0 comments

September 7, 2011

The African

There’s a moment that I know well. It’s near the end. Near that finish line. You’re hot and tired, maybe thirsty, maybe in some sort of pain, but you know you’re already in that last stretch of whatever you’re doing and all you can think about is how you want to end. This is the time to dig deep and finish strong.

Or this could be where someone (me) just stops. I stop and I stare. There may have been some awe involved.

This happened on a recent run around the local park near my new place in Sacramento. I’m slowly but surely getting used to the sights and sounds of this new surrounding just as I had to do in Galt. The railroad tracks and elementary schools have been replaced by multiple traffic lights and a gaggle of geese that never leaves the local park. The best part of discovering a new area has to be the people. The regulars. The other joggers that you’ll come across more than once as you all get out there and do what you can to keep that fat off that ass. In that pursuit there is a bit of camaraderie that’s typically expressed in the slightest nod as we pass each other. It’s like, yeah, alright, we’re doing our best out here and it’s not easy but dammit this is real and we’re proud.

But sometimes, my best just isn’t enough and I realize this by coming face to face with perfection. This is how I felt when I first saw The African.

Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’ve chosen this name because of his dark skin and obvious heritage. No, nothing so racist and sinister is at work here. I call him The African with reverence. It’s like a title, like the name of a super hero people just don’t know is out there doing good work. What I saw coming towards me that day was not a runner as someone would typically describe but an Olympian. Shit, for all I know he really IS an Olympian. It’s not like I would recognize his face if he was. Covered as it was by dark sunglasses it wasn’t the most visually striking thing about this man. This Adonis. No, for that I refer you to the rest of him. Every muscle in his legs and his arms was perfectly visible and looked to be bursting with power. Like a perfect example of Homo sapien pulled from the pages of some medical text and given life just to fuck with my brain.

And then there was the way he ran.

My running form could best be described as a heavy tromp not so different from what an ox might display if he felt threatened. On my best days I might even go so far as to say I live up to that wonderful term used to describe heavier runners, the Clydesdale. But this just wouldn’t do for The African. Oh no. As cliche as it is his form could only be compared to the gazelle. It was long, controlled, effortless and fast. Beyond anything it was a thing of beauty.

Seeing him coming towards me did drop me to a walk. I wasn’t too tired, I wasn’t overheated or hurt, I just couldn’t run around him. Just as someone meeting royalty would observe the highest manners I almost felt it would insult The African to clomp past him like a fool. So I took a walk and allowed him to pass, resisting the urge to give a short bow as he did so.

Since this outing I’ve spotted him on a few occasions (oddly enough while driving) and it got me thinking. I will never be that. I will never be in a place where I could challenge The African to any sort of physical competition and even pretend I’ll come out on top. I just don’t have the desire or the energy to put in the work to make that sort of physique happen. But I’ve gotten better at running since I started so many years ago and I know I’ll keep advancing on my own terms. As the months turn to years I just hope that one day, eventually, I will be able to not only pass The African at a steady clip but, with any luck, I’ll toss him a little nod.

0 comments

August 28, 2011

In Which I Come Back After I Left

I spent years in Galt, CA. I went to Greer Middle School, Galt High School, and even lived there while starting and finishing Sacramento State. I’ll always remember the Galt Frostie in the middle of town. I’ll always remember the smell of cow shit that covered Galt like a fog when the wind blew the right way. IGA, raised trucks, Greer Basin turning into a lake when we had heavy rains, and a dozen other things will forever be associated with the town that I was raised in for the majority of my life.

But, as they say, the show must go on.

I’ve lived in Sacramento (Natomas, specifically) for about two weeks now. I’ve only met one neighbor and the only local places I know around here are chains (Raley’s and Taco Bell don’t make for great memories most of the time) but I already have a great deal of things I love here. How can that be? Because I knew that moving here had a lot of logical and practical advantages, chief among them my 50+ minute rush hour commute being reduced to 20 tops, but the main reason I made this change in my life is people. Friends and loved ones. I have had more chances to hang out with my amazing roommate and some of the best friends one could ask for in these two weeks than I ever would have had living in Galt. A week from now I’ll be heading downtown to celebrate the birthday of one of these very friends and instead of dreading the idea of a night out and a thirty minute drive home dead-ass tired I can now go out, not worry about the end of my night at all, and be comfortably in my bed within a wonderful amount of time.

This move has been dreadfully hard, as all are, but I’m so very glad I made it. I’m about to start an amazing new chapter in my life at 27 years old and despite all the challenges I see before me I can’t help but think that this is the start of something great. :)

TL;DR: I moved to Sacramento and I’m happy. :)

2 comments

July 5, 2011

Hello?

I…I’m not sure what’s going on, but is anyone out there? Is anyone reading this?

0 comments

March 15, 2011

Bon Jovi Has Harsh Words for Steve Jobs. Hilarity Insues.

(From EW)

Maybe I just don’t understand Bon Jovi’s position because I was born in 1984. According to Wikipedia (the source for all things reputable, of course) his band formed in 1983. With this temporal disconnect between our generations I think I can be forgiven for being a little confused, nay, annoyed, by the statement I read on the always wonderful Geekosystem:

Kids today have missed the whole experience of putting the headphones on, turning it up to 10, holding the jacket, closing their eyes and getting lost in an album; and the beauty of taking your allowance money and making a decision based on the jacket, not knowing what the record sounded like, and looking at a couple of still pictures and imagining it.
…
I hate to sound like an old man now, but I am, and you mark my words, in a generation from now people are going to say: ‘What happened?’ Steve Jobs is personally responsible for killing the music business.

This is hard to read, what with the “kids today” and the “I hate to sound like an old man” lines which make him sound more like Carl Fredricksen than the world class rocker I understood him to be. Please note, Mr. Fredricksen is 78, so this is not a compliment. Jokes about Bon Jovi’s age aside there is a lot more I despise here than just his outdated word choices.

Kids today have missed the whole experience of putting the headphones on, turning it up to 10, holding the jacket, closing their eyes and getting lost in an album - Says who? Just because we “kids”, as he says, have the option to preview more music than ever before and can purchase songs one at a time does not mean that no one is blasting unhealthy decibel levels into our ears and just spaceing out with an album. I have personally lost myself in Lungs by Florence + The Machine, Fantasies by Metric, and Sigh No More by Mumford & Sons over the last few months. I suppose the big difference is that I don’t “hold the jacket” while I listen but instead hold my iPod with its awesome X-Men GelaSkin cover, but that seems like a small difference considering how often a CD jacket has nothing to do with the content of an album.

And the beauty of taking your allowance money and making a decision based on the jacket, not knowing what the record sounded like, and looking at a couple of still pictures and imagining it. - I take particular issue with this point. I still remember the first piece of music I bought for myself: a cassette tape single of “Regulators” by Warren G. HELLA GANGSTA. I didn’t make my first music purchase based on the jacket and I sure as hell knew what I was buying. Flash forward to my next music purchase, Gangsta’s Paradise by Coolio, and his idea of some magical experience that takes place when you don’t know what the record sounds like falls apart completely. I still have a soft spot in my heart for the song “Gangsta’s Paradise” but the album SUCKED. It was a total pile of steaming crap. Have you guys heard of Coolio? No? There’s a reason for that. Bon Jovi’s assertion that taking your allowance money, which is pretty damn limited, and buying something based on no previous information (aka: taking a shot in the dark) sounds like a pretty spectacular recipe for failure. His words imply some level of reverent joy that he got out of this process which I find disgustingly trying. Piss off Bon Jovi.

I hate to sound like an old man now, but I am, and you mark my words, in a generation from now people are going to say: ‘What happened?’ Steve Jobs is personally responsible for killing the music business. – No. No they aren’t. There is no way you’re going to get a generation to agree on anything, much less have them all lament the passing of Bon Jovi’s precious system of music distribution. If anyone at all asks, “what happened?” it’s going to be the future version of those who are now rediscovering vinyl. There will always be a group of people, however small, who will look back at things and wish for their return while the majority of people move on to the next thing. Personally, I NEVER experienced the things he mentions. I don’t remember buying a new CD in a record store ever; I always had Best Buy for my purchases, nestled as they were between the video games, TVs, and home appliances. If I wasn’t sure of a CD/band/song/whatever, I downloaded it from Napster. Then Kazaa. Then from torrent sites (which are still up and running today btw). Bon Jovi’s idea that Steve Jobs is personally responsible for killing the music business sounds ludicrous to me since his idea of music, his examples of the industry and his experience with new music, are nothing at all like the system that existed when I first started to personally discover music on my own. Which, I must point out, was years before I knew who Steve Jobs was, years before I saw my first iPod, and years before iTunes.

Jon Bon Jovi, please stop insisting that everyone’s experience of music be like yours and pretending that yours is automatically better. Just accept that I like having the option of not buying your entire crappy album for the one great song you managed to squeeze out.

If Steve Jobs and the system he helped usher in is so horrible then maybe you shouldn’t be selling your crap on iTunes. There are other options, after all.

 

 

 

0 comments

February 26, 2011

I Feel Good

I feel pretty good right now.

The song isn’t entirely accurate (I don’t, in fact, have you) but the energy is right. It’s so easy to notice my body when there is a pain, an ache, or any of a thousand random annoyance that comes from being alive. I’ll notice my ankle hurting from running or my stuffy nose because dammit, those things suck! But when the suck goes away, when the pain subsides and the colds finally pass and all is well, do I notice that just as much? Not usually.

If you’re reading this take a minute right now and just check yourself out. Do you have any pain anywhere? Are you sick? If so, I’m sorry, and I really hope you feel better soon. But if you’re like me and right now, today, in this moment, you just feel pretty damn good then cherish it. Soon enough we’ll all be sick or hurt again and we’ll go around telling our friends and family how much that sucks so if you aren’t there now, if you’re on my side, then enjoy it.

0 comments

February 21, 2011

Convention Recap: Animation on Display

This past Saturday The Roommates and I went to Animation on Display in San Francisco. I didn’t really know what to expect from this convention since it was held in some hotel I’ve never heard of and none of us had ever gone to it in years past. After spending the day getting lost in the city, being annoyed at how much parking is, and dealing with false accusations of shoplifting I must say that it was easily the crappiest con experience I’ve had.

Okay, fine, the first two things I mentioned above aren’t that big of a deal. We got a bit lost but hey, it’s San Francisco, that’s not really surprising. As for the parking I’m just going to say it again, it’s San Francisco, a little monetary rape is to be expected. What really made me not like the con was the shitty security.

I understand how difficult the situation can be. A convention has hundreds, if not thousands, of people walking around carrying all kinds of bags, purses, and pouches which could potentially be used to hide merchandise and all these people are swarming around the dealers room at all times. However, just because it’s a difficult situation doesn’t mean asshole security guards can just accuse people without following certain rules. Did the accuser, a vendor, actually see my friend take the item in question? No. Was this missing item found in my friend’s pockets/bag/anywhere? No. Was there any slight bit of evidence linking my friend to this “crime”? No. Unless you consider one random person saying, “This thing was here, then this person walked by, now it’s gone, so that person MUST have taken it” as evidence.

I hate that my opinion of this convention is so horribly tainted by one event but it’s the truth. They chose their security, they chose to have assholes who don’t know the first thing about how to handle these situations work the room. My favorite part? When he told my friend, “you know, if you did steal, that’s really fucked up.” Fucked up? Really you ass? You really want to go around cussing in front of a packed convention full of kids? Die in a fire.

Yeah, that sucked.

But here are some pictures of some awesome cosplayers! As usual it’s the fellow convention goers that make these events so much fun to go to.

AOD6

AOD1

AOD3

AOD4

0 comments

February 13, 2011

Where the F*$% is my flying car?

Ironically, the problems started after I did a tune up on my car. I cracked 110,000 and figured it was about time to get a few things cleaned, swapped, and just general made better. Things were different afterward, like I was relearning who my car was, but I started to notice some bad new qualities. Like the high RPMs when parked. And the quick decline in fuel economy, which went from around 450 miles a tank to 370 (barely). Finally, the “service engine soon” light came on and I was in full on panic mode. Not panic because I thought the car was going to stop running but instead I was thinking and worrying about one thing: money.

How much is this crap going to cost me?

After a long back and forth between one shop, my sister’s handy code reader, and finally the Nissan dealership I came away with a nice fixed up car and a bill of $428. $428 fucking dollars! And for what? To get a damn metal (mostly plastic!) box back in good running order? So I can join the never ending stream of movement on the freeway and drive myself to and from work every weekday? So that I can keep working to advance myself and finally, hopefully, one day, get a FANCIER metal (mostly plastic, possibly shiny wood) box and take that out on the road instead?

Where is my fucking flying car?

I look around and all I see is us finding more ways to make this form of transportation fancier. Better gas mileage and quieter interiors are all well and good but why are we constantly reinventing the wheel, so to speak? All the advancements of modern technology have only made our cars more complex, possibly prettier, and sure, safer, but we’re still just putting lipstick on a pig. It’s like spending 100 years and billions in research to have the fanciest cubicle in the office; it’s still just a cubicle!

I want to see something new. I want to get from point A to point B in something that really makes me think, “Yes! This is the future, this right here is the next step in travel and I get to LIVE IT!”

But…

At some point in my parallel future I’d probably end up shelling out $4,280 on a new anti-gravity coil since the one on my badass flying car went out when I ran over that flock of geese.

*le sigh*

4 comments

January 30, 2011

I’m 27 Years Old Now…

Despite the slightly melancholy vibe of my title, brought on by the dreaded …, I’m really not unhappy about turning 27 today.  Yes.  Today.  TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY AND I’M BLOGGING.  It happens.

I’m also hanging out with a full house of roommates, drinking wine, and watching Jim Gaffigan on Netflix if it makes you feel any better.

Does that make you feel better?  It might if you’re one of those people who feel that people should “do” something on their birthday.  I’ve never really felt this way.  I don’t know when the change happened but “doing” something on my birthday has never been a high priority.  In fact, it’s a bit of a bitch.  Doing something on my birthday involves gathering a large (possibly) group of people who only have one thing in common (me) and putting them in a situation they might not otherwise be in.  While some people may find this a fun adventure and look on the situation with optimism I don’t have this reaction.  I worry.  I think too much.  I consider fights.  I picture everyone I know as a fun loving but too smart for their own good creature who is hell bent on having fun but finds this difficult because they are around people who they don’t know and the ONLY way to avoid a devastating slaughter of my closest friends is to constantly make sure they are entertained and drunk.  The drunk part is easy; the entertained part is hard.  There is just this odd pressure involved in “doing” something for my birthday which, granted, may be totally (okay, it IS totally) in my head, but that doesn’t make it less real.

It sucks.  So I avoid it!  YAY!

I don’t like doing things on the day of my birth.  Today was a minor variation from the norm: I had breakfast with my family.  Woooo!  It was fun and filled with bacon goodness but otherwise I haven’t done anything “special”.  My brother texted me last night after midnight and implied that I was probably “hella drunk” since most people would be going out and celebrating their birthday when it falls on a weekend.  Where was I?  Asleep.  As of 10:40pm.  After drinking beer and playing video games (Eternal Sonata) with the roommates for a few hours.

I loved it.

This is, as some say, how I roll.

This would hardly be a proper birthday post without a bit of reflection.  Here’s what happened during my 26th year of life: I created new goals, both personal and professionally, that I have met and will continue to expand on.  I reached new heights.  I made new friends.  I lost some friend, which I’m half happy about (since some had to go).  This was the year I started to get really into cosplay and have made that a part of my life.  This was also the year I started my own photography business and realized, once I got it up and running, that I hate business matters more than being stabbed in the eye by a rusty spike.

That last one is a pretty big thing to come to gripes with.  Hi college degree!  Nice to see I have even less of a chance of using you now!

But 27.  TWENTY SEVEN years old.  I am now officially in my late 20′s.  It’s time to get serious…so I won’t. I will continue to live my life in a way that makes me happy.  I won’t push things that I don’t want to do, which basically means I will be more honest than ever as I figure out who I am and what matters to me.  I was thinking about what I wanted for my life between now and my 28th birthday and I came to a few very simple things: I want to write more, to read more, to run more, and to make more money.  This last one is especially important since I have great plans for myself but like everything else in America these plans cost money.

Whatever happens in the next 365 days I know I’ll be able to handle it.  I’m a fully grown American male full of confidence, intelligence, and strength.  These things are right next to my insecurities, my insanity, and my total lack of ESP.  I can’t see the future, and I may only be ready for it 90% (okay, 80%) of the time, but this is life.  This is my life.  And I’m pretty fucking happy with it.

:D

Cheers!

1 comments

January 14, 2011

TV Review: The Cape

I should go without saying that I went into The Cape with…let’s say excited expectations.  That’s not really the best phrase but it’s pretty accurate.  When you tell me there is a new network show combining a super hero and my beloved Summer Glau (of Firefly and Sarah Connor Chronicles fame) I’m going to be excited from day one.  After viewing the two hour premier I have to say I’m about 90% on board.  Possible spoilers ahead.

The story of The Cape is really the tale of Vince Faraday (David Lyons), an upstanding police officer who is framed for a series of crimes (including murdering the chief of police) and after an unfortunate series of events is presumed dead.  He is then taken in by a group of carnival themed criminals (yeah, I know, hahaha/cheesy) and decides to use circus magic tricks and his own military/police training to become The Cape, a superhero from his son’s favorite comic book.  As he begins his life as an anonymous crime fighter he comes into contact with Orwell (Summer Glau), a woman with insane amounts of money who seems to spend all her free time researching corruption in the police force and just being an all around thorn in the seedy underbelly of Palm City.  If you can consider someone who sits behind her keyboard a true thorn.

The first real plus for the show is David Lyon’s acting.  I loved it.  I thought he displayed just the right amount of emotion with each situation and I found myself caring about him quite quickly.  The supporting cast was also interesting in the comic book sense though I wonder how much mass TV appeal they will actually have.  There’s Peter Fleming (James Frain) the crazed villain who terrorizes the populace in order to push the city into adopting his personal police force as the law of the land.  It’s a bit of a thin plot but hopefully it only lasts for the first few episodes.  He also has the psychotic tendencies that really remind me of the Green Goblin from the Spider-Man movie.  Then there’s Max Malini (Keith David) who helps train Faraday and gets to be the wise older guru, even if he is technically a bank robber and not a really upstanding citizen himself.  As a comic book nerd I could see how thin these characters were but I really hope the public at large isn’t put off by that.  Both of these actors are really great in their respective rolls so I’m really blaming this bit of cringing on the writing.

The overall look of the show is, frankly, very pretty.  They’re working on their own visual style but it’s not going to be anything too different from the normal television drama formula.  But this does bring me to issue number 1: the damn chapters.  Instead of just seamlessly transitioning from one scene to the other each episode is broken into various chapters.  When a new chapter starts the screen goes all black and a white title comes up which tells you in no uncertain terms what you’re about to watch.  Are two main characters about to fight? Sure they are!  That’s what the chapter title said!  I understand how this could be a throwback to a comic book and how each book has it’s own “chapter title” thing going on but it does not translate well to television.  It really just breaks up the flow of the show, which a new television series can’t afford.

Issue number 2 comes in the form of what I can only describe as continuity errors.  They aren’t really continuity errors based on the definition of the term but I honestly don’t know what else to call them (if you have a better phrase please, leave it in the comments).  Here’s the most glaring one: at the end of the first episode we get to see The Cape battle Peter Fleming’s alter ego super villain, Chess.  This fight takes place on the deck of a ship loaded with explosives which Chess wants to blow up to cause mass fear in Palm City and further Fleming’s takeover of the police force.  They made it very clear that the explosives are strong enough to take out a large portion of the city and that the trigger is a cell phone.  Well, mid battle, Chess pulls out this cell and pushes the button.  It doesn’t set off the bomb (thank you Orwell!) but do you see the issue here?  He’s literally STANDING ON THE SHIP WITH ALL THE EXPLOSIVES.  How in the hell would it further his plans to blow himself to ashes?  This show seems to alternate between being so amazingly transparent that a child could follow along while in the very next scene showing or discussing things which no child should be dealing with.  In another scene Rollo, a cool midget played by the always great Martin Klebba, get’s in a fight with a hitman.  He beats him with a wrench and steps over him letting out a well placed, “bitch” as he moves along.  This scene is not for the kids, yet other scenes are so linear I can only imagine they were trying to appeal to children.  Or maybe idiots.  It’s probably idiots.  Basically, some things in the show just don’t make sense if you’re paying attention and it’s quite distracting.

Overall, I like the show.  I care about the main characters involved and, if I may be a male pig for a second, Summer Glau has never looked hotter.  There is some great action and I’m just really interested in seeing Faraday grow as a person and as a hero.  Sadly, I’m doing my best to hold back my fan boy love for this show since I don’t know how well it will be received and I don’t want to love something new and be hurt when it goes away.  Here’s hoping for the beginning of a beautiful new addiction.

0 comments

January 13, 2011

All good things must come to an end…

While in college I stayed afloat by working for Best Buy in Sacramento.  It wasn’t a horrible job by any means, as long as you were okay with dealing with the public and their occasionally fantastic levels of stupidity.  It was there that I picked up my very first Mp3 player: Elizabeth.  YES.  I named my iPod.  I name a lot of things, so shut it.  It was during the holidays when Best Buy was selling used items so I was able to pick it up for about $280.  I was instantly in love with my little Elizabeth.

As the years went on there was just no end to how useful she was.  I took her to classes and listened to my favorite music as I worked on art projects or photography edits.  I hooked her up in my car and found that CD’s were silly little things when compared to the multiple gigs of sound I could pack into that white plastic shell.  Then, when I started jogging, I got consistent encouragement from having this wonderful little thing strapped to my arm.  Of course, such joy couldn’t last forever.

Over the last few months she’s been getting worse and worse.  It started slowly, with no warning.  I would be going about my business and suddenly the music would stop.  Elizabeth was frozen.  No worries, I could restart her and keep going, but as time dragged on it quickly became apparent that this little issue was more of a chronic disease and it was progressing at an alarming rate.  My runs were being interrupted.  My drives were becoming a bit more dangerous as I would use one hand to restart her, hoping each time that I wouldn’t have to do it again until I reached my destination.  Though it pained me I finally had to accept the inevitable: Elizabeth was dying.

Oh well!  Time to visit the apple store!  Huzzah!

Yes, of course, I’m sad to see her go, but I like to think that Elizabeth would want me to be happy after she’s passed on.  Even in the image above you can see the “Alpine” frozen on the screen, a sign of yet another freeze which I didn’t even bother to clear with a restart.  At some point I just had to accept the reality of the situation.  The truth.  The end.  That point is now.

Goodbye Elizabeth.  Hellllooooo Hisako!

Hisako, in Japanese, means enduring child.  I felt this was fitting considering how many wonderful years I was able to have with Elizabeth.  It’s also the name of an awesome X-Men character, so there’s that greatness to boot.  I’ve already started loading Hisako with my favorite songs and I don’t even know where to draw the line.  Where Elizabeth was 20 gigs, a respectable sum in her day, Hisako weighs in at a fantastic 160 gigs.  160!  I’ve already loaded two whole movies on there and I have more memory than I know what to do with.

This is sure to be the start of something beautiful.  :D

« Older Entries