard around the chiseled jaw and mouth. As Scot looked back down to the man’s chest, he saw a very lean and athletically built torso covered by some sort of light shirt that appeared to be handmade, with only openings for the head and arms, like a poncho. It had numerous stains that had be set, but the shirt was obviously washed and cleaned carefully. The man’s pants looked to be made from a heavy fabric, but they also had no signs of being made by production or machine. There was a belt wrapped around the man’s waist, with a satchel attached. Scot looked back into the man’s eyes, and saw many things explained to him by the man’s gaze. Scot knew this was no joke. Scot knew this man was ready to pounce at any second, Scot saw the look of a panther in the grass counting down the seconds until it exploded forth onto an unsuspecting gazelle. Scot knew this man had information about Sara. Scot knew this man had killed. After Scot stared into the man’s eyes, frozen for another second, the man’s lips parted and he spoke.

“I must apologize for my appearance, but there hasn’t been much time. My name is Pane and I must talk to you about Sara.”

Sights of the city

So here are a couple pictures I took around the city I'm in. First is obviously the city's 'welcome' sign. Then a couple flowers. It's always hard not to take pictures of flowers when walking around. Finally an interesting building that apparently had an art gallery in the ground level. Not too much say, but just wanted to share a little of what I saw during a walk on my lunch. Click on the pics for a bigger view.

American Gothic

Hopefully you've all seen the painting to the right. You may not know the name of it though...American Gothic. Well, it just so happens that the house in the background of the painting is a real house that is very close to the area I'm doing my training. Apparently the window in the upper part of the house is in a Gothic style and is a famous icon from the painting. I took out a little time and went by the house. There was a small museum and gift shop next to the house, however it was closed by the time I got there. But the sun wasn't down and I got a few photos. The first pic is of the painting and I actually took it through the glass front doors of the museum. Came out pretty good! The next picture was also through the doors, and I can only assume that it's of the happy couple from the painting. The next picture is one of the house as it stands today and finally a picture of the window close-up.
I don't know if it's just me, but I love visiting places like this. I imagine myself in the time that the "event took" place and wonder how things could have looked different, what the other people around there were doing and things like that. I also imagine all the people that could have walked around, right where I was standing, looked up into the same section of sky and what were they thinking. I do the same thing when I'm in museums. Looking at the displays, wondering about the people that used the tools, wore the clothes or painted the paintings. I especially love the Smithsonian's, considering all the millions of people that have come through their days in the years. Alright, time for bed and another day of training tomorrow.

Traveling

Well, here comes a blog entry from 31,000 feet. How does that happen one may ask? Ok, probably no one reading this is asking that question, since you more than likely already know that I'm flying on this here Monday the 16th. So far, so good, pretty smooth flying as they say. I don't have any wood to knock on or I would. This may be a pretty long blog entry too, since my flight is a bit over three hours long. I say that, but I'm sure I'm just a few sentences from wrapping it up and loading some games or movie on my lappy to distract myself. Although, now that I look around and see people with their eyes closed, reading a book, or just sitting there gazing into space while sipping their club soda, I realize that I didn't like guys like me before
when I was flying. Let me clarify that. I used to not like guys or gals that whipped out a laptop right after the fasten seat belt sign went out. Why? Because I wanted to have one myself. If you know me (and since you're reading this you do) I'm a total computer gnerd (pronounced guh-nerd, meaning a half-nerd half-geek...what's the difference between a geek and a nerd? A nerd is just an all around smart guy that has a higher than normal intelligence, while lacking in other social and coolness skills. A geek is a technology junkie, someone who knows way too much about home-theatre or digital stuff, usually focused on computers though. And a gnerd is a mixture of the two.) So being a gnerd, I have so many uses for computers. I load computers till they are ready to pop with programs and stuff, then buy more memory and load some more.
Hmmm, now that I write that out, it makes me think....I'm kind of an electronic pack-rat. I say this because I know I'm a real world pack-rat. I hate throwing things away, and I end up with much more junk and trinkets than any person should. I've gotten over collecting useless stuff a bit in my life by figuring out the following. How much is that thing I'm keeping worth? Let's use a pencil box for an example. Maybe it's worth five dollars. And you know that old saying, “As soon as you throw something away, then you need it.” Then I figure, would the tidiness and extra space I would have be worth five dollars if I did throw it away and ended up needed that thing and have to buy a new one? In the case of a five dollar pencil box….if I haven’t used it in awhile, then yeah, it would probably be ok to throw away. A couple hundred dollar tv sitting in the corner not being used, that’s a different story. But, back onto the electronic pack-rat. I love to read, and I usually end up reading tech magazines, computer articles and the like, so I’m always discovering new programs to do this or that. I end up loading them all up on the computer, some to be used, some to be forgotten, hidden away in that dusty, dark back corner of the hard drive never to be seen again. At least with computer programs, they don’t take up physical space and make clutter, although they do bog down computers eventually, leaving a good spring cleaning the only answer. So, I guess that’s about it for now, I think there’s about an hour left on this flight, then about an hour on the next. Maybe, on the ride home, I’ll take a look at continuing A Grim Reaping since there’s been interest by at least two readers. Wow. That’s close to one hundred percent positive feedback.

Starbucks Stargood

Here's a pic of a flower...obviously. What is special about it is that it was grown from within a piece of felt. On my last birthday, my Uncle and Aunt gave me a Starbucks giftcard. Inside the little cardboard giftcard holder, there was a piece of pink felt. (By the way, I know that it's probably a big waste of paper and supplies to offer those giftcard holders, but I really like them. You used to get a giftcard that was just a plastic card all by its self, but now they feel fancy and like to person that bought it put some extra thought into it.) There was also a little note with the pink felt that stated the felt contained seeds of wildflowers within and you would only need to plant the felt, water it and voila...flowers! So in late April, bury it in dirt I did, and now look at the pretty little flower that has come to life on my porch after waiting patiently in a piece of felt on the counter at a local Starbucks. Some people don't like Starbucks, feeling that the place is some sort of monopoly, but how can you hate them after seeing this.

On a different topic, I just got back from Phoenix and it was probably around 110º everyday, so basically hot cha cha. However, every time you tell someone that you'll be going to a desert region and it'll be hot or someone is coming or going there, they chime in with "But it's a dry heat." Ok, it's a dry heat. You know what, it's a dry heat in my oven too, but when it gets over 100º it really doesn't matter if it's a dry heat, a wet heat or a cold heat....it's HOT! If you're on fire, it doesn't matter if you are wet or dry, humid or not...it's HOT! Just my two cents. By the way, it was hot in Phoenix. I think that people say that whole "But it's a dry heat" thing because they've heard it their whole life and just repeat it like a Pavlovian dog salivating at the bell. Just like when you tell someone you're going to the baseball game and they have to say "Oh, hotdogs always taste better at the ball game." Do they? You mean a hotdog that's probably been sitting in dirty, hot water for hours, then thrown on a grill for a few seconds before they slap it in a folded piece of bread they call a bun, then drown in toppings so you really don't taste it? That one? It must be the atmosphere that makes it taste great.

The Simpsons......

Everyone should know by now that The Simpsons are releasing a movie on 7/27/07. And as part of the promotions of the film, select 7-11 stores have been converted into bona fide Kwik-E-Marts. So, being a Simpsons fan since high school (has it been that long?), I wanted to go and see one for myself.

My first attempt was futile however. As I approached the Kwik-E-Mart in West Los Angeles, I could see the sign in the distance and knew that I would be sipping a Blueberry Squishy, guzzling Buzz cola and opening a box of Krusty-O's soon. But my building excitement quickly fizzled as I saw a line of nerds wrapped around the corner of the building. How dare they! And there was actually a security guard posted at the door making sure the geek ratio didn't get out of balance in the store. I didn't have the time to wait in line with the other mouth-breathing four-eyes waiting to get an over-priced dust-collecting trinket to sit on the shelf next to my personally built computer. Although my coworker pointed out if I went on my way to work at 6:30 in the morning, there should be plenty of space for me to waste my time and money. In the words of Homer Simpson...woohoo!

So I dropped by this morning and as anticipated, there was only the regular flow of coffee seekers crawling around the store. I waltzed up to the front door and saw the reason for the lack of nerdism....they had sold out of everything! Well, they still had plastic commemorative Slurpee cups with Simpsons characters on the side, but it was too early for a Slurpee, even for me. So I settled for a cup of coffee and a Simpsons looking donut. Trying to look normal among all the other customers, I stood in line with my pink sprinkles donut and strode out with my head held high. The donut was too sweet, I guess Homer would like it. Maybe I'll try again when I see a steam of nerds funneling towards the local 7-11.