doom is in the air...

Last night was a blast. Nick and I went to the Peppermint Beach Club to catch the last two acts of what sounded like an entirely heavy/black metal bill. Rose Funeral and Abigail Williams were on deck when we arrived to the last band just finishing up what sounded like shred heaven.

Rose Funeral wasn't quite my cup of tea, but I must commend the vocalist on his screaming abilities. He had a great high pitch scream and a pretty badass stage presence. I feel bad that it was a lame crowd, and I myself was forced to be part of it (can't be injuring my shoulder getting pushed around, what would I tell my parents? "I was head banging to a band I didn't know and..Woops! The metal rod was sticking out the back of my shoulder!"). But hey, felt good to be at a show.

Abigail Williams headlined and closed out the show. I didn't see the bands before but I'm guessing they blew the rest of the bill out of the water. I was a little disappointed that they didn't have a keyboardist on stage as they played record tracks over the PA of any key/string parts. I believe they had one who left. Not sure what the whole story is though. Beyond that, those guys are fucking awesome. Great stage presence and badass music. Once again, so happy to be at a show and especially so because I knew the music.

Ken Sorceron of Abigail Williams (phone pic)

This really gets me excited to get back to writing music again. It is honestly frustrating sometimes and there are times where I wonder why I do it/try. It would be a waste of time not to do something with what I have though. Also, First Night Last Night is one step closer to completing it's line up. We've got a good friend coming in to check out our stuff and possibly take the vocal spot. Got my fingers crossed on this working. Can't wait to give everyone a show again.

wanted: change

Last night ended up being a movie night. Well. This isn't entirely true. I also took part in drinking a handful of Rolling Rock beers (in the can!!) for a dollar a piece. I would say that this Baja something or rather could be put into the "dive bar" category, mostly due to the bathroom cleanliness, or lack thereof. It's also definitely a local watering hole, the stank of Virginia Beach grom and lifers hung in the air. I'll have to remember my quarters next time so I can get trumped on the pool table.

On the way home, JC was kind enough to forward me a text message including a coupon code with which I redeemed a free rental of Wanted starring super star Angelina Jolie. I returned home to find a new home studio set up on my roommates computer. After I had investigated for a short time, I directed myself towards my room with the PS2 and enjoyed a good ginger ale while watching the film.

I was thoroughly entertained with this "all star" type cast despite my recent preoccupation with instant Netflix watches of TV series and independent films. The action scenes were ridiculous and unrealistic (what can you expect when these assassins have hearts racing at 400bpm?), but awesome. Of course, the "nude" shot of Ms. Jolie's back is everything I could have dreamed it to be. Her tattoos are quite fascinating and from what I could see, very well done.

So the point of this post is not to provide a spoiler or a synopsis (I don't think it is anyway), but to consider the coincidence I felt at the end of the film. The protagonist works a basically dead end job (for someone who desires more), getting chewed out by his boss everyday and wasting away in a cubicle while his best friend partakes in sexual intercourse with his girlfriend while at "dentist appointments". Essentially, this guy is a pawn to others and does nothing about it. Along comes hot, kick your ass babe Angelina who brings him into another world of danger and "super powers", at which point said guy is in control.

False. Pawn. Again. A twist in the story I won't reveal in all it's entirety.*

Not until the final, let's say 3 minutes of the movie, does our protagonist gain control of himself and his life. In a monologue just before the credits, he let's us know that yes indeed, he's in control, yadda yadda about I went from being a pussy, never standing up for myself to shooting people from a mile away and saying "fuck you" to my boss. Final quote: "What the fuck have you done lately?"

Well. What have I done? I am sort of that guy sitting in his cubicle, waiting for 5pm everyday just so I can leave. The best part? At the end of the day, it just starts all over again. When I heard that last line, I was just glad that I had woken up before work yesterday and worked out, albeit for a short 18 minute bike ride. Still better than nothing. I also felt better that even though it was 1:30am and I was still up drinking soda, watching a movie, that I was going to wake up at 7am and work out again. Which I did.

It's been 8 months since I decided I was going to exercise regularly and get back into some semblance of my later high school and early college self. That's a long time to not have gotten anywhere, and frankly, there's no excuse. So here I go. See you on the bike at 7am.


*If this does somehow ruin the movie for you, contact me via email or comment, I'll provide my address so you can send me the receipt from renting the movie after which you were disappointed that I ruined it, and I will reimburse you for the entire renting cost.

what's next?

Well.

In an unexpectedly brief yet stressful moment last night, I learned that I will be packing my bags up this summer. Unfortunately, I will not be flying into Narita International Airport, just outside of Tokyo, Japan, at the beginning of August. My plans to begin a steady path towards ex patriotism have been foiled. At least for the time being.

A fellow gamer and internet acquaintance sent me a message, giving me the heads up that application IDs that had been rewarded with an interview, the next step, a chance at making the journey to Japan, were posted on the US Embassy's JET Program website. I immediately visited the site following, putting all other matters aside. As the PDF loaded, I found the small piece of paper that had on it, written in ink, the key that would unlock the next phase of the journey. It did not unlock the next phase, rather it dashed my chances and crushed my hope. Using the find feature in my web browser, I slowly entered my application ID, seeing that matches were found, hoping that everyone one up until the last would also be found. I made it to the second to last character...and nothing. No matches said Safari. I of course double checked, but to no avail.

I am disappointed. In one hand, I hold the sense of relief that I now know my fate concerning the JET Program. In the other, disappointment, but motivation and hope to find out what I will do in the face of this loss. I was at a lack of words when it happened, and thankfully, I was alone. Rather than perform the "open your acceptance letter in front of your parents or friends" script, I was more than obliged to read this in solitude and send a text to my brother, a friend or two. My parents don't know yet, but it won't be meaningful to them. They see my job, my money as happiness, when I'd rather go without either to be happier. Don't worry, I still love, respect and appreciate them.

But here I am, in my right hand, holding the thoughts of what is next. The aforementioned acquaintance provided me with links to other similar programs and blogs to people who post questions and give advice about moving to and living in Japan. There is a lot of good information and plenty of other options involving teaching English in Japan. Do I start applying to more programs?

I actually don't know yet. Something pulled me towards the JET Program, and knowing a previous participant provided me with lots of confidence and motivation to see myself alone in Japan. The idea has grown more daunting just in the past few hours today that I devoted to researching these other programs. I still want to travel and live abroad. But now, how? With what program?

I have previously mentioned my interest in the nursing field. I do somehow feel that by going back to school though, I am short changing myself on just going and doing, being in the unknown. Another 2 years? 2.5 years before I could be free?

For now I wait. More research is well deserved at this point. All I'm truly worried about is time. Will I be able to facilitate a move, a change before the end of July, when my lease expires and I hope to move on from my job and this place?

failure; or to succeed

So brief background and how I chose this subject.

While catching up on some friends blogs during my "lunch break", I was shocked to find out that the one blog I was most excited about reading for the next 2 months had essentially already ended. I was reading from the oldest post I had not yet read to the most recent (which I assume most people do) and found out that a 2 month long solo cycling journey across the southern United States had lasted only 3 days. Mechanical issues, equipment "misplacement" and bodily injury contributed to the demise of this journey, but certainly not of my friend who endured these hardships.

So failure. I'm scared of it. I will admit this.

It turns out that my "new" definition of failure is a lot less horrible than previously interpreted. By "new" I mean I just thought this up while finishing off the last of my Seagram's Ginger Ale (getchya some, it's good). Failure is the perception of being less than you are for coming up short on a goal. I don't think this sounds too bad and I already feel a little bit better about the failures I've experienced in my life. The point I'm really trying to get at though is that, like most motivational speakers and what not will say, failure brings about success.

My broken collar bone. Failure? I think so. I failed at having the best New Years Eve I've ever had and getting appropriately intoxicated. Plus I have to deal with a weak arm and shoulder for a few months coming. Where's the success? I have an interest in the field of nursing now. I'd be willing to break, let's say 2 more bones, if it allowed me to have a direction in my life. Now, let's hope, knock on wood, pray to whatever it is we do, that this doesn't actually happen.

So the premature termination of my friend's more than 2000 mile escapade is some sort of failure. He admits so, I think we all can, despite the circumstances. But I would like to commend my friend on having the courage to make the decision to turn around. It takes some serious will to ride miles of road already traversed, walk up to the ticket desk at the airport and purchase a ticket home. I think he found success in being able to make this decision. Finding out that you know when it's time to turn around and take one for the team will be invaluable to my friend. Beyond saving time and money, this ability can save lives.

Short and sweet. I'm glad my buddy is back home safely with his wife (newly weds). I think I was trying to point towards the "why so serious?" mentality with this one.

see the beauty, enjoy life.

2009: i'm not good for me

Well. What can I say?

Happy New Years! Happy Holidays! Why yes, I do have medical insurance!!

By some stroke of dumb fate, I found myself on the first of the new year in a hospital...again. 

January 1, 2008, 3pm: I arrive at Virginia Beach General with a broken fibula and ankle, right leg. 

January 1, 2009, 3am: I arrive at VCU Medical Center with a broken clavical, left shoulder. 

I won't go into the gory details of what happened at the ER, but I will say that in my broken, yet drunken state, I must have been the most responsive and polite patient being treated. The inebriation that I had bestowed upon myself allowed me to greet the ambulance crew who picked me up from my hotel on E. Canal Street, downtown Richmond, VA, with a hearty "Happy New Years! Looks like ya'll are doing better than me, sorry for having you come out at such an odd hour." 

The handful of nurses and/or doctors who I talked to or asked questions or asked for a sip of water must've been confused by my demeanor. I suppose they had already gotten past the idea that they were working on a holiday (of course, someone does have to do it). I, on the other hand, felt extremely terrible that I had gone out, tripped over my drunken self and inflicted this injury that required medical attention. I profusely apologized to any of the medical staff that provided me care as well as did my best to pay attention at all times and ask important questions so they knew I indeed was giving them my undivided attention. 

6 weeks in a sling. Does not require surgery for functionality but can be performed for aesthetic purposes (I'm not sure if the current bump my collar bone is creating will lower itself by much). Percocet for the pain, which is surprisingly not that bad (much less worse than either of my ankle/leg fractures). 

My thanks go out to the staff of the VCU Medical Center who treated my sorry ass for having to take me in on New Years, to the front desk employees at the Crowne Plaza hotel (which I only slept at for 2 hours) for calling the hospital, and Gerald, the shuttle driver who picked me up from the hospital at 6 in the morning, being kind despite all my apologies for making him pick me up.

One last thank you goes to the man working the graveyard cleaning shift in the hospital lobby. Without realizing it, I had gone to the hospital without shoes on (nor a shirt) and while waiting for Gerald to pick me up, I paced the lobby in my socks. The man cleaning approached me asking "Hey man, it's a cold one out there, what size shoes do you wear?" I didn't realize till just then that I didn't have my shoes. I reassured him I had a ride and would not need shoes, but unless I'm mistaken, he had it in his mind that he might find me a pair of shoes so I could walk somewhere without freezing my feet. Others saw me in my under-clothed state, but this person was the only to inquire or be worried towards me about it. Thank you. 

As I sit here typing, broken, relying on chemical drugs, I thank this man for setting the precedence of what I hope I can make my 2009 for others. 

Happy New Years, go help someone you don't know. 

the meaning, or not meaning, of life...

This is one isn't flowing freely from my fingers quite like the last. I've had many ideas of which I would like to write about it since that post, but I tend to get good dialogue in my head only when a) I'm not near a computer b) I'm drunk (go figure) and c) when I'm driving. I'm probably only limiting myself by revealing this, but I say it once again, I'm only human (yup, I'm smoking a cigarette when I'm finished).

I just finished watching, rather nodding off through, Pan's Labrynth, an interesting film from Guillermo del Toro. I don't know if I should give you my full synopsis and review of the film, but I can suggest it as one to queue in your Netflix. This film comes to me after a lengthy string of life and death themes that have been pervasive in my everyday life lately. I've seen it before but didn't give as much notice to this: Ofelia is shot by her heinous step father at the end of the film, finishing the line of tasks set forth by the faun who Ofelia imagines she interacts with. Her own innocent blood is spilled onto the gate to the underworld, allowing her to return her true home with her mother and father, queen and king of the underworld. Ofelia is lying on the ground, imagining this at the end of the film, and just before she passes, she smiles. Quite moving.

While I'm only 23 years old, I sometimes get this feeling I'm having my 20 something year old life crisis. I imagine this is not uncommon for the common college graduate at my age. The so called "wonder" years are over, you're out on your own (or living with your parents) in the real world battling the elements of coworkers (and/or your parents) and this thing called the economy, which has never really affected your life before because you had your parents to do that for you. I'm just like any other graduate right now, whether or not I'm in the employeed or unemployed group. The one thing I'm not sure about is this death thing.

Firstly, my string of life and death related themes for the past week (I'll be quick about it).

The Road by Cormac McCarthy, suggested by friends and a forum, especially since the movie is coming out. I want to be one of those insiders at the theater who knows exactly what's going on when it happens and so I can also offer my wise review and criticism after seeing the film. Synopsis: post apocalyptic world, father and son fighting to stay alive among cannibals and theives. Can they stay alive? Is living in this bleak, broken and lifeless world worth it? I can't really say how I totally felt about the book but it's written really well and worth a read.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Once again we rediscover Bradd Pitt really is a good actor (he always has been in case you've forgotten). The preview doesn't prepare you for what the movie is really about. But the fact that you are supposed to lose people in life is revisited and quickly accepted by Benjamin Button. He made it look easy.

After The Road, I started A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers, a memior that I'm only about 100 pages into. This is in my string because the beginning is about how Dave loses both his parents within a year and is charged with taking care of his 7 year old brother with the aid of his sister. He relates a lot of the dialogue with his mom while they both knew she was terminally ill. She was a strong woman and was somehow ready for it to happen. It certainly is a captivating way to initially engage the reader, but he openly admits that as a goal in the preface.

Finally, I opened a link today on a forum I regurlaly visit to find a post involving the forum reader to think and reply about what they would do in the next 24 hours if they knew they were going to die. Apparently I'm not the only one with death on my mind. What was striking to me were the number of people who could respond in a short paragraph with what they would actually do. This is beyond me and just another reason I'm here right now, letting this bleed from my head.

So where am I going with this (ie how does it tie into the title)?

I've had a lot of time to think about this idea of "the meaning of life" and this is my conclusion. When we hear scientists or philosophists or theologians or any other learned type of people talk about this "meaning", I assume they talk about the meaning of life for humans as a group. The vast expanse of time and the universe is entirely too big for our wee planet in the Milky Way to have a direction or charge to do something. I also like to use the history of humans to support this point. I'd bet my, let's say right hand pinkie, because I don't think I use that one too often, that the "meaning of life" to colonists who fought for the independence of the US is way left field compared to the meaning for a bike messenger in San Fancisco. I know, it's a horrible comparison but if you take a minute to grasp the idea you might be able to make ones better than mine.

Condensed into one statement, you have to make your own meaning to life, whether it's the Bible, working your ass off 60 hours a week to provide for your family, or to experience as many wild adventures as possible. While I've gone ahead and put it into your hands to figure out on your own, don't worry because there will be plenty of other people that have the same meaning. There's probably a group out there for everyone.

I want to end asking this, which is how I see the meaning of life and death being closely related:

If you have the time at the moment just before you die, knowing that it is actually about to happen, that which will inevitably overcome all of us, will you be able to smile?

Ink, traveling, and the art of happiness

Hi. It's probably about 8:25 PM and I'm cruising somewhere between twenty and thirty thousand feet. First, and hopefully only point in question, no, I'm not updating my blog right now, twenty thousand feet over the continental US. I'm somewhere between Cincinnati and Norfolk, scribbling this down on my beverage napkin, trying to avoid the wet spots when possible. 

I've been in Cincinnati the past 24 hours on business. Unfortunately, I hope you understand, I have no stories of lavish 1st Class flights or decadent hotel suites. The Hilton was quite classy, but I'm sure I had the smallest available room (no complaints though, the shower's water pressure was above par).

I just glanced out the cabin window of the small Embraer I'm flying in to see the moon bathing a sea of clouds in a yellow glow. This directs my attention to the right side of my chest which will read from now on "We'll see the beauty in life again..." The needle didn't too badly, it got almost comfortable after a while. It's funny after spending 8 or 9 hours in airports the past 24 hours, being one of those laptop toting, neck tie dressing cronies flooding the gates every hour that this is that view that greets me after such drudgery. 

2 events of interest come to mind out of this so called business trip.

While being a fine patron of the disgustingly overpriced Moes restaurant (sorry Simpsons fans, I don't think they even considered such an idea) in the Cincinnati airport, the bartender enlightened me to a quick comment of the different people he saw in and out every day.

"It's almost disgusting how this job has given me such good judge of character. That girl at the door...I thought that cute girl should sit over here at the bar, but as soon as I saw her face...No way. She's mental. I can tell in the first 3 seconds."

I chuckled, shrugging the comment off not showing much interest in "deep conversation". He was still a good bartender and saw me on my way well. I just can't help wishing though, that I had asked "What did you think when you saw me?" I didn't want to prove anyone wrong, I just wanted to know if he was right. I would have given him 20 bucks if he was. 

2nd event of interest.

As I waited with my coworker for her flight to leave 2 hours before mine would, I saw an interesting person walk by gate A2. I would have been damned, was that my freshman year roommate's older brother's good friend? I dismissed the chance, seeing there was something distinctly different. 

After my enlightening experience at Moes (as well as a tall Kentucky Ale), I wondered over to the smoking lounge. I was bored and I am human after all. When I walked in, I saw the previously mentioned person again. He looked like he was fighting off sleep, so I just sat, sucked down my Camel Light. Soon I got up to leave and glanced over again to see he was looking at me. Our eyes met, some recognition occurred and I moved his direction. 

I walked up to him and he said, 

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Jack?"

"No, I'm his little brother."

I couldn't believe it, he had definitely grown and changed in the past four and a half years. Of all the people, I would never have thought I would see him in the smoking lounge in the Cincinnati airport. His life had taken him to Montana then LA where he studies psychology with the hopes of continuing in clinical psychology. The details of what I said and he said there after are not of much interest. It's difficult to talk with someone you didn't know that well four and a half years ago. 

But it makes me wonder, how it was our paths should cross in such a way. We're landing now and seats and tray tables must be locked and in their upright positions, thusly my writing surface has vanished. I'm going to take some time, the drive home really, to be amazed about this some more, maybe think about it. Maybe I'll just leave it at coincidence. 

Note: I did write this at the specified times at the beginning and am just getting to posting it now. I haven't thought about this much, my mind is still just blown. By the way, if I hadn't approached him in the smoking lounge, we would have still talked as we were seated next to each other on our flight home.