the jeeps

for the past week, i've been keeping myself from the ethereal wisdoms of my sub-conscience's world in order to work on things. written things. things that could potentially land me a gig so i don't have to live off unemployment checks. then again, falling down this well of slight misfortune (and i use "slight" because there are much worse things in life than being in unemployed) does have its lessons, and i've been learning every step of the way. but as i've continued looking forward, the light at the end of tunnel appears to be flickering.

anyway.

the clock probably won't strike 1 before i hit the hay tonight, which leaves me wondering if these otherworldly friends i've made while struggling through delirium will...miss me, in a sense. i look at it like this: the first night, my mind left me and strung itself like a bat from a branch. of course, other minds were probably doing the same. and thus, i'm sure they made friends. now, tonight, as i'll be sleeping much sooner than in past nights, i'll be taking my mind with me - a selfish task, some might say - and let it lead me through the sometimes-confusing realm of afterthought.

you know, i really wish i had the smarts to be a scientist. i'd study dreams.

you know, on second thought...maybe i don't need to be a scientist. it's just a title, right? maybe i'll take unconventional instincts as a non-scientist and veer onto a different path in dream studying. what should i call it? i need a different name that'll make me sound more official. [do you see what i'm doing?] i don't care that much. it's only an act for your eyes.

i'd like to get beaten up by a punk. i'd like to be left to lie in my own blood, casting my final thoughts on a life lead by altruistic* intentions. my eyes would draw pictures in the sky of my fondest memories, and the clouds would become the characters. people would pass me on the street, and there would be this aura around me that would either invite them to watch the sky or continue passing me by. and then my soul would rise above my body, turn around, and bid farewell. it would say, "thanks for putting up with me and for your protection." and then it would leave it all behind.

and then, would you fancy the body as a robot without batteries? would someone finally realize that shaking it would not help to wake it? what would i do as the selfish soul, starring down from just above?

it's thoughts like these that make me believe you've got a choice before you're introduced to afterlife. think about it: if you still have your heartful thoughts while you're starring at your body, you still care about the same things you did while on earth, right? so you're not beyond your life yet, which is the definition of afterlife. then again, there's a part of me that thinks we can't have these thoughts because they'll tear at us. they'll rip us in two. does only have of you move onto your next phase? maybe. maybe that's the end of the trip for your angel/devil scenario. the angel moves up, the devil moves down. fair enough, right? if i had the chance, i'd mix up their paths so they could stir some things up at both ends. i've always felt the two spoke in similar voices anyway.

"let's not fight. i'm tired. can we just sleep tonight? don't turn away, it's just there's nothing left here to say. turn around, i know we're lost but soon we'll be found."
- - - sia, "soon we'll be found"

be patient. it'll come.

*chris's word. not mine.

EXT. BUSY STREET - DAY TIME

walking outside, i take my time. the sounds of Sigur Ros's "Sæglópur" are in my ears when i can feel it coming.

like a wave that's rushing towards the surface, hoping to hit its destination with all its might, i lie down in the middle of a sidewalk to be still as the amalgamation of my thoughts bind together and hurdle forth - towards the inside of my head.

there's a beat.

from OVERHEAD,

watch me as my head explodes, overtaking the close-minded individuals walking passed. they're startled, and then...

there's nothing they can do, except immerse themselves in positive thoughts that are carried by a sea of heavenly sounds.

some fall to the ground, while others rise to towards the skies. my soul is with them, and the sun provides its warmest smile.

FADE OUT.

well, i guess this is growing up

It hit me after 400 miles of driving west on the same road.

After the large tires of a Semi wandered (for a second) into my lane on a two-way stretch through the mountains of Moreno Valley.

Among other things, I realized I'm not ready to fall into a relationship or father children because I still enjoy the way the hairs on the back of my neck do cartwheels as soon as I get myself into situations that ask for my feet to toe the edge of life. For me right now, that is the definition of beauty.

This thought comes from an e-mail that I received from my friend, last week. I've known her for years, and she's due in a few months to have the child who's been gaining life inside her since the late part of last year. In her e-mail, she mentioned how she's evolved through the process, which was a really inspiring thing to read about. She talked about the way she drives now, and how she carries herself on a day-to-day basis. "I'm living for someone else now," she said, and that really struck me.

Two years ago, my aunt gave birth to my cousin; and since then, I've had a wonderful time watching him grow up. Sure, he's only two, but I never realized how much growth takes place in that short period of time. When I'm around him, I get the feeling that I'll be a pretty good Dad when I reach that stage, but still...I've got a lot of growing to do before I can take care of another living person who'll need me like my cousin needs my aunt and uncle. You know?

And it's weird. There are days when I want the growing up to take place much faster than it is. I used to want to be a young parent, and then realized I was better off waiting, upon a second glance. But then there are other times, like last night, when I'm glad that all I really have to worry about is myself.

As I'm thinking about all of this, I feel as though I'm coming off as some immature schmuck who only cares about himself. Which hopefully isn't the belief of those around me. I'm just at a point in time right now where I want to make a name for myself in my industry of choice. And I feel that I'll be letting someone else down because I need to commit myself to writing and film, and can't necessarily stretch myself to do that while in a relationship.

Maybe this shows you the amount of confusion that runs through my mind on a daily basis. Imagine this wave of confusion for eight-and-a-half hours, while driving home from Arizona last night. Thick clouds hang around your car like Saturn's rings. You're trying to see through them, trying not to hit other cars, but it feels impossible.

Then again, why should clarity be so important? Completing a drive that's clear as the Summer sky is nothing to be proud of. You should easily be able to finish that.

Bypassing the clouds is a proud moment. One can rest easy afterwards, dreaming of the way each mile becomes easier as you progress.

I feel like I'm on my way. But we'll see.

stuck in time

Going through old photos helps remind us of the things lying in our past. Sometimes, those memories are vary particular. Like this one.

I was just looking at a photo of an old friend from high school, when I was reminded of the time that - although she had already told my friend she wouldn't go to the dance with him - my friend still decided to decorate her car with the most ridiculous stuff...like you would do if you were trying to ask someone to a dance back then. Like a good friend, I helped him out. And it was 110% worth it to see her reaction as she came walking out to her car, realizing that her answer hadn't meant a thing.

But we were battling things back then, too. High school is such an awkward time for some people because of thoughts creeping into heads and firsts that seem to occur at every left and right. It dawned on me tonight, as it as before, that I would love nothing better than to go back in time and tell my high school self not to worry so much about the future. Because the truth is, the future will be at your feet before you know it.

Compared to now, I had nothing to worry about in high school. My parents paid for the house we lived in, among many other things. My friends all lived fifteen minutes away, at most. But your vision is blurred then, and I think that's just because we always need something to be difficult or hazy in our lives.

Life wouldn't be as much fun to me if things were always easy. You can't learn from easy. You can only learn from mistakes and chances you take that go rogue.

Pictures are funny. You're stuck in time, reacting to a lens (most of the time). But there's nothing better than looking back and remembering what you were doing seconds before that picture was taken. Hopefully, you were with your friends in the picture you're staring at right now, so that even if they live far away, they're always standing with their arm around you, stuck in time.

I wish I could walk inside the frame and relive those moments. But that would be too easy, wouldn't it?

the sandy's

It was incredible, to say the least. Some journey.

We began in an desolate valley, rich with warm people who had become derailed at some point. But we were all fishing for something better, and that was beautiful.

Lit like a lamp with fresh electricity, we took on the route ahead with open eyes and tireless ears: Marching towards something that was dim, but provided us with another chance. And I guess that's all anyone can ask for when they've reached certain points in their lives.

I met a single woman named Sandy, and boy, did she possess the most wonderful smile. It took my eyes a few miles to peer down and realize the broken shackles around her legs (from a disease she'd had prior to coming here), but that's because the windows to my soul fall in love with things that breed comfort. They fail to care about much else.

Sandy could walk fast like the rest of us, eager as she was for a new beginning. And that was refreshing. To hear no complaints from someone who had plenty of reasons to spell us with them, she only talked of the road ahead and failed to mention much of her past. I for one, curious like the wind was strong, just wanted to see her smiling. So I left my curiosity for someone else to pick up. Indeed, she took it from me, but it was something I knew I should always leave behind.

There was a man on the trail named Sandy, and he was sharp like a razor. Funny thing, really: He used to work with knives a lot, both cutting himself and other things, I suppose. He didn't really touch on it, thoroughly. Which could've been for the better or worse, but we didn't spend much time wondering. So long as he was with us, nobody really cared about much else.

Another person I'd like to tell you about is a young duo. Sister and brother. Brother and sister. Named Sandy and Sandy. Weird thing, isn't it? All these people and everyone's called the same thing. But I just took it as chance. There are more important things here, really. But boy could they sing! I had heard them from afar at the start of our mission, caroling together in perfect harmony; and it was just the most magical thing. Imagine two voices flying together like two of the most beautiful doves. So full of life and expression, I began to ask myself if there was anything better.

They knew most of the same songs, coming from under the same roof, yet they sung of loneliness and their longing for their parents; who, as they told us, had taken a different route. We all believed they'd reunite at some point.

So, imagine this. Imagine walking along a path with a bunch of wonderful new friends, towards something that became brighter and brighter as our legs grew more tired. But in a sense, curiosity led our steps with strength, so I guessed I hadn't left my passion for the unknown behind after all. What joy!

Sandy was talking with Sandy, both of the Sandy's were singing...there was nothing wrong with anything here, and that's usually something that terrifies me. You see, I am waiting upon my panic attack, which usually occurs when everything seems right except for one thing that I'm unsure of. Which, in this case, is that light at the end of our route.

I'm afraid I didn't say much the rest of the way, which was most likely my mistake. But I was pacing myself. My parents were always heavy on the dialogue, and that was a trait that stuck to the genes they passed on to me. And yet, I could feel myself changing around Sandy. The best feeling so far. And this is why I waited to say much of anything.

I took everything in. Everything from the sounds of insects to the shuffling of footsteps to the air entering one's mouth and being passed through one's nose.

I listened to myself change as we climbed towards the summit: The end of our way. And as we reached it, I sensed something remarkable. Magical. It was the wind, and the realization that all of us were the same. We all had fear in us. We all had a past in us - some of us disagreeing with decisions while others could smile while looking over their shoulder. We all had acceptance. We all had change.

And yes, we were all called Sandy.

As we reached the top, I scanned the scenery for something new, for just a second. But I paused as my eyes began to pass through the darkened skies that hung from the ceiling. For those new somethings were gathered 'round me, doing the exact same thing. And then I thought of something strange.

We're all content with these something new's, and yet, we're still looking for something else.

Change is not the furthest we go. Evolution is.

a city of angels?

I remember this place feeling foreign; a space of land near my hometown, but blurry - in terms of what I came to expect from its residents.

In high school, my friends and I would attend shows of the bands we loved who weren't playing back home. We'd caravan for the hour and a half drive, eat somewhere cheap, and then spend a few hours at the venue. When the shows were over, it came time to drive home and leave everything unfamiliar behind. This continued for another five of six years, until it was time for me to call this place home.

When I moved to Los Angeles in the early quarter of 2007, eliminating my curiosity was at the top To-Do list. Places to eat and hang out, things to do...they intrigued me, but not as much as meeting the amalgamation of people who also call this place home.

We have 'em all, in LA. The beggars. Those who work hard and don't get paid enough. Those who don't work hard enough and are overpaid. Countless nationalities. New friends.

I grew up playing sports in an area that provided me with friends from every different background. I had friends who's parents did amazingly well, friends who's parents didn't, and everything in between. Through them, I learned that background can and can't breed character, so I had a feeling there would be some interesting people coming my way.

My first job here was with an ad agency, which introduced me to a group of people I've befriended and have since hung out with regularly. I've been introduced to different facets from new religions, different people's preferences, the different ways different people handle things, and it's all beautiful. I thought I had it good growing up with so many people to learn from, and I feel myself more enriched by the day, up here.

Being young in LA, you're also introduced to new things about yourself. Like not having a job and facing rent with a deteriorating income. Growing up under an umbrella where my parents didn't necessarily give me everything (so they could let me prove to myself that I would be capable of taking care of myself in the real world), there are moments now where I'm sitting on the floor of my room, pondering the best ways to save money for the remainder of the month. And I'm thriving on those feelings.

It's not important to me to be ahead of the game right now because I love living in the trenches. I love waking up and wondering if the day will be lucky or not, and then try to define my luck at the end of the day: Maybe I met a new person I can learn something from, or maybe a new contact potentially fell into my lap.

Whatever happens, I just hope to get through each day with another lesson tucked beneath my belt. That's what success looks like in the big picture. And in LA, that's all that really matters to me.

Dear Presidential Canidates,

Unknown personal agendas make it extremely difficult to trust the statements you make in front of onlookers and cameras. Though I want to believe the things you say, the word "fraud" is one of many adjectives that comes to mind when a person, such as yourself, is trying to climb the political ladder.

What will happen once you're allowed to rest your head in a large house that's painted white? How will you engage with foreign leaders and make this world a much better place than it currently is?

As you can see, I have not reserved any real estate for your answers because I am not in the business of wasting space. You're supposed to show us that we can trust you, and then show us we were right to trust you with power set upon your shoulders.

We'll put money where you want it. We'll support causes that you believe will benefit us. All our eggs will somehow fit into a basket that rests at your feet. Some decisions will be made against our will, but we'll put hope in the fact that those decisions were made for the betterment of our country and world.

If you want to explore change, explore and discover its depths.

If you let us down, why should it be a crime to kill you and move on to another day of trying to gain trust in someone we truthfully don't know?

LT and the 405

While driving down the 405 the other day, a thought occured to me.

For one, I have surpassed the Novice level at evading bad drivers on the freeways. I feel like an expert in the way that I dodge the swervers and lackluster lane-changers; kind of like what I'd imagine an NFL running back to feel when he's jetting between defenders who're paid millions to bring him down.

As far fetched as this might seem, I drew a correlation on my dashboard the other day, linking myself to LT with the way that I seem to slip through the cracks and out of the grasp of other cars. And then I thought: Well, if I'm this good, I wonder what he's like behind the wheel?

Imagine this. You're driving down the freeway, and then suddenly, like Tom Cruise in Day of Thunder, you run your car into a wall of already-crashed cars. Only to find that the car behind you was able to dodge everyone, including you. (Yes, I know. Later in the film, Cruise manages to miss the cars...yada, yada.) You would be stunned to see someone else miss shoving his or her fender into your bumper, right? It's that competitiveness that runs your blood.

But all of that vigor would fade once you realized someone like LaDainian Tomlinson was behind the wheel of that car, wouldn't it? You'd just draw a long breath and realize that the only reason he was able to miss you was because of that God-given eye-sight of this; the vision that makes him one of the best running backs ever to strap on pads.

I know what you're thinking because I'm just like you. Certain people were meant for certain things.