Mexicans

I went to bed really late last night, figuring I could get up at the usual 11:30, grab breakfast, or lunch or whatever the hell meal that would be, and go to class.

Early this morning I was dead asleep, an earthquake couldn't have awakened me. But I suddenly went into this odd dream. You know those dreams when everything is black, you don't see anything, but you just hear voices? Yeah, one of those. Anybody that hits mushrooms knows what I'm talking about. Anyway, it was a really bizarre dream, because all the voices were in Spanish, which is odd because unless my subconscious retained it all, I don't remember anything from the four years of Spanish I took in Middle and High School.

Then I heard banging, like an odd knocking sound, a lot like someone was knocking on the door. I sort of woke up, because I remember staring at the wall. The dream continued though, I kept hearing the voices...wondering what the hell was going on. Keep in mind that we're on the seventh floor up here, not like any voices from down below would carry without a megaphone, although it would not surprise me in the least if some asshole was using one in the quad that early in the morning. I looked at the clock: seven AM. At that point I was wide awake, and I was wondering what in the blue fuck was going on. I wandered over to the window in my boxers, and opened the blinds.

I nearly screamed. Three Mexicans with squeegees were staring straight at me. Now that I think about it, I vaguely recall a notice being taped to the door that said something about window washing. But God dammit, when you open the blinds to you seventh-floor window, that is the last thing you'd expect to see. It was really agitating that they were talking that loudly so early in the morning.

I'm laughing my ass off as I'm writing this, but this morning I got oh so close to having a stroke. Damn Mexicans. At least my windows are squeaky clean, so my binoculars will pick up the chicks in the room across the quad.

Current Mood: Amused

Listening To: "Wonderwall" by Oasis

Musiq

This is what I do when I'm bored. I was running through my forty gigs of music, and decided to compile a playlist of all my favorite songs. These songs either have some meaning to me, or are just really good songs in my eyes (or ears rather.) Tonight's lucky number is 15, so in no particular order, here are my top 115 songs and top 15 all-around artists:


Top 115 Songs:
Free Fallin by Tom Petty
Fields of Gold by Sting
More Than A Feeling by Boston
Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve
Borne On The FM Waves Of The Heart by Against Me!
Talk by Coldplay
Learning To Fly by Tom Petty
29 Palms by Robert Plant
Boys Of Summer by Don Henley
Old Man by Neil Young
Dance The Night Away by Van Halen
Going To California by Led Zeppelin
Telegraph Road by Dire Straits
I Don't Wannt To Miss A Thing by Aerosmith
Something To Be Proud Of by Montgomery Gentry
Drive by Alan Jackson
Absolute Reality by The Alarm
Human by Big City Rock
Knockin' On Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan & Tom Petty
Jungleland by Bruce Springsteen
Heaven by Brian Adams
What Is Love by Haddaway
Hide And Seek by Imogen Heap
Hurt by Johnny Cash
The Highwayman by Willie Nelson
Make Love In This Club by Usher
Plush by Stone Temple Pilots
The End by The Doors
Beautiful Day by U2
Top Gun Anthem by Harold Faltermeyer & Steve Stevens
Whiskey In The Jar by Metallica
Domino by Genesis
Please Remember Me by Tim McGraw
American Girl by Tom Petty
Man On The Moon by R.E.M.
Forever Autumn by The Moody Blues
The New York Times by Everclear
Hurricane by Bob Dylan
Tangled Up In Blue by Bob Dylan
One Headlight by The Wallflowers
Don't Stop Believing by Journey
These Are The Days of Our Lives by Queen
Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd
Downtown Train by Rod Stewart
Dub In Life by Eiffel 65
Wrapped Around Your Finger by The Police
Manhattan Project by Rush
Lucky Man by The Verve
Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses
Bama Breeze by Jimmy Buffett
Scare Easy by Mudcrutch
By The Way by Red Hot Chili Peppers
When You Were Young by The Killers
My My Hey Hey by Neil Young
Counting Blue Cars by Dishwalla
Rhymes & Reasons by John Denver
What You Know by T.I.
The Weight by The Band
East Side Story by Brian Adams
Seven Wonders by Fleetwood Mac
Baba O' Reily by The Who
Canon in D by Johann Pachelbel
Jeremy by Pearl Jam
Tunnel of Love by Bruce Springsteen
By My Side by INXS
Kody by Matchbox 20
Let It Be by The Beatles
Forever by Chris Brown
Hard Sun by Eddie Vedder
Out Of My Head by Fastball
Take A Picture by Filter
Into The West by Annie Lennox
Hold On by Good Charlotte
Lips Of An Angel by Hinder
Zelda's Lullaby by Koji Kondo (I know, I know…)
Mr. Moon by Mando Diao
Medal Of Honor by Michael Giacchino
Photograph by Nickelback
Champagne Supernova by Oasis
Amazing Grace by Ray Charles
Can't Stop by Red Hot Chili Peppers
The Zephyr Song by Red Hot Chili Peppers
She's So High by Tal Bachman
Slow Motion by Third Eye Blind
Fall To Pieces by Velvet Revolver
My Block by Tupac
Ghetto Gospel by Tupac Ft. Elton John
Time Of Your Song by Matisyahu
Apollo 13 by James Horner
The Clincher by Chevelle
Driving The Last Spike by Genesis
Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day
No Woman No Cry by Bob Marley
Mexico by James Taylor
It'll All Work Out by Tom Petty
Savannah Fare You Well by Jimmy Buffett
Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison
Foreplay/Longtime by Boston
Brothers In Arms by Boston
Magic by The Cars
In The Evening by Led Zeppelin
Girls In Their Summer Clothes by Bruce Springsteen
Porcelain by Moby
Blue On Black by The Kenny Wayne Sheppard Band
Incomplete by The Backstreet Boys
Midnight In Montgomery by Alan Jackson
Higher by Creed
Have You Ever Seen The Rain? by Creedence Clearwater Revival
All Along The Watch Tower by Bob Dylan
I Will Possess Your Heart by Death Cab For Cutie
Take It Easy by The Eagles
Wind Of Change by The Scorpions
One Last Breath by Creed
Ship Of Fools by Robert Plant
Brand New Day by Forty Foot Echo


Top 15 Artists:
Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
Boston
Sting & The Police
Coldplay
Bruce Springsteen
Mark Knopfler & Dire Straits
Bryan Adams
Phil Collins & Genesis
Van Halen
Red Hot Chili Peppers
Robert Plant & Led Zeppelin
Guns N' Roses
Neil Young / CSNY
Chevelle
R.E.M.

Current Mood: Bored

Listening To: "Human" by The Killers

Into The WIld

There are material days. I have a lot of those days, days when I'm glad I have several thousand dollars in the bank. On those days I'll get up in the morning and check the stock market, check my credit account payments. I'll admire my car, and the parts I have installed on it. Then I'll sit and write a list of all the parts I need to install, because the car...just needs them. To be faster, louder, shinier...just better, in my convoluted, contemporary mind. On those days I'll spend some time online searching for something I need. A new pair of skis, LEDs for my car, bushings for my longboard. Or maybe on that particular day I am looking for a new sweatshirt, 60 dollars from Quiksilver. Or posters for the dorm, five dollars each. I need those things. I need money. Things, money, things...it is a poisonous circle.

The truth of the matter is, on those days, I am not truly searching for anything. Typing in a few words and hitting enter does not constitute a true search. I know that what I am looking for is already there, I am just uncovering it. Like that car you know is somewhere in the parking lot..."search" for it by hitting the alarm, and there it is. I don't need that thing I am trying to find, either. In the years since the hard, cold existence of mankind as a primitive species on this Earth, the meaning of "need" has been diluted and fragmented by our "sophisticated" tastes. It is only when we are forced to revert to that "...most ancient of human conditions..." that we rediscover the real signification of "need."

Today is one of the days when I am able to see this. On these kinds of days, I am able to see past the metal and plastic of the material world, past the cashmere suits and German cars and cold, hard cash. Rather than "searching" for the Xbox game on Amazon, I search for truth and reason. "Rather...than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness... give me truth." These are the days that I stay up late writing, because I am able to break free from the blind, material life.

"What is wrong with you?" you may ask. "What are you smoking?"

I just watched "Into the Wild" for the second time. The first time I saw it was right around graduation, and it changed me. After seeing it again, I think I can fairly say it has changed me even more. It is, I believe, a highly romanticized, Sean Penn version of what really happened. This is indescribably ironic, that the truth of the circumstances surrounding Chris McCandless's death be distorted when, in real life, truth is what he was searching for. But, in any case, I respect his goal and determination to reach it. Chris made mistakes. He was unprepared, and this untimely led to his untimely death. Although I never would have embarked on his journey and made those mistakes, I see his point.

To really find the meaning in life, you need to look past material. Past the grid of city streets and orange lights, the cars and the smog. Sometimes for the irreversibly lost souls, you need to go to the ends of the Earth to find it, to the great Alaskan wilderness. But for the everyday person, sometimes you need to search no further than within yourself.


"So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more dangerous to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun."
— Chris McCandless






No longer to be poisoned by civilization he flees, and walks alone upon the land to become lost in the wild.

Current Mood: Blank

Listening To: "Hard Sun" by Eddie Vedder

A Really Good Day

Usually when you expect and hope for the best, something comes up from behind and knocks out your teeth. Likewise, when you're really pessimistic, good things happen. Funny.

For example, I thought this week was going to SUCK. I had a ton of work to do on Sunday night, and was not looking forward to any of it. Instead it's been one good thing after another. First I had a Communications speech due on Monday, wasn't excited for that. All of the speeches were only kind of average. I had practiced for five minutes, and my other two group members and I had only exchanged a few e-mails. The first guy stood up and nailed his part, the second guy nailed his, and then I gave a gripping conclusion. The professor stands up and says:

"You know, I dread listening to Engineers speak. They're terrible speakers. But these three guys are all Engineers and they absolutely nailed it. It was flawless. Outstanding job."

One down. Next was my first English essay. Since I had joined the class late, everyone else's essays had been graded when I handed mine in. The professor said, "These papers were all very solid, with good ideas, but the execution needs a lot of work, so I DIDN'T GIVE ANYTHING HIGHER THAN A B." He gave NO A papers at all, none. But he graded mine while we were doing some classwork, and we picked up our papers on the way out of class. Mine said:

"A+ idea, B+ execution. A overall, very good."

I was going, "uhhh....what?" I did not just get the only A paper in the class. Yes I did. PWNED. Two down.

Third was supposed to by my first math mid-term. I didn't study at all. I showed up to class, and...the entire floor of the Computer Sciences building where my class is was completely roped off by caution tape, with a bunch of cops hanging around. I still don't know what happened, but the test got pushed back to Friday. I had an extra day to study, so I stayed up until two watching movies. Friday I got on my longboard to go to class, hit a curb, and completely fucked up my arm. I walked into class in slight shock, aced the mid-term, left, and went to sleep.


I had three huge goals this week and absolutely blew them out of the water. I wish every week was this awesome. Maybe next week I'll...nevermind. Have a good weekend.

Current Mood: Luminous

Listening To: "Thrash Unreal" by Against Me!

September 11

Sometimes I really don't like this country. I don't the people who run it, who argue and bicker and backstab and lie to themselves, to each other, to the American people. But there are several days in the 365 chaotic, politically explosive days of the year that I put all of this nation's flaws in the back of my mind.

On those days, I'll go and get myself a big juicy American cheeseburger with American cheese, American ketchup, and American mustard. I'll get a big bowl of American coleslaw and completely disregard the number of calories or the percentage of my daily saturated fat intake it contains. To wash it all down, how about a tall, cold glass of American Coca-Cola? And to finish it off, a perfectly swirled American vanilla ice cream cone. Today is one of those days.

It disturbs me how few people remember. I've questioned several people as to whether or not they know what today is. "Thursday?" It is only partially true that time heals all wounds. For the most part, each passing day fades the overpowering emotion and the shock, like sunlight fading that old blue couch in the living room. That is, for those who watched it on TV, who read about it day after day in the newspapers for several months. But after it had fallen off the back pages of the New York Times and Washington Post, people went back to their daily lives and it became a thing of the past.

There are those, however, who will permanently retain that wound, a wound that time can coat with dust but never heal entirely. Those are the people who physically saw it happen, who heard the unusually loud roar of the GE CF6-80C2 engines driving the Boeing 767-200ERs down Manhattan Island and onto every television screen worldwide. They felt the heat of the burning jet fuel, breathed the dust of crushed concrete & shredded paper. They ran with their own two feet from the collapsing buildings, and then back into the cloud to help their coworkers and friends, their brothers and sisters, people they didn't know.

A day will come far in the future when the final first hand memories will be extinguished by time, when the very last of those witnesses passes on as did 2,999 of their fellow Americans on September 11, 2001. At that time, the true terror of that day will be nothing more than another chapter in the history books. December 7, 1941 has seen the same decay of sentiment as the years have gone by and the number of survivors has dwindled.

Everybody still remembers 9/11, but not with the vivid horror as they did three to six years prior. For me, the twenty-four hours linking the tenth and twelfth of September always reignite the smoldering embers of pain from the attacks. I cannot forget. Every ninety-six seconds, a jet passes over downtown San Jose, descending into SJC international. Every single one of the seven hundred some-odd planes flying low over the tops of the buildings today has sent chills down my spine. I have been there, where those buildings once were. I have been to the Pentagon. I cannot forget. I have heard the tapes of their voices, in panic and in pain, from the horrified pedestrians on the pavement on Fifth Avenue to the Northwest corner of the 105th floor of Tower one, where Kevin Cosgrove and two of his colleagues stayed on the line with an emergency dispatcher until their final screams were silenced by the catastrophic structure failure 102 minutes after impact. I have seen the videos from the mobile command post in the lobby of Tower two, where the firefighters bowed their heads at each sickening crash, signaling the end of another life, a businessman unable to bear the heat of the fire above. I will not forget them.

I have a fifteen minute speech to write about videogame addiction, some studying for math, and a two page paper to compose on politics. Not today. I refuse to politicize anything on September 11; it is not a day to be political. I'd love to debate about the Iraq war and Sarah Palin, the election and the lack of evidence of a jet fuselage at the Pentagon attack, but not today. Today, like every 365th day for the past seven years, I will set aside everything to simply reflect on that day, and how lucky I am to be where I am now. Hopefully, you can find it in you to find a moment, maybe two, in your day to stop and do the same.

It was an unusually clear day. The sky was a deep, deep blue…seven years ago…

Current Mood: Sad

Listening To: "Please Remember Me" by Tim McGraw

English 1A

I just had class from 6 to 9 again, and God alfuckinmighty that's a long time to sit in one desk. It's like two SAT subject tests every Wednesday.

English 1A. Professor is also a middle school teacher, I believe, and he is probably the best teach I have now. He's a Liberal jackass, which is fine because I don't care what end of the spectrum people are on, although I'm pretty far left as well. We are supposed to write an essay on politics and the candidates for the upcoming election next week. Some quotes from his lecture:

(Disclaimer: These do not all reflect my own ideas, but they're still hilarious.)

"She (Palin) is better than Hilary, according to the Republicans. They say it's because she's an actual woman, she wears a skirt and not those pant-suit things like Hillary."

"They know she'll get votes because she's female. Regardless of anything else, some women in this country will go, 'Gee, she (Palin) has a vagina, I have a vagina...I'll vote for her!"

"There were three kinds of people that watched Woodstock. There was *my* parent's generation, and they were going 'Holy shit, this is appalling...kids running around nude with facepaint on LSD...' There was my generation, 14-years olds like me thinking 'AWESOME. I wish I were five years older...' And then there were marketers. And they said, 'Oh look, 500,000 kids with money. Why are we selling to their parents, why don't we sell to them?'"
...
"So that's why everything is marketed to you. When I grew up I was a kid in an adult's world, now I'm an adult in a kid's world. Everything is marketed to you. Why? Because they're not going to sell colorful underpants from Victoria's Secret to your grandmother. You have the money. They don't care about her. She has the VCR that keeps blinking...12:00...12:00...12:00..."

"Yes, the average lifetime has increased. So McCain may indeed live another eight years. But, keep in mind, he just might die tomorrow. And then Palin will be President. And then I'll kill myself."

"Palin believes that the best way to prevent pregnancy is to do what we're doing right now. NOT having sex. And we're doing a fine job, I might add."

"Palin said that she believes in doing it the right way: getting married, then starting a family. That is exactly what she did, she got married, and had her first kid 8 months later."

"Do you know why Bush is president? Okay, I don't mean to offend anybody, but it's really quite simple. Bush is president because of a blow job. Because Clinton's zipper was a little bit too loose."

"You know what I said to that whole fiasco? I don't care. I mean, if you're the President, and you can't get laid...you're pretty sad."

"They were so busy getting Barry Bonds, they forgot about Osama Bin Laden."

~~~~~~~~

Like the class wasn't good enough to begin with, he left halfway through for a full hour so we could grade each others' essays. Then, this huge, HUGE black dude walks in, like 7 feet tall. He starts telling jokes. Bad jokes. For twenty minutes, this monstrous black guy is telling crude jokes to our English class. Example:

"Man, I was in London, right? I asked the guy at the Pub...they don't have Restaurants, man, they got Pubs...if I could have a cup of black coffee. He was like, (with black-British accent) 'we don't have any coffee sir, we have three types of tea. Earl Grey, which is 20% substance and 80% aroma, Green tea, which is 80% substance and 20% aroma, and English tea, which is preferred.'

So I said, 'man, it's jus' like that in America! We got three kinds o' tea. F-A-R-T, which is 20% substance and 80% aroma, S-H-I-T, which is 80% substance and 20% aroma, and C-U-N-T, which is preferred.'"


I was cracking up, not at the jokes, but just because this random ass black guy was sitting there on the table at the front of my English class, telling jokes. For 20 minutes. Then the Professor Shapiro walked back in, and the guy asked him to sign a paper to drop a class he didn't teach.

~~~~~~~~

Weirdest class of my life, but I'm still laughing. Going to be a good semester in English 1A.

Current Mood: Amused

Listening To: "Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd