Incite Full

While it’s true I am an open book- anything you want to know about me I’ll probably tell you- you still need to open the book and read. I’m not going to wear my emotions on my sleeve. I’m not going to cry or mope around when I’m sad. I’m not going to throw a vase at the wall when I’m angry. Apparently I will write, though. But I always do that.

I invited some friends out here last night for a small gathering. These were all friends I hadn’t seen in a while, from school or other, non-work related channels. To be sure, I sent some text messages out to remind people and asked when they were coming. The trouble wasn’t brewing when only one person responded, it was marinating.

What’s fucked up, though, is the fact that I had been talking to people about this for a while. People said they were coming. Good friends, or at least I thought. About 8 hours after the event I got a text message saying “hey what’s up ” from one of the people who was supposed to come. Fuck. That. Shit.

I had been, and still am, pretty upset about this, to be honest. I thought it was shitty of them to do this or simply not care enough to tell me what they were doing. It’s especially shitty when you show up to their party a week prior to hang out with them, because you have not seen them in a while.

Who knows, maybe I did something or said something stupid that night. But I doubt it. Or if I did, man up and tell me.

What’s most infuriating about it, however, is that I expected it to happen. What do you say when people don’t disappoint you by disappointing you? It’s happened before- whether it be dinner or just hanging out. Getting coffee or seeing a movie. Well, all I can say is that I’m done. I’m at the point in my life where i’m not going to try and make things work if there is no added value. There has to be a fucking return on investment in any relationship. I feel like this friendship, the one I’m thinking about most intently, is a bear market, and I’m selling.

And it makes me feel like shit to say and think these things. But i need to. And who knows, maybe you’re even reading this, to which I say, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry this isn’t funny, smart, clever, creative, sad, angry, or depressing enough. I’m sorry it’s not said in person, but lets be honest, that might take a while to set up. So here you go. Here we all go. This is my walk off home run of relationships. This is my encore of friendliness.

Good bye.

“A true friend stabs you in the front” Oscar Wilde

The title of my post is actually, for once, not referring to something Steph said to me in the morning. We will get to what it’s referring to in a moment, but there are some other things to cover. There is a “new guy” at work, finally. Which means that i am not longer the youngest kid in my group. While i’m not srue how much i’ll be working with him, he’s actually a pretty cool guy. Thank the lord, because some of the other new people on lab are mega nerds. You have no idea, so i will paint you a picture.

On our way out of lab yesterday, we were reading license plate holders, and at least two of them made Steph and I stop ion our tracks. One was something about Lord of the Rings, the other said “My other cars drive themselves on MARS!!!” Emphasis is original. But yeah, I enjoy the enthusiasm, but come on guys, There is no need to be like this. Thank god New Guy isn’t.

Anways, we all went out thursday after setting up two of our friends. And let’s just say I was a beast. I don’t think i’ve been that way in a long time, but it was a good time for all involved. Quotes from all involved include “Be right back, I need to go make out with someone,” “I can’t believe she’s 20,” “Now I feel bad,” and “Do you see me? I’m running behind your car,” of which the last one is my favorite. As I said it sprinting down Arroyo towards Jordan’s car.

The next day was a little rougher, but it went well. I brought my work home this weekend. shh don’t tell anyone. Last night I went out for drinks with some newer friends. I was happy for that, they were good people and definitely had a good time. One of the people I met, Veronica, took my camera and now i have about a million pictures of the evening, which is terrific. I also got to hang out with some people from the non engineering side of work, which was cool. I even met up with my section’s BAM and some of her crue, who were not motley in the least.

The night ended at barney’s meeting up with some other friends who were having a bit of a birthday shindig, and then heading back to my place for some homemade cookies (thanks, steph) and a few other drinks.

It was great.

Now on to a real story. Walking to villa sorriso, the bar we all met up at friday, I was minding my own business. There was a slower man walking in front of me, so I was going kind of slow. In front of Mi Piace, a guy comes up to me from a bit out of the way, as well, and says the following: You keep looking at me like that i’m going to kick your ass.

What the hell? He might’ve added punk bitch, or something in Spanish at the end, but ?I can’t remember. I was more concerned with what the hell happened. I basically jsut said “alright” and kept walking, not looking back until i was a good 50 feet away, and then I couldn’t find him at all. I am not really sure why I attract these types of things.

A little further down, the homeless lady who is always on the corner asked me for some money. And when I said no she gave my hair compliments. This is odd for me, because the hair is all Steph’s doing, but getting a compliment from a crazy homeless person really isn’t the validation I’m looking for.

I am watching the Germany – Turkey replay right now, and the 2nd turkish goal was, in effect, because the Turk striker faked this guy out of his shoes, and passed a perfect cross about 3 feet away from the goalie. I don’t watch soccer often, but these guys are amazing to watch. So good.

Go Spain, by the way.

I’ve been wanting to write this entry for a while. It’s not about anything in particular, but it’s also kind of important to me. I was talking with Steph earlier this week at work, when i brought up the news on CNN. There I saw that George Carlin had died.

I was literally speechless, which you may know does not happen very often. Whatever Steph was talking about I can’t remember, and I’m not sure if she noticed, but I was really caught off guard. George Carlin, thanks to my older brothers, was the first stand up comedy I have ever heard. When I tell people this, they are shocked, because of the foul language he uses and adult themes he discusses. Older brother’s really don’t have these concerns- in fact they thought it would be “good for me.” Needless to say when I started talking about “bombing brown people” my mom had a heart attack.

While I went on to listen to about every other comedian under the sun, there are only a few that really stick out in my mind. Chris Rock is very akin to GC, because of their political and “something more”-ness to their comedy. George deifnitely pushes the envelope a bit more, but hey- that’s ok. Seinfeld, while the butt of a lot of jokes, did it clean and was very observant. Mitch Hedburg is just out there and amazing.

2 Of them are dead now, and I saw both of them live. It was a very ethereal experience. You’d not think a shitty night club, with cocktail waitresses pestering you for another nine dollar drink would be so memorable, but they are.

As a kid, I had a lot of friends. I was friends (by chance?) with the popular kids. I was even popular, I guess. This is when being the smartest kid in class was a good thing. When being able to draw was “totally awesome.” Middle school was when that ship hit the rocks. My friends made fun of me a lot, or basically treated me like a tag-a-long. A fat kid who made the jokes. And i wasn’t really upset by this or anything, not at the time. I really jsut wanted to fit in.

This continued through the rest of middle school and the first year of high school. That’s when it started to change. I moved out to Seattle my sophomore year. This was great- you get that chance to reinvent yourself. You can be the bad boy, or the crazy kid. Unfortunately, human nature is a bitch. I started out the same exact way. I made friends with popular kids by chance. People loved my accent and though I was funny. Not really a bad thing, but I didn’t feel as though I knew krystle, meghan, JP, or Mark. In fact, the less time I spent in those groups, the more I finally learned about them. To the point where I didn’t want to be friends with exactly half of them.

I left the “popular” crowd, and that was a bit rough at the time. A lot of people talked shit about it, but at the same time I was being me, a bunch of other people came up and we became friends. Best represented by my best friend Mike, who is the spitting image of me, personality wise.

This went on for the rest of school, both HS and college. I really wasn’t interested in being popular, whatever the fuck that means. Now it seems that people are drawn to me, and that makes me popular. That’s fine, as long as it’s on my terms.

I’m still the clown, I still make jokes, and I still love making people laugh. I don’t think, and hope, that ever changes. But sometimes I look at myself, and wonder if I’m trying too hard. Not in the sense that i’m trying to be funny, but if I should cool it a bit. I wonder if people think I’m just being funny because it’s what “i’m supposed to do” or whatever. Or if me being funny is keeping people from seeing who I really am.

Not that i’m not really funny, but I feel as though everyone sees me as happy, never anything wrong. But there are things that bother me, and I’m not always excited or enthusiastic. It’s hard to reconcile what I want to be, with what I expect from myself, I guess. And, for that matter, what others expect from me.

“I’m kind of jealous of the life I’m supposedly leading.”

What a weekend.

Friday I went to a BBQ and met some of the interns at JPL. They were good people, and I had some fun. I made some guac for it, and was told it was “orgasmic” by one of the girls there. I don’t think most people understand how easy it is to make guacamole. I mena, it’s like 5 or 6 ingredients, no cooking, and making sure you think it’s edible. After that, it’s all about personal preference and how hungry your audience is. The hungrier people are, the more lax they are on criticizing food. Perhaps i’ll only cook for people who are starving.

Side not, I’m watching TV and a commercial came on for State Farm insurance. The girl said “My inbox is out of control” and I felt that she was sub-communicating something dirty.

Back to the weekend, after that BBQ, where apparently there was some drama due to some insensitive comments, I headed to old town and just kind of hung out. Not too much was actually going on, there, but Dan ended up losing his wallet at Neomeze (pronounced Neo-mez), but we’re not sure how. He was hooking up with a girl in the alley (it’s not a dirty alley, don’t worry), but what he did not realize is that a giant crowd had formed due to the brawl that had broken out.

I got to see some judicious use of pepper spray and some pretty sweet officer take downs. I feel I am expert enough to talk about this now. Anyways, that ended and the night faded away, as did I back to my apartment for a good night’s sleep.

The next Day, Dan was hung over like a bastard and I ended up driving us to Hermosa Beach. The beach was great, and It’s interesting to see how many beautiful people actually live in the greater LA area. Volleyball was interesting to say the least, with burnt feat which was terrible, and still is. I’m hoping i’ll be able to play softball tomorrow, but if they feel like this tomorrow there is no damn way.

The rest of Saturday was a 9 hole pub crawl that was a ton of fun. I met a lot of cool people and hope to hang out with them again, because they seem like good people. The end of the night, however, had me and Dan on the short end of the stick. We gave up seats in cabs for other’s, and had to walk home. Interestingly enough, last night was one of the first times my cognitive map had just failed. A direction disaster. Thank god we could ask locals for some help on that one.

We finally got back to the apartment where we then slept in a sauna- seriously about 90 degrees and I woke up sweating. The worst part about sleeping in someone else’s place is that you aren’t really able to strip down because of the heat. I suppose I could, but I’ll leave that to other situations. The drive home with dan was like a fucking coming of age movie ending. One of those we weren’t having great weekends, but everything turned out fine in the end. I hope he found his wallet, but regardless, I think he’ll have the memory of the weekend.

The rest of Sunday was just lazy. Exceptionally lazy, as I simply watched clouds fly across the courtyard by way of my window.

Sometimes you read something, and it resonates within you. Cake would call this a bowel shaking revelation, or something similar. I can’t begin to describe how spot on the following paragraph is at many times in my life:

Her work was all she had or wanted. But there were times, like tonight, when she felt that sudden, peculiar emptiness, which was not emptiness, but silence, not despair, but immobility, as if nothing within her were destroyed, but everything stood still. Then she felt the wish to find a moment’s joy outside, the wish to be held as a passive spectator by some work or sight of greatness. Not to make it, she thought, but to accept; not to begin, but to respond; not to create, but to admire. I need it to let me go on, she though, because joy is one’s fuel

I’d say more about this, but either you get it, or you don’t.